He could not even touch the hem of his opponent's clothes.
That final swing carried terrifying force, utterly impossible to resist.
Like a stone flicked away by a child, he rolled helplessly into a distant mountainside without the slightest ability to fight back.
Rubble and dust buried him in an instant.
He could not even make his opponent take him seriously, much less force him to transform.
A complete overpowering.
Thorough, utter, despair-inducing overpowering.
Just as he had once casually dealt with those weak warriors, just as he himself had once appeared in Frieza's eyes... no, it was even worse than that.
There was not even the cruel interest one might show an ant in that gaze—only pure indifference remained.
"Damn it... bastard!" The low curse squeezed out through clenched teeth, each word clearly audible in the silent room.
Vegeta's breathing suddenly grew heavier, his chest heaving violently as rage and helplessness coursed chaotically through his veins.
He abruptly clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking as veins bulged on the backs of his hands. The absurdly expensive bedsheet beneath him was unconsciously pulled taut, nearly tearing apart.
Humiliation coiled around his heart like an icy venomous snake, squeezing tighter and tighter.
He was Prince Vegeta!
An elite survivor of the Saiyans, the universe's strongest warrior race!
He had endured countless life-and-death battles, broken through the limits of Super Saiyan, and fought his way to this point... How could he—how could he—have become so fragile that he crumbled under a single blow?
Just as rage and self-loathing were about to swallow him whole—
An extremely faint, nearly imperceptible anomaly suddenly appeared at the nape of his neck.
It was neither pain nor an itch.
It felt as though something were slowly wriggling beneath his skin, something alive.
It was incredibly slight,