CHAPTER 24: FORGOTTEN HISTORY

The twin moons of Planet Idun cast their silvery light over the Saiyan kingdom, bathing it in an ethereal glow. The scene was a stark contrast to the humble, rustic village the group had passed through in the forest. Here, the kingdom was alive with purpose and power, a testament to Saiyan resilience and Turles’s reign.

Turles’s palace dominated the skyline, a looming fortress of blackened stone and jagged architecture that seemed to claw at the heavens. The design bore hints of ancient Saiyan influences, with towering spires etched with angular carvings, yet it exuded a darker, almost alien presence. Behind the palace, the Eternal Tree stretched toward the sky like a god’s hand, its twisted branches glowing faintly with an unnatural energy that seemed to hum through the air. Each pulse of light from the Tree carried a weight, a reminder of its ominous, divine power.

The streets leading to the palace were lined with banners emblazoned with Turles’s crest, fluttering in the cool night breeze. Crusher Corps soldiers patrolled in pairs, their sharp eyes scanning the bustling city below. Merchants called out from market stalls brimming with exotic wares—fruits in hues that defied nature, shining trinkets, and tools of war. The air was thick with the mingling scents of grilled meat, spices, and the faint metallic tang of machinery.

Everywhere, there was a sense of order and tradition. Saiyan children sparred in courtyards under the watchful eyes of their elders, their laughter and shouts blending with the occasional clash of wooden staves. Lanterns hung from wrought iron posts, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows over the cobblestone streets.

For Vegeta, the sight stirred something deep within him. This kingdom wasn’t just a settlement—it was a reclamation. It was as if Turles had tried to rebuild what had been lost when Planet Vegeta fell, but with his own vision of Saiyan glory. It was a world apart from the quiet desperation of the forest village, where survival was the focus. 

“This place,” Vegeta muttered, his arms crossed as he surveyed the bustling streets. His tone was distant, almost nostalgic, though his sharp eyes betrayed a readiness to act.

Gohan turned to him. “Does it remind you of Planet Vegeta?”

“It does,” Vegeta admitted. “But this...they’ve rebuilt something of their own here.”

Truffle adjusted her cloak, her features hidden beneath its shadow. “The palace is heavily guarded. We can’t just walk in there unnoticed.”

A low, rumbling growl broke the tense silence, drawing everyone’s attention. Truffle glanced toward Broly, whose hand instinctively moved to his stomach, his expression sheepish. She smirked faintly. “I guess everyone’s hungry too,” she said, her tone lightening the mood for a moment.

With a sigh, the group made their way to a bustling food tavern nestled within the heart of the kingdom. The scent of grilled meats, exotic spices, and roasted fruits filled the air, a tempting contrast to the tension that weighed on their shoulders. They settled at a shaded table near the edge of the open courtyard, doing their best to blend in among the locals. Saiyans of various ages crowded the space, laughing, eating, and exchanging stories, their energy a stark reminder of the thriving community Turles had built.

As they ate, Truffle discreetly activated her communicator, murmuring updates to Meelo while keeping her eyes on the crowd. Broly, seated beside her, consumed his meal with an appetite that drew a few curious glances from nearby tables. His enormous frame made it nearly impossible for him to go unnoticed, but his demeanor was calm, almost childlike, as he focused on the food.

It wasn’t long before a young Saiyan boy wandered over to their table, his wide eyes fixed on Gohan’s gi. “Hey!” the boy called out, his voice bright with curiosity. “Oh, sorry! I thought you were someone else.”

Gohan paused mid-bite, lowering his bowl and offering the boy a kind smile. “Someone else?”

The boy scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “It’s just... your outfit. It looks like his—like the guy who came through here not too long ago. I thought maybe you were him.”

Gohan leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice gentle but eager. “The guy? Did he have spiky hair, kind of like mine?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! But I haven’t seen him since he went back to the King’s palace.”

The words sent a ripple of unease through the group. Gohan’s hand rested on the boy’s shoulder, his tone reassuring. “We’re looking for him too. Do you remember anything else about him?”

The boy shook his head. “Sorry, that’s all I know.” Before Gohan could press further, the boy spotted a group of friends calling to him from across the courtyard. He waved quickly and ran off, leaving the table in silence.

Vegeta leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “That confirms it. Kakarot is alive, and he’s in the palace.”

Gohan set his bowl down, his expression resolute. “I’ll walk around and see if I can find out anything about how we can get inside.”

Broly immediately pushed his plate aside, his deep voice steady. “I’ll go with you.”

Vegeta’s brow furrowed, and he straightened in his seat. “No. I should—”

Tarble interrupted, placing a hand on his brother’s arm. “Vegeta, it may not be wise. You look too much like our father—and presumably even like our grandfather. It’s a miracle we haven’t been noticed yet, but walking around the kingdom could draw too much attention to us.”

Vegeta clenched his fists, his pride wrestling with the logic in Tarble’s words. After a tense pause, he exhaled sharply and nodded. “Fine. You two go. But be careful. If anything feels off, report back immediately.”

Gohan nodded. “Got it. We’ll check in as soon as we find something.”

With that, Gohan and Broly stood, disappearing into the bustling kingdom while Vegeta, Tarble, and Truffle remained behind, their thoughts already working on how to infiltrate the palace.

The streets bustled with life as they walked. Broly’s sheer size made him a spectacle, but his calm demeanor seemed to put most at ease. The faint sound of a commanding voice caught their attention, drawing them toward a shaded pavilion lit by soft lantern light. An elder sat cross-legged at its center, his face lined with age but animated as he wove tales of the Saiyan past to a group of attentive children.

“…and in the great saiyan war, Turles brought us salvation,” the elder declared, his voice carrying through the night. “But before Turles, there were others. The greatest of them all—the first Super Saiyan God.”

Broly slowed his steps, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the story. Without hesitation, he approached the group, his large shadow enveloping the children. Their wide-eyed gazes shifted to him, a mix of awe and excitement lighting up their young faces.

One child pointed at Broly’s green fur pelt around his waist, his tail flicking with curiosity. “Is it real?”

Broly’s lips quirked into a rare, small smile. “It is. It belonged to a friend I had when I was a child.”

The children gasped in wonder, tugging gently at the soft fur. “Was it a monster?” one of them asked excitedly.

“No,” Broly replied, his voice deep but kind. “He was a good friend.”

The elder chuckled, his gaze shifting to Broly. “You’re a big one, aren’t you? You could’ve been a legend yourself in the old tales.”

Broly rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as the children climbed onto his shoulders, marveling at his size. One even clung to his arm like a branch, giggling uncontrollably. Broly’s soft laugh rumbled in his chest as he let them play.

Gohan stood nearby, arms crossed, a small smile on his face as he watched Broly interact with the children. His attention shifted back to the elder as the man continued his tale.

“The first Super Saiyan God…” the elder began, his voice taking on a reverent tone. “He was a warrior of light and fury, born of the desperation and unity of our people. It is said he rose not for himself, but to challenge the gods and defy their will. His power changed the destiny of our kind forever.”

As the elder spoke, Gohan felt something stir deep within him. A strange, familiar sensation tugged at his senses, growing stronger with each passing moment. His brow furrowed as he struggled to place it.

The mention of the first Super Saiyan God seemed to amplify the feeling, almost as if it were calling directly to him. He shifted uneasily, glancing at Broly, who was too preoccupied with the children to notice.

“I’ll be back,” Gohan said softly.

Broly gave a slight nod, still distracted by the group of children swarming him. One child hung from his pelt, grinning wildly, while another perched on his shoulder like a tiny warrior preparing for battle.

Following the pull of the sensation, Gohan slipped away from the pavilion and into the quieter streets of the kingdom. The faint hum of conversation faded as he moved deeper into the outskirts, the lively energy of the settlement giving way to an eerie stillness.

The twin moons cast an otherworldly glow over the desolate area he now found himself in. The sensation grew stronger, guiding him toward a lone grave nestled at the edge of the kingdom. Its marker was weathered and nameless, illuminated faintly by the moonlight. Resting atop it was a single, worn wooden staff, its purpose unclear but its presence commanding.

Gohan’s breath hitched as the presence surged within him, more powerful and insistent than ever. The air seemed heavier here, laden with an energy that sent chills down his spine.

“I felt your presence back on Vornis,” Gohan whispered, stepping closer to the grave. “Who are you?”

The night seemed to grow darker around him, the stars above dimming as the energy thickened. His fingers trembled as he reached out to touch the marker.

The moment his hand brushed the surface, a flood of emotions and faint whispers overwhelmed him. Images flickered in his mind—fleeting glimpses of battles, of despair, of hope.

“What… is this?” he murmured, his voice shaky.

Then it hit him. A wave of power unlike anything he had ever felt crashed over him, connecting with him on a level that went beyond words. His vision blurred, and he staggered backward, struggling to stay on his feet.

Through the haze, he saw it—a faint figure in the distance, standing motionless beneath the moons’ glow. It didn’t move or speak, but its presence was undeniable, and it watched him intently.

“Who are you?!” Gohan called out, his voice breaking.

Before he could hear a response, the power surged again, and the world went dark. The last thing he saw before collapsing was the faint silhouette of the figure, still watching him as everything faded into unconsciousness.

___________

Writer’s Note:

This chapter was all about characters connecting—or reconnecting—to their roots. I wanted to highlight the contrast between the Saiyans living in the kingdom versus those in the forest village, showing how their environment has shaped them, much like how humanity adapts to urban and rural life.

For Broly, my goal was to give him a chance to rekindle his connection to the Saiyan race in a way that feels friendly and almost childlike. Having been exiled to Vampa, he never had the opportunity to truly understand his heritage beyond what Paragus told him. Now, he's experiencing it firsthand.

Meanwhile, Gohan's lingering sense of a presence—first hinted at in the chapters on Vornis—will finally be revealed. This was one of my favorite elements to weave into the narrative, and I had a lot of fun fleshing it out. Stay tuned for the next chapter!