Frieza sat on that throne suspended at the peak of the Multiverse.
His gaze pierced through countless dimensional barriers, looking down upon this territory that now belonged entirely to him.
Beneath his feet was a brilliant galaxy composed of countless parallel Universes. Every point of light was a planet, a civilization. And now, these points of light were all dyed the same color.
The purple that represented the Frieza Empire!
"Phew..."
Frieza gently swirled the wine glass in his hand. What it held was no longer ordinary red wine but the Nebula essence extracted from Eternity's body. With one sip, it was as if he had swallowed a Galaxy.
"Wonderful."
"Truly wonderful."
Frieza closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure of all things surrendering to him.
The Fear Points on the system panel had already become a meaningless astronomical figure. He didn't even bother to count how many zeros were at the end.
"Thanos."
Frieza called out without turning his head.
"Your subordinate is here!"
Thanos's massive frame immediately emerged from the shadows, kneeling on one knee. The movement was as standard as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times.
"That... what was it called? The Living Tribunal fellow, is he still lingering on his last breath?" Frieza took a sip of the Nebula wine, his tone disdainful.
"Reporting to Lord Frieza!"
Thanos replied respectfully, "That three-faced fellow is self-repairing, but under the suppression of your great power, his recovery speed is slower than a snail's."
"I have already sent the Ginyu Force to take turns 'loosening his bones' for him, ensuring he won't be able to stir up any trouble."
"Very good." Frieza nodded with satisfaction.
"What about that Beyonder?"
"That pervert in white clothes is currently in charge of clearing the sewers on Planet Frieza 004." A cruel smile appeared on Thanos's face.
"It's said he's doing quite well. After all, the sewers there are notoriously difficult to clear."
"Oh-ho-ho-ho..."
Frieza laughed out loud.
Making an Omniverse-level existence clear sewers?
This was an idea only he, Frieza, could come up with.
This is called making the best use of everything.
"Since the house has been cleaned up..."
Frieza stood up and stretched.
That diamond-like skin reflected a seven-colored divine radiance under the starlight.
"Then I should go meet that so-called 'landlord'."
His gaze turned toward the deepest part of the Omniverse.
That forbidden zone where even The Living Tribunal dared not easily set foot.
The place known as the "House of Ideas."
"OAA..."
Frieza muttered to himself, the red light in his eyes growing more intense.
"The old man hiding behind the scenes drawing comics."
"You've been watching the show for so long, isn't it time you came out and paid some admission fees?"
Without any warning, Frieza's figure instantly vanished from the throne.
The next second, he appeared in a pure white space. There was no time, no space, no matter, and not even any concepts here.
Only endless white.
So white it made one feel uneasy.
In the center of that whiteness, sat an old man. He wore an ordinary jacket and sunglasses.
Holding a paintbrush in his hand, he was sketching on a drawing board in front of him.
Stan Lee.
Or rather, the avatar of OAA.
"Oh my..."
Frieza walked over with an elegant stride, hands in his pockets.
His leather shoes stepped into the void, making crisp footsteps.
"Is this the pinnacle of the Omniverse?"
"The decoration style is too minimalist, isn't it? Not even a chair?" Frieza looked around with disdain.
"Old man, do you have no money for decorations? Do you want me to lend you some?"
The paintbrush in the old man's hand paused for a moment. He slowly raised his head, looking at Frieza through his sunglasses. On that kind face, a helpless smile appeared.
"Young man, don't be so hot-headed."
The old man's voice was very light, yet it seemed to contain a power that smoothed over everything.
"This is not a place you need to decorate. This is the starting point of the story, and also the end."
"You have already done enough, Frieza."
The old man put down his paintbrush and sighed.
"You've made a mess of my story. The Avengers are dead, the gods have knelt, and even The Living Tribunal has been crippled by you."
"The plot is a bit broken now."
"Broken?"
Frieza raised an eyebrow, a playful smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
"I don't think so."
He walked up to the old man, looking down at this supreme existence of the Marvel World.
"I think the current plot is quite good. Only the strong can survive, the weak are only fit to be background characters."
"Isn't this the most reasonable logic?"
Frieza extended a finger and lightly tapped the drawing board.
What was drawn on it was exactly the scene of the Multiverse after being conquered by Frieza.
"And..."
"Old man, have you mistaken one thing?"
Frieza's gaze suddenly turned cold. "This is my territory now. How this painting should be drawn should be decided by me."
"You want to change the script?" The old man smiled, not getting angry.
"Do you know what that means?"
"It means you want to challenge the author's authority."
"It means..."
The old man took off his sunglasses. In those eyes, an indescribable light flickered.
"You are going to oppose 'existence' itself."
"That so?" Frieza sneered disdainfully.
BOOM!!!
A terrifying black aura erupted from his body in an instant.
This power was even stronger than when he fought The Living Tribunal before.
Because he had completely digested the power of the heart of the universe.
Diamond Form! Full Power!
"I am now the Emperor of the Multiverse with infinite power."
"What author, what existence."
"Before me, they are all trash!"
Frieza clenched his fist and threw a punch at the old man.
"Since you refuse to hand over the admission fee, leave your life behind."
DONG!!!
This punch had enough power to blow up countless Omniverses.
However, when the fist was about to touch the tip of the old man's nose, a withered palm lightly blocked it there.
Clap.
A light sound.
Frieza's world-destroying punch was actually caught.
Just like catching a thrown tennis ball.
"What?!"
Frieza's pupils constricted sharply.
He felt his power vanishing without a trace.
"Young man, I've said it."
The old man still sat there, without even changing his posture.
"This is the starting point of the story. Here, power is meaningless. Because I am the one who sets the rules."
"I set it so your fist cannot hit me, so you will never hit me."
This was simply cheating!
It was like playing a game where the GM directly changed the data.
"Damn settings!" Frieza was furious.
He hated this kind of unreasonable thing the most.