Within the Frost Demon race, the warning to "Beware the Golden-haired Super Saiyan" is legendary. However, there are actually two other precepts passed down through their lineage.
The second: Never provoke Majin Buu.
The third: Under no circumstances—absolutely, positively NEVER—provoke a God of Destruction!
Compared to the first two, the third is by far the most terrifying. It concerns the supreme deities of the multiverse, the most powerful beings in existence. If someone crosses a God of Destruction, death is the only outcome.
No—actually, "death" would be a mercy. According to the legends, a Destroyer possesses the ultimate power of Hakai. To be touched by this energy is to be erased from existence entirely, leaving nothing behind in either the living world or the afterlife.
Cooler had once been skeptical of these old stories, but after his brother, Frieza, was appointed a temporary agent for the Destroyer, Frieza hammered the warning home. The third precept was very, very real.
And the man standing before him was a Hakaishin Candidate—a successor to that very power.
No wonder his clothes are so strange, Cooler thought, a cold sweat breaking out. It's the regalia of a Destroyer!
"So, the Frost Demons really do know about the Gods of Destruction," Gran said, watching Cooler. He was well aware of their family traditions, which was why he found it so amusing to toy with him.
"In response to the Lord Candidate... yes, our race is aware of certain details regarding the Great Destroyers," Cooler replied, his voice trembling slightly.
Even if this man wasn't a full-fledged God of Destruction yet, Cooler didn't dare underestimate him. To be chosen as a disciple of Lord Beerus proved one of two things: either his potential was limitless, or his current strength was already nightmarish.
Gran nodded, deciding not to press further. He pointed toward the top of the skyscraper. "Aren't you going to invite me up for a seat?"
"Forgive my lack of manners! Lord Candidate, please, after you!" Cooler felt a surge of relief seeing that Gran didn't seem hostile. He led Gran into the building, leaving Dore and Neiz behind.
"Who... who is that? Why is Lord Cooler being so subservient?" Salza asked, clutching his stomach as he limped toward his teammates.
"Lord Cooler called him a 'Hakaishin Candidate.' That... that must be a god!" Neiz, the toad-like alien, was shaking. He had nearly attacked Gran moments ago. Had he fired that blast, he wouldn't be breathing right now.
"A god?!" Salza swallowed hard. It made sense now why Cooler had kicked him away—it was to save his life from the deity's potential wrath.
Just then, another deafening explosion echoed from across the city.
"Salza, Musku just sent a distress signal. Should we go help him?" asked the green-skinned Dore.
Salza was the weakest of the trio, but he was the smartest, which was why he led the Armored Squadron. He frowned deeply. "No. Think about it. This god appears, and immediately after, Musku is attacked by the Galactic Patrol. This timing is too suspicious."
Neiz looked anxious. "But what about Musku? He handles all our planet-trafficking sales!"
Dore wanted to agree. Musku managed the bulk of the Cooler Corps' business. Losing him would be a massive financial blow.
"Shut up, both of you!" Salza snapped. "We know nothing about this god's origins or his power. His appearance is too calculated. I suspect those Galactic Patrolmen are connected to him. And don't forget the most important thing!" Salza's voice grew heavy. "This planet is one of our main strongholds. If they didn't have someone backing them, they would never dare show their faces here!"
Dore and Neiz went silent. Salza's logic was flawless.
"If Musku dies, he dies. We can always find another puppet to run the business," Salza said, looking up at the top floor of the building with lingering fear. "Whatever happens, we cannot afford to offend that god!"
Inside the skyscraper's top-floor conference room, Gran took a seat at the head of a long table. He scanned the room; it was clearly a place where high-level corporate—or criminal—deals went down.
"Impressive room. You seem to be doing quite well for yourself, Cooler," Gran remarked, leaning back in the chair with a light chuckle.
Cooler stood to the side, cold sweat dripping down his neck. Was this god here to audit his planet-trafficking business? "Wh-What do you mean, Lord Candidate?"
Gran stood up, walked over to Cooler, and patted him on the shoulder. "Relax. I don't have time to care about your petty business ventures."
Cooler let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Then, may I ask... why has your Lordship graced us with your presence?"
"Well, I'm certainly not here to destroy you. Why do you care so much?" Gran's casual mention of destruction sent another shiver down Cooler's spine.
Outside, the tremors from the battle were becoming more violent. Gran stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching in silence. Cooler was growing restless; his entire planet-brokering infrastructure was on this world. If the destruction continued, his losses would be astronomical.
"Lord Candidate..." Cooler began, wanting to ask for permission to leave.
Gran, his back still turned to Cooler, spoke flatly. "I'd suggest you stay right where you are."
"Why?" Cooler's eyes widened. Is he protecting the Galactic Patrol?
"Because there's a very strong Saiyan out there. If you go, you'll likely die." Gran turned around.
In the original lore, Frieza was the prodigy, but Cooler's potential was nothing to scoff at. He had mastered a fourth transformation—one more than Frieza's base forms—allowing him to reach a power level of 470 million. In the early days of Dragon Ball, that was the strength of a true final boss. And if Frieza could reach a Golden form, Cooler likely could as well.
"A... strong Saiyan?" Cooler's heart skipped a beat. Could it be a Super Saiyan?
"I've given you my warning. If you still want to go, be prepared to meet your end."
Gran wasn't lying. After two years of training under him, little Broly's base power had reached 20 million. Normally, 20 million was no match for 470 million. But if Broly lost control... it was over. No one in the Frost Demon race could handle a berserk Broly.
Cooler wrestled with the decision. Should he believe a god he just met?
Three seconds passed. Cooler gritted his teeth. "Lord Candidate, I still wish to see the situation for myself."
"Suit yourself," Gran shrugged, shaking his head. Two years ago, even Bojack was nearly killed by the boy. Current Cooler didn't stand a chance. Still, Gran thought, Frost Demons are famously hard to kill. Let's see if Cooler can tank a beating as well as Frieza.
"Please wait here, Lord Candidate. I shall return shortly." Cooler bowed low and backed out of the room.
Down at the entrance, Salza and the others were waiting.
"Lord Cooler!" they shouted as he emerged.
"Follow me. I want to see just how strong this Saiyan really is," Cooler commanded, taking to the air.
"Lord Cooler, I suspect the attackers are linked to the Candidate!" Salza noted as they flew.
"I know," Cooler narrowed his eyes. "I understand these Destroyer deities. They are the supreme beings of the universe; as long as we don't cross their specific lines, they don't care about the squabbles of mortals. Even if those invaders are connected to him, the Lord Candidate won't care if I defeat them in a fair fight."
Salza marveled at Cooler's insight, but he had one more question. "Lord Cooler, may I ask... just how strong is that Hakaishin Candidate?" He had never seen his master so humble.
"How strong?" Cooler's voice was grim. "Put it this way: we Frost Demons call ourselves the Emperors of the Universe, but a god like him could wipe out our entire race with a single breath."
The three subordinates were stunned. They hadn't realized such a terrifying power existed.
Back in the conference room, Gran watched them fly off. To him, this was just child's play. His only real concern was that Bulma might get caught in the crossfire. If she died, Beerus would be furious about losing his best "handler."
As he watched, an elf-like maid entered the room and tremblingly began to prepare tea for him.
"Cooler certainly knows how to play the host," Gran chuckled, glancing at the maid. Since Cooler was being so hospitable, Gran decided he wouldn't mind saving the guy's life later.
As he sipped his tea, the explosions in the distance grew more violent. Cooler and his men had engaged Broly. Initially, Broly's 20 million power level was being suppressed by Cooler's overwhelming strength, just as Gran expected. He checked on Bulma and saw she was smart enough to keep her distance.
However, Salza's team began to pursue her. As their signatures neared Bulma, the tea cup in Gran's hand was instantly reduced to subatomic particles by a flicker of Hakai energy, terrifying the maid.
In that same instant, Broly's energy exploded. He went berserk, his power skyrocketing to 3 billion.
Dore and Neiz's ki signatures vanished instantly.
In the conference room, Gran acted as if the broken cup never existed and let the maid pour him a fresh one. He knew Broly had obliterated the two henchmen just before losing his mind completely. Salza had barely survived, but now that Broly was out of control, the real horror began.
"AAAAAGGGHHH!!"
"NO! STOP!!"
Gran ignored the screams echoing from the distance. He had warned Cooler, but the Emperor had insisted on finding out for himself.
Within minutes, Salza's ki vanished as Broly crushed him. Then, it was Cooler's turn to scream.
Frost Demons are indeed resilient. Even against a power of 3 billion, Cooler's 470 million managed to endure the brutal lashing for half an hour. But as the fight dragged on, Broly's power surged again, hitting a staggering 5 billion. Against that, Cooler was doomed unless he could somehow find a Golden transformation on the spot.
"Enough of this farce," Gran said, setting down his tea. He pressed his fingers to his forehead. With a sharp pop, he vanished.
In the skies over the ruined city, Cooler was in his final form, but he was a pathetic sight. All four of his head spikes had been snapped off, a large chunk of his tail was missing, and there wasn't a single patch of his body left unbruised.
He was kicked into the air, and before he could recover, Broly was behind him.
Broly, completely lost to his primal rage, clasped both hands together for a massive double-fist hammer strike. The sheer pressure of the descending blow tore the air apart, creating a vacuum that shredded the ruins below.
"NO! STOP IT!!" Cooler screamed. If this hit connected, his body would be snapped in half. He regretted everything. He should have listened to the god. Someone... anyone... save me!
Broly swung. The "Axe Hammer" descended with the weight of a planet.
Vroom!
The air shrieked. Death loomed over Cooler. He closed his eyes in total despair.
But just as the blow was about to land, a figure appeared between them.
"That's enough. Go to sleep."
In the blink of an eye, Gran delivered a swift chop to the back of Broly's neck. The boy went limp and fell unconscious instantly.
"Lord... Candidate..."
Cooler saw Gran effortlessly neutralize the monster that had been torturing him. A glimmer of hope touched his eyes for a split second before he, too, plummeted into unconsciousness.
"I told you not to go, and you didn't listen," Gran muttered, catching both Cooler and Broly as they fell. "If you hadn't been smart enough to find a maid to serve me tea, I wouldn't have lifted a finger to help you."
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