For months, Taro had been sitting cross-legged in midair above the desolate mountains, never opening his eyes, never eating, never moving.
It was as if he had completely merged with the barren world around him. Day and night, every minute, countless particles of ki light drifted away from the mountains, rivers, and plants, transforming into shimmering starlight that flowed into his body. There, they were refined by his will, becoming his own power—unlike the Genki Dama, which was merely wielded as a weapon.
Finally, on this day—
The tiny earpiece lodged in his ear emitted a burst of static before Jarvis's clear, synthesized voice spoke:
"Target located. Newborn No. 59984, Kakarot… Father: Bardock. Brother: Raditz… Data indicates Kakarot's initial battle power is 2. Rating: Low-Class Warrior… Based on database analysis, the probability of being sent to a low-level planet is 98%..."
At last, Taro slowly opened his eyes, revealing a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"So… it finally begins."
His gaze, though outwardly fixed on the barren landscape before him, stretched across the entire planet. He murmured to himself,
"For the past few days, Saiyans have been returning to this planet one after another… and none have left since. Freeza… is finally making his move, isn't he?"
"I wonder… is this fate's doing? Or did my words to him all those years ago inadvertently become… a 'hint'?"
"Heh…"
A cold wind howled through the desolate valley.
And like a candle snuffed out by the breeze, the floating figure vanished without a trace.
---
Deep within a distant corner of the galaxy, in a star system filled with alien structures…
On the massive central planet…
King Cold lounged on his throne, his colossal form radiating boredom as he addressed his subordinate:
"So… what has my son Freeza been up to lately?"
"Great King Cold, Lord Freeza is currently heading to Planet Vegeta, home of the Saiyan race," replied a much smaller alien, bowing deeply. "Recently, Lord Freeza has recalled all Saiyans from their missions. It appears he intends to… exterminate their entire race."
"Oh? The Saiyans…" King Cold chuckled, as if amused. "Is that fool actually afraid of some mythical Super Saiyan?"
Leaning on his fist, he mused in a low voice,
"Ever since he was injured a century ago, he's never unsealed his full power. And yet… by adapting to his restrained state, he's grown stronger. Could this… truly be the evolutionary path of our race?"
A flicker of doubt crossed King Cold's ruthless face. But as he sensed the immense power within him, his conviction returned.
"No. Our ancestors were not wrong. And neither am I!"
"Since my injury prevented me from undoing my own limiter, I've been absorbing energy that was meant to remain sealed. Now, even in this form, my strength rivals what my perfect state once was!"
"My battle power… even now, should be nearing 100 million!"
"This must be the true purpose of our race's self-sealing ability. This is the real path to transcendence! By growing stronger while restrained… when we finally unleash our full power, we become… unstoppable!"
His icy voice echoed through the throne room, while his subordinate remained motionless, pretending not to hear a word.
"Newtley… any progress on the genetic restoration project?"
Finally, King Cold asked the question—though he already knew the answer.
"My deepest apologies, King Cold. There has been… no breakthrough. Genetic engineering seems to be a forbidden frontier in this universe. The field remains shrouded in mystery…" The scientist hesitated, frustration creeping into his tone.
"I see."
King Cold's expression remained unreadable.
But his massive fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne—splitting it with a crack.
Even if he believed he had discovered the true evolutionary path of their race, even if he was confident that his current state was nearly equal to his former perfect form... if he couldn't heal the injuries from his early years, he would never be able to undo his sealed transformation and unleash his full power.
In that case, he wouldn't even measure up to his own son, Freeza—so how could he dare speak of greater ambitions?
None of it mattered… not until his wounds were healed.
But fortunately, King Cold had patience. He could wait. And he believed—the longer he waited, the more terrifying the power he would gain upon his rebirth. And when that day came… the first one he would kill would undoubtedly be Freeza.
---
Outside Planet Vegeta, in the black void of space…
A massive spaceship hovered silently, lingering just beyond the planet's defensive perimeter.
Freeza's petite frame exuded a sleek, merciless elegance—his head, shoulders, and torso adorned with violet crystalline structures, his streamlined body concealing power enough to obliterate entire planets with ease.
But colder than the vacuum outside the ship's window were Freeza's narrow, serpentine eyes.
Those tiny pupils gleamed like a demon's, chilling to the bone.
At some point, the Freeza that appeared before others had taken this form.
This was not the Freeza of old.
And yet…
This version of him was far more terrifying.
Compared to the horned Freeza of legend, this one was crueler, more unpredictable, more sadistic. No one knew why the Emperor of the Universe had altered his appearance—but those who had seen him in this state understood deep down: there was a reason.
The reason lay in his right arm.
"It aches again… this hand."
Freeza stared emotionlessly through the window at the dark expanse beyond. In the distance, Planet Vegeta hung silently, as if waiting—just like Freeza himself—for the fireworks to begin.
His feet hovered slightly above the floor, his slender tail swaying idly behind him.
His right arm—a mechanical prosthetic—clenched subtly.
For over a century, he had relived that humiliating disgrace.
Someone had dared sever the right arm of the great Emperor Freeza.