The air on Planet Sadala was never still. Even at sunrise, explosions rolled through the horizon like distant thunder.
Razor sat at the cliff's edge, silent, his gaze fixed on the red-tinted sky. Smoke from the battlefield below drifted up, curling like ghosts through the wind.
Another mission waiting. Another day I'll barely survive.
He clenched his fist, feeling the dull ache beneath the scars. His body had healed — mostly — but not the part that mattered. A few weeks ago, he clashed with two enemy scouts and barely survived. The healers called it a miracle. But he knew all these clashes had made him much stronger than he could've imagined previously.
Footsteps broke his thoughts. "You're still breathing, huh?" a guard said, voice casual but cold. "Commander wants you on another rescue run. North sector this time."
Razor didn't turn around. "Do they ever stop fighting long enough for people to need rescuing?"
"Not our problem," the guard smirked. "Yours is just to clean up the mess."
The man flew off before Razor could respond. He let out a quiet breath and rose. Guess that's my cue. No rest for the expendable.
The battlefield was a graveyard of smoke and broken earth. Razor walked through the chaos — the stench of blood mixing with the sharp, metallic air. Blasts thundered in the distance.
He found the wounded Saiyan quickly, sprawled across the dirt with half his armor missing. The soldier's breathing was ragged.
Razor knelt beside him. "You're lucky I found you first."
The man's lips twitched — maybe a smile, maybe pain. Razor lifted him onto his shoulder, muttering, "Don't die on me yet."
He'd taken only a few steps before the air shifted. His senses flared — two strong power levels rushing in fast.
Great. Of course.
The ground cracked as two Saiyans landed ahead of him, their auras wild and golden.
"Well, well," said the taller one with a grin, his hair sparking with crimson lightning. "A medic boy out for a morning stroll."
Razor gently set the wounded man down. "Move. I don't have time for this."
The shorter Saiyan barked a laugh. "You hear that, Taros? The kid thinks we'll listen."
Taros cracked his knuckles, smirk widening. "Then let's make him beg for time Sabor."
Razor's eyes narrowed. "So that's how it is." He exhaled slowly, golden sparks flickering to life around him. His aura flared upward as his hair lengthened — Super Saiyan 3.
The clash came like lightning.
Taros vanished in a blur; Razor met him mid-charge, their fists colliding with a deafening shockwave. The ground split beneath them.
Taros laughed through the impact. "Not bad for a cleaner!"
Razor ducked under a punch, driving his knee into Taros's ribs. The taller Saiyan coughed blood but retaliated with a brutal elbow to Razor's jaw. Sparks flashed — movement too fast for the eye.
Razor staggered back, spitting blood. He's fast… but reckless.
A sudden flare of killing intent — the second Saiyan charging in from behind. Razor spun, blocking the first blast with his forearm, then countered with a kick that sent the shorter one skidding across the dirt.
The battlefield exploded with golden light as all three warriors fought — fists, energy blasts, and shockwaves ripping the land apart.
Two on one. Perfect odds.
"Stop playing with him!" the Sabor roared, recovering. "I'll finish this!"
"Don't interfere!" Taros shouted, but it was too late — Sabor powered up, screaming as his aura exploded as he transformed into Super Saiyan 3 form.
Razor exhaled, deadpan. "Two loudmouths. Wonderful."
Both charged. Razor moved like a ghost — ducking, weaving, countering. Their combined blows shook the air, but his reflexes were sharper, honed by endless survival. Every move was instinct now.
He caught Taros's wrist, twisted it, and slammed an elbow into his chest. The crack of armor echoed. The second Saiyan came in with a flying kick — Razor blocked, planting his foot into the ground, and unleashed a blast that hurled both of them backward.
The dust cleared. Both enemies stood panting, bruised but grinning. Saiyans lived for this kind of madness.
Taros wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming. "Not bad, boy. You almost look like a warrior."
Razor's voice was low. "Almost?" He raised his hands, crimson energy swirling between them. "Let's test that."
He waited for Taros to rush first — then sidestepped at the last moment, thrusting his arm forward.
"Destructo Beam!"
The crimson flash sliced through Taros's side, blood spraying as the warrior screamed and flew back. Razor didn't waste a heartbeat. He appeared before the Sabor and unleashed a barrage — fists, knees, elbows, all landing with brutal precision.
Sabor coughed blood, crashing into the dirt. Razor raised his palm, energy gathering again.
"This ends now."
The ki blast erupted — a blinding explosion that tore through the ground. When the smoke cleared, silence followed.
Both Saiyans lay still.
Razor stood there, chest heaving, the golden aura flickering out. His arms trembled slightly, bruised and cut. He turned toward where he'd left the injured soldier… only to see the lifeless body slumped against the dirt.
He stared for a long moment. Then, spoke quietly —
"Figures."
He powered down. The faint whistle of the wind filled the air. Another rescue failed. Another pointless fight survived.
I keep saving others, but for what?
He started walking back toward camp, boots crunching against the ash.
By the time he arrived, dusk had fallen. The base was buzzing — medics shouting, engines roaring, energy blasts flashing in the distance. A bulky Saiyan with a scar over his eye blocked his path.
"Report, Razor."
Razor told him everything — the ambush, the fight, the dead soldier. He expected anger or punishment.
Instead, the officer chuckled. "You took down two low-ranks alone?" His smirk widened. "Didn't think the quiet type had that in him."
Razor said nothing.
"You're wasted in rescue work," the officer said finally. "I'll put in for a transfer — frontline division. The commander should see what you can really do."
Razor gave a faint nod and walked away. His expression didn't change… but deep inside, something flickered awake.
The frontline, huh? Maybe it's time I stopped running from what I am.
Outside, explosions lit the sky again — red and gold, like fire and fury. And somewhere within that chaos, Razor felt it: the old fire in his blood, burning stronger than ever.