The sky of ßêrùøūy did not move.
No clouds. No sun anyone could name. Just a vast, unmoving ceiling of dull color that pressed down on the world like a judgment that had already been passed.
Broly felt it in his bones.
This planet was not meant for hesitation.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked into jagged plates, each fissure glowing faintly with geothermal heat far below the surface. Every breath scraped his lungs raw. The air carried no life—only endurance. A test that never ended.
Frieza stood before him, small in frame yet absolute in presence, like a blade planted upright in the earth.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Frieza spoke again.
"Do you know why I chose this world?" he asked.
Broly shook his head slowly. His eyes never left Frieza. "No."
Frieza turned his gaze upward, studying the empty sky as if recalling a memory carved into it. "Because ßêrùøūy does not forgive failure. The species that lived here believed suffering was sacred. They thought only those who survived agony deserved to exist."
He looked back at Broly.
"They were wrong about many things. But not that."
Frieza drifted higher, arms folding behind his back. His tone was calm, almost instructional—like a teacher explaining a concept too advanced for most students.
"For one year," Frieza continued, "you have trained under me. You have fought me thousands of times. You have grown stronger at a rate that would shatter empires if anyone else were watching."
Broly's fists tightened.
"And yet," Frieza said, "you still lose."
Broly swallowed. "You're… still ahead."
Frieza inclined his head slightly. "By a wide margin, l might add."
That stung more than any insult.
Frieza descended until his feet touched the ground, boots cracking stone. "You see, Broly, power is not the problem. You drown in it. Your issue is access."
He tapped his own chest lightly."I improve every moment—consciously and unconsciously. My growth does not wait for desperation. Yours does."
Broly's jaw clenched. "So what—you're going to beat it out of me?"
Frieza laughed softly. "No. I'm going to force you to confront it."
He spread his arms again, wider this time, exposing his entire form. No guard. No stance.
"Here is the truth," Frieza said. "If you attack me now, as you are, I will kill you in under ten seconds."
Broly's heart slammed against his ribs.
Frieza continued, unhurried. "Not because you lack strength. But because you lack conviction. You hesitate. You hold back. You fear losing control more than you desire victory."
The words dug deep—too precise to dismiss.
Broly growled, low and restrained. "I don't want to hurt people."
Frieza's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but sharp focus. "Then you will never surpass them."
He stepped closer. Two meter. One.
"Power does not care about your intentions," Frieza said quietly. "Reality does not reward restraint. It rewards dominance."
Broly's breathing grew heavier. The air burned now. His ki stirred, restless, reacting to the pressure Frieza was releasing—not overwhelming, just enough to provoke.
Frieza stopped inches from him.
"Your race transforms through loss," Frieza said. "Through pressure. Through the collapse of what you think you are."
He leaned in, voice dropping.
"I am going to take everything from you on this planet. Your balance. Your confidence. Your sense of safety."
Broly's eyes widened slightly. "Frieza—"
"And if you break," Frieza continued, "you will die."
Silence.
The wind screamed across the stone like a warning.
Broly felt it then—that familiar heat crawling up his spine, coiling in his chest. But this time it wasn't rage alone. It was fear. Doubt. The weight of every loss he couldn't name.
"I've… tried," Broly said, voice strained. "I train. I listen. I fight."
"Yes," Frieza said. "You try."
He stepped back, finally taking a stance—not defensive, but inevitable.
"Trying is for the weak."
The pressure spiked.
Not Frieza's full power. Not even close.
But enough.
The ground shattered outward in a wide circle. Broly staggered back, boots skidding as gravity seemed to increase tenfold. His knees bent involuntarily, stone cracking beneath them.
Frieza did not move.
"Stand," Frieza commanded.
Broly snarled and pushed up, muscles screaming. Veins bulged across his arms and neck. His ki flared—green, violent, unstable—licking at the air around him.
Frieza watched closely.
"Good," he murmured. "There it is."
Broly roared and charged.
This time, Frieza did not block with two fingers.
He caught Broly's fist with one hand.
The impact detonated the ground beneath them, shockwaves ripping outward, mountains in the distance collapsing like sandcastles.
Broly stared in disbelief.
Frieza leaned closer. "Still not enough."
He twisted his wrist.
Broly screamed as pain lanced through his arm, bones grinding. Frieza flung him upward with casual force. Broly smashed into the sky, vanished, then came crashing back down like a meteor.
The planet shook.
Broly lay in the crater, gasping, vision swimming.
Frieza descended slowly, untouched.
"Get up," he said.
Broly tried. Failed. Tried again.
His body shook violently as his ki surged, spiked, collapsed—again and again. Something was there, just out of reach. A wall he couldn't see but could feel.
Frieza stood at the crater's edge.
"Ascension is not granted," Frieza said coldly. "It is stolen."
He raised one hand.
"Show me," he said, "that you deserve it."
Frieza fired a single beam—not lethal, not merciful.
The blast swallowed the crater.
Broly's scream tore through the dead sky, raw and unrestrained, echoing across ßêrùøūyas the planet of Ascension finally began to remember why it had been named that.
And Frieza watched.
Patient.
Certain.
Because whether Broly rose as something greater—
—or died as he was—
Frieza would grow stronger all the same.
The beam did not end him.
It unmade the moment he had been standing in.
Stone liquefied. Air detonated. The crater collapsed inward, then outward, like the planet itself had drawn breath and screamed it back out.
For a heartbeat—nothing.
Then the rubble moved.
A pulse rolled out from the center, uneven and violent, rattling the fractured plates of ßêrùøūy. The air warped. Gravity stuttered. Something inside Broly tore loose.
Frieza felt it immediately.
Ah.
There it is.
From the crater, a roar rose—not the feral scream of rage alone, but something deeper, layered with pain, fear, and a desperate refusal to disappear. Green light bled through the dust, thick and unstable, like a wound in reality.
Broly rose.
Slowly. Shaking. Broken in places that should not have healed so quickly—but they were healing. Muscles swelling, skin tightening, ki pouring out of him in uncontrolled waves that flattened the ground for kilometers.
His hair spiked higher, darker at first, then burning with that unmistakable emerald hue. His eyes lost their pupils, drowning in white, then green. His breath came out in ragged blasts that cracked the air.
The transformation was not clean.
It was violent.
Incomplete.
And Frieza smiled.
"Finally," he said softly.
Broly screamed again and vanished.
The ground where he stood exploded upward as he crossed the distance between them in an instant, fist cocked back with enough force to shatter moons. His punch connected—
—and Frieza did not move.
The fist stopped inches from Frieza's face, caught between two fingers.
The shockwave still detonated, ripping a canyon behind Frieza that stretched to the horizon. Mountains folded in on themselves. The sky fractured with sonic booms.
Broly stared.
Frieza looked almost bored.
"This," Frieza said calmly, glancing at Broly's clenched fist, "is what you were so afraid of?"
He twisted his fingers slightly.
Bones cracked.
Broly howled and pulled back, swinging with his other arm, then his knee, then a headbutt—each strike landing, each strike shaking the planet, each strike failing.
Frieza intercepted them all with minimal motion. Two fingers. A palm. The back of his hand.
Aura rippled around Frieza—not flaring, not raging—but dense. Heavy. Like gravity given form. Golden light bled through the edges of it, subdued, restrained, but undeniable.
Aura farming.
Every blow Broly threw only fed the pressure.
Frieza struck once.
Not a blast. Not a technique.
A simple flick of the wrist.
Broly was launched across the planet, skipping across the ground like a stone across water, carving trenches hundreds of meters deep with each impact before finally crashing into a distant mountain range and burying himself inside it.
The mountains collapsed.
Frieza floated after him at an unhurried pace.
"You see the problem now?" Frieza called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the devastation. "Transformation alone does not make you superior. It merely reveals what was already there."
The rubble erupted as Broly burst free, bloodied, eyes wild, power climbing higher still. His aura expanded violently, green lightning snapping outward, tearing chunks of the planet into the air.
This time, when he charged, Frieza let him come.
They collided midair.
The impact tore a hole through the clouds and split the sky open like glass. Broly hammered Frieza with a relentless barrage—fists, elbows, knees, headbutts—pouring everything he had into each strike.
Frieza took it all.
He slid backward slightly, boots skimming the air, but his posture never broke. His expression never changed.
"Yes," Frieza said, almost approvingly. "Better."
He vanished.
Broly barely had time to register the movement before Frieza appeared above him and drove a knee into his spine. The blow folded Broly in half and sent him plummeting straight down.
Before he could hit the ground, Frieza appeared below him and uppercut him back into the sky.
Up.
Down.
Again.
Again.
Each impact echoed like thunder. Each hit refined Frieza's timing, his control, his understanding of Broly's growing power. He was not just fighting—he was studying.
Broly roared, power spiking higher, his aura thickening, his strikes growing heavier, faster. He finally landed a clean hit—a punch to Frieza's chest that sent him skidding back a few meters.
Broly froze, eyes wide.
He'd done it.
Frieza looked down at the mark on his chest—a faint scuff.
Then he laughed.
A deep, genuine laugh that rolled across the battlefield.
"There it is," Frieza said. "Hope."
The golden aura surged.
Not explosively. Not recklessly.
It compressed.
The light around Frieza drew inward, becoming denser, heavier, until the space around him bent under its weight. The air screamed. The planet groaned.
This was not the Golden Form unleashed.
This was Frieza letting it breathe.
Broly felt it like a hand closing around his heart.
Frieza moved.
He crossed the distance and struck Broly once in the stomach. The blow lifted Broly off his feet, his scream cut short as the air was ripped from his lungs. Frieza followed with a backhand that sent Broly spinning, then a kick that drove him straight into the ground.
Frieza descended and planted a foot on Broly's chest, pinning him into the shattered rock.
Broly struggled. His aura flared violently—but it could not push Frieza off.
"Look at you," Frieza said, looking down at him. "Transformed. Awakened. And still beneath me."
Broly's eyes burned with fury and frustration. "I—I'm stronger—!"
"Yes," Frieza agreed. "AND yet I am still growing."
He leaned down, golden eyes locking onto Broly's.
"This is the lesson you needed. Power is not a destination. It is a process. And as long as you chase a version of yourself instead of surpassing the world itself—"
Frieza pressed down harder.
The ground collapsed further.
"—you will never catch me."
Broly screamed, his power surging one last time, trying desperately to break free.
Frieza released him and stepped back.
"Get up," he said.
Broly dragged himself to his feet, shaking, battered, transformed—and still standing.
Frieza smiled, genuine satisfaction flickering across his face.
"Good," he said. "Now do it again."
The planet of Ascension cracked further beneath them.
And far above, beneath the unmoving sky, Frieza continued to farm aura from a monster who was finally learning what it meant to reach—and still fall short of...perfection.
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Fun fact: the word ßêrùøūy means Ascension in the dead Aliens language.
So give me stones if you want more content...or else