He hovered in the air, scanning the horizon. The city that once stood there had been wiped off the map.
"Taking a beating for that long and surviving... the Frost Demon constitution is truly something else," Gran muttered, glancing at the battered Cooler in his grip before descending toward the shattered earth.
As the echoes of the violent battle faded, the battlefield fell into a heavy silence. A light breeze swept through, carrying fine dust into the air. Soon, Bulma landed nearby, accompanied by Tights and Jaco.
"Lord Gran! Is Broly okay?" Bulma asked, her voice laced with worry. It was only now that she realized just how terrifyingly powerful little Broly actually was.
Tights and Jaco were equally stunned. They couldn't believe that someone as legendary as Cooler hadn't even been a match for a child under this Hakaishin Candidate's wing. If the student was this formidable, just how powerful was the master?
"He's fine. I just knocked him out," Gran replied, tossing the unconscious Cooler aside like a piece of trash. "What about that Musku guy? Did you catch him? If so, I'm taking you all back."
As Cooler tumbled across the dirt, Bulma shook her head. "Broly had caught him, but after this Cooler guy showed up, Musku ended up being vaporized by the shockwaves of their fight."
Gran remained silent for a moment. "Well, since he's dead, your mission is technically over. Bulma, is there anything else you need?"
"N-No... nothing else," Bulma replied, shrinking back slightly. Having already asked for one massive favor, she didn't dare push her luck with a deity.
"Good. Let's head home then." Gran was prepared to warp them away.
"Lord Gran..." Jaco spoke up tentatively, stepping toward the unconscious Cooler. He clearly wanted to arrest the infamous space tyrant.
"I'd suggest you don't push your luck, kid." Gran's voice was suddenly devoid of any warmth.
Jaco froze. "Huh?" He was confused. Wasn't this man a god? Why would he be indifferent to a cosmic criminal like Cooler? Surely justice demanded an arrest.
"Jaco, do you have a death wish?" Bulma snapped, realizing what he was thinking. "Lord Gran bringing us here to catch Musku was a massive act of grace already! You actually want to push for more?"
"Do you even understand the duties of a Destroyer?" she continued, reciting the bits of gossip she'd picked up from Whis. "Whis said that a Destroyer only intervenes when an evil significantly hinders the development of the universe. This Cooler guy wasn't part of our original goal. Whether he lives or dies is a matter for the Gods and Angels to decide. You're overstepping your bounds!"
Gran found it hard not to laugh. Has this girl spent all her free time listening to divine gossip? She was right, but only partially. Whether a criminal was "ripe" for destruction usually depended more on the Destroyer's mood than on a strict checklist. Cooler, being a cosmic real estate mogul, didn't quite meet the threshold for erasure yet. Plus, he had been a decent host, and Gran appreciated people who knew how to treat their guests.
"I... I'm sorry, Lord Gran! My mistake!" Jaco stammered, shaking with fear as he bowed in apology.
"Let's go." Gran didn't spare Jaco another glance as he warped the group off Planet Bell.
Cooler was left alone, lying in the dirt. Half an hour later, his eyes fluttered open. He tried to stand, but his internal injuries were too severe.
"You've... you've got to be kidding me," he wheezed. "How could that Saiyan monkey be that strong? Lord Hakaishin Candidate... it was you who saved me, wasn't it?"
Cooler coughed up blood, his vision blurring again. Before he passed out once more, he heard frantic voices in the distance.
"Lord Cooler!"
"Quick! Get him to the medical bay immediately!"
Three days later, on a part of Planet Bell untouched by the battle, Cooler floated inside a medical tank filled with advanced healing fluid.
Boom!
The tank exploded from the inside, sending nutrient solution splashing everywhere.
"Lord Cooler! Are you alright?" a subordinate asked frantically.
Cooler stood amidst the wreckage of the machine, his eyes closed. His mind was a loop of two images: the brutal fight with Broly, and the moment Gran had effortlessly neutralized the boy with a single strike.
"So that is the power of a Hakaishin Candidate..." Cooler gripped his chest, his heart racing at the memory. He was lucky he hadn't been disrespectful at the start; otherwise, that god would have surely let him rot.
"Lord Cooler, was that... was that the legendary Super Saiyan you were fighting?" the subordinate asked.
"No!" Cooler's knuckles cracked as he balled his fists. "His hair didn't turn gold. That wasn't the warrior from our legends. But if a Saiyan can reach that level of power without even transforming... how did he do it?"
His thoughts turned to his elite Armored Squadron, all of whom had been slaughtered by the boy.
"That damn Frieza... he let the Saiyans grow into this?!" Cooler's rage toward his brother boiled over. If Frieza hadn't been so careless with the survivors, the Cooler Corps wouldn't have been crippled like this.
"Lord Cooler," the subordinate whispered, "Musku is dead, and Captain Salza's team is gone. What do we do now?"
"Forget the planet-trafficking for now. Prepare a gravity chamber!" Cooler stepped out of the ruins of the med-bay, his voice cold as ice. "I am going to train!"
"Those damn monkeys... just you wait!"
The Frost Demon race was born with immense power. Because of this, neither he nor Frieza had ever felt the need to train a day in their lives. But things had changed. A Saiyan had just handed him the beating of a lifetime. If he didn't adapt, the entire Frost Demon race was finished.
He recalled Salza's theory about the boy being connected to the Hakaishin Candidate. Hmph. If I'm the one who survives in the end, then I'll be the one with the connection to Lord Gran! A flicker of genuine admiration for Gran's power sparked in his mind. To be associated with a god like that... that was a goal worth pursuing.
Time marched on, and another year passed, bringing the calendar to Age 752.
In Universe 4, on the sacred world of the God of Destruction, four figures gathered under a massive tree by a lake. They were a diverse group: a red cube-man, a gray rat-like alien, a blue slime, and an iron-blue metallic being. Each radiated a powerful aura.
Though they stood on holy ground, their energy was still that of mortals—they hadn't reached the divine tier yet. However, they were peak warriors whose mortal strength had broken through the barriers to reach the third stage of the Godly Realm. These were the candidates Quitela had scouted over the last three years.
Suddenly, a cry of agony rang out from the palace.
"Lord Quitela is screaming again. What on earth happened to him?" the gray rat asked, glancing toward the palace.
"I don't know," the red cube-man replied, shaking his head. "I've been here three years, and I hear those screams every few weeks."
The other two candidates remained silent but were clearly curious. Eventually, the screaming stopped, and an Angel emerged from the palace, followed by a yellow-green mouse. The mouse—Quitela—looked pale and haggard, a clear sign of long-term suffering.
"How... how is your progress?" Quitela asked, arriving at the tree while fighting through the soul-deep pain—a lingering punishment from Grand Zeno that hadn't faded in three years. "I asked you a question! Have you grasped the concept of Destruction yet?"
When the four remained silent, Quitela's irritability flared into a violent rage. A purple aura of Hakai energy exploded from him, threatening to erase the very space around them.
"Lord Quitela, we still need them for the upcoming Tournament of Candidates," the Angel, Cognic, reminded him calmly.
Quitela grumbled and retracted his power. "I haven't taught you anything else for three years. I have focused solely on teaching you what 'Destruction' means. Three years! Grasping the power of Hakai is just the threshold. Only after you grasp it can you train it, and only after that can you reach the level of Divine Law! I can't believe none of you have even crossed the threshold yet. If I were you, I'd have walked into the sun by now!"
He punched the tree in frustration, vaporizing it instantly. The four candidates trembled.
"Calm yourself, Lord Quitela," Cognic said. "Not everyone is a prodigy like you. The power of Destruction is notoriously difficult to master. Even you took six months to grasp it. Three years is a short time for them."
The candidates looked at Cognic with gratitude in their eyes.
Quitela exhaled sharply and shook his head. "Cognic, my talent isn't actually that great. I can't compare to that damn skinny cat."
It had taken Quitela six months to understand Hakai, but Beerus had done it in two weeks. The gap was infuriating. Cognic knew exactly which cat he was referring to.
"Lord Quitela, don't sell yourself short," Cognic smiled. "Aside from Lord Beerus, no other Destroyer comes close to you."
Quitela wasn't sure if that was a compliment, but he was used to Cognic's dry wit. He turned his attention back to the four candidates. "Since three years isn't enough, I'm giving you another thousand years!"
The candidates shared looks of utter confusion.
"Lord Quitela, didn't you say the tournament is only seven years away?" the gray rat asked timidly.
"Seven years in normal time, yes," Quitela said, rubbing his temples to soothe his soul-ache. "But in the hands of an Angel, seven years can become over two millennia."
The candidates were floored. The power to manipulate time to such an extent was beyond their comprehension.
"Cognic, is the room ready?" Quitela asked.
"Everything is prepared, Lord Quitela," Cognic said, gesturing toward the palace.
"Good." Quitela turned back to the "fools" before him.
"Normally, you would have two thousand years to train. But you are still mortals; you don't have that kind of lifespan. Since I don't have time to let you climb the Tower of Dimensions to increase your longevity, you'll have to make do with what you have. Even as mortals, your races live for over a millennium. That will suffice."
He paused. "I'm putting you in the Time Room for one thousand years. Cognic will be in there with you, teaching you the martial arts of the Hakaishin class. All you have to do is train. In a thousand years, the one who shows the most growth..."
Quitela scanned them with a cold gaze. "That is the one I will send to represent us in the Tournament of Candidates!"
The candidates' breathing quickened. The chance to fight the top warriors of the multiverse was a dream for any martial artist.
"One more thing: although you are all called 'candidates' now, seven years from now, only the one chosen will be the true Hakaishin Candidate."
Quitela sneered. The losers wouldn't be worthy of inheriting the universe. "If you want to be the sole heir of Universe 4, if you want to become a god, if you want eternal life... then give it everything you've got!"
"Yes, sir!!" the four shouted, their faces flushed with renewed determination. They hurried off toward the top floor of the palace.
Once they were gone, Cognic turned to Quitela. "Lord Quitela, is it really wise to cheat using warped time?"
"Why not?" Quitela rubbed his brow. "You think the other universes aren't doing the same thing?"
Cognic fell silent, knowing the other gods weren't exactly sticklers for the rules either. After a moment, he asked, "Do you really intend to choose one of them as your successor?"
"Hmph. You think these idiots are worthy?"
"..."
"They spent three years and couldn't even grasp the basics of Destruction. You think I'd let one of them rule Universe 4?" Quitela spat. "I'm just keeping them as a safety net. A backup plan."
Cognic nodded. Their talent was indeed lacking.
"Universe 4 has more than just these few," Quitela's eyes sharpened. "There are ancient, hidden beings out there. Cognic, keep searching. Find them."
"As you wish."
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