Mount Paozu was quiet. Birds sang. The wind rustled through the trees. Goku laughed with Goten as they gathered firewood, the kind of laugh that came from someone who'd saved the universe too many times to count—and finally had time to breathe.
And then the sky split.
Without warning, the air turned cold. The clouds twisted unnaturally, the light dimming as a black tear ripped across the heavens. Out of that darkness stepped a figure—cold, proud, cruel. Frieza.
But this wasn't the Frieza they knew. He had changed. His body gleamed with a midnight sheen, his eyes deeper and emptier than before. Power rolled off him in waves.
He raised a hand, and the Earth itself trembled.
Then, the barrier dropped.
Invisible energy surged from his body, covering the planet in a suffocating dome. It wasn't just ki suppression—it was worse. It was like the planet was cut off from the gods, from anything higher. Goku gasped. He couldn't feel the divine energy anymore.
Elsewhere, Goten and Trunks felt it too. Something was wrong.
They raced toward the disturbance, their childish excitement quickly turning into grim understanding when they saw the figure floating above the crater.
"Frieza?" Goten whispered.
Trunks clenched his fists. "Guess we're up."
They didn't hesitate. Super Saiyan flared. Golden auras erupted as they launched into battle, fast and wild. Frieza barely moved. He ducked, weaved, slapped Goten into a mountainside, and caught Trunks' fist without even looking.
They fused.
Gotenks hit the field like a storm—cocky, screaming, showing off even in the face of death. He went straight into Super Saiyan 3, roaring with confidence. The earth cracked under his feet. For a moment, it looked like he might stand a chance.
But the dome—the barrier—was draining them. His energy faltered mid-attack. Frieza moved in.
One punch to the gut folded Gotenks. A second sent him crashing through a cliff. The fusion wore off instantly. Goten and Trunks hit the ground like broken dolls.
Frieza didn't even smirk.
"Children."
There was a flash of orange. Piccolo landed with a thunderous boom, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Gohan appeared beside him, quiet fury in every step. No Beast form. No divine backup. Just raw power and history.
"Gohan," Piccolo said calmly. "We hit him together."
And they did. Perfect timing. Piccolo's fists pounded Frieza into the air, and Gohan's kicks followed seconds later. For a moment, it felt like the old days—when grit meant more than transformation.
But Frieza wasn't even trying yet.
He unleashed a burst of black energy that knocked Piccolo back. Gohan tried to push through, but Frieza stepped behind him, elbowed him to the ground, and slammed him down with a boot to the back.
"You're still nothing without your borrowed strength," Frieza said coldly.
Piccolo charged again—and Frieza impaled him, slowly, cruelly. Gohan screamed. Frieza threw Piccolo like trash, and turned to finish the job—
And then the sky lit up.
Vegeta came crashing down like a meteor, shaking the earth. His eyes burned. No words. He didn't need any.
He attacked.
Vegeta descended from the sky like a meteor, eyes burning with unfiltered rage. Without speaking, he launched into combat—his fists crashing against Frieza's body with ferocity and skill unmatched.
There was no Ultra Ego now. But Vegeta didn't care.
"You want raw power? Fine. I'll bury you with it."
His strikes echoed like thunder. He drove Frieza through boulders, blasted him through canyons, and pounded him into the crust of the planet. Frieza was cut, bleeding, snarling.
Vegeta roared—and something cracked.
His aura exploded into a violent storm of red and violet. Lightning danced around him. It was no form anyone recognized. It had no name. Just rage, raw and wild.
He lunged again, wild and desperate, fists bleeding, muscles tearing. He drove Frieza into the ground with a roar that cracked the sky.
For a second, silence.
Then Frieza rose from the crater. Calm. Bloody, but smiling.
The dome pulsed again, feeding him. The planet itself was offering its energy. The Earth—their Earth—was betraying them under Frieza's command.
Vegeta surged forward with a final blast, screaming through clenched teeth—
And Frieza struck.
One blow. Precise. BRUTAL.
His fist slammed into Vegeta's gut, and time seemed to stop.
The energy left Vegeta's body all at once. His knees gave out. His vision blurred. But he didn't fall unconscious.
No—something worse.
His body dropped to the ground, unmoving. But inside… he was awake. A prisoner.
He could see everything. Hear everything.
His mind screamed. His pride burned.
But nothing moved.
His fingers wouldn't twitch. His mouth couldn't form words. All he could do was lie there, eyes barely open, forced to watch as Frieza hovered above them all, dominant, triumphant.
He watched Piccolo's lifeless body crumble.
He saw Gohan struggle to stand and collapse again.
Goku arrived, floating silently above the devastation. His eyes scanned the battlefield—his sons broken, his rival collapsed, his family shattered.
And as his rival stood alone against the tyrant, Vegeta's mind boiled.
"I should be standing beside you, Kakarot…"
Goku looked up at Frieza, who smiled.
"I've left you for last, Son Goku."
...
To be continued…