Surging energy roiled through the jungle, sending waves through swaying vegetation while terrified animals wailed upon the earth.
Curiosity killed the cat.
If time could be rewound, they would never have chosen to stay and watch the spectacle.
If time could be rewound, Nikkor was certain he would never have chosen to stand against Lothar.
Nikkor believed he had pushed the power of the Centaurian battle formation technique to its absolute limit—yet even so, he could not force the red-tailed man before him to retreat a single step.
Lothar, Son of Thanos. Only now did Nikkor truly grasp the weight behind that title.
Like father, like son. As the offspring of the cosmic powerhouse Thanos, Lothar had not tarnished his father's name. On the contrary, his brilliance only further amplified Thanos' renown.
If only my power were stronger.
If only my power were stronger.
If only my power were stronger!
With bloodshot eyes, Nikkor clung to the last vestiges of his pride. The new king of the Centaurians would never allow himself to surrender.
Sensing its master's resolve to fight to the death, the golden scepter in Nikkor's hand flared brilliantly, the sapphire embedded at its tip radiating with intensified light. Nikkor could feel the power surging into him, magnified by the gem's aid.
Lothar, who had been holding him at bay with one hand, noticed the subtle shift. His innate sensitivity to energy made it obvious—Nikkor's power had surged several times over.
"I... am the king of the Centaurians!"
A grin tugged at Nikkor's lips—ecstatic, unrestrained.
He could feel it. This was the power of his ancestors, stored within the scepter across generations. Though only a fraction of that power had recognized him, it was enough.
The counterattack begins now!
"Oh... I see now. This is what Father spoke of—the Centaurian King's Scepter, isn't it?"
For the first time, a glint of seriousness flickered in Lothar's eyes. This power intrigued him.
"Oh ancestors, please lend me your strength!"
Nikkor's prayer carried on. With one final roar, the sapphire pulsed in acknowledgment.
Strange, unfamiliar auras poured into Nikkor through the scepter, reshaping his body. His once-purple physique now bore streaks of silver and sky blue. The equine half of his form gradually shifted into humanoid shape, while the sapphire detached from the scepter and embedded itself in his chest.
"Lothar, Son of Thanos—you will pay for what your father did to the Centaurian homeworld!"
Empowered by both his ancestors and the forty-nine Centaurian warriors at his back, Nikkor charged forward, drunk on newfound might. He believed he could shatter Alpha Star beneath his fist.
He chose the simplest, most brutal method—speak with fists.
In an instant, Nikkor appeared beside Lothar, fist rocketing forward.
He had punched empty air.
"First... it was your Centaurian race that initiated rebellion."
Lothar's voice echoed from behind. A devastating roundhouse kick slammed into Nikkor's waist, sending him soaring skyward.
"Second... three years ago, your kind slaughtered every lifeform on Pandora Prime to seize its resources."
Like a judge delivering sentence, Lothar's words reverberated in Nikkor's ears. The Saiyan flickered into view before the Centaurian king, lacing his fingers together and driving both fists into Nikkor's abdomen.
A choking sensation seized Nikkor's nerves as he plummeted from the skies, crashing into the earth.
His ancestors' power—unfamiliar, unmastered—could not save him from the merciless beating.
The paradise he envisioned had become a hellish nightmare.
"Third... Father once said: Power you cannot control is not power at all."
The crimson tail flicked behind him as Lothar landed beside the gasping Nikkor. His cold metal boot pressed down on the sapphire embedded in Nikkor's chest.
With a sickening crack, the gem shattered—splintering into countless brilliant shards.
Nikkor howled, struggled, resisted—but all in vain.
Despair bloomed in his heart as the scepter—stripped of its core—was effortlessly snatched away by Lothar.
The Centaurians' symbol of kingship, a legacy spanning countless ages, was snapped in half without hesitation.
Their people's pride had crumbled into dust—by his own hand.
"The Centaurian star system has always been our rightful territory. What crime is there in reclaiming what is ours?"
"Your actions were not wrong," Lothar said coldly, gazing down at the broken king.
"What was wrong... was possessing coveted resources without the strength to protect them."
"If your people had been strong enough, Father would never have conquered the Centaurian system."
"If your people had been strong enough, your race would not face extinction today."
"And if you were strong enough... then the one lying on the ground would be me—not you."
In the world of the strong, there is no place for the weak.
"Did your armies heed Pandora Prime's pleas before massacring their people three years ago?"
The laws of the universe were merciless—Lothar had learned that long ago.
If King Vegeta had been strong enough, then it would have been Frieza who died on Planet Vegeta.
But reality offers no "ifs." Only the known present... and the unknown future.
"Lothar, remember—In the world of the strong, there is no place for the weak."
Heeding Thanos' teachings, Lothar drove the broken scepter into Nikkor's chest.
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