Chapter 86 – A Perfect Heist

In the face of Zarbon's monstrous transformation, Vegeta took an involuntary step back, his face twisted with raw fear. In an instant, his confidence had been completely shattered by the overwhelming power before him.

"NOO!! This can't be! I am the Prince of All Saiyans, the strongest! You cannot be this much stronger than me! How is this possible?!" Vegeta shouted, his teeth clenched and eyes wide with disbelief. His voice betrayed his fear and desperation, starkly contrasting his usual arrogance.

If Dodoria had witnessed this scene, she would have been delighted by Vegeta's vulnerability, cackling sadistically and relishing the opportunity to describe how she would break his will piece by piece. Cui, on the other hand, would have mercilessly mocked Vegeta, basking in smug satisfaction at his rival's downfall.

But Zarbon was unlike them both. As he observed Vegeta's reaction, he slowly turned solemn, showing no trace of amusement or satisfaction.

Seeing Zarbon's reaction, Vegeta also calmed down, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Oh, you didn't fall for it," Vegeta said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. "What tipped you off?"

Zarbon narrowed his eyes, tensing as his suspicion was confirmed. He had always taken pride in his ability to read people, and Vegeta was no exception.

"The Vegeta I know is unreasonably proud. He would never crumble in fear, even in the face of overwhelming power and certain death. He wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have retreated. He'd rather die screaming in agony than kneel and betray his pride—or his honor."

Vegeta clapped slowly and deliberately, genuinely impressed. It was rare for anyone to see through him so clearly, and even rarer for someone to articulate it so well.

"Surprised? Don't be. You have no idea how long I've been watching you, Vegeta—every move, every breath, every moment. I know you better than you know yourself," Zarbon explained.

"…get the fuck back into the closet and lock the damn door behind you. No one wants to know about your fetishes." Vegeta looked disgusted and deeply disturbed.

Zarbon blinked in surprise, realizing how his words must have sounded to Vegeta, but he chose to ignore it and move on. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the Saiyan.

"But you have changed quite drastically, especially after your visit to Planet 4032-Green-877. It was an unusual destination for you, given the planet's pitiful strength and dismal rating—honestly, it wasn't even worth the fuel to get there."

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

"Pitiful and dismal! Yes, aside from Kakarot, they were all pathetically weak. Yet, despite their feebleness, they somehow managed to... repel me."

Vegeta still staunchly refused to admit to being 'defeated'; such a word would never escape his lips in association with "Earth". Never. His pride simply wouldn't permit him to acknowledge a battle fought with such unscrupulous tactics.

Sometimes, after waking from a nightmare, he still instinctively checks if his junk is still there.

Noticing Zarbon's visible confusion, Vegeta suppressed the haunting echoes of his PTSD and instead took the opportunity to gloat.

"But those Earthlings possessed a rather unique skill: the ability to sense and control energy itself. For them, it was a necessity to compensate for their weakness. However, it is only in the hands of an elite like myself, that the skill can truly blossom. And it was on that pitiful, dismal little planet that I grasped this ability and gained control over my own energy!"

"So that's how you managed to suppress your power to such an extreme degree…"

"Precisely, Zarbon," Vegeta responded with a self-assured smirk. "But whoever said that suppression was the extent of this ability? Is suppression the only association that comes to mind with the word 'control'? No... The true value of this skill lies in the opposite direction! With it, I can exceed my limits and achieve a power far beyond what my body naturally releases!"

With his monologue concluded, Vegeta began to power up, a deafening scream erupting from his throat as his ki surged. A hazy, crackling aura flared around him, and the ground beneath his feet quaked subtly. Nearby rocks of various sizes rose into the air by the sheer force of his energy.

Throughout his entire life, Vegeta had never before pushed his energy beyond its normal limits. This was not due to a lack of ambition, but rather due to insufficient control over his power and ignorance of what was possible. His power levels of 18,000 on Earth and 28,000 thereafter had always been at the state of equilibrium—the natural outputs his body could sustain in the absence of any manipulation.

But now, for the first time, Vegeta was shattering those unknowingly self-imposed limitations. Even without a mentor, through sheer effort and dedication, the Prince of All Saiyans had taken his first monumental step toward mastering the true extent of his power!

As the ground quaked, Zarbon's scouter diligently recorded Vegeta's surging energy levels. Numbers raced across the screen in rapid succession: 28,000... 35,000... 41,000... 45,000... 49,000... 52,000...

The scouter began to sputter and smoke under the strain of monitoring such intense energy.

With one final, guttural roar of exertion, the rocks levitating around Vegeta crashed back to the ground. Amidst them, he stood tall and cracked his neck with a cocky smirk.

The display on Zarbon's scouter flickered one last time before settling on a final reading: 55,361. With a sad beep, the scouter's sensing features went offline, overloaded by Vegeta's energy. Unperturbed, Zarbon calmly detached the now-useless device, lightly tossing it aside. Though the scouter was still technically functional, its sensors had been irreversibly damaged, rendering it virtually useless for its primary purpose.

The two combatants locked eyes. Zarbon's expression was grim, a mixture of resignation and solemn determination, contrasting sharply with Vegeta's cold confidence, like a predator savoring the certainty of his victory.

Zarbon shook his head, smiling self-deprecatingly. He let out a chuckle, the sound devoid of any genuine amusement. "To think this is how I meet my end. Lord Frieza would be thoroughly disappointed in me."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Zarbon. You could still attempt to beat a hasty retreat with your tail between your legs," Vegeta taunted with sarcasm. He paused, taking care to emphasize his next words. "If you're fast enough, that is."

Vegeta's pointed emphasis on Zarbon's speed had been full of meaning.

Zarbon's transformation was his trump card, his ace–a monstrous form that had overwhelmed countless foes, but it bolstered only his bulk, strength, and defenses. Though he became a juggernaut, the increase in mass and power came at the expense of agility. While he certainly wasn't drastically slower than his normal state, the improvement in speed was negligible compared to other areas.

It was also supposed to be classified.

"... So, you were aware of this form's weakness as well. It seems you've done your homework," Zarbon conceded with resignation. He regarded Vegeta with grim respect. "I'm not surprised this was the outcome then; you outmatched me in both intel and power."

"No shit, dumbass."

"But!" Zarbon interjected calmly but abruptly, pointing a finger at Vegeta. "You haven't thought this through completely, Vegeta. Your power isn't yet sufficient to take on a member of the Ginyu Force, let alone all of them at once. And Lord Frieza will be informed of your actions."

Zarbon's words served not only as a warning but also as a deliberate tactic to prolong the confrontation. He needed time—time for Guavon and Appule to escape, time to reassess his strategy, time to exploit any possible advantage. Just because his chances of victory were slim didn't mean he should give up.

Vegeta crossed his arms, his smirk widening into a wicked grin. "And how exactly would he know?"

"...what?"

"How could Frieza know any of this when I've obliterated your ship's power source? Did you manage to send a message in time, Zarbon?"

Zarbon's expression turned ugly. In his haste to confront Vegeta, he had overlooked that crucial detail. Even the automated distress signal couldn't have been transmitted in the scant seconds between Vegeta disabling both generators.

The realization slapped Zarbon hard. The only conceivable way Lord Frieza could learn of the events here was if someone from another base managed to send a message.

...most of which Vegeta had systematically destroyed over the past day or so in Lord Frieza's absence.

Smug satisfaction radiated from Vegeta as he observed Zarbon's moment of realization. With deliberate finality, he delivered the coup de grâce, hammering in the final nail in the coffin.

"And as for the Ginyu Force, how would they find me? Especially since you won't be alive to tell them that I can suppress my power!"

Zarbon scowled deeply at his dire predicament. The plan had been brilliant—a near-perfect heist. Despite the seeming inevitability of his death, he forced himself to keep calm. His objective remained unchanged: to stall Vegeta and protect the Dragon Balls for Lord Frieza.

"Excellent scheme," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I've always favored you. So effective, so efficient."

"And I've always hated you," Vegeta retorted dryly.

Zarbon let out a hollow laugh, raising his arms in a shrug.

"To be fair, you despised everyone. But I think that perhaps, just perhaps, you hate me a fraction less than the others. I've done my fair share of favors for you over the years. Remember all those planet blacklist slots I've given you? I don't do that for just anyone, you know. Even Ginyu gets less than you do."

"You and I both know I never use those," Vegeta responded flatly.

Vegeta's statement rang true.

The planet blacklist was a coveted privilege within the Cold Empire–King Cold's personal guarantee against invasion, enslavement, or destruction of a planet for a specified duration, typically a decade. It was a reward reserved for those who made significant contributions to the empire's interests, making it an immensely valuable asset.

Possessing even a single slot held an immense allure for a civilization, as it was the sole means to ensure a period of safety and prosperity, free from the Cold Empire's tyranny. After all, being part of the Empire neither absolved a civilization from its duties to the Empire nor granted immunity from obliteration.

A civilization might display the Empire's flags and submit in every conceivable manner, but they must contribute if they wish to earn the right to survive.

Thus, securing such a coveted blacklist slot for their homeworld became the natural objective for many warriors. They willingly enlisted and continuously killed under the banner of the Frieza Force, either by personal choice or at the behest of their planets, in hopes of obtaining one.

To this day, countless civilizations are diligently attempting to groom elite warriors for the empire. And why wouldn't they? After all, sometimes, the service and sacrifice of just one elite warrior was all it took to purchase decades of peace.

And so just as King Cold had planned, by intertwining the personal interests of conquered civilizations with those of his Empire, the planet blacklist system had secured over a millennium of stability for the Cold Empire.

But for a wanderer like Vegeta, who lacked a homeworld and was driven solely by his ambitions, these blacklist slots held no value.

Ironically, if Kakarot had been less stubborn, Vegeta might have used a few on that mudball of a planet. Might as well, since they were just gathering dust anyway.

Zarbon raised an eyebrow—a gesture that might have been charming in his normal form but now, in his transformed state, only made him look especially disturbing.

"Cute, Vegeta. But did you ever pause to consider why Recoome was so often conveniently away for missions just as you were returning from yours? You're very welcome, by the way."

There were also matters that Zarbon could not disclose.

For instance, it was Zarbon who convinced Frieza to spare Vegeta after the destruction of Planet Vegeta for strategic purposes. Frieza had initially disagreed and had intended to eliminate Vegeta to finish the job. However, his Lord eventually acquiesced to Zarbon's persuasion, allowing him to do as he wished.

Now, in a bitter twist of irony, Zarbon was meeting his end at the hands of the very person he had once saved.

Vegeta's impassive expression shifted, a glimmer of realization dawning in his mind. Recoome's convenient timetable was an observation he had never truly questioned, buried beneath layers of animosity and his relentless pursuit of power.

"...you know," Vegeta started slowly. "If you hadn't kept that little tidbit in the closet, I might have genuinely hated you less."

Vegeta appeared reluctant to continue the conversation. With stunning speed, he lunged forward, catching Zarbon off guard as his fist crashed into Zarbon's gut. The impact was powerful, but to Vegeta's surprise, Zarbon managed to absorb the blow and hold his ground, only skidding back a few inches.

With that initial strike, the floodgates swung wide open to a torrential exchange of blows. Each punch and kick landed with precision and ferocity, each strike punishing in its own right. Despite the disparity in their power levels, the combatants proved remarkably evenly matched. Zarbon's monstrous transformation granted him endurance and resilience that allowed him to withstand Vegeta's attacks, at least for the moment.

They blurred into a frenetic dance, flashing across the landscape in a whirlwind of destruction. They darted over water, creating waves with their speed, and crashed into the ground with bone-jarring impacts that shattered rock and earth alike.

Destruction followed in their wake as Vegeta and Zarbon exchanged an escalating series of brutal blows, each strike more vicious than the last.

Seizing a fleeting opportunity created by unexpectedly absorbing a punishing blow, Zarbon sent a blistering fist into Vegeta's chest. The impact forced a grimacing cough from the Saiyan Prince and expelled a small spray of blood from his mouth.

Enduring the pain with gritted teeth, Vegeta's hand shot out like lightning, seizing Zarbon's wrist in a vice-like grip. Fueled by adrenaline, he exerted crushing pressure that caused Zarbon to wince in agony. With his adversary temporarily immobilized, Vegeta raised his free hand toward Zarbon's face.

Zarbon struggled against Vegeta's grip, but his desperate efforts to break free proved futile. His arm remained stubbornly immobilized, held fast by Vegeta's superior strength. Panic flashed in Zarbon's eyes as he glanced up at his adversary, but it was already too late.

"Lucora Gun," Vegeta declared coldly.

From his hand, countless yellow energy blasts emerged, each one traveling mere inches and detonating against Zarbon's face. Held in place by Vegeta's iron grip, Zarbon could only grit his teeth and endure the punishing blasts.

Despite the agony and disorientation, Zarbon managed to summon his strength and launch a desperate blast towards Vegeta. His aim was haphazard, only hoping to disrupt the barrage directed at him. Zarbon felt the impact of his attack and the incoming blasts ceased, but Vegeta's grip on his wrist had not loosened, confirming that his opponent was only minimally weakened.

Before Zarbon could fully regain his vision, the world erupted into a symphony of agony. Three brutal strikes landed on his body almost simultaneously, their force lifting him slightly off the ground.

A vicious kick from Vegeta collided with his chin, and then he was weightless.

Forcing himself to gather his senses, Zarbon relied on his battle-honed intuition even before his vision fully returned. Through instincts alone, he sensed Vegeta's aggressive advance from below. With his eyes still shut, Zarbon swiftly adjusted his stance and counterattacked with a powerful hammer strike aimed at slamming Vegeta back down to the ground.

His strike found nothing but empty air.

Moments later, Zarbon's eyes snapped open, his vision clearing just in time to see Vegeta positioned directly beneath him, just slightly out of arm's reach. The Saiyan's arms were raised upward as if stretching, except tendrils of crackling electricity danced over his chest.

Zarbon recognized the move all too well. It was a technique he had once mocked for its perceived impracticality, as it was only capable of attacking directly upwards. Now, however, it seems that he was about to experience it firsthand.

"GALAXY BREAKER!"

In an instant, a torrent of blazing energy erupted skyward from Vegeta's chest.

Zarbon's reflexes had been honed by years of combat, but even they barely managed to react in time. His arms had just crossed into a defensive stance after the missed hammer strike when the colossal burst of blue-white energy slammed into him. The sheer force of the blast lifted him, carrying him up and away from Vegeta.

A scream ripped from Zarbon's lips as the searing energy scorched his transformed body. The energy licked at him, threatening to consume him entirely, but he somehow managed to endure by sheer willpower and the resilience of his transformation, though only just.

As the Galaxy Breaker's energy finally subsided, Zarbon found himself drifting, extremely battered but alive. Without hesitation, he poured every ounce of his remaining strength into his signature attack—the move that had secured victories and struck fear into his foes. This act marked his ultimate stand, his final gamble, for he full well that his injuries had left him incapable of matching Vegeta's physical might any further.

Below, Vegeta's smirk widened as he observed Zarbon's unique stance. Anticipating Zarbon's final attack, he mirrored the gesture, his hands crackling with vibrant purple energy by his side.

A tense silence settled over the battlefield, broken suddenly by their synchronized cries:

"ETERNAL ELEGANCE!"

"GALICK GUN!"

The air crackled as the two intense beams raced toward each other, colliding with explosive force. The descending green beam clashed fiercely against the rising purple beam in a breathtaking spectacle of energy. For a brief, intense moment, the beams struggled against each other evenly.

But soon, the tide shifted. The Galick Gun displayed its dominance and began to overpower Zarbon's Eternal Elegance. Inch by inch, Vegeta's attack gained ground, driving back its counterpart.

Zarbon never really managed to regain momentum after that.

With a final surge, the Galick Gun overpowered the Eternal Elegance, driving it back toward its origin. The collision erupted into a blinding explosion of light and sound, engulfing the sky in a tempest of destruction.

As the smoke and debris gradually cleared, a charred figure plummeted from the great heights and crashed heavily onto the scarred earth below.

Moments later, Vegeta stood over the fallen Zarbon, who had reverted to his original form after being forced out of his transformation. Though clearly incapacitated and horribly injured, Zarbon still retained a trace of his inherent grace.

Vegeta pointed his palm down towards Zarbon, channeling energy into a bright orb that intensified with each passing second.

"By the way, Zarbon, nice attempt at stalling for time. Do you want to know why I played along with your little game?"

Zarbon lay in silence, meeting Vegeta's eyes unflinchingly.

"Because I knew how you operate," Vegeta went on, his smirk broadening as he outlined his deductions. "Dodoria was neither here nor at the battle, so that bitch was either by Frieza's side in the sky or dead. You weren't present even for a battle over a Dragon Ball, so your duty must have been to safeguard the remaining ones. Yet, here you are, facing me now. So, the question remains: whom did you entrust the Dragon Balls with?"

Vegeta paused briefly, letting his words sink in before he answered his own question.

"Appule. He's the sole member among the sorry band of lackeys who's even remotely close to an elite level. But your esteemed reputation worked against you this time, since the fool actually stayed behind, not too far away. Such misplaced faith! Ha! He had trusted you to win, General."

Vegeta's eyes gleamed with triumph. He reveled in the irony that Zarbon's meticulous strategies had ultimately been undone by the incompetence of his underlings.

"You're making quite a few assumptions there, Vegeta. Reign in your arrogance," Zarbon sighed, closing his eyes with an eerie calm. "But honestly, I'm beyond caring about all of this now. I've done what I could, and I'll be dead soon. Whatever happens next is the Ginyu Force's problem, not mine."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. He was confident that his deductions were correct despite Zarbon's words, but this level of composure in the face of death was rare.

"You know, looking back, of all of the sick fucks in the Frieza Force, you weren't so bad."

 Zarbon emitted a strange noise from his throat, but it was unclear what it was meant to convey. "Thank you for the compliment, Vegeta. Now, do what you came here to do. Mercy was never your style."

"You're right," Vegeta said coolly. "Mercy has never been a part of my vocabulary."

The blast ripped from Vegeta's hands and struck Zarbon directly in a blinding flash of light and intense heat. The impact instantly vaporized much of Zarbon's body, leaving behind only smoldering debris and the acrid scent of burnt flesh.

Vegeta confirmed the kill with a steely gaze.

Zarbon was dead.

Despite claiming victory, Vegeta felt a twinge of dissatisfaction. Many of Frieza's elite warriors were mutants, anomalies among their species whose luck at the genetic lottery bestowed them with exceptional abilities. Dodoria, for example, possessed a mutation that allowed her to transform her energy into spikes, while each member of the Ginyu Force had mutations that granted them extraordinary talents in specific areas.

Zarbon, however, was an exception. His ability to transform was not a mutation but an innate trait of his species. All things considered, Zarbon had been a normal representative of his race who had carved out his place among the Frieza Force's elite through sheer skill, dedication, and talent—all qualities Vegeta could respect.

Vegeta scowled. Ironically, he knew that Zarbon had abandoned training long ago to focus on administrative duties within the Frieza Force. Had Zarbon kept up his training over the years, there was a high chance that Vegeta might not have been able to defeat him.

Perhaps there could have even been a "Zarbon Force" alongside the Ginyu Force. But there's no point dwelling on what-ifs.

Vegeta grunted, wincing slightly as he stretched. Zarbon had given him no quarter, and the bruised ribs that throbbed with each movement were evidence of that. With Ginyu and Frieza on the horizon, choosing to remain injured made no sense. He needed a med tank.

But before that...

Turning his gaze left, Vegeta focused on the direction Appule had fled.

Appule's attempt to escape after sensing the battle's turning tide, following Zarbon's defeat in their beam struggle, hadn't escaped Vegeta's notice. Unfortunately for Appule, he was still well within Vegeta's Ki sense range. Dealing with him shouldn't be too difficult.

And…

He was right. It had been embarrassingly easy, like taking candy from a baby. Appule had proven even more incompetent than Vegeta had anticipated. In his panic, the fool hadn't even thought to conceal the Dragon Balls.

It was a shame; Vegeta would have enjoyed extracting the information from him through more... creative means.

Without delay, Vegeta salvaged a scouter from Appule's lifeless form, swiftly repurposing it to send a concise message to Nappa. The transmission confirmed the acquisition of four Dragon Balls and outlined his next objective—a med-tank to tend to his injuries sustained in battle with Zarbon.

With the Dragon Balls slung over his shoulder in sack, Vegeta took to the skies. There were loose ends to tie, stragglers to eliminate, and an interesting rumor to confirm. Supposedly, the nearest Frieza Force outpost was giving out free med tanks.

How nice of them.