DragonBall: Zuccarn the Saiyan Monarch

The vast emptiness of space stretched infinitely before them, the cold void broken only by the dull hum of Frieza's flagship, the 'Queen's Wrath'. Inside the sleek, obsidian-hulled ship, the atmosphere was cold and tense.

Frieza sat upon his throne-like chair in the ship's command room, a wicked smirk playing across his lips as he gazed out at the stars. Beside him, the ever-loyal Zarbon, his right-hand man, stood with a stoic expression, though his sharp eyes flickered with a mixture of anticipation and discomfort.

"The Saiyans…" Frieza began, his voice smooth and chilling, as he addressed his companion.

"They've become a nuisance, haven't they? Strong, yes. With their Oozaru form, they can wreck some havoc in a small part of this universe. But they're nothing more than filthy, savage apes at the end of the day! Hohoho."

Zarbon kept his silence, as he often did, but the faintest flicker of unease crossed his face.

He had seen Frieza's cruelty firsthand, and it was always unsettling to hear the emperor speak so casually about such massive destruction.

Frieza leaned back in his chair, his tail swishing lazily behind him as his thoughts twisted darkly.

"You know, Zarbon, it's fascinating. The Saiyans pride themselves on their strength, on their 'warrior' culture. They think of themselves as a noble race, as if their bloodline is something worthy of respect. But in the end, they are nothing before me."

Zarbon raised an eyebrow, his voice measured.

"You mean the Saiyans' pride, their way of life? Their strength has been their most valuable asset, my lord. Perhaps too valuable. You've made them your soldiers for years."

Frieza's eyes narrowed, his smile stretching cruelly as he leaned forward.

"Yes, yes. For years, they've served me well. Too well, in fact. Their race is powerful, no doubt, but that's all they are. Just a tool—nothing more. It's time they realize their place."

He let out a soft chuckle, a dark, terrifying sound that echoed through the room. "Apes, Zarbon. The sooner they understand that their strength is nothing compared to mine, the better."

Zarbon's gaze flickered briefly to the viewscreen, which displayed a bright green planet in the distance—their destination, Planet Vegeta. The home of the Saiyans. A world that would soon learn how fragile its existence truly was.

"I understand, my lord," Zarbon replied, his voice unwavering.

"The Saiyan race has grown... cocky. You've let them live for this long, but they've outlived their usefulness."

Frieza's smile only widened, his sharp teeth gleaming.

"Exactly. I've given them enough time to prove themselves, but it's clear they have no idea what they're truly up against. They believe they're on the verge of becoming something great. They think their power makes them invincible. It's cute, really."

He stood, his elegant movements belying the deep malice in his heart.

"This will be their final lesson. After today, they'll understand what it means to be truly beneath someone. To know their place."

Zarbon's eyes darkened slightly, but he remained composed. "You plan to wipe them out, then?"

Frieza laughed, a high, almost melodic sound, but the danger in it was palpable. "Oh, I don't plan on wiping them out. Not yet. The Saiyan race has some use. Their warrior instincts... their raw power. But let them think they have a future. Let them think they can challenge me. I want them to struggle."

His golden eyes gleamed with malice.

"And when they do, when they throw their pathetic tantrums in their futile attempts to hold onto their pride, that's when I will remind them. I will show them, once and for all, that they are nothing but apes—too stupid to realize they've been nothing more than pets in a cage."

Frieza's tail twitched, and he took a step forward, staring out of the viewscreen at the planet below. The silence between him and Zarbon was thick with the weight of what was to come.

"It will be quick. They will burn, Zarbon, and they will know their place before the end. And when they're gone, when the last remnants of their useless pride are eradicated, I'll be free to move on to bigger things."

Zarbon lowered his head, a slight nod of respect in his posture. "As always, my lord, your wisdom is unmatched."

Frieza's smirk softened, his expression almost one of indifference as he turned back to face Zarbon.

"Wisdom? No. This is simple. I am superior, and they are nothing but pawns on the chessboard. Their time has come."

The ship's engines hummed louder as they closed in on their destination, Planet Vegeta. Frieza's gaze flickered with a gleam of unbridled malice, imagining the carnage he would soon bring to the Saiyans. Their pride would be their downfall.

"Zarbon," Frieza said, his voice soft but filled with a chilling promise.

"Let's remind them, once and for all, what happens when apes forget their place."

Zarbon said nothing, but a flicker of cold satisfaction passed through his sharp eyes as they approached the planet below.

...

The winds howled across the frozen plains of Planet Vegeta, carrying with them the scent of salt and iron. The great walls of the Saiyan capital loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks towering like the spires of a forgotten fortress.

The capital was a place of brutal beauty—a land carved by centuries of warfare, where the strongest ruled and the weak were left to fade into the cold abyss.

But beneath the surface of their warrior culture, the Saiyans were a people of deep roots and old ways, a proud clan whose past was as tangled as the vines that clung to the cliffs of their frozen home.

Inside the Great Hall, the air was thick with the warmth of fire and the scent of roasting meat.

Warriors of all ages gathered around long tables, their deep voices raised in song, recounting tales of past glories—of battlefields where the blood of their enemies painted the earth red.

But among them sat Zuccarn, alone in the shadows, his eyes fixed on something far greater than the current moment.

Under the flickering torchlight, Zuccarn's fingers traced the worn edges of an ancient scroll, its parchment stained and brittle from age.

It was a relic—unearthed from the forgotten vaults deep beneath the capital, hidden away by those who had feared what it contained.

The scroll spoke of a legend, one older than the Saiyan clans themselves, a story of power that had long been buried beneath their warrior traditions.

"Super Saiyan God," he muttered, the words a whisper lost in the roar of the hall.

He had heard the tales before—tales of gods, of beings who transcended the limitations of their mortal bodies.

But this was different.

This spoke of something beyond the strength of a simple warrior, beyond even the great Oozaru transformations.

It was a power that could unite their people, a force not driven by bloodshed but by something deeper—a bond forged in the fires of their ancestors, of blood and honor.

Zuccarn leaned back, his heart pounding in his chest. For all the blood spilled, for all the battles fought, there was still more to the Saiyan people than mere war.

There was an ancient, forgotten power within them—a power that could change the course of their future. 

But in order to unlock it, they would have to remember what they had forgotten.

"Zuccarn," a voice called, breaking his thoughts. His younger brother, Broly, stood at the entrance of the hall, his frame hulking and broad, his wild hair a halo of untamed power.

Despite his youth, Broly had inherited the warrior spirit that ran through their bloodline—the unyielding rage that made their kind feared across the galaxy.

Yet, even as Broly approached, Zuccarn could see the faint flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"What are you doing in the shadows?" Broly asked, his tone as blunt as the sword he wielded.

"Father says you waste your time with these old scrolls. It's time to fight, to train."

Zuccarn gave a small, rueful smile.

"Training will not save us, Broly. Not if we keep fighting the same way we always have."

Broly raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"

Zuccarn stood and unrolled the scroll, revealing the faded writing beneath.

"This," he said, pointing to the ancient text. "This is the key to something greater than all the strength we can muster. A legend of the Super Saiyan God."

Broly's eyes narrowed. "Gods are nothing but stories for the weak. We have power. We do not need the help of gods."

"That's where you're wrong," Zuccarn replied, his voice heavy with conviction.

"We need to remember who we are, not just the warriors we've become. This power isn't just for fighting—it's for something more. It's the blood of our ancestors, and if we unlock it, we will be more than just warriors. We will be something... greater."

Broly scoffed, turning to leave. "I'll leave the legends to you, Zuccarn. But when the time comes, I'll be ready for battle."

Zuccarn watched his brother walk away, his mind racing. He had no illusions about the upcoming days. War was coming to their doorstep.

Zuccarn had some prophetic ability; he knew what would happen soon. He already told the higher ups about this but most of them just laughed at him.

Although King Vegeta seems to take his word more seriously than his confidant. Zuccarn just hoped that the King Vegeta arrangement would be enough until he deciphered this ancient scroll.

Zuccarn can feel that Frieza Force was already making its way toward Planet Vegeta, its dark presence already looming over their world. The Saiyans had always thrived in conflict, but this time, it would be different.

This time, they would face something far worse than any enemy they had ever fought.

And perhaps, just perhaps, the Super Saiyan God was their only hope.

---

Above the capital, the cold stars blinked like silent witnesses to the chaos unfolding below. On the horizon, a sleek, metal ship appeared from the void, its engines humming softly as it descended toward the planet's surface.

The Frieza Force was coming, and with them, the end of an era. 

But in the shadows of the Great Hall, Zuccarn clutched the scroll tighter. He would not let his people fall to ruin—not without a fight, not without giving the Frieza Force a beating.

The blood of their ancestors flowed in their veins, and if they could unlock the true potential of their kind, they would not just survive—they would rise. 

And they would be gods!