Frieza went to his private chamber and settled onto his floating throne, the surface adjusting instantly to his weight as if it anticipated him. The room was dim, lit by soft panels that reflected off the polished metal and glass. For a moment, he said nothing. He simply sat there, tail curling slowly, thoughts drifting with deliberate calm.
Then, in a voice that carried without effort, he spoke.
"Cym."
The doors slid open at once. Cym entered, moved to the center of the chamber, and dropped to one knee. His posture was flawless, not stiff with fear but sharpened by loyalty.
"Yes, my lord," he said.
Frieza rested his chin lightly against his knuckles. "Contact the prince of all Monkeys," he said, amusement already creeping into his tone. "Vegeta."
Cym nodded respectfully and rose, activating the communicator. He dialed the secure frequency reserved for one being alone.
Several minutes passed.
The screen flickered, then stabilized. Vegeta's face appeared—tense, rigid, every muscle tight as if bracing for impact. The moment he saw Frieza, he bowed his head instinctively.
"My lord," Vegeta said.
Frieza smiled.
"Ah," he said pleasantly, "if it isn't my favorite Monkey. Tell me, Vegeta—how are you doing?"
Vegeta's jaw clenched. He hesitated, then blurted out, unable to stop himself.
"I am a Saiyan."
The silence that followed was profound.
So complete that it felt as if the universe itself paused to listen.
Then—thud.
Nappa collapsed off-screen, hitting the floor like a sack of grain.
Frieza stared at the screen for half a second… then laughed. Not a restrained chuckle, not a polite laugh—but open, delighted amusement.
"Tomato," Frieza said lightly, waving one hand, "to-mato."
Vegeta exhaled slowly, realizing only then how tightly he had been holding his breath. Relief flickered across his face, quickly buried beneath discipline.
Frieza's smile softened, just slightly. Then his eyes sharpened.
"Raditz is dead," Frieza said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Vegeta stiffened. His eyes widened before he could hide it. "Dead…? On Earth?"
"Yes," Frieza replied. "Which brings us to your next assignment."
Frieza leaned forward a fraction, his image filling more of the screen.
"You will go to Earth," he continued. "And you will fight the Monkey who killed him."
Vegeta was shaken—and he didn't bother hiding it. Earth was a backwater. A low-level planet. The strongest power readings barely broke two hundred. The idea that such a world had killed Raditz didn't sit right.
Still, he bowed his head. "As you command, my lord."
Then, cautiously, "Should we use an emergency pod… like Raditz did?"
Frieza shook his head once, slowly.
"No," he said. "Take your ship. Full speed."
Vegeta frowned slightly. "At maximum velocity… it would take nearly a year to reach the planet."
Frieza's smile returned, thin and knowing.
"Correct."
A year.
Time for the universe to move.
Time for Earth to grow just enough to be interesting.
Time for Frieza to continue becoming something far worse than they imagined.
"Do not disappoint me," Frieza said.
Vegeta bowed deeply. "I won't."
The screen went dark as Frieza cut the transmission.
He leaned back into his throne once more, tail curling lazily, eyes half-lidded as his thoughts returned to their slow, precise march.
Earth.
Saiyans.
Growth.
Everything was proceeding exactly as it should.
---
Frieza sat alone in the quiet of his chamber, the soft hum of the ship threading through the air like a distant heartbeat.
Raditz.
He did not know the Saiyan was dead. Not with absolute certainty.
But certainty had never been a requirement for Frieza—instinct had always served him better than proof, and his instincts whispered the same conclusion over and over again.
If he was not mistaken, Raditz should already be gone.
After the call with Vegeta, Frieza had ordered Cym to investigate immediately. Not a rescue. Not a search party. Merely confirmation. What came back was… incomplete.
The scouter itself had never been recovered. Reduced to scrap, most likely, scattered across a small blue planet no one worth remembering had ever bothered to name properly.
But the recording remained.
A final data packet, pulled from the network before the signal collapsed.
Frieza had watched it once.
Only once.
Static bled across the screen in jagged lines. Power levels spiked erratically—numbers jumping far beyond what should have been possible on a backwater world like Earth.
Raditz's voice cut in and out, disbelief edging into panic. Then a sudden surge. A blinding flare of energy that overwhelmed the scouter's limits.
And then—
Nothing.
Silence.
The recording ended there, frozen on a final distorted frame.
It aligned too well with Frieza's memory. Too well with what he knew of the universe's sense of irony. Raditz had been arrogant. Careless. And fate had punished him for it.
Frieza dismissed the thought with a slow breath and leaned back into his throne. The seat yielded perfectly, cradling him like a living thing. Comfort settled in, rare and welcome.
For a moment—just a moment—he allowed himself to rest.
Then the doors slid open.
Frieza did not move. Did not turn. Did not speak.
Cym entered the chamber without requesting permission.
That alone should have been a death sentence.
Cym had served him for over a year now. He knew the rules. He knew Frieza's rhythms, his silences, his tempers. He knew that this particular stillness meant do not disturb.
Yet Cym crossed the threshold anyway.
He moved quickly, dropped to one knee, and spoke before the quiet could sharpen into something lethal.
"My lord," Cym said.
There was something in his voice—controlled, but barely. Excitement pressed tight against discipline, straining to break through.
Frieza's eyes opened slowly.
"My lord," Cym continued, lowering his head further, "forgive the intrusion. But this could not wait."
Frieza studied him in silence. Cym held the pose, muscles locked, pulse racing. He knew better than anyone that Frieza did not tolerate mistakes made out of enthusiasm.
Finally, Frieza spoke.
"Explain," he said calmly.
Cym swallowed, then let the words out.
"We have found it," he said, and the smile finally slipped through despite his effort. "The planet. The one you ordered us to locate. The planet with the wishing orb."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Frieza sat perfectly still, expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Cym's mind raced—had he spoken too soon? Had he misunderstood the data? Had this been a false positive?
Then Frieza smiled.
It was small at first. Barely there.
Then a quiet chuckle escaped him. Low.
Controlled.
It grew.
The chuckle became laughter, smooth and rich, rolling out into the chamber like a tide. The walls seemed to vibrate as the sound echoed, filling the space with something dark and triumphant.
Then it stopped.
Abruptly.
Frieza tilted his head, eyes narrowing, as if a new thought had just occurred to him.
And then he laughed again.
This time louder. Sharper. Unrestrained.
A full, villainous laugh that tore through the chamber, climbed the walls, and spilled into the corridors beyond. Soldiers outside froze where they stood, a familiar chill running down their spines.
Cym looked up, stunned.
He had seen Frieza angry. Calm. Cruel. Amused.
He had almost never seen him happy.
Frieza finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled. His laughter faded into a satisfied hum.
"So," he said softly, "it truly exists."
"Yes, my lord," Cym replied quickly, Also smiling from seeing his Lord truly happy.
"Coordinates verified. Multiple confirmations. There is no doubt."
Frieza leaned forward, fingers steepled, tail curling lazily behind him.
Wishes.
A concept so crude, so inelegant—yet infinitely useful.
He closed his eyes, imagining the paths now opening before him. Problems erased. Limits rewritten.
Finally he could have what he desired the most.
The universe, vast and arrogant, had just revealed another of its pressure points.
"And here I was," Frieza said lightly, amusement lacing every word, "thinking I might have to work harder than usual."
Cym smiled openly now, pride flickering across his face. "Your foresight never fails, my lord."
Frieza opened his eyes.
"Of course it doesn't," he said. "Now… prepare the next phase."
Cym bowed deeply. "At once."
As Cym withdrew, Frieza leaned back into his throne once more. The comfort returned, but this time it felt different—charged, anticipatory.
Raditz. Earth. Wishes.
Everything was aligning perfectly.
Everything is going According to his plan.
---
Stones...or else