Silence, thick and ancient, filled the stone chamber.
Vegeta waited, arms crossed, face a mask of royal impatience.
He had already laid his cards on the table: mutual enemy, mutual benefit, do it or don't.
If the old man refused, fine. Plan B was already mapped out in his head, cold and ruthless.
Leave Namek.
Drag Bulma with him (willing or otherwise).
Hide on Earth. Force-feed himself the Ultra Divine Water, risk death, unlock whatever scraps it offered.
Train. Wait. Grow.
Let Frieza blow the planet to hell.
Let Krillin and the half-breed brat die screaming.
Let Kakarot wake up to a dead son and a dead best friend.
None of his problem.
There were always other Dragon Balls Cereal, the Demon Realm, the Super Dragon Balls scattered across Universes 6 and 7.
Worst case, Bulma builds her time machine early. They hop timelines, steal a set, come home heroes.
Or, if the original script still limped along without him, perfect Frieza invades Earth in a few years, and Vegeta greets him as a Super Saiyan with a personal grudge.
Either way, Frieza dies by his hand.
That was non-negotiable.
The Grand Elder's massive chest rose and fell, slower… slower… then sagged as though the weight of an entire people had just settled there permanently.
Another village gone.
Another Dragon Ball pried from dead fingers.
He felt every death like a knife in his own heart.
There was no more time for pride, for purity, for moral purity tests.
"…I accept," the ancient voice finally rumbled, heavy with resignation. "I will unlock the power sleeping within you. But even I cannot predict how far it will take you. Is that acceptable, Prince of Saiyans?"
Vegeta's answer was immediate, sharp, almost hungry.
"More than acceptable. When I'm done, Frieza will be the one begging."
He stepped forward, boots ringing on stone.
"After that, you gather your little green balls, summon your dragon, and wish every murdered Namekian back. Simple."
The Grand Elder closed his eyes.
He had seen fragments flashes of a golden warrior, of a child with a tail, of this very Saiyan standing over Frieza's corpse.
He had also seen darkness if he refused.
There was only one path left.
"Place your hand upon mine," he instructed, raising one enormous, trembling palm.
Vegeta didn't hesitate.
The instant their skin touched, the chamber exploded with light.
White-hot power surged into Vegeta's body like molten steel poured straight into his veins.
Every cell screamed.
Muscles tore and re-knit in heartbeats.
Bones cracked and lengthened.
Ki pathways that had been narrow rivers became roaring oceans.
Vegeta threw his head back, teeth bared in something between agony and ecstasy.
Outside, Nail staggered as the entire spire trembled.
The sky above the planet turned violet for a single, impossible second.
And on Vegeta's scouter, the cracked lens finally shattered completely as the numbers shot past anything it was ever designed to read.
When the light faded, Vegeta lowered his hand.
His aura was no longer a flame.
It was a star.
The Grand Elder slumped back, breathing shallow, minutes of life burned away in seconds.
Vegeta flexed his fingers, feeling power coil and uncoil like a living dragon inside him.
He looked down at the exhausted elder and, for the first time since arriving on Namek, allowed himself a genuine, vicious grin.
"Thank you, old man."
Then, quieter, almost to himself:
"Frieza… your days are numbered."