When goku faced Frieza and archon
They received a message from an unknown source after that they quickly retreated
We shall continue this later "said Frieza"
Goku knew it wouldn't be wise to fight both of them now just after he thought about that both of them vanished in thin air without a trace
The dust had barely settled over West City. Smoke trailed from the ruins where Frieza's elite strike squads had fallen one by one to the combined might of the Z Warriors. Piccolo stood tall among the rubble, his cloak tattered, his breathing heavy, but his resolve unshaken. The Earth was safe… for now.
Gohan hovered over the battlefield, Beast Form still lingering faintly in his eyes. He looked down at Trunks and Goten, both injured but conscious, the youthful Saiyans already beginning to grasp how far behind they'd fallen.
Vegeta, standing a short distance away with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes toward the sky. "He left too easily..." he muttered.
Frieza's retreat wasn't defeat. It was deliberate.
Elsewhere, at Capsule Corp, Goku stood on the roof, gazing at the stars above. His Ultra Instinct had faded hours ago, but something kept pulling at his senses. Not Ki. Not divine energy. Something beyond.
"Goku..." Whis arrived silently beside him. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Goku nodded slowly. "Yeah. That... thing. When Frieza left... it was like something else was watching. Not just him."
Whis, for the first time in centuries, looked genuinely uneasy. "There are forces... that even the Angels aren't meant to interfere with. Realms outside our comprehension."
Suddenly, Dende's voice crackled through a communicator. "Kami's Lookout... just trembled. There was no quake. It was like the sky itself... blinked."
Gohan, arriving behind Goku, asked, "Is this still about Frieza?"
Goku didn't answer.
Meanwhile, on a far-off silent plane — beyond even the reach of Beerus's domain — a faint crack shimmered in the fabric of nothingness. A hooded figure watched from a floating pedestal. His eyes glowed silver, arms folded behind his back. And beside him stood towering silhouettes — blurred, indistinct, watching... waiting.
"Frieza was only the beginning," the figure whispered. "They're not ready yet."
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