Frieza's Divine Planet
Deep beneath the palace, beyond the throne rooms, beyond the laboratories and military command centers, beyond the layers of security that made Frieza's domain a fortress of divine tyranny, there existed a place almost nobody knew existed.
No guards stood outside its reinforced doors.
No soldiers patrolled its corridors.
No surveillance drones hummed in its shadows.
There was no need.
The chamber itself was the prison.
A vast circular room had been carved into the planet's divine core, its walls made from pale crystalline stone, their surfaces etched with ancient symbols and layers upon layers of sealing formations.
The air here was thick, heavy with the weight of magic and suppression, as if the very atmosphere had been designed to crush anything that dared to resist. The floor was a perfect, unbroken mirror of black water, its surface so still it seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it.
And at the center of it all, floating inches above the water, was a figure.
Green skin.
Pointed ears.
White robes that seemed to drift as if caught in an unseen wind.
His legs were crossed, his hands resting on his knees, his body perfectly still. Around him, seven orange spheres orbited in a slow, deliberate pattern, their surfaces glowing faintly, as if they were drawing power from the very air. The Dragon Balls.
They moved in perfect harmony, their paths unchanging, their light casting eerie, shifting shadows across the chamber's walls.
The figure hadn't moved for hours.
Perhaps days.
Time had become meaningless inside the chamber.
Then
A twitch.
His eyelid flickered, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible. One of the Dragon Balls just for a fraction of a second flickered, its light dimming as if in response to some unseen disturbance.
His breathing stopped.
A sensation traveled through his consciousness, a ripple in the fabric of reality, a whisper of something foreign brushing against the edges of his awareness.
Someone had tried to move him.
Not physically.
Not through force.
But through magic.
A wish.
His eyes opened.
They were no longer the calm, serene eyes of a guardian. No longer the eyes of a being who had once been Kami, the gentle creator of the Dragon Balls. A dark intelligence stared through them, something ancient and hungry, something that had been forged in the fires of forced fusion and unnatural evolution.
A slow, knowing smile curled his lips.
"So…" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, yet it carried through the chamber like a blade. "…someone finally found a way to reach me."
The seven Dragon Balls rotated faster, their orbits tightening as if responding to his awakening. He slowly uncrossed his legs, the water beneath him rippling as if disturbed by a sudden gust of wind.
The seals around the chamber reacted immediately, glowing symbols flaring to life around his body, their light casting jagged shadows across the crystalline walls.
He ignored them.
His gaze remained fixed toward the ceiling, as if he could see through the layers of stone and metal and divine energy, as if he could sense the one who had dared to summon him.
"Namek."The word left his lips like a curse, a promise, a whisper of something long forgotten.
Then he smiled again, the expression sharp and dangerous.
"They tried to bring me there."
He extended one hand, his fingers long and delicate, yet carrying a strength that seemed to warp the air around them. One of the Dragon Balls drifted into his palm, its orange surface reflecting his face, a face that was no longer entirely his own. The fused Namekian looked at his own reflection, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, something almost resembling confusion crossed his features, as if he were trying to remember something just out of reach. Then it disappeared, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.
He released the Dragon Ball. It returned to its orbit, the others following suit, their movements once again synchronized, deliberate.
The Nameless Namekian turned toward the chamber's exit, his robes whispering against the still water as he moved. The massive doors, carved from the same crystalline stone as the walls, opened before he touched them, as if they had been waiting for his command.
Beyond them stretched a long corridor, illuminated by violet divine energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. The light cast eerie, shifting patterns across the walls, as if the very air were alive with power.
He began walking.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Almost peacefully.
But the servants he passed, those few who were permitted in these depths avoided looking directly at him. Their eyes remained fixed on the floor, their bodies tensing as he moved past, as if they feared that even a glance might draw his attention. They had learned, over time, that it was better to be invisible in his presence.
The Nameless One did not acknowledge them.
His mind was elsewhere.
On Namek.
On the wish.
On the someone who had dared to summon him.
And on the inevitability of what would come next.
The throne room was silent, save for the faint hum of destruction energy that seemed to thrum through the very air, a constant reminder of Frieza's absolute dominion. The God of Destruction sat upon his throne, his posture relaxed, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Whis stood nearby, his staff resting against the floor, his expression unreadable.
Then the doors at the far end of the chamber opened
The Nameless Namekian entered, his movements fluid, his presence carrying a weight that seemed to press down on the room itself. The Dragon Balls floated behind him, their orbits unbroken, their light casting long, shifting shadows across the throne room's polished floor.
Frieza's eyes immediately locked onto the Dragon Balls, his expression sharpening. "You're awake."
The Nameless Namekian smiled, his voice smooth, almost amused. "I received an interesting interruption."
Frieza's eyes narrowed, his tail flicking once in irritation. "What happened?"
"Someone attempted to move me."The Namekian's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something anticipatory.
Frieza's expression changed, his voice a low growl. "Using what?"
"A wish from a set of dragon balls.. ."
Frieza's fingers tightened around the armrests of his throne, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Namek."
The Nameless Namekian nodded, his smile widening. "Yes."
Whis quietly tapped his staff against the floor, the sound echoing through the chamber. The crystal surface at its tip illuminated, its light swirling as it processed the information. His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice thoughtful."That would explain the disturbance."
Frieza leaned forward, his voice a command. "Who made the wish?"
"I don't know." The Nameless Namekian's tone was slightly serious .
Frieza's tail flicked again, his voice sharp. "Can you identify them?"
The Nameless Namekian's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something akin to amusement. "No."
Frieza's expression darkened, his voice a snarl. "But you know where they are."
"I know where the wish originated." The Nameless Namekian's voice was smooth, unshaken.
Frieza stared at him, his mind already racing. The Saiyan. The Kai. Namek. The Dragon Balls. Everything was converging far too quickly, the threads of fate weaving together in a pattern he did not yet understand.
"Namek?" Frieza's voice was a whisper, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation.
"Yes." The Nameless Namekian's voice was quiet, but there was a finality to it, as if the answer were inevitable.
Frieza's smile disappeared, his voice a low growl. "So they have already entered the barrier surrounding the planet."
The Nameless Namekian said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Frieza's mind began moving, the gears of his intellect turning with a speed that would have left most beings dizzy. The Saiyan and Kai had arrived. And now they were on Namek, one of the places in the universe that had managed to resist his control.
He looked toward Whis, his voice a command. "Can you see them?"
Whis raised his staff, the orb at its tip illuminating with a soft, violet glow. Images appeared in the air before them, shimmering like a mirage, Namek's green sky, the surviving Namekians, their ancient plateau, and then
Taru.
Faye.
Frieza's smile disappeared, his voice a whisper that carried the weight of a realization. "So… they've already learned about you my loyal Namekian ."
The Nameless Namekian's expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, anticipation, perhaps, or amusement.
Then he said, his voice smooth and deliberate:
"They will come."
Frieza looked at him, his voice a low growl. "You sound certain."
The Nameless Namekian smiled, his eyes darkening with something akin to hunger. "Anyone who seeks the Dragon Balls eventually comes to me."
Frieza leaned back in his throne, his voice a purr. "And what happens when they arrive?"
The Nameless Namekian's smile widened, his voice a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of a promise. "That depends."
Frieza's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. "On what?"
The Nameless Namekian's gaze was cold, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability. "Whether they come as thieves…"
His smile sharpened, his eyes gleaming with something dark and ancient.
"…or enemies."
Far from Frieza's palace, beyond the central trade routes, beyond the regions monitored by his patrol fleets, beyond the reach of his divine sensors, something moved through the darkness.
At first, it looked like a small asteroid, a speck of rock drifting lazily through the void. Then it accelerated, its trajectory shifting with a speed that defied the laws of physics. A figure emerged from the shadows, his form humanoid, muscular, his silhouette unmistakably Saiyan.
But there was something wrong about him.
His face was covered by a mask, no insignia, no identification, no visible eyes. Only two narrow, glowing slits, their light a sickly, unnatural green. A matching aura surrounded his body, its energy moving like smoke, toxic, alive, as if it were a living thing coiled around him.
Several Frieza Force ships were traveling through the region, a convoy of five cruisers and three smaller escort vessels, their hulls gleaming under the distant light of a dying star. They were transporting supplies toward one of Frieza's outer bases, their crew unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon them.
The commander, a burly man with a scar running down one side of his face, was speaking to his communications officer when the officer suddenly stiffened, his fingers tightening around the edge of his console.
"Sir." His voice was tight, his eyes wide.
"What?" The commander barely glanced up from his reports.
"Something just entered the sector."
The commander sighed, his patience wearing thin. "A ship?"
"No." The officer's voice was a whisper, his face pale.
The commander looked toward the viewing screen. "Then what "
BOOM.
The first ship split in half, its hull tearing apart as if it were made of paper. The bridge went dark, the screens flickering before dying entirely. The commander barely had time to stand before another explosion rocked the convoy.
A green blur tore through the second cruiser, its hull screaming as it was ripped apart from the inside. Metal twisted, bodies were thrown through corridors, warning alarms blaring in a symphony of chaos.
"What the hell is happening?!" The commander's voice was a roar, his fists slamming against his console.
"Unknown hostile!" Another officer shouted, his fingers flying over the controls.
"Energy reading?" The commander demanded, his voice sharp.
The officer stared at his instruments, his face going pale. "It doesn't make sense."
"Why?" The commander's voice was a snarl.
"The reading keeps changing." The officer's hands trembled, his voice barely audible. "One moment it's there, the next it's gone. It's like"
Another impact.
The third ship disappeared, its hull collapsing in on itself before vanishing entirely. The masked figure emerged from the wreckage, his form wreathed in the sickly green glow of his aura. He didn't speak. He didn't gloat. He simply *looked* toward the remaining ships, his glowing slits fixed on his next targets.
Then he flew.
The soldiers opened fire, their weapons unleashing a barrage of energy blasts that filled the space between the ships. The figure moved through them, his form a blur of green and shadow, his movements unnatural, as if he were not bound by the same laws of physics as the rest of the universe.
Not elegantly.
Not gracefully.
Like a beast.
A green blur tore through the formation, his aura flaring as he moved. One soldier screamed as his ship was torn apart around him. Another fired desperately, his blasts streaking toward the figure with a futile hope.
The masked figure caught the blast.
His fingers closed around the energy, his aura absorbing it as if it were nothing more than a drop of water. Then he punched.
The soldier's ship vanished behind him, its hull collapsing in on itself, its crew lost to the void.
The fourth cruiser attempted to flee, its engines flaring as it turned away from the battle. The figure accelerated, his aura expanding like a living thing, his speed increasing until he was a streak of green light. He struck the ship's engine, his fist *crushing* through the hull as if it were made of glass.
The entire ship spun helplessly, its systems failing, its crew screaming as they were thrown against the walls.
The final escort vessel turned its weapons toward him, its cannons charging with a desperate, last-ditch effort. "FIRE!" The commander's voice was a roar, his face twisted in fury.
The cannons discharged, a barrage of energy blasts streaking toward the figure. He stopped, his form hovering in the void, his aura flaring as he absorbed the impact.
For the first time, he looked angry.
His green aura erupted, a shockwave of energy that overwhelmed the cannons, their blasts dissolving before they could reach him. The ship buckled, its hull groaning under the strain, its systems failing one by one.
The figure appeared before the bridge, his form towering over the viewing screen, his glowing slits fixed on the terrified crew. Behind his mask, something glowed a light, a power, something feral and lancient.
Then
BOOM.
Silence.
Only debris remained, the wreckage of the convoy drifting lazily through the void, a testament to the fury that had just passed through.
The figure floated among the wreckage, his breathing heavy, his fists tremblingbnot from exhaustion, but from rage, a fury so deep it seemed to radiate from his very core.
He looked at the burning remains, his gaze lingering on the destruction he had wrought. Then he turned away, his movements slow, deliberate.
No victory cry.
No declaration.
No celebration.
He simply flew, his form disappearing into the darkness, leaving only the echoes of his passage behind.
An asteroid drifted through the darkness, its surface pockmarked and unremarkable. It looked completely ordinary, dead rock, nothing more. A relic of a forgotten time, a speck of debris in the endless void.
The masked figure approached it, his movements precise, his aura fading as he neared. A section of the asteroid's surface opened, revealing a hidden entrance. He entered, the stone sealing behind him with a hiss of pressurized air.
Inside was a ship.
Small.
Old.
Heavily modified.
Its exterior had been painted black, its surface designed to absorb scans, to disappear into the void. The interior was barely large enough for one person, its walls lined with outdated but functional technology. The air was stale, thick with the scent of age and solitude.
The masked figure landed, his aura dissipating as he moved toward the cockpit. The dim lighting cast long shadows across his form, his mask gleaming faintly in the darkness.
He removed it.
Only half his face was visible beneath the dim light, Saiyan features, but wrong. His skin was too pale, his eyes too wild, too feral. There was something unnatural about them, something that spoke of a mind that had been pushed beyond the limits of sanity.
He walked toward the console, his movements deliberate. A small screen activated, its light casting a faint glow across his face. A map appeared, its surface marked with a network of red lines, Frieza's territories, his domains, his empire.
The masked figure stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then one location began flashing a single point, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of his own heart.
Namek.
His expression changed, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. He reached toward the console, his fingers hovering over the controls.
A transmission began playing, its signal distorted, its voice stirn .
"Frieza has increased patrols throughout the southern sectors."
The recording ended, the silence that followed thick and heavy. The figure remained still, his gaze fixed on the screen, his mind working.
Then another signal appeared, a strange energy fluctuation, a ripple in the fabric of the universe. He stared at it, his eyes narrowing, his voice a rasp, rough from disuse.
"so....someone else …" His voice was like gravel, the words forced from a throat that had not spoken in a long time. "…is fighting him."
He looked toward Namek, the green glow returning faintly around his fists. For the first time, there was something other than rage in his expression, curiosity, a flicker of something almost like hope.
He sat down, the ship's engines powering up with a low, steady hum. But he didn't leave. Not yet.
He simply watched the distant coordinates, his gaze fixed on the pulsing light of Namek, his mind racing with possibilities.
Waiting.
Pov switch, Frieza's Palace
Whis slowly lowered his staff, the crystal at its tip dimming as the last of the images faded from the air. Frieza noticed the shift, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the angel.
"What?"
Whis looked toward the southern galaxy, his expression thoughtful. "Something unusual just happened."
Frieza's eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl. "Another attack?"
"Yes."
"By the pesky resistance?"
"Possibly so my lord " Whis's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something else concern, perhaps, or intrigue.
Frieza's expression became irritated, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his throne. "How many of them was it this time ?"
Whis smiled faintly, his staff tapping lightly against the floor. "One."
Frieza stared, his voice a whisper. "One?"
"One individual destroyed an entire elite convoy my lord ." Whis's voice was even, but there was a note of respect in it, a recognition of power that even he could not ignore.
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Frieza's mind raced, the implications settling over him like a shroud. Another unknown warrior. Another unexplained power. And now Taru had arrived in the same universe, his presence a disruption in the carefully constructed order of Frieza's domain.
His universe was becoming crowded with mysteries.
Frieza slowly smiled, his voice a purr. "Interesting."
Whis looked at him, his expression unreadable. "You seem pleased."
"No my angel ."Frieza's voice was a whisper, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation. "I'm quite irritated."
He stared toward the stars, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "But irritation…" His smile sharpened, his voice carrying the weight of a realization. "…is often the beginning of discovery."
Far away, hidden inside an asteroid, the masked figure stared at Namek, his gaze unblinking, his mind racing with the possibilities of what or who awaited him there.
And beneath Frieza's palace, the Nameless Namekian stared in the opposite direction, his eyes dark, his smile knowing.
Neither knew what the other was.
Neither knew what was coming.
But both could feel it.
Something had changed.
And the universe was beginning to move again.