The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow across the royal city of Tristania. Inside the grand walls of the royal castle, Princess Henrietta sat in her private study, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and reports from various corners of her kingdom. It was a routine she had grown accustomed to, the weight of leadership resting heavily on her slender shoulders. Her mind was preoccupied with diplomatic issues, political strategies, and the looming tensions between the neighboring nations. Yet, amidst the monotony of daily affairs, a knock came at her door, brisk and urgent.
"Enter," Henrietta called, her voice carrying the authority of her station but laced with the weariness of someone who had spent far too long poring over documents.
The door creaked open, and a royal guard stepped in, his face lined with unease. He held a parchment in his hands, the seal of the royal intelligence service stamped in red wax. "Your Highness," the guard said, bowing deeply, "an urgent report from the outskirts near the Tristain Magic Academy."
Henrietta arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the mention of the academy, and gestured for the guard to continue.
"Something strange has been reported, Your Highness," the guard explained, his tone serious. "There have been sightings of a man flying near a small town near the academy. He was seen with a young girl—one with pink hair."
Henrietta's heart skipped a beat at the mention of a pink-haired girl. Her mind immediately went to Louise, her childhood friend, the girl who had so often gotten herself into trouble—sometimes unintentionally, but trouble nonetheless. She leaned forward, her interest fully piqued.
"The report says the two of them were seen in the town," the guard continued, "and they were approached by a group of bandits who attempted to rob them."
Henrietta's fingers tightened on the armrest of her chair. Bandits? Louise would have no chance against such men. Her magic was... unpredictable at best.
"And?" Henrietta pressed, her voice sharp.
The guard hesitated as if unsure how to deliver the next part. "The man—the flying man—easily defeated the bandits. The townspeople said it was as if they didn't even stand a chance despite the situation appearing life-threatening. They described him as… mysterious, with immense strength. The bandits never saw it coming."
Henrietta's lips parted slightly in surprise. "A flying man...?" she repeated under her breath, the words sounding strange even to her. The idea of such a person and Louise's presence made her stomach churn with concern. "And you're sure the girl was Louise?"
The guard nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. The townspeople mentioned her pink hair and demeanor. She was in the company of the man during the altercation."
Henrietta's mind raced. Louise was a noble, a student at the Tristain Magic Academy, but summoning a familiar capable of flying—and apparently possessing such raw strength—was completely outside the realm of expectation. Could this be connected to some dark magic? Or was Louise caught up in something far more dangerous than anyone realized?
Worry began to settle in her chest, and Henrietta stood from her desk, smoothing the folds of her elegant gown. "This news is troubling," she murmured, more to herself than to the guard. "Louise... she's always been headstrong, but something about this feels wrong. She could be in danger."
"Your Highness," came a voice from behind her. One of her trusted advisors, a gray-haired man named Duke Mott, had been quietly listening by the door. "It may not be wise for you to get involved directly. The academy has its own security, and this... flying man, whoever he is, doesn't seem to pose an immediate threat."
Henrietta turned to face the duke, her expression softening, but the concern in her eyes remained. "Louise is not just another student to me, Duke Mott. She's my friend. I cannot simply sit here while she might be in danger."
The advisor bowed his head slightly, his voice diplomatic but firm. "I understand, Your Highness, but your presence at the academy could draw unwanted attention. If this situation turns out to be more than it appears, it could put both you and the royal family at risk."
Henrietta paused, weighing his words. He wasn't wrong—her safety was paramount to the kingdom. Still, the thought of Louise being left to handle this on her own gnawed at her. This report was far too strange, and knowing Louise, there was no telling how deeply involved she might be in whatever was happening.
"I appreciate your counsel," Henrietta said, her voice calm but determined. "But I cannot ignore this. I will go to the academy myself."
The duke's brow furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with the other advisors who had quietly entered the room during the discussion. They all seemed to share his concern.
"Your Highness," another advisor, Lady Isabelle, interjected gently, "perhaps we could send word to the academy, inform them of the report, and let them handle it. There is no need for you to put yourself at risk. We can dispatch royal investigators—"
"No." Henrietta's tone was resolute, her decision already made. "I will not send others to do what I should do myself. Louise has always been there for me, and I owe it to her to ensure she's safe."
Her advisors exchanged uneasy looks, but they could see that Henrietta would not be swayed. When the princess made up her mind, there was no changing it.
Duke Mott sighed, accepting the inevitable. "Very well, Your Highness. If you are set on going, we will prepare the necessary arrangements. But I must insist that we send word to the academy before your arrival. If nothing else, they should be made aware of your visit."
Henrietta nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Yes, of course. Notify the headmaster that I will be arriving by tomorrow morning. And please, make it clear that this is a private matter—I don't want to stir up unnecessary rumors."
The advisors bowed and swiftly obeyed her orders, leaving Henrietta alone in her study again. She walked over to the large window that overlooked the city, her hands clasped in front of her as she stared out at the horizon.
A flying man... bandits... and Louise.
Her heart ached with worry, but she refused to show it. Louise had always been like a sister to her, and if there were any chance that she was in danger, Henrietta would not stand idly by. She knew the risks—politically and personally—but friendship was more important than royal protocol.
The capital below buzzed with activity as the evening stretched on, but Henrietta's thoughts were already miles away, with Louise and the mysterious man. She could only hope that she wouldn't be too late when she reached the academy.
The sun began to set, casting a golden hue across the landscape as Broly soared through the sky, Louise in his arms. The wind whipped through her pink hair, and the world below seemed small and insignificant for a moment, just as it always did when they flew like this. Despite her initial fears, Louise had grown somewhat accustomed to Broly's way of traveling. In fact, she found herself even enjoying it. After all, it was faster than any horse or carriage could ever be, and the feeling of being above everything, literally and figuratively, was intoxicating.
As they neared the Tristain Academy, Louise's mind wandered back to the day's events. The bandits, the danger, and how Broly—despite his overwhelming strength—had been so close to letting her get hurt. The thought made her stomach twist, but she tried to push it aside. Of course, Broly would have let her get hurt, she reasoned. He always threatened to destroy everything—her, the academy, the whole world if given the chance. That cursed mark bound him to obey her, but if it weren't for that, she had no illusions about what he would do.
Still, her memory of his smirk as she begged for his help lingered. If she hadn't ordered him to save her, she might not even be here right now.
He really would've let them kill me, Louise thought, frowning slightly as the wind whipped through her hair. She glanced up at Broly, who remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression as stony and cold as ever. He had barely said a word since they left the town, but his mood was unmistakable. He was still furious, and she did not doubt that, given the chance, he'd make good on all those threats he kept muttering under his breath.
But then again, it wasn't like this was new. Broly was always like this. Destruction seemed to be the only thing on his mind, and while that used to scare her more, Louise had grown almost... used to it. Still, she couldn't deny that the day's events had shaken her, even if she wasn't about to show it.
Trying to shake off the lingering unease, Louise allowed herself to fall back into her usual demeanor. They'd gotten a lot done today, after all. "We sure made an impression in that town, didn't we?" she said, breaking the silence as she looked up at Broly. Her voice carried the same hubris she always had after a successful day. "I mean, did you see how people looked at us? They're going to be talking about us for weeks!"
Broly didn't respond; his jaw clenched in barely contained rage. Louise's words grated on his nerves, but even his rage felt... exhausting at this point. He'd been mad for so long that it was almost becoming a background noise in his mind. Yet the anger never went away, never truly subsided. Every command, every order, every time he was forced to follow her... it was a constant reminder of the humiliation he suffered under this girl. And then there was the bed situation. Or lack thereof.
As the academy came into view on the horizon, Louise stretched slightly in his arms, clearly already thinking about the evening ahead. "I don't know about you, but ready to hit the sack. We've had a long day, and tomorrow we can—"
"Shut up," Broly muttered, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed irritation.
Louise raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused by his tone. "You're always so grumpy," she said, rolling her eyes. "Maybe you wouldn't be so angry all the time if you just relaxed a little. Besides, I'm the one calling the shots, so you might as well get used to it."
Broly didn't respond. What was there to say? He couldn't exactly argue with her. The cursed mark on his hand ensured that she was right—he was bound to her, forced to follow her every whim. He couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to break free, to crush her and everything around her. Not yet.
As they finally descended and landed in the academy courtyard, Louise hopped down from Broly's arms, dusting herself off as if she hadn't just been carried through the air by one of the most powerful beings in existence. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning. "That was fast," she said with a grin. "Flying really is convenient."
Broly, still seething, simply glared at her. His massive fists clenched and unclenched as he stood there, his muscles tense and ready to snap at any moment.
Unaware or not caring about his mood, Louise began walking toward the dormitory. "Come on, Broly," she called over her shoulder. "It's late. Let's head back."
Broly followed though each step felt like a fresh insult to his pride. Every time she called out to him, every time he was forced to obey, it was like another chain tightening around him. His anger surged, but the mark on his hand throbbed, keeping him in check.
As they entered the dormitory, the halls were quiet, and most of the students had already retreated to their rooms for the night. Louise made her way toward her own room, a satisfied smile on her face. She was in a good mood despite the lingering thoughts of what had almost happened earlier.
"Well, we got a lot done today," Louise said cheerfully as they reached her door. "I'm glad we took care of those errands. Tomorrow, we'll—"
"I don't care," Broly interrupted, his voice a low growl.
Louise frowned at him but didn't respond right away. Instead, she pushed open the door to her room and stepped inside, leaving it open for Broly to follow. Her room was small but comfortable, with a single bed against the wall, a desk littered with papers and books, and a window overlooking the academy grounds. A stack of hay lay in the far corner of the room, where Broly had been forced to sleep ever since arriving at the academy.
Now feeling the day's weight settle in, Louise began to undress, changing into her nightgown with casual ease. She climbed into her soft, comfy bed, pulling the blankets around her as she sighed, satisfied.
"Ahh, finally," she said, momentarily closing her eyes. "I don't know about you, Broly, but I'm ready to sleep."
Broly, however, was not ready for sleep. His gaze shifted to the corner of the room where his "bed" lay—the miserable pile of hay that he had been forced to sleep on since his arrival. It was insulting. Humiliating, even. He was the Legendary Super Saiyan, and yet here he was, reduced to sleeping on a pathetic stack of straw like some kind of farm animal.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the hay. Every night, this had been his lot. While Louise slept comfortably in her plush bed, he was forced to curl up in that corner, his massive frame barely fitting in the space. And the worst part? He had no choice. The mark on his hand ensured that he couldn't even refuse.
Louise, now half-asleep, mumbled from her bed, "Goodnight, Broly. Don't destroy the room in your sleep."
Broly's eyes flickered toward her, his glare filled with barely contained rage. He lay back against the wall, the hay poking into his skin, but he didn't care about the discomfort. His mind was elsewhere.
As the room grew quiet, the faint sounds of the academy's nighttime routine fading into the distance, Broly closed his eyes. But sleep didn't come easily. Instead, his thoughts swirled with images of destruction—images of the academy in flames, the walls crumbling, the students running in terror. He imagined tearing this entire place apart, piece by piece until there was nothing left but rubble. And Louise... she would be the first to fall. Her smug, overconfident face filled his mind, and the thought of silencing her for good was almost enough to make him smile.
But even that wasn't enough. No, his real target was far away. Kakarot. The one who had haunted his dreams, who had driven him to the edge of madness. His desire to fight and destroy Kakarot burned hotter than any other desire. It consumed him, driving every thought, every movement. If he could just break free, he would find him. And this time, he wouldn't hold back. He would make Kakarot pay for everything.
But for now, Broly was stuck in this prison, bound by the cursed mark and forced to obey the orders of a girl who barely understood the power she had summoned. The hay beneath him rustled as he shifted, his muscles tense with pent-up frustration.
He could feel the power inside him, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for the moment when he could finally break free of these chains. When that moment came—whether it was tomorrow, next week, or even years from now—nothing would be left in his way.
And when it did, Louise, the academy, and Kakarot... they would all burn.
For now, though, he lay there in the corner of the room, eyes closed, fists clenched, and thoughts filled with rage.
Inside the dimly lit office of the Tristain Magic Academy's headmaster, Professor Colbert sat across from Headmaster Osmond. The room was filled with the smell of old books and the soft glow of a flickering candle. Colbert's usual composed expression was clouded with worry as he stared at the older man seated behind the large oak desk. Headmaster Osmond, a man with a long, white beard and perpetually mischievous eyes, looked more serious than usual. His hands rested on the desk, fingers lightly tapping the surface as he listened intently to his colleague.
The two had met here late in the evening to discuss something that had been on their minds since the day Louise had summoned her familiar. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and the weight of the topic was pressing down on them.
"Headmaster," Colbert began, his voice quiet but firm, "we need to talk about Louise's familiar. I fear we've underestimated the situation."
Osmond leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he stroked his beard. "Yes, the familiar... Broly, was it? I've never seen anything like him before. He's clearly not from our world."
Colbert nodded gravely. "Exactly. His power... it's unlike anything we've ever encountered. He's not just a strong, familiar Headmaster—he's something far more dangerous. I've spoken to some students, and they've mentioned... disturbing things about him. The way he carries himself, the way he handles conflicts—it's not natural."
Osmond tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Disturbing how?"
Colbert hesitated for a moment before continuing. "He doesn't behave like a normal familiar. I've heard from several students, including Louise herself, that he seems... indifferent to her. And not just indifferent—he actively resents her. He's openly threatened to destroy her and the academy. Normally, I would chalk this up to Louise's usual magical mishaps, but the more I observe, the more it becomes clear that Broly is not something we can control."
Osmond sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "And the mark?"
Colbert shook his head, his worry deepening. "That's the only thing keeping him in check. Louise's summoning magic somehow bound him with a mark on his hand, but I don't understand how it's working. And that's what concerns me the most: Headmaster. We don't know how long it will hold. If that mark fails, if Broly breaks free of it... I fear for everyone here."
There was a long pause as both men considered the implications. Osmond's fingers stopped their tapping as he let out a weary sigh.
"Louise isn't aware of the magnitude of the power she's bound herself to," Osmond said finally. "She's a... talented young girl, despite her struggles with magic. But this? This is far beyond her."
"I agree," Colbert replied, his brow furrowed. "She doesn't fully grasp the danger she's in. Or the danger we're all in. It's one thing to have an unruly familiar, but Broly... he's not just unruly. He's a force of nature."
The headmaster nodded, his usually lighthearted demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. "I've been researching, but there's very little about familiars from other worlds in our records. If Broly's not from Halkeginia, then we may not fully understand what we're dealing with."
Colbert leaned forward, his voice lowering. "We need to consider that Broly's power might be too much for anyone to control, mark or no mark. And if that's the case, we must be prepared for the worst."
Osmond didn't respond immediately; his mind clearly worked through the possibilities. The headmaster wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but the situation with Broly was unlike anything he had faced in his long years at the academy.
As the two men spoke, a figure quietly approached the door to the office. It was Longueville, Headmaster Osmond's assistant. She had been walking the halls, attending to some late-night duties, when she had caught a snippet of their conversation. Hearing Louise's name mentioned—and something about a dangerous familiar—had piqued her interest. She slowed her steps as she neared the office door, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Longueville wasn't one to eavesdrop lightly, but something about this conversation struck her as important. She leaned ever so slightly closer to the door, her ears straining to catch the rest of their discussion.
"We can't ignore this any longer, Headmaster," Colbert continued. "I fear that if we leave things as they are, something catastrophic could happen. If Broly ever loses control—"
"You're right, Colbert," Osmond interrupted his voice grave. "But what would you suggest we do? We can't simply banish the familiar—he's bound to Louise through magic we don't fully understand. And we certainly can't risk angering him."
"We need to start researching," Colbert said. "There must be something in the archives—something about binding or controlling familiars of his caliber. We have to be proactive, Headmaster. I fear waiting will only make the situation worse."
Osmond nodded slowly, deep in thought. "Agreed. We'll start researching immediately. But in the meantime, we'll keep a close eye on Broly. Perhaps we can even speak with Louise and try to explain the gravity of the situation. She needs to understand the responsibility she's taken on."
Colbert sighed in relief, though the tension didn't leave his face. "Yes, I'll speak with her as soon as possible. But... we should be prepared for anything, just in case."
Unbeknownst to them, Longueville stood just outside the door, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the conversation. The mention of Broly, of his power, and of the danger he posed stirred something inside her. Her thoughts drifted to her own plan—the one she had been carefully crafting for some time. This Broly... he was dangerous, yes, but perhaps he could also be useful. Very useful.
A slow, calculating smile crept across Longueville's lips as she considered the possibilities. If Broly truly was as powerful as they said, then he could be the key to achieving her goals. The idea of controlling such a force, or at the very least, manipulating it for her own ends, was an intriguing prospect.
Perhaps, just perhaps, this could play right into her hands.
With that thought lingering in her mind, Longueville quietly stepped away from the door, careful not to make a sound as she retreated into the shadows of the hallway. There was much to consider, and she would need to move carefully.
Inside the office, Colbert and Osmond continued their discussion, unaware of the sinister thoughts brewing just outside the door.
"For now," Osmond said, his voice steady, "we'll take this one step at a time. Let's not panic the students or staff, but we'll monitor Broly closely. And we'll begin our research immediately."
Colbert nodded, though his concern was still palpable. "I'll check the archives first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll find something that can help."
"Good," Osmond replied. "We'll speak again once we have more information."
As the meeting drew to a close, both men knew that they were dealing with something far more dangerous than they had ever anticipated. And yet, even as they plotted their next steps, neither of them could foresee the storm brewing—not just with Broly, but with those who had plans for the mysterious familiar.
Longueville moved swiftly down the dimly lit corridors of the academy, her heels making barely a sound against the stone floor. She had heard enough from her eavesdropping on Colbert and Osmond's conversation to know that Broly was someone she needed to observe more closely. His power was far greater than anyone had anticipated, and if there was a way to exploit it, she had to figure it out. The fact that even the academy's headmaster and top professor were concerned made it all the more intriguing—and dangerous. But the danger didn't frighten Longueville; it excited her.
As she approached the area where Louise's dorm room was located, she slowed her pace, slipping into the shadows to avoid being seen. She knew that Broly, with all his strength, wouldn't be easy to approach directly. If she could just find some weakness, something to exploit, it could play right into her hands. Quietly, she reached Louise's door, which was slightly ajar, and leaned against the wall just outside. The faint sound of breathing came from within, and then—something else.
A voice. Low, guttural, and filled with rage.
Longueville strained her ears, pressing closer. The voice wasn't Louise's. It was Broly's. She could hear him muttering in his sleep; his words slurred and fainted but grew louder with each repetition.
"Kakarot…"
Longueville was unfamiliar with the name, but Broly's delivery caught her attention. His tone wasn't just angry—it was furious, filled with a rage that seemed to shake him to his core.
"Kakarot…" Broly growled again, louder this time.
Longueville's brows furrowed. Who is Kakarot? She had never heard the name before, but it was clear from the way Broly repeated it that this person was central to his torment. The more he said it, the angrier he seemed to get. His breathing grew heavier, his muttering turning into something darker and more dangerous.
"Kakarot!" Broly's voice now came out as a guttural roar, his body shifting on the haystack he slept on. The very air in the room seemed to thrum with his growing rage.
Inside the room, Louise stirred in her sleep. At first, she was only vaguely aware of the low grumbling coming from the corner, but as Broly's voice grew louder, she jolted awake, blinking sleepily. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes as she tried to shake off the drowsiness.
"Broly?" Louise mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing? Stop talking…"
But Broly didn't respond. He continued muttering Kakarot's name over and over, each time with more venom than the last. His body twitched as if he were struggling against something, his fists clenching tightly in his sleep.
Louise frowned, clearly annoyed now. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed, shuffling toward Broly's corner. "Broly, shut up. I'm trying to sleep," she snapped, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
But Broly didn't seem to hear her. His muttering had become a full-blown snarl, his muscles tensing as his fists dug into the hay. "KAKAROT!" he roared, his voice filled with hatred and fury.
Louise barely had time to react before it happened.
In an instant, Broly's body erupted with energy. A shockwave of pure force exploded out from him, sending Louise flying back against the wall of her dorm room. She hit the stone with a dull thud, her eyes wide with shock as she tried to process what had just happened. The very air in the room buzzed with dark, menacing power, and the temperature seemed to drop as a strange, suffocating pressure filled the space.
Outside the door, Longueville staggered backward, her heart pounding as she felt the power surge from within. The hallway trembled slightly, the ground beneath her feet vibrating with the intensity of Broly's energy. She pressed herself against the wall, her breath quickening. This was unlike anything she had felt before. She was used to power, but this... this was raw, primal, and terrifying. For the first time since she began spying on Broly, she felt a genuine pang of fear.
But alongside that fear, there was also excitement. She had learned something valuable tonight—Broly's power, as immense as it was, could be triggered by something. This "Kakarot," whoever he was, had clearly become a focal point of Broly's rage. It was a weakness, a psychological trigger, and one that Longueville could potentially exploit. She just had to be careful—very careful.
Longueville took one last glance toward the slightly ajar door, her eyes wide with both terror and intrigue, before slipping quietly down the hall, her mind already racing with possibilities. She would leave them for now, but soon, she would put this new knowledge to use.
Inside the room, Louise struggled to push herself up from the floor, her body still reeling from the shockwave. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, only to be met with a sight she had never expected to see.
Broly had transformed.
His skin had darkened to a deep brown, his muscles bulging even more than usual, and his hair—normally wild and black—had turned an eerie blue with a purple tint. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and the sheer intensity of his power made the entire room shake. The mark on his hand, which normally restrained him, pulsed faintly, struggling to contain his transformation.
Louise's breath caught in her throat. She had seen powerful magic before, but this... this was something else entirely.
"Broly…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the energy swirling around him.
But Broly wasn't awake. His eyes were closed, his body rigid, and he was trapped in the throes of his dream—his nightmare. His face twisted into a mask of fury, and even in his sleep, he continued to mutter the name that haunted him.
"Kakarot... KAKAROT!"
Louise scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as the room shook violently. Books fell from the shelves, and the very walls seemed to groan under the pressure of Broly's power. She had to do something—anything—before the entire academy was brought down around them.
"Broly!" she yelled, trying to reach him over the deafening roar of his energy. "Wake up! Stop it!"
But Broly didn't respond. His muscles tensed even more, and another shockwave of energy burst from him, sending Louise stumbling backward again. The academy itself began to tremble, the ground beneath them shaking as if in response to Broly's growing fury.
Louise's mind raced. She had no idea what to do. Every time Broly had lost his temper before, she had been able to calm him down with a few well-placed commands. But now, he wasn't even awake to hear her. The mark on his hand glowed faintly, but it wasn't enough to hold him back completely.
"Come on, Louise," she muttered to herself, her voice filled with desperation. "Think! You have to wake him up!"
She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on a bucket of water near the washbasin. In a last-ditch effort, she grabbed the bucket and hurled its contents at Broly, hoping the cold water shock would snap him out of his trance.
The water splashed over Broly's massive frame, but it did nothing to stop him. If anything, it seemed to fuel his rage even more. His body tensed, and the air around him crackled with energy as he muttered the name again, louder than before.
"KAKAROT!"
Louise was out of ideas. The walls were beginning to crack, and she could hear distant voices in the hallway as other students began to panic from the tremors shaking the academy. She had to stop this—now.
In a moment of sheer desperation, Louise did the only thing she could think of. She ran up to Broly's side, grabbed his arm with both hands and shouted, "Broly, that's an order—WAKE UP!"
The mark on his hand flared brightly, pulsing with a brilliant light as her command took hold. Broly's entire body jerked violently, his eyes snapping open as the energy around him dissipated in an instant. His muscles relaxed, his skin and hair returning to their normal state, and the room fell silent once more.
Broly blinked, disoriented, as he looked around the room, his breathing heavy. He glanced down at Louise, who was still gripping his arm. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide with fear.
"What... happened?" he muttered, his voice low and confused.
Louise sat on the floor, breathing heavily, her wide eyes fixed on Broly. "Broly... we need to talk about that," she said, trying to steady her voice. "Whatever that was... it's dangerous."
Broly's jaw clenched, his eyes still blazing with fury. His fists were balled so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. He didn't bother hiding his frustration as he glared down at her. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Kakarot haunts me every time I close my eyes. Every time I see him. And because of you," he gestured angrily toward the mark on his hand, "I can't do a damn thing about it."
Louise winced at the venom in his voice, but she didn't back down. She knew this side of Broly all too well by now. The endless hatred, the obsession with Kakarot—that cursed name—it had all become a constant part of their uneasy partnership. She knew exactly who Kakarot was: Goku, the one Broly despised more than anyone else in the universe. Broly had told her about him before, though it had been more of a rant than an explanation.
"Kakarot, Kakarot, always Kakarot," Louise muttered under her breath, running a hand through her messy hair. "I swear if I hear that name one more time—"
"What?" Broly growled, cutting her off. "What will you do, Louise? Nothing. You'll do nothing because you can't. You control me with that damned mark, but don't think for a second that it makes you safe."
Louise's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stand up, wobbling slightly. She dusted herself off, staring at Broly with a mixture of fear and frustration. "Safe?" she shot back, her voice sharper now. "I'm never safe around you! You've made that very clear, Broly. Every time you look at me, it's like you're counting the seconds until you can destroy everything—including me. Don't act like you're the only one suffering here."
Broly's lip curled into a sneer. "Suffering? You don't know the meaning of the word. If it wasn't for this stupid mark, I would've destroyed everything by now—this academy, this world, and you wouldn't even have time to scream. And Kakarot..."
He paused, his fists trembling as the rage threatened to consume him again. The name burned in his throat like poison, and he could feel the fire inside him trying to break free. But the mark on his hand pulsed faintly, keeping his power in check.
"Kakarot would be the last thing left standing," Broly finished, his voice dangerously low. "But I can't even have that because you ordered me to wake up."
Louise, despite the fear gnawing at her insides, refused to back down. She crossed her arms and stared him down, her jaw clenched. "I had to stop you, Broly. You were going to destroy everything—again. I get that you hate Kakarot, but you're not getting to him by tearing apart everything in sight."
Broly laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You think I care about this place? About you? If it wasn't for your pathetic magic, I'd be gone already. Off this planet, off this miserable existence, and right at Kakarot's throat. But here I am... stuck, playing along with your little game."
Louise's face flushed with anger at his words. "It's not a game!" she snapped. "You think I want this? To constantly have to worry that my own familiar will rip me apart in my sleep? I'm trying to make this work, Broly. I summoned you, and that means we're stuck together whether you like it or not."
Broly narrowed his eyes at her, the air between them heavy with tension. "The only reason you're still standing is because of that mark," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "But don't think for a second that makes you in control. You're just buying time until I break free."
Louise swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly, but she didn't let it show. She took a deep breath, her voice softening just a bit as she looked at him. "I know you hate me," she admitted. "And I know you want to destroy everything. But right now, we don't have a choice. We have to make this work."
Broly didn't respond right away. He simply glared at her, his muscles still tense, as if he were holding himself back from unleashing the fury burning inside him. But the mark kept him in check, no matter how much he fought against it.
Louise sighed, running a hand through her hair again, exhaustion catching up to her. She leaned back against the wall, her voice losing some of its edge. "We'll deal with it in the morning," she muttered. "But I'm not letting you have any more nightmares. That's an order."
Broly's glare intensified, but the mark pulsed again, reinforcing her command. He said nothing, but the resentment in his eyes was clear. He hated being controlled like this, hated the fact that he couldn't act on his own desires.
"You can't keep this up forever, Louise," Broly growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "One day, I'll break free. And when I do, you won't be able to stop me."
Louise flinched, but she refused to let him see her fear. "Maybe," she replied, her voice quieter now. "But that day isn't today."
With that, she turned and returned to her bed, still shaken from the explosion of power earlier. She knew she couldn't sleep easily after this, but she had no other option. Broly remained standing in the corner of the room, his fists clenched, his eyes burning with rage.
As Louise pulled the blankets over herself, she glanced over at Broly one last time. His face was still twisted in anger, but she could see the exhaustion behind it. He was constantly fighting—against the mark, against her, against himself. And then there was Kakarot, the one who haunted his every waking and sleeping moment.
"Goodnight, Broly," Louise said, her voice softer now, tinged with a strange kind of understanding. "We'll figure this out. Somehow."
Broly didn't respond, but as the room grew quiet again, his mind drifted back to Kakarot. The face that filled his nightmares. The one he needed to destroy more than anything else. The academy, Louise, this world... none of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to Kakarot and finally ending it.
As he sat there in the dark, Broly's mind was filled with thoughts of destruction—of tearing everything apart until nothing was left standing. And when that day came, Louise would be just another casualty.
For now, though, he was trapped. But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't last forever. One day, the mark would fail. And when it did, he would finally have his revenge.
And that's where we leave off for now, folks! Will Broly ever stop being mad? Will Louise ever get a good night's sleep without worrying about getting vaporized? And who exactly is Kakarot (it's Goku) to Broly, anyway? Find out next time on... Louise's Legendary Saiyan! Stay tuned, because things are only gonna get crazier from here!