I apologize for the delay.
I was kinda busy watching Manhwa...and kinda forget to do anything.
And Regarding that l have to say
These are my favorite and you could give them a watch aswell.
1. I am fated villan.( Gu Changge is an actual Chad)
2. Nano Machines.
3. Myst, Might and Mayhem.( The Mc is an actual Fucking demon because there is no way he is human. No wonder people in Nano machine were glazing his ass.)
4. The Greatest Estate Developer.( Lloyd is Good. Water is good. So Lloyd=Water)
So peak
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Ummm sorry for the rant enjoy this chapter.
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When Frieza first opened his eyes, he had felt it—immediately, unmistakably, like a blade pressed lightly against the back of his neck.
Someone was watching him.
At first, he dismissed it as residue from death, from rebirth, from the violent dislocation of soul and flesh.
Paranoia, perhaps.
An echo.
But when he obtained his new body—when his senses sharpened beyond anything he had ever possessed—that sensation returned.
Clearer.
Closer.
Unblinking.
Frieza tested it. He meditated. He suppressed his ki until even angels would have lost track of him. He exploded it outward in sudden, reckless bursts meant to flush out any watcher careless enough to flinch.
Nothing.
No reaction.
Just patience.
Frieza when he asked for his body also asked for a minor ability to control his own biology.
A laughably small request in a universe where wishes could rewrite causality, resurrect gods, or collapse timelines.
He had chosen restraint deliberately. Precision over excess.
He had done it for one reason—to allow the development of parallel thought, to fracture his cognition into layers that could scheme, predict, and counter-scheme simultaneously.
And yet… he had not wished directly for that power.
The reason was simple and brutally rational.
He did not want it—whatever was watching—to become suspicious.
A direct wish would have been a declaration. A flare in the dark. Instead, he built the ability himself, cell by cell, rewriting his biology the slow, organic way.
Evolution masquerading as growth.
Growth masquerading as inevitability.
Even then, he felt it.
That presence did not retreat.
It watched him grow stronger.
It watched him learn.
It watched him plan.
Frieza isn't stupid he understands better then anyone that there is no free meal in this World.
Why do other act kind toward others.
We act kind mostly because it makes us feel good or superior.
Donating to the homeless? It's so we stop feeling guilty and get that warm "I'm a good person" buzz.
Feeling bad for others? Often it's just pity — "poor them, lucky me" — which quietly reminds us we're better off.
Most kindness is selfish: it soothes our conscience, strokes our ego, or lets us look down with compassion.
Pure selflessness is a Fairytale.
That truth was the spine of his existence.
Why had he been reincarnated here of all places?
Why this universe? This body? This timing?
There was only one possible answer: a design not his own.
A plan woven by something operating beyond even his comprehension.
Not benevolent. Never benevolent. Power like that never acted without intent.
He had been placed.
Not gifted. Not saved. Positioned.
By something that could not—or would not—act directly.
A being or system operating outside his comprehension, using him as a variable in a much larger equation.
And Frieza despised that more than death. To be a pawn was intolerable.
So the moment Beerus arrived—Frieza knew.
His plan had begun.
Why fight Broly a second time when the outcome was predetermined? Why risk exposure?
Because Broly was loud.
Because Broly was visible.
Because the clash would ripple across divine senses like a scream through glass.
Why deliberately release a pulse of god ki so crude, so loud, so visible?
Because it was bait.
Because Beerus would feel it.
Because Beerus would wake up.
Every action had been calculated from the very beginning.
The clash, the signal, the provocation—it was all meant to wake Beerus early, to drag the God of Destruction off his throne and straight into Frieza's narrative.
And then—why antagonize him?
Why mock him?
Why challenge him when defeat was guaranteed?
Because arrogance was the key.
Frieza needed Beerus to believe he was unchanged.
Still prideful.
Still reckless.
Still foolish enough to challenge a god without preparation.
He needed to lose convincingly. Needed to beg.
Needed to plead for time with the same theatrical desperation as before.
And Beerus—fat on authority, drunk on inevitability—would grant it.
Ten days.
A mercy so small it barely counted as kindness.
A mercy that would end gods.
When they fought again, it wouldn't be just Beerus.
Champa would come.
He always did when pride was threatened and mysteries arose. Not to mention his curiosity st which being fought his brother that long.
Two Destroyers converging on one anomaly.
And by then—
Frieza would be ready.
Ready to kill them both.
The angels would react. Of course they would. Whis would speak to the Grand Priest.
The Grand Priest would look. The hierarchy would tremble as it realized the system had produced something it could not easily erase.
And that was the point.
From the moment he transmigrated to the moment he stood here everything was planed.
Frieza stood calm at the center of converging.
Whatever had been watching him since the moment he opened his eyes, whatever had thought to use him—
He hoped it was paying attention now.
Or he would break the board so completely that even gods would have nowhere left to stand.
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