The planet was little more than a rock suspended in the void, with an opaque sky and cracked ground that crunched under every impact. There was no wind. There was no life. Exactly as Vegeta preferred it. There, every blow had a purpose, and no distraction deserved attention.

His ki exploded around his body in controlled bursts. He advanced, spun, attacked the air with brutal precision. Every movement was contained force, discipline sharpened by years of pride and rage tamed by force.

He landed after a long jump, the ground giving way in a crack that spread several meters. He exhaled through his nose, annoyed. It wasn't enough. It never was.

He closed his eyes and raised his ki again, concentrating it until it vibrated. The planet responded with a low tremor, almost a groan. Vegeta frowned.

Then he felt it.

A faint presence, distant, barely a thread on an empty planet, but unmistakable. Vegeta opened his eyes wide and turned his head, staring at the empty horizon. It wasn't Kakarotto's clumsy, familiar ki. Nor was it that of the warriors he knew; this was different. Ancient, perhaps, or simply... familiar in a way he couldn't explain.

“Tch...” he clicked his tongue. “What the hell is that?”

He carefully extended his perception. The ki fluctuated, unstable, neither threatening nor challenging, but it did not flee either. That was what disturbed him; there should be nothing else on that inhospitable planet.

Vegeta slowly lowered his power level. His stance remained firm, but something had changed. Training was no longer the focus; his mind was already calculating possibilities.