1 Chapter 1

In the distant reaches of Universe 7, where stars flickered and galaxies swirled in an eternal dance, legends echoed through the cosmic expanse. The tales of the Z Fighters had long transcended time, etching themselves into the very fabric of history. Millennia had passed since the likes of Goku, Vegeta, and their valiant comrades had safeguarded the universe from the brink of destruction.

Now, their names were emblazoned across the stars, whispered in awe on countless planets, and celebrated in grand monuments erected in their honor. Statues of the Super Saiyan warriors, frozen in eternal battle poses, dotted the planetary landscapes like ancient sentinels guarding the memories of the past. Even on Earth, where their legacy had its deepest roots, the houses they once inhabited had transformed into bustling tourist attractions, drawing pilgrims and admirers from far and wide.

But amidst the widespread adulation and reverence, there stirred a malevolent force, a being born of hatred and genetic engineering, an entity crafted with the ferocity of Broly and the malice of a sinister mind. Driven by a relentless desire to erase the legacy of the Z Fighters, this being, known as Zartan, stood as an aberration in a universe bathed in their valorous tales.

In a secluded laboratory hidden within the shadows of an unassuming asteroid belt, the enigmatic scientist responsible for Zartan's creation toiled in secrecy. Known only as Dr. Zytar, a recluse reminiscent of the infamous Dr. Gero, he had meticulously woven the DNA of the legendary Broly into the fabric of a young child, imbuing him with a seething hatred for all that the Z Fighters represented.

Zartan, with his emerald eyes brimming with fury and his small, compact frame pulsating with untapped power, glared at the holographic display of his targets. His tiny fists clenched, his mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance. Dr. Zytar, a gaunt figure with a wild shock of gray hair and intense, piercing eyes, hovered beside him, studying the monitors with a detached sense of purpose.

"Zartan, my creation," Dr. Zytar intoned, his voice a blend of calculated restraint and a faint undercurrent of glee. "Your purpose is clear. You must travel back through time and eradicate the Z Fighters from every timeline, ensuring they never existed. The universe must forget their names, their victories, their very existence."

Zartan's lips curled into a vicious snarl, his youthful features contorting with a rage far beyond his years. "Kakarot," he hissed through gritted teeth, the name of Goku, the linchpin of his animosity. "I'll make sure the universe forgets your name, forgets your legacy, forgets everything about you and your pathetic allies."

With a surge of energy that crackled like lightning, Zartan's small figure began to convulse, his body surrounded by an otherworldly aura that pulsated with the fiery essence of his Broly-derived heritage. Dr. Zytar watched with a calculating gaze, his thin lips curling into a cold smile as he witnessed the emergence of his creation's formidable power.

"Go, Zartan," the scientist whispered, his voice carrying an eerie mix of pride and anticipation. "Go and fulfill your purpose. The universe awaits its new reality, one devoid of the so-called heroes of the past."

With a thunderous burst, Zartan vanished, his form dissolving into the fabric of spacetime itself, hurtling toward a distant past where the Z Fighters reigned supreme. His mission, fueled by hatred and nurtured by a scientist's dark ambitions, would usher in a cataclysmic struggle that would reverberate across the annals of time, threatening to rewrite the very foundations of the universe's history.

As Zartan's figure vanished into the time-traversing portal, Dr. Zytar's gnarled hands danced across the holographic controls, adjusting the temporal coordinates with meticulous precision. A cold, calculating gleam flickered in his eyes as he contemplated the ramifications of his creation's journey. The fabric of time rippled around the portal, warping and distorting in response to the immense energy being channeled through its circuits.

The laboratory hummed with an otherworldly energy, the very air crackling with the residual power of Zartan's departure. Dr. Zytar turned away from the shimmering portal, his mind consumed by the myriad possibilities that lay before his creation. He knew that with each passing moment, Zartan's latent potential would blossom into a force capable of toppling even the mightiest of adversaries.

"His power level... 46,000," Dr. Zytar murmured to himself, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "And his growth rate is astonishing, beyond anything I could have anticipated. With each battle, each victory, he will surge forward, transcending the limits of his genetic heritage."

Surveying the holographic displays that flickered with Zartan's combat data, the scientist scrutinized the AI-powered simulations that mimicked the combative prowess of Saiyan warriors long past. The replicas of Vegeta, Nappa, and even Goku flickered to life, engaging in intense battles with the miniature force of nature that was Zartan.

Zartan, despite his tender age, exhibited a ferocity and combat instinct that far surpassed that of the artificial Saiyan adversaries. His attacks were fluid and precise, imbued with a raw, untamed power that defied his youthful stature. With every punch, every blast, the laboratory quaked, the instruments around them straining under the relentless assault.

Satisfied with the results of his analysis, Dr. Zytar clasped his hands behind his back, a sly smile playing upon his lips. "Zartan, my child, you are ready. Ready to shape the destiny of the universe, ready to shatter the legacy of those accursed Z Fighters."

Turning toward the portal, its glowing tendrils thrumming with temporal energy, Dr. Zytar beckoned Zartan forward. "Come, my creation," he said, his voice laced with a fervent fervor. "Your first destination awaits. The beginning of their end beckons you."

Zartan, his tiny fists still clenched in a silent vow of vengeance, gazed up at the swirling vortex of time with a mixture of curiosity and determination. His emerald eyes shimmered with a potent mix of hatred and ambition, the seeds of a destiny he was yet to fully comprehend.

"Go, my child," Dr. Zytar whispered, a sinister edge tainting his voice. "Show them the wrath of your heritage. Show them the unstoppable force that you have become."

With a resolute nod, Zartan leaped into the pulsating maw of the portal, his form disappearing into the vortex as it collapsed in on itself, leaving the laboratory bathed in an eerie silence.

Dr. Zytar, his gaze fixed on the spot where the portal had stood mere moments ago, chuckled softly. "Go, my little aberration," he murmured to the empty room. "Go and rewrite the history of the Z Fighters. Show them the futility of their existence."

A faint glint caught Dr. Zytar's eye as he turned away from the dissipating remnants of the portal. His gaze fell upon a shimmering collar encircling Zartan's neck, pulsating with a soft, ominous glow. A cruel smile tugged at the corners of the scientist's lips as he surveyed the control mechanism, knowing its potency in harnessing the raw might of the being he had crafted.

The collar, a masterwork of technological sophistication, was no mere trinket. It was a conduit through which Dr. Zytar could channel his will into the very essence of Zartan's being, ensuring the boy's compliance in the eradication of the Z Fighters across the temporal plane. Unlike the brute force employed in the control of the original Broly, this collar operated on a far more insidious level, entwining itself within Zartan's consciousness, embedding a compulsion that would drive him to carry out his creator's malevolent designs.

"Let the collar bind you, Zartan," Dr. Zytar murmured, his voice carrying a chilling undertone. "Let it guide you to your destiny, the destiny I have woven for you."

As Zartan disappeared into the temporal maelstrom, the collar's pulsing light dimmed, its connection to Dr. Zytar's base of operations solidified. A steady stream of data began to flow from the collar, a torrent of vital signs, neural patterns, and energy readings that provided the scientist with an intricate insight into his creation's every move and intention.

In the darkness of the laboratory, the monitors flared to life once more, projecting Zartan's journey through the annals of time onto their flickering screens. Dr. Zytar leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he observed the boy's progress, his mind calculating the optimal moment to sever the Z Fighters' influence across the temporal plane.