🌌 Saiyan of the Red Dawn
Chapter 1 – Birth of a Monster
(Part 1)
The birthing chamber was never meant to contain power of this magnitude.
Even before the child emerged from the nutrient capsule, the walls began to vibrate. Medical equipment flickered and died in waves, sparks cascading across metal floors. Two veteran Saiyan medics—both former combat troopers—backed away from the pod, exchanging uneasy looks. Neither had seen scouters react this way, not even during the birth of Prince Vegeta himself.
The pod cracked with a hiss of superheated gas, followed by a sharp, metallic groan. Inside, a tiny silhouette twitched—its ki expanding and contracting like the steady breathing of a slumbering beast.
One medic swallowed, thumb hovering over the scouter's record toggle. "This...this can't be right. It's malfunctioning."
The other only shook his head, eyes locked on the numeric readout. "No malfunction," he rasped. His voice sounded like a man already trying to accept something impossible. "It's real."
The scouter display spiked again:
120,000,000
The number etched itself across both men's retinas. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Neither spoke.
And then the pod door fell away.
The baby did not cry.
It stared up at them, unblinking, as the steam of amniotic fluid dissipated around its body—a body unlike any Saiyan infant ever born.
Crimson fur rippled across the child's shoulders, chest, and arms, ending in a thick tail covered in the same deep red. A wild mane of black hair—streaked here and there with glints of scarlet—framed a brow marked with pronounced ridges. When its eyelids cracked open, golden irises fixed upon the medics in a gaze that felt older than the universe.
The silence deepened, as if the entire facility itself were holding its breath.
Then the child flexed one tiny hand. A pulse of heat burst across the chamber, shattering a wall panel. Warning klaxons howled, and the scouter began to stutter broken alarms.
"—Power critical—evacuate—evac—"
The medic tore the device from his face and flung it aside. He didn't need a machine to tell him this child was something they could never hope to control.
At last, the infant turned its head, studying the ceiling as though searching for something. For a name. For a memory.
In the hollowed-out corner of his consciousness—still fragmented by the shock of reincarnation—he felt the flicker of comprehension. He had been someone else once. A man from a blue world, destroyed in a blink by a force he could not fight.
Earth.
The word came unbidden, drifting up from that other life. So did something else—a truth he could only glimpse in flashes: an oath to stand unbowed, no matter how vast the darkness.
He did not know why he'd been sent here, or why this monstrous power coiled in his veins, ready to consume everything. But as the flickering lights began to steady, and as the first of the Saiyan elite guards pounded down the corridor, he knew one thing with perfect clarity:
He would never kneel.
Never surrender.
Not to the Saiyans. Not to Frieza. Not to the gods themselves.
I will not be caged.
The door slammed open behind the medics, revealing the tall, armored silhouette of King Vegeta himself. The king's dark eyes took in the scorched chamber, the scorched walls, the stunned medics—and finally the infant, lying in a pool of cracked steel.
For a long moment, no one dared move.
"Is it true?" King Vegeta demanded, voice low, dangerous. "The scouter readings?"
"Yes, sire," the elder medic croaked. He sounded like he wished he were already dead. "One hundred and twenty million. At birth."
The king's mouth pressed into a line so thin it could have sliced a man in half.
The baby tilted its head to look up at him. Something ancient and defiant shone in those golden eyes.
King Vegeta felt a cold tingle run across his scalp, like the hand of prophecy brushing his crown.
"A Super Saiyan…" he whispered, the words tasting of fear and wonder both.
But no—this was no ordinary legend. This was something worse. Something far beyond any story of Saiyan evolution.
He took one step closer, ignoring the searing heat radiating off the newborn's skin.
"What is your name?" he demanded, as though sheer force of will could wrench an answer from an infant.
And in that instant, the child's brow furrowed—not in confusion, but in comprehension. The king didn't know how he knew. He simply knew.
As if the baby had heard his question and was trying to remember the answer.
For a heartbeat, in the cavernous hush of the chamber, the king almost imagined it would speak.
Almost.
Instead, the infant's tail lifted in a lazy arc—and the walls shook as its power surged again, rippling out across the base.
From orbit, a Scouter drone transmitted the energy spike directly to the Emperor's flagship.