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…

Planet Cereal was quite a beautiful object. Even from space, he could easily say that. Yamcha almost couldn't believe this place had been ransacked and destroyed by Saiyans not even two decades ago. 

 

They landed their spaceship on the outskirts of a town and put it in a capsule. Yamcha walked into town, and the Sugarians were a race of aliens that looked like humanoid pink axolotls.

 

He first went and met with the locals. "Hey, what's the best sweet you have around? Do you accept space currency? Or do I need to exchange it somewhere?" 

 

Since they had bought this planet, Yamcha knew Sugarians used and had access to Credits. He didn't know the exact details as the deal was done behind the scenes and covered in some shady details, but the Sugarians still had to fork out a lot of Credits to buy this planet.

 

"Sir! You're disturbing the order. Please come aside," a Sugarian dressed in a police uniform came. "Alien visitors are supposed to report to the visitation department."

 

Alien? Yamcha realized that to them, he was probably no different than those guys with red skin and the head of a bull or those with tentacles for arms. "Yes, I already reported to the department. My grand uncle works in the foreign office, except on the other side."

 

The policeman looked… that’s all Yamcha could tell, it was hard reading an alien’s face to tell what they were thinking. It kinda looked just blank, with no expression. 

 

"Your granduncle? But you don't look like a Sugarian."

 

"Adopted," Yamcha looked at the ground, putting on the saddest look he could. 

 

"O -Okay, okay, I understand. Since you're here, then I will accompany you."

 

‘Wait? They believed that? Aren’t these people kinda too trusting?’

 

"Thanks," using white lies was better than using power. 

 

With his power level, Yamcha could easily dominate the whole planet, much less pass some registry. But he didn't like violence in general. 

 

Power and pure violence were two different things. It was easy to like boxing but hate street fights. Anyone who grew up with a degree of violence around them would know how dangerous a street fight could be.

 

The Sugarian police officer took Yamcha, and Bulma quietly followed. The shop looked like a normal building, except the chairs were slightly smaller. They got strange puddings with lightning moving inside of them.

 

"Can you tell me the story of your people?" Yamcha asked, trying to make some small talk. He was genuinely interested in a new race of people he hadn't even met before. 

 

"Okay, I will start with the story of the great catastrophe of the Sugarians, where many people say our race approached instinct," the policeman's eyes glowed with excitement.

 

Within the story was a fascinating take of a race like many out there. But each of these stories was special. Yamcha was almost sad at how there were countless civilizations that had their stories forgotten. 

 

The Sugarians' story was a simple one. Where their home world was destroyed, and they bought this planet quite cheaply from Frieza's allies, the Heeters. 

 

When hearing the name 'Heeters' Yamcha grew cautious of their connection with Frieza. Immediately Yamcha activated his Ki Sensing, which worked over a big chunk of the planets around that were within his range. 

 

A little healthy paranoia never hurt anyone. 

 

He sensed a power level of around 90,000; if it had been a month ago, he would have been scared shitless. 

 

But that no longer was the case. If he were a Frieza soldier, Yamcha would kill him, get several levels, and dispose of the body. 

 

While to most normal people, rising in power like this might be eye-opening and shocking. Something they should be happy about. Yamcha was a little disappointed. He had known that without the Saiyan's Zenkai Boost, they almost killed themselves in training and doubled or even tripled their powers at this stage. 

 

Yamcha's growth was too linear, which had to be achieved with gradual progression. The Gamer's Interface allowed extreme growth even for a human, but even the Saiyans could outpace him if they needed to fight against a strong enemy. 

 

"Excuse me, do you have bathrooms here?" Yamcha asked. 

 

The policeman pointed to the side. There Yamcha saw two bathroom doors, one with the stick figure of a Sugarian with fins and one with smaller fins. "Which one is for the men?"

 

"Just go in the one with the bigger fins if you're an adult."

 

Yamcha got a culture shock. He felt like a certain type of foreigner pointing at the small junks of the men in naked statues.

 

The bathroom had weird seats, but Yamcha didn't waste time there and instead used Solid Swimming to get through the bathroom walls to the outside. He formed a spheric barrier around himself and flew toward the sky like a rocket. 

 

He arrived on the neighboring planet in less than five minutes. Opening his barrier, he tested if the air was breathable, and it was. 

 

The source of the Power Level he had sensed previously stood atop a rock. With one of his eyes closed while doing a finger gun and shooting at rocks. 

 

'He must be the alien equivalent of troubled youth. Which was a dangerous disposition to be in with the kind of power he has.' Yamcha thought while getting a better look at the young man. 

 

He looked to be in his teens, with wild green hair and one red eye. 

 

[Granolah - Lvl 121] [PL: 90,000]

[A young man whose race was destroyed by Saiyans under Frieza’s orders. He wanted revenge against Frieza and trained hard every day to reach that goal.]

 

The first thing that caught Yamcha's eye was the low player level compared to the power he wielded. So by that alone, he deduced the young man must not have killed many people, unlike the Frieza soldiers. Or had a lot of life experience, like Roshi. 

 

Though his thoughts before meeting the teen were to kill him, Yamcha changed his mind while reading the teen's description on his Observe Skill. 

 

'His civilization was destroyed by Saiyans. Every one of his race except him was eliminated.' 

 

The Saiyan race might be almost extinct, but remnants of their actions were everywhere. They truly were Frieza's attack dogs. Even a low-class Saiyan could become an elite warrior when there was a full moon in the sky.

 

There was one line in Granolah's description that Yamcha liked.

 

[Due to his race's destruction, Granolah loathes Frieza and wants to kill him.]

 

The teenager was obsessed with killing Saiyans and Frieza. He doesn't seem to have done either. 

 

"For a sniper, you sure have shitty situational awareness." Yamcha's words seemed to shake Granolah up. Without an ounce of hesitation, the young man turned around and shot a bean from his fingers. 

 

Yamcha blocked the beam, and despite there being a gap between their power, he could feel the burning heat of the small blast. It had hit an impossibly small weak point in the palm of his hand. 

 

"A Saiyan!!" Granolah's eyes turned hateful. 

 

"Saiyan?" Yamcha looked confused as Granolah came to punch him. He easily blocked the teen's attack and gave him a good elbow to the stomach, leaving him wheezing on the ground. "I don't have a tail. Also, it's kinda racist to assume that I'm a Saiyan just because of my dark hair, and eyes. Though I guess you can't be a racist against a race that no longer exists. Kind of like the Glorkians, those damn money-grubbing Glorkians."

 

Yamcha tried easing the mood. But the youngster was a little too obsessed with revenge and wasn’t looking at the situation with a clear mind. Yamcha didn’t blame him; in his situation, he would have also shot first and asked questions later. 

 

"Shut up! You damn Saiyan!" Granolah got up and shot rapid beams like a machine gun. Each of them was precise, like a scalpel. One could be a coincidence but twice was confirmation. 

 

'So this guy's ability is something like a discount Sharingan. Even the red eye and everything. Maybe more like Kakashi since he only has one magic eye.'

 

Yamcha tilted his head to the side, dodging a dozen and then backing off to dodge some more. He did all this with a smile on his face and his eyes half-closed as if he was bored. 

 

He wasn't bored since he knew where being careless would lead. "I have no tail, dumbass. Don't let revenge make you dumber. Have it sharpen your mind instead."

 

Granolah looked at Yamcha's waist, where a Saiyan usually kept their tail wrapped. 

 

That earned the teen a soft Ki blast to the face. The hit was not dangerous enough to injure him, but still enough to ruffle his hair and just his face. 

 

"Did you just look where your opponent told you to?" Yamcha shook his head and sighed, wondering if this was how disappointed parents felt. "Would you also jump off a cliff if I told you to?"

 

Granolah tried throwing sand in Yamcha's eyes. If he was someone like Goku this might have worked. But you couldn't scam a scammer. Yamcha kicked his hand to the side before the alien youngster even picked up the sand.

 

"Now I feel like I'm bullying you. Which isn't a nice feeling," Yamcha put his hands in his pockets to show his superiority. At least, that's who Granolah would perceive it to be. "You have good piercing attacks but are shit in close combat. So come on, getting your ass beat is the best way to get better at fighting."

 

Normally, Yamcha wouldn't bother with something like this. But there was something very enticing about Granolah, and it wasn't that his name sounded like food. 

 

Not only did their goals align, but…

 

[PL: 90,000/40,000,000]

 

This kid had some crazy potential.