Dragon Ball Alternative

Frieza knelt on the cracked earth, his chest rising and falling in irregular bursts. He stared at Vegeta's form, so still that not even the faintest movement of breath disturbed his chest. Realization bloomed.

Vegeta was dead.

The Adam's apple in his throat rose and fell with a hard swallow, accompanied by the sharp click of grinding teeth. His fists clenched tighter, nails digging into his palms as tremors of rage coursed through him.

Fear. That loathsome, detestable sensation writhed in his gut like a centipede. Vegeta—that Saiyan pest—had dared to make him feel fear. Disgust and humiliation twisted within him as his stomach churned at the sequence of events that led to the moment the accursed Saiyan had forced him into such a moment of weakness.

Frieza's crimson eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits as he snarled hatefully. But then, as though a switch had been flipped, a low chuckle slipped past his lips. It was soft at first, but it grew, distorting into a wild, unhinged laugh as the maniacal edge slowly bled in. It made him sound insane. It was madness given voice.

And then, suddenly, the laughter stopped.

"How dare you," Frieza hissed with a fury so great it seemed to distort the air around him. Then, like a floodgate bursting, the laughter returned—louder, darker, and more deranged. It echoed wildly and grated at the ears of anyone within range.

"How dare you make me—ME! Frieza! The supreme overlord of the universe—experience fear!" His voice rose in pitch with every syllable. "How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!!"

Frieza's furious screams were hurled at a man who could no longer hear him, for death had insulated him from the tyrant's seething rage. But the absence of a response seemed to infuriate Frieza further, because it reminded him that, in the end, it was Vegeta who had the last laugh.

So, to Frieza, that silence was its own form of insult.

Frieza's hands suddenly shot upward as a mass of energy coalesced upon his palm. Without a moment's delay, he unleashed a colossal Ki blast that roared across the battlefield toward Vegeta like some apocalyptic comet.

The impact was cataclysmic. The ground convulsed violently as a blinding explosion of light and heat swept the battlefield and buffeted the remaining Z Fighter. They instinctively shielded their eyes, as the radiance was too intense to bear.

When the brilliance finally subsided, all that remained of Vegeta was a vast, empty crater. No ash, no fragments—nothing. The Saiyan prince had been completely and utterly erased from existence.

The Z Fighters stood paralyzed, their breath caught in their throats. Frieza's attack had been so overwhelmingly destructive that even the thought of intervening had been impossible. They knew that any attempt to protect Vegeta's body would have ended in their own annihilation.

Meanwhile, Frieza's chest heaved as he silently observed the aftermath. The wild, searing fury from moments before had cooled, leaving behind only icy hatred.

But his bloodlust remained unquenched.

And it was in this state of mind that Frieza's crimson eyes locked onto the remaining Z Fighters.

***

Everyone was fucking terrified of Frieza right about now, and it wasn't hard to see why. Krillin and Gohan stood rooted in place, their fear written all over their faces. But who could blame them? Frieza was livid, and the cold, murderous gleam in his eyes made it clear he wasn't interested in dragging things out much longer.

Even Piccolo, who usually was the embodiment of stoicism, couldn't completely maintain his calm. The faint tremor in his telepathic voice betrayed him when he finally mentally reached out.

'Goku, just how much more time do you need?'

'Just a little over a minute! About 70 seconds or so!'

'More than a minute?!' Piccolo snapped, though not at Goku. 'That's an eternity! Shit!'

The curse slipped out before he could stop it, but under the circumstances, it felt justified. Because Piccolo wasn't wrong—the idea of stalling Frieza for even a handful of seconds was a Herculean task. A full minute? It might as well have been an eternity. Their odds were bleak, and everyone knew it.

But Goku, ever the optimist, responded with cheer. 'Hey, back then I stalled Raditz for five whole minutes! If I could do that, then you can handle this. I believe in you, Piccolo! Good luck!'

Piccolo's eye twitched. He could feel his blood pressure spiking.

'Fuck you, Goku! It's not the same, and you damn well know it!' Piccolo was fuming. He wanted nothing more than to reach through their link and wrangle the idiot—preferably while yelling at him about how "belief" didn't mean squat when Frieza was ready to annihilate them all in a single blast.

From deep within Piccolo's mind, an utterly unfazed Nail chimed in. 'Ohhhh shit! The Golden Boy is holding a grudge? Didn't see that coming~!'

'Not now, Nail!' Piccolo growled as he tried—and failed—to ignore the obnoxious laughter echoing in his head.

In the distance, Goku tilted his head, visibly puzzled by Piccolo's heated response. Poor Goku had genuinely meant to inspire confidence by sharing his own experiences, so the fiery backlash had been... unexpected. For a moment, he wondered if he'd misjudged the timing—again—but then quickly dismissed it. Piccolo always seemed to have a temper about something.

That train of thought ended abruptly as Frieza made his presence known.

"I'm done."

The words were delivered plainly, but they still froze everyone in place. All eyes snapped to the tyrant as he began to move towards them. His steps were deliberately slow, but somehow, the casual pace made him seem even more terrifying.

"I'm done," Frieza repeated, his voice flat. "Done with this wretched planet. Done with you. Done with everything!" His voice rose in fury before dipping back into an eerie calm. "I just want this farce to end. And all of you dead."

Krillin, Gohan, and Piccolo instinctively braced themselves, but Frieza's oppressive power suffocated them as it bore down upon them unapologetically. Each breath was like a battle, and the air itself was their enemy.

Piccolo tightened his fists, forcing his mind to focus. Drawing in a sharp breath, he steeled his will and silently reached out to the voice within him.

'Let's go, Nail.'

'Ooh!'

70 seconds. That was the time they had to buy.

With a yell, the red aura of Kaioken ×10 enveloped Piccolo. His muscles tensed, coiling with potential energy as he stepped forward, the ground shattering beneath the sheer force of his impending launch. He was ready—ready to lead the charge, ready to buy Goku the precious seconds he needed.

And then, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Piccolo's body shook uncontrollably as his aura sputtered erratically. The sight was strange enough that it drew puzzled glances from Krillin and Gohan. They exchanged bewildered looks as their eyes darted between the motionless Piccolo and the steadily advancing Frieza.

It was Gohan who understood first. His breath hitched as he shakily whispered, "Telekinesis."

Krillin's face paled as the realization struck him too.

"I'm tired of you all. Just die." Frieza's voice was soft and almost entirely monotone.

He raised a single hand, and a sphere of Ki began to form in his palm. It was nothing fancy—an unnamed, unremarkable, basic Ki attack—but in Frieza's hands, it was pure devastation. After all, the same blast had erased Vegeta without fanfare moments earlier.

Frieza took his time, neither rushing nor acknowledging the terror of his remaining opponents. He simply stood there, his intent unmistakable as the orb swelled with energy.

And then, quite a few things happened all at once.

Frieza's gaze shifted sharply to the distance, drawn by a flash of red atop a nearby hillside. There stood Dende, his bright red vest standing out vividly against the landscape. His arms were outstretched, and his eyes glowed with eerie energy, giving him the appearance of a sorcerer about to unleash the legendary spell 'Explosion.'

"Purato Papara to Pipa! Konpeko, Konpeko, Konpeko! Pupiritto…!" Dende chanted in Namekian with a serious expression. The incomprehensible words gave no hints of his intent, but the swirling energy around him left no doubt that whatever he was doing carried enormous significance.

60 seconds.

Frieza's sharp eyes narrowed at the sight of the young Namekian. Something about the boy tickled his memory like déjà vu, but he ultimately couldn't grasp it. Not that it mattered—the boy was an unpredictable variable, and Frieza no longer had patience for those.

His tail unfurled from behind him, and at its tip, a glowing Death Beam formed, aimed directly at Dende's chest. The energy condensed into a single lethal point, but just as Frieza prepared to fire, his instincts screamed in warning.

Without a moment's hesitation, Frieza abandoned his aim at the Z Fighters, spinning sharply to his left as he unleashed the unnamed Ki blast in a sweeping arc.

But even his extraordinary reflexes couldn't catch his enemy.

His left hand shot up instinctively, just in time to intercept Ajax's Pinpoint Impact. The attack, immensely amplified by the power of Kaioken ×30, struck with ferocious force.

The sheer physical might of the blow sent a jarring shock through Frieza's arm and into the ground beneath them. It groaned before buckling violently, shattering into a massive crater that spanned over 100 meters.

Frieza's gaze snapped upward and onto the one figure he most regretted leaving alive.

A fully healed Ajax hovered above and looked back.

"You cockroach," Spittle flew from Frieza's mouth as he hissed. "This time, I'll rip out your heart and personally watch you die!"

Without warning, the Death Beam at the tip of Frieza's tail discharged, firing at an odd, awkward angle that didn't match its intended direction. The proximity left no time to react, and the beam struck Ajax's side, grazing his stomach.

Frieza's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

His Death Beam, which had effortlessly pierced even the strongest of defenses without exception, faltered upon impact. Instead of slicing cleanly through, the energy met unexpected resistance, struggling against Ajax's skin. It burrowed about an inch before dissipating entirely, leaving behind only a relatively shallow wound.

Frieza's expression looked somewhat comical as he stared at Ajax in bewilderment. Before him, Ajax remained calm and unflinching, showing no sign of pain or weakness.

"No," Ajax said simply. "No, you won't."

A sudden Kiai burst from Ajax, its force separating the two combatants. Frieza landed lightly about 20 meters away, his tail flicking with agitation, frustration evident to all.

50 seconds.

In the distance, Dende's chanting swelled as it reached its peak.

"...Poppoparo Concelei!" the young Namekian shouted, completing the spell.

As the final incantation left his lips, an invisible ripple rippled outward, distorting the air around him like a heatwave. The energy shimmered momentarily before dissipating, giving the impression it had failed.

But then, one after another, Krillin, Piccolo, Gohan, and Dende all began to fade. Their shapes blurred, dissolving into nothingness as though an unseen artist were erasing them line by line.

Naturally, Ajax wasn't excluded from the spell.

Frieza watched with shock as the spell took hold. In a matter of seconds, Ajax's vibrant Kaioken aura, which had been blazing fiercely only moments ago, began to lose its color. First, the red faded, followed by the subtle hues of his skin and attire, leaving him in pure monochrome. Then, as if water was spilled onto a watercolor canvas, Ajax's entire figure began dissolving into streaks of black and white. The streaks shimmered briefly before disappearing entirely.

The last thing Frieza saw was Ajax's faint smile.

And then—he was alone, standing in the now-empty battlefield.

Or so he thought.

A faint distortion suddenly flickered in the air before him, a transparent blur that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Before he could process what exactly he was seeing, the blur breached his guard and sent a fist crashing into his face with enough force to send him flying backward.

The impact launched him halfway across the battlefield before he managed to halt and right himself mid-flight. He raised a hand to his face, feeling the faint sting—a minor scrape rather than a true injury, thanks to the power disparity.

But he wasn't given much time to reflect.

From his peripheral vision, Frieza caught sight of a spiraling beam of energy streaking toward him, seemingly emerging from nowhere. Reacting instantly, he twisted his body in a sharp rotation and narrowly avoided the attack as it zipped past.

Landing gracefully, Frieza's eyes narrowed as his gaze swept his surroundings.

"So, they didn't leave. They just turned invisible," he muttered under his breath. "Clever."

45 seconds.

At that moment, a crushing punch slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs and drawing blood from his mouth. The kinetic energy of the strike wreaked havoc on the ground beneath, a clear and undeniable signal of the assailant's identity.

Ajax.

Frieza lashed out instantly, swinging his tail in a vicious arc before him. But it connected with nothing but empty space.

Before his tail even finished its sweep, another powerful strike landed on his back with equal force, sending him crashing forward.

Suddenly, a yellow energy saw materialized just a few feet ahead of him. Instinctively, Frieza caught the saw between his hands. He examined it briefly and sneered at it with disdain. It was weak—barely worth his attention. With a simple flex of his fingers, he crushed it as easily as if it were fragile ice.

No sooner had he done so than two more energy saws appeared, one coming from each side. On this attempt, they materialized much closer, leaving him little time to react.

But "little time" wasn't the same as "no time."

Frieza blurred, vanishing from his spot in an explosive burst of speed.

Frieza landed a short distance away and scanned his surroundings with narrowed eyes. The silence was unnatural, and not a single movement betrayed the presence of his enemies.

40 seconds.

Frieza's mind raced as he calculated his options. Invisibility gave his enemies the advantage, allowing them to attack at will or fade into the background as needed.

Unacceptable.

If his eyes weren't sufficient, then he would just have to rely on something else.

Suddenly, a barrage of small Ki blasts rained down from nearly every direction. For a split second, it seemed as though the very air around him had turned against him. But instead of attempting to dodge, Frieza stood his ground. His body was motionless, his expression impassive. He closed his eyes to shut out the visual chaos.

The Ki blasts pummeled him in quick succession, but none inflicted any significant damage. They were weak—mere nuisances to someone of his caliber. Still, he knew it was wise not to stay in one spot for too long.

"HEAAAYYAAAHHH!" Frieza unleashed a burst of energy from his core. His aura flared outward, creating a shockwave that obliterated the incoming Ki blasts.

Despite his abrupt Kiai, Frieza kept his eyes shut. He took a step forward, then another, his movements unpredictable and erratic. His pace was constantly shifting—at times slow, other times explosively fast—making it impossible for anyone to predict where he would be next.

He zigzagged across the battlefield, moving in random directions at random speeds, all while keeping his eyes closed and maintaining his inner focus.

A punch landed squarely on Frieza's jaw, snapping his head to the side, but he withstood the hit. Without missing a beat, he veered off in yet another random direction.

A spiraling beam of energy lashed at him from behind, leaving a faint burn across his back. Frieza barely acknowledged it. He moved again, as if the attack had barely registered.

If even Vegeta of all people could learn to sense energy after just a single visit to Planet 4032-Green-877, then surely my intellect should make mastering this skill child's play, Frieza mused arrogantly.

His father had always insisted that with full dedication and a clear direction, Frieza could master any skill he desired. King Cold often claimed that if Frieza were to ever commit himself to his training, he would become the strongest in their race, possibly even the strongest in the universe.

In a sense, that too reeked of arrogance.

But was it truly arrogance?

How does one measure the talent necessary to naturally reach a power level of 120 million with minimal training? How do you even begin to quantify the sheer talent required to become capable of challenging gods after just four months?

What else could you call it other than monstrous?

And now, perhaps for the first time in his existence, Frieza was actively reaching toward that untapped potential.

He stood utterly still, his eyes closed. Without sight, all he could perceive was darkness. But, as moments passed, his mind automatically began to acclimate to the absence of vision.

A few seconds later, he made the conscious decision to filter out sound as well. Though the noises of the world remained, they faded into a meaningless hum, stripped of relevance. With a simple command, he willed his brain to stop processing them, converting every sound into background static.

Deprived of his two primary senses, Frieza began forcing his awareness to expand into unfamiliar territory, seeking to perceive what had likely always been there—just never directly noticed.

Soon, the darkness faded, and Frieza saw light.

At first, it was disorienting, since it was not "light" in any conventional sense. However, it was harsh and blinding, like staring directly into the sun or into the sudden flash of an ignited flashbang. Had it been real light, his retina would surely have been seared.

Was this it, then?

Frieza was perplexed, as he failed to see any practical use for something so abstract.

But then, as if graced by divine revelation, he had an epiphany.

It was him.

This blinding "light" was his power. His energy was just so immense, so overwhelmingly vast, that the faint signatures of those around him were completely eclipsed and drowned out.

And with that realization, a new world unfolded before him.

Frieza cackled. Once again, his father's words had proven correct. His innate talent was unparalleled, possibly greater than anything the universe had ever seen.

This skill—sensing energy—wasn't so difficult after all. The real challenge lay in sensing past his own power, which interfered with detecting anything else. Difficult, yes. But not impossible.

Eyes still closed, Frieza smoothly evaded another Kienzan with a light tilt of his head. He smiled slyly as he traced the attack's origin with his newly awakened sense.

25 seconds.

In the blink of an eye, he moved.

Frieza's speed was blinding, crossing hundreds of meters in an instant as he homed in on the faintest flicker of energy his senses had captured.

Without hesitation, he thrust his hand forward.

Squelch!

A thrum of pride coursed through Frieza as his crimson eyes snapped open triumphantly. The spell concealing the figure slowly unraveled, unveiling the faint form of a bald-headed warrior. Six distinct dots marked his head.

Frieza glanced down at the body impaled cleanly through the chest on his outstretched hand. Warm, sticky blood trickled down his arm.

"Oh, it's you," Frieza remarked, his mood unusually light and playful. "Not as tight as before. I suppose this isn't your first time?"

Krillin's face contorted in agony and fear. He struggled to speak, but all that escaped him was a faint, gurgling sound.

Frieza's grin broadened. "Ah, please forgive the suggestive connotations. Zarbon must have rubbed off on—oh, look at that. You're already dead."

"FUCK!"

"KRILLIN!"

"DAMN IT!"

Shouts of shock erupted all around, but one voice rose above the others.

"FRIEZAAAA!" Goku's scream was a raw, unrestrained roar of fury.

Until that moment, Goku's presence had gone unnoticed, hidden from view in the distance as he focused on preparing the Spirit Bomb. But there was little time for Frieza to locate him after his outburst, for the gloomy sky above suddenly blazed with light. The thick layer of clouds overhead split open with a brilliant azure flash, and the entire battlefield was drenched in blue as the Spirit Bomb descended through clouds like a divine entity stepping into the realm of mortals.

15 seconds.

Goku had unleashed the Spirit Bomb a full fifteen seconds before the seven-minute mark.

The colossal energy sphere rivaled Frieza's Supernova in sheer magnitude. Its immense scale became ever apparent as it descended, easily the size of several large cities. Everyone on the battlefield, including Frieza himself, could do nothing but gape in stunned silence at the enormous attack overhead.

No one had expected the Spirit Bomb to be this gigantic.

No one, except Ajax.

He was the only one to act while the others were paralyzed by the spectacle. Invisible and lightning-fast, he materialized before Frieza and delivered a devastating uppercut—a powerful Pinpoint Impact—directly to the tyrant's jaw. The blow connected before Frieza's newly awakened Ki sense had any chance to register the attack.

Frieza's body rocketed upward from the sheer force of the blow, but he quickly regained control and halted himself in midair. He glared at Ajax hatefully, but the sharp heat at his back quickly reminded him of the immediate threat.

He spun around, eyes widening in shock when he saw the Spirit Bomb was a mere ten feet away.

It dominated his entire field of vision.

Frieza's mind raced for a solution, but only one option remained. His hands shot forward, palms open, as he poured his power into bracing against the incoming attack.

The Spirit Bomb crashed into Frieza without mercy.

Frieza's muscles were pulled taut as his energy exploded in a violent surge against the oncoming force. Veins bulged beneath his pale skin under the immense strain, his power skyrocketing uncontrollably as he pushed it to its absolute apex—his 100%.

Despite his efforts, the Spirit Bomb continued its descent without any signs of slowing, utterly unaffected.

Then, with an earth-shattering roar, the Spirit Bomb plowed into Namek's surface and unleashed an explosion of unimaginable magnitude. For several moments, all was erased by blinding light.

And then, silence.