The chamber felt smaller with every word.
Krillin and Gohan stood shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes burning with the same desperate certainty.
"Grand Elder," Gohan said, voice trembling but firm, "you can't trust him. Vegeta murdered our friends. He laughed while he did it. He'd sell every Namekian here the second it suited him."
Krillin nodded hard. "He killed his own partner on Earth just for being injured. That's the kind of monster he is. Whatever he promised you, it's a trick."
The Grand Elder listened in silence, massive hands resting on the arms of his chair like ancient stone.
He had seen too many wars, too many desperate alliances, to judge a soul by one battlefield.
Vegeta had spilled oceans of blood, yes.
But none of it had been Namekian blood.
And right now, the only blood still flowing on this planet belonged to Frieza's soldiers.
The old man's gaze drifted to Bulma, who had gone very quiet.
She fidgeted under the attention, cheeks pink.
"…I'm not saying he's a good guy," she muttered, hugging herself. "He's terrifying. And rude. And he definitely stared too long."
Krillin shot her a look sharp enough to cut steel.
"But," she continued, voice smaller, "he could've killed us a dozen times already. He didn't. He even… protected us from those scouts. And when he took the radar, he didn't hurt me. He just… took it and left."
She swallowed.
"I gave him a fake one," she admitted in a rush. "He knows by now. If he was really pure evil, wouldn't he have come back already? Torn the ship apart? Torn me apart?"
Gohan's eyes widened. "Aunt Bulma…"
"I'm not defending him!" she snapped, then deflated. "I'm just saying… maybe he's not the same Vegeta who invaded Earth. Maybe he really does want Frieza dead more than anything else. And if that's true… maybe we need him."
Krillin's face twisted. "We needed Piccolo once too. Look how that turned out at first."
The Grand Elder finally spoke, voice soft but carrying the weight of centuries.
"Children… hatred is a lens. It distorts everything it touches."
He looked at each of them in turn Krillin's clenched fists, Gohan's trembling lip, Bulma's conflicted eyes.
"Vegeta is a blade covered in blood. But right now, that blade is pointed at the throat of the one who would destroy us all. I will not ask you to forgive him. I will not ask you to trust him."
His gaze settled on the doorway, as if he could see the golden storm racing across the planet even now.
"I will only ask you to survive long enough for the choice to no longer be ours."
Silence fell, thick and uncomfortable.
Outside, Nail shifted his weight, arms still crossed.
He didn't trust the Saiyan either.
But he trusted the Grand Elder.
And the Grand Elder had just bet the survival of their entire race on a murderer with golden hair.
Far away, that murderer paused mid-flight.
Vegeta hovered above the ocean, golden aura flickering once as he sensed the faint, familiar ki signatures inside the spire.
Krillin. Gohan. The woman.
Arguing about him, no doubt.
He snorted.
"Let them hate me."
His eyes narrowed, emerald fire flaring.
"As long as they stay out of my way when I kill Frieza, they can curse my name for the rest of their short lives."
He shot forward again, a golden comet with murder on its mind.
The debate inside the spire was already irrelJohnt.
The only vote that mattered now was the one he was about to deliver at six hundred times the speed of sound.
Straight to Frieza's front door.