Frieza nearly stopped breathing.
With destruction energy gathering in Beerus's hand, his mind worked faster than it had during the entire tournament.
"Beerus-sama, wait!" Frieza blurted. "Give me more time to train, and I swear I can defeat Goku and the others!"
Beerus's eyes narrowed, but Frieza pressed on before he could attack.
"Zeno-sama said he intends to hold a tournament involving every universe, didn't he? When that happens, I'll make those Saiyans regret humiliating us today!"
Beerus hesitated.
He had been too busy panicking during Zeno-sama's visit to think much about the tournament, but Frieza had a point.
If the event actually happened, Universe 7 would need fighters of its own. Beerus could not simply raid the GT timeline again and fill his entire team with outsiders. If Zeno-sama noticed that every contestant representing Universe 7 came from another timeline, he might erase the universe for trying to cheat.
Beerus still had no idea whether Zeno-sama had noticed what they had done today.
Perhaps he had not.
Or perhaps he had noticed and simply chosen not to care.
Either way, Beerus had no desire to test his patience a second time.
Frieza saw the hesitation and immediately seized the opening.
"If I still can't defeat them by the time that tournament begins, you can destroy me then. I won't complain."
"You said it, not me," Beerus warned as the energy in his palm faded. "I won't show mercy twice."
He studied Frieza for a moment.
"And what makes you think you'll win next time?"
"I will." Frieza nodded vigorously. "My Golden form was incomplete. I rushed into battle before I had stabilized it."
Beerus's expression eased slightly.
"Then send me back to that training dimension," Frieza continued. His hands curled into fists. "I'll train there for ten years. Next time I see those Saiyans, I'll wipe the floor with every last one of them."
"Ten years?" Beerus raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "You're serious."
He turned toward Whis.
"Bring him back to life. If he wants time to train, give it to him."
"Certainly, Beerus-sama."
Whis raised his staff. A thread of Angelic power flowed from the crystal and wrapped around Frieza's body.
The halo above Frieza's head vanished instantly.
He stared upward in stunned silence, then ran both hands over himself as a grin spread across his face.
He was alive again.
"Thank you, Beerus-sama," Frieza said quickly. "And thank you, Whis."
"Don't make me regret this," Beerus replied. "Whis, take him to that dimension."
Whis nodded and altered their course. A streak of light curved through the stars as the three of them raced toward Frieza's new training ground.
With the tournament over, life in Universe 6 gradually returned to normal.
Ken brought everyone back to Earth, while Champa and Vados returned to the God of Destruction's Planet.
For the next several days, Ken put divine affairs aside and spent his time with Bulma. They went shopping, watched movies, and enjoyed the kind of ordinary life that rarely lasted long around Saiyans and gods.
That normality was part of Ken's training as well.
His level had remained stuck at 80 for some time. The decimals continued creeping upward, but progress had become painfully slow. Experiencing mortal life and refining his state of mind might be the push he needed to break through.
The Grand Priestess and the little demoness remained sealed inside him. The two women still spent half their time arguing and the other half trying to tear each other apart, so Ken was never short on entertainment.
Broly, Ai, and Buu stayed on Earth for a while before heading into space together to explore other planets.
One afternoon, Ken accompanied Bulma on another shopping trip.
"It's still strange," Bulma said as they wandered through the mall. "You're practically the highest-ranking god in existence, yet here you are carrying my shopping bags."
"I spend enough time training," Ken said with a smile. "Taking a break once in a while won't hurt."
By the time they left the mall, Ken had several bags hanging from each hand.
Bulma slipped her arm through his and leaned against him.
"You know you could put all of those in another dimension."
"That would ruin the experience."
Bulma looked at the mountain of bags, then at Ken.
She had no answer to that.
They continued down the street until a loud voice rose from a crowd gathered near the corner of a building.
"Come take a look! This is the latest punching machine developed for the World Martial Arts Tournament!"
"A punching machine?" Bulma glanced toward the crowd. "We never got to see it during the tournament. Let's go."
Ken followed as she pushed through the spectators.
At the center of the crowd stood a young man with a small ponytail. Beside him was a bulky metal machine with a padded striking surface and a digital display.
"This," the young man announced, slapping the side of the machine, "is the official punching machine used at the World Martial Arts Tournament! Our great hero, Mr. Satan, scored an incredible 137 points!"
The mention of Mr. Satan immediately drew excited murmurs from the crowd.
"Unfortunately, the tournament wasn't broadcast that year," the young man continued. "Something went wrong with the equipment at the venue, so the public never got to see his legendary performance."
"Are you selling the machine or not?" someone shouted.
"Selling it?" The young man laughed. "No, no. I'm here to give all of you a chance to win some money!"
That caught everyone's attention.
"Anyone who scores more than 50 points wins 100,000 zeni!"
Several men in the crowd exchanged eager looks.
Mr. Satan had scored 137.
Surely an ordinary person could manage 50.
"Women get a special advantage," the young man added. "Any woman who scores more than 30 wins the same prize!"
The women in the crowd immediately became more interested.
"Of course," he said, almost as an afterthought, "there's a tiny registration fee. Just 10,000 zeni."
Ken understood the scheme at once.
Ten thousand zeni was not enough to scare most people away, while a prize ten times larger sounded tempting. Attaching Mr. Satan's name and the World Martial Arts Tournament to the machine made the offer even more convincing.
"What happens if someone beats Mr. Satan's score?"
The question came from a woman near the front of the crowd. Her voice was calm, but carried a familiar edge.
Ken turned toward her.
Short blond hair, cold blue eyes, and the same bored expression she seemed to wear everywhere.
"Android 18," Bulma said in surprise.
Ken nodded.
"I haven't seen her in ages," Bulma murmured.
"Neither have I."
"Should we go say hello? She probably hasn't noticed us." Bulma looked Ken over. "Then again, you look like an ordinary Earthling right now. Unless someone examines you carefully, they'd never know who you are."
Bulma did not seem concerned by Android 18's presence. Ken attracted enough attention from women already, but Android 18 was an android. Bulma refused to start feeling jealous over every woman he happened to know.
"Let's watch for now," Ken said.
The young man clapped his hands.
"Excellent question! Anyone who scores over 100 wins one million zeni. You don't even have to beat Mr. Satan!"
"And if I score more than 137?" Android 18 asked.
"Two million."
"That's all?" someone complained. "Beating Mr. Satan should be worth at least five million!"
"Ten million!" another spectator shouted.
The young man's smile stiffened.
"Fine! Ten million it is!" A sly gleam appeared in his eyes. "But anyone attempting to beat Mr. Satan must pay a minimum registration fee of 100,000 zeni."
"I'll go first!"
A muscular man stepped forward and handed him 10,000 zeni.
The young man looked down at the money.
"I said the fee was 100,000."
"I'm not challenging Mr. Satan. I just want to test my score."
The crowd laughed.
The young man tucked the money away.
"Fair enough. One attempt costs 10,000 zeni."
"That's all I need."
The muscular man rolled his shoulders, planted his feet, and drove his fist into the machine.
The metal casing rattled.
A number appeared on the display.
49
The crowd erupted in applause.
Only one point short of the prize.
"Not bad!" The young man gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "That was incredibly close. Want to try again?"
The muscular man stared at the display.
He had held back slightly. With one more attempt, he was sure he could reach 50.
He nodded.
"Payment first." The young man held out his hand.
Another 10,000 zeni changed hands.
The machine was reset, and the muscular man took much longer preparing this time. He tightened every muscle in his arm, drew back his fist, and poured everything he had into the next punch.
The display flickered.
49.5
The muscular man stared at it.
He had not even known the machine measured decimal points.
Bulma laughed under her breath.
"How can anyone fall for something this obvious?"
"People stop thinking when they believe they're about to get easy money," Ken said. "That isn't even the real tournament machine. It's a replica, and he's adjusting the score with a remote."
"So even Android 18 wouldn't be able to score over 100."
Ken smiled.
"Let's keep watching."
The crowd, unaware of the trick, continued cheering.
"Only half a point short!" the young man exclaimed. "You're almost there! One more punch and you'll definitely win the 100,000 zeni!"
The muscular man clenched his jaw.
Half a point.
He could not walk away now.
He handed over another 10,000 zeni and attacked the machine for a third time.
The display changed again.
49.86
An extra decimal place had appeared.
The muscular man slowly turned toward the young man.
Then he grabbed him by the collar.
"You're rigging this thing!"
The young man remained remarkably calm.
"Why would you say that?"
"Where did that second decimal place come from?"
"The machine has always measured to two decimal places," he explained. "I simply forgot to mention it. Your first score was technically 49.00, and your second was 49.50. We normally remove the unnecessary zeroes."
"Don't give me that garbage!"
"Please, calm down." The young man smiled encouragingly. "You scored 49.86. You're only 0.14 away! Go eat something, recover your strength, and I'm sure you'll break 50 on your next attempt."
The muscular man shoved him away.
He finally understood that no amount of punching would earn him the prize. Rather than waste more money, he returned to the crowd.
On the way, he kicked the side of the machine.
Pain shot through his foot, and he limped away while trying not to show it.
The young man straightened his clothes and turned back to the spectators.
"Anyone else want to try? I'll even make it easier! From now on, a score of 40 is enough to win 100,000 zeni!"
[End of chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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