I can still feel the burning hatred simmering within me, a constant reminder of the humiliation and defeat I suffered at his hands. Salada, that insufferable Saiyan who dared to challenge my power and break my spirit. How I loathe him with every fiber of my being.
The darkness that consumes me now is all-consuming, a relentless force driving me to greater heights of power and destruction. The blood on my hands stains them red, a grim testament to the countless lives I have taken in pursuit of vengeance.
My own sisters cower before me now, their once beloved elder sister turned into a monster by her own lust for power. June's sweet face haunts my dreams, a painful reminder of the innocence I sacrificed in my quest for strength.
But regret? Remorse? Such sentiments are foreign to me now. All that matters is defeating Salada, proving once and for all that no one can stand against Dark April and live to tell the tale.
I care not for the consequences of my actions; morality holds no sway over one consumed by darkness as I am. Power is all that matters; it fuels me like nothing else ever could.
And so I press on relentlessly, driven by an unquenchable thirst for revenge against him...Salada...the man who defeated me...the man who will pay dearly for his arrogance in underestimating Dark April.