Planet Vampa.
Half a year had passed. The land that had been devastated beyond recognition by the battle had finally been rebuilt to some extent.
The castle had been completed on the wasteland, along with the stone roads the Seymorians had spent months laying.
Paragus stood in the control room, looking through the thick reinforced glass at Broly's room. His fingers rubbed over the remote control, his brow tightly furrowed, cold sweat beading on his hands.
He had spent the past half year on edge.
Broly's injuries had long since healed, but he did not dare let his son out.
Whenever Broly showed the slightest sign of losing control, Paragus pressed the remote.
Powerful currents erupted from the two newly added control devices around his neck, surging through Broly's entire body. His muscles spasmed and his bones trembled, forcibly suppressing that grass-green rage.
But it could be suppressed for a while, not forever.
Broly lay on the bed with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
His mind was filled with Son Gohan from half a year ago—the arrogant face, the heavy blow to the back of his head, and that final form that had left him unable to resist at all.
The more Broly thought about it, the angrier he became. Grass-green energy began erupting from his body, and spiderweb-like cracks spread across the inner surface of the reinforced glass walls.
Paragus panicked and frantically pressed the remote.
Currents exploded from all three control devices at once, arcs of electricity leaping wildly. But they could suppress him for a while, not forever.
Broly threw back his head and roared. Grass-green energy surged into the sky as all three control devices shattered at once, fragments scattering everywhere.
The reinforced glass broke apart with a crisp crack, crumbling into powder. Broly