The Frost Demon of Universe 7

"We've also created a ship capable of traveling to the North Galaxy in just one month. I recall you mentioning a need to reach a faraway planet. The engineers have ensured it's equipped with the most advanced systems—we anticipated your requirements."

Zero's eyes sparkled with a faint glint of appreciation, though his lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. Standing from his seat, he stretched his arms outward in a relaxed motion. "Well, Mikan," he began, his voice steady and calm, "how about we do a little sparring? It's been decades since I've last expended any effort in a fight—or had a fight at all. I could use a little warm-up to get the blood flowing. How about it?"

His tone was casual, almost playful, yet it carried an undercurrent of authority that commanded attention. As Zero turned to face Mikan, his demeanor shifted like the changing wind. His eyes, once calm and reflective, now bore an ancient wisdom—an unfathomable depth gained through years of solitude and self-mastery. It wasn't just knowledge they held but a predatory sharpness, as though the universe itself had forged him into its apex.

The transformation wasn't physical, yet it was palpable. His presence in the room grew, filling every corner and suffocating the atmosphere. What moments before seemed to be a small, harmless figure now radiated the silent menace of a lion preparing to strike. Ringo, standing nearby, felt his body stiffen as an instinctual chill shot down his spine. His Saiyan DNA screamed caution, yet a burning curiosity bubbled beneath the surface. His tail flicked slightly in nervous anticipation, unable to resist the draw of Zero's power.

The elders seated around the room—the wise Kiankos who had governed in Zero's absence—found themselves reduced to wide-eyed spectators. Each one swallowed hard, beads of cold sweat forming on their brows. Though they had seen countless rulers rise and fall, this return was unlike any they had prepared for. The Ruler of the Planet had come back, and he was no mere shadow of his former self. Time, it seemed, had only sharpened him.

Mikan's expression remained composed, but his body betrayed his emotions. He straightened, his fists clenching and unclenching as he sized up Zero. Despite his own considerable strength, he couldn't ignore the overwhelming pressure bearing down on him. It wasn't arrogance emanating from the Frost Demon—no, it was something far more potent. Confidence, pure and unshakable, radiated from Zero's very soul.

"You've certainly changed," Mikan said at last, his voice steady but lower than before. "You've grown… immeasurable."

Zero chuckled softly, the sound low and calm. "Is that so? Then show me, Mikan. Show me how much you have grown."

Mikan grinned, a flash of excitement overtaking his initial hesitation. The Saiyan blood within him roared in anticipation of the coming clash. "As you wish… my lord."

"Hehehehe," Zero chuckled, a deep, amused sound that resonated through the room. His eyes sparkled with both nostalgia and intrigue as he regarded Mikan. "You've gotten quite sure of yourself as you've aged. The old you would have declined immediately. How times have changed."

The faintest smile lingered on his lips as he turned, his movements unhurried yet purposeful. Rising from his seat, Zero walked toward the door, his presence commanding enough that the others instinctively followed. Mikan and the Elders trailed behind, their footsteps silent as if not to disturb the energy surrounding their lord.

Zero reached the massive double doors of the chamber, which were flanked by two stoic guards. Their curiosity was evident in the subtle shifts of their expressions, but they dared not voice it. Without acknowledging them, Zero pushed open the doors and proceeded down the grand staircase. The architecture of the palace was immaculate, a testament to the advanced culture of the Tuffles, but Zero paid it no mind. His focus was elsewhere, his pace steady as the entourage descended.

It wasn't until they reached the base of the expansive steps that Zero paused, a moment of realization dawning on him. His gaze swept over the group, and he asked, almost casually, "How do we exit the palace?"

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air like a weight. The Elders exchanged uneasy glances, their embarrassment palpable. Mikan scratched the back of his head, avoiding Zero's penetrating gaze. It struck all of them simultaneously—they had neglected to give their lord a tour of his own home.

"Well, you see, my lord…" one of the Elders began hesitantly, before launching into a detailed explanation of the palace's labyrinthine layout. Zero listened patiently, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Once the directions were clarified, the group navigated through the sprawling palace and exited into the vast open world outside.

They arrived at a remote location 100 miles away from any semblance of civilization, the area a sprawling expanse of untouched nature. The gentle hum of the wind was the only sound as Zero and Mikan stepped into an open field. The terrain was ideal—a natural battlefield far from prying eyes or collateral damage. The others stood at a safe distance, watching with a mix of apprehension and excitement.

Zero and Mikan took their positions on opposite sides of the field. The air grew dense as the two warriors squared off, their stances firm and unwavering. Zero's posture was loose but unshakably confident, while Mikan's was taut with determination.

Mikan made the first move, a blur of motion as he dashed forward. His speed was impressive, the ground cracking beneath his feet with every step. Closing the distance in an instant, he unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks. Punches, elbows, kicks, and knees flowed seamlessly as he sought an opening. Each strike was precise and calculated, a demonstration of his martial prowess.

Yet, none of it fazed Zero.

Effortlessly, Zero deflected every blow using only his tail. The appendage moved with a grace and precision that bordered on surreal, coiling and snapping to block each strike with perfect timing. The casual nature of his defense was both mesmerizing and infuriating, as if Mikan's efforts were little more than an annoyance.

Mikan's expression hardened as he realized the futility of his current approach. "Impressive," he muttered under his breath. "But let's see how you handle this!"

With a shout, Mikan poured more power into his attacks, his blows growing faster and stronger. The ground beneath them trembled as the clash intensified. Zero remained composed, his tail continuing to deflect each attack as if on instinct. The sheer force of their movements created shockwaves, uprooting trees and sending clouds of dust spiraling into the air.

The two warriors became a blur of motion, their "warm-up" alone a spectacle of power and technique. Zero's movements were effortless, his expression calm and unreadable. Mikan, on the other hand, began to grin despite himself. The Saiyan blood within him relished the challenge, even if his opponent had yet to use anything beyond his tail.

From a distance, the Elders and guards watched in awe, their mouths slightly agape. It was clear to all present—this was no ordinary sparring match.

After what felt like thousands of exchanges, Mikan finally managed to force Zero to use his hands to deflect and counterattack. The moment his opponent's arms moved into action, Mikan's confidence surged. Every strike, every movement over the years had led to this point, and now it seemed his relentless training was paying off. He pressed harder, his attacks gaining intensity and precision as his momentum grew.

But then, without warning, Zero disengaged. He leaped back gracefully, creating distance between them, and settled into a passive stance. His posture was casual, his breathing calm as if the skirmish had barely taxed him. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Mikan with a mixture of amusement and approval.

"Oya, oya," Zero began, his voice carrying a playful tone that contrasted with the weight of his words. "It seems you are no longer that newly born Kianko from years ago with a power level under 100,000. You almost made me get serious here. Almost."

Mikan straightened up, mirroring Zero's passive stance, though his expression was far from casual. His brows furrowed as he processed the statement, his gaze fixed on the Frost Demon with a mixture of respect and frustration. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, Mikan broke the silence.

"While you were training your Ki sense and control," he said slowly, his voice steady but tinged with bitterness, "I focused on honing my raw power. Yet the gap between us is still this wide." He exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as he averted his gaze, staring at the ground. His voice grew quieter, tinged with introspection. "And this isn't even your final form…"

The weight of the admission seemed to hang over him as he stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. For a brief moment, he appeared lost in his thoughts, his eyes downcast and avoiding contact with anyone. But then, something shifted.

"However," Mikan said, his voice growing louder and more resolute, "this too is not my final form."

His fists tightened, his knuckles whitening as his Ki began to surge. The tranquil blue energy that usually surrounded him grew wild and chaotic, flickering with an intensity that was almost tangible. It was not malicious, but raw and untamed—rage in its purest, most primal form. The blue hue deepened, flickering and morphing until it transformed into a deep crimson. The air around Mikan grew hot, vibrating with power as his transformation accelerated.

The Elders, watching from the sidelines, could only stare as Mikan's purple hair began to change. It turned stark white, standing upright as if electrified, each strand pointing skyward. His purple pupils burned a bright red, glowing with an eerie intensity. The earth beneath him began to crack and crumble under the pressure of his aura, and the trees surrounding the battlefield were obliterated in an instant.

Zero observed the transformation with keen interest, his arms crossed over his chest. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Ha!" he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the roaring winds created by Mikan's power. "I can feel the rage in your Ki, yet it doesn't seem to affect you emotionally. It's fascinating. Your power has surged far beyond that of a normal Saiyan, and yet your control remains impeccable. You've skipped the foundational Super Saiyan stage and ascended directly to Full Power. Your mastery over this form makes it feel as natural as your base state. Impressive."

Zero's gaze sharpened, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "Perhaps," he mused, "I've unknowingly created a batch of prodigal young masters if I compare you to the Saiyans of old."

The Frost Demon exhaled slowly, allowing his own energy to rise. Though he remained in his third restriction form, he ceased suppressing his Ki. The release was immediate and dramatic, a suffocating pressure that blanketed the battlefield. The sheer magnitude of his energy was enough to stop the winds in their tracks, creating a moment of eerie stillness.

"I will respond in kind, Mikan," Zero said, his tone calm but resolute. "Show me the extent of your power."

Mikan blinked, his vision blurring as he felt a sudden, overwhelming force pushing his head toward the ground. The rest of his body followed helplessly, unable to resist the power behind the move. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, his body tore through 20 feet of solid stone, the ground giving way like brittle sand.

Last time we checked, my power level was 721 million in this form.

That was the only thought that repeated in Mikan's mind as he finally came to a halt, buried in the rubble of his own momentum. The numbers didn't add up. The overwhelming strength Zero displayed completely defied logic.

Yet Lord Zero tossed me with ease.

The realization sent a chill down his spine, but it wasn't fear—it was awe, frustration, and determination. Gritting his teeth, Mikan let out a fierce roar and burst from the debris. His energy flared as he shot back into the air, coming to a stop across from Zero. He hovered there, his breathing controlled but labored, glaring at his opponent.

Zero stood calmly in the air, his arms crossed and his posture relaxed. His tail swayed lazily behind him, a stark contrast to Mikan's tense form. His piercing eyes carried no malice, only an amused curiosity as if evaluating Mikan's performance.

"Your power is phenomenal," Zero said, his voice calm and steady. "But there is more to battle than numbers on a screen. If you were to quantify my power level in this form, it would be around 703 million."

Mikan's eyes narrowed at the statement, his mind racing. Lower than mine? Across the battlefield, Ringo gasped audibly. The younger fighter's wide eyes betrayed his disbelief. The gap in apparent strength was too vast to make sense.

Zero continued, his voice carrying the weight of a teacher correcting a student. "The issue with you Kianko is that you're far too focused on the numbers. You've become reliant on raw power, placing your faith in it while neglecting the finer aspects of combat."

Mikan's fists tightened at his sides, but he said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt when Zero was teaching. The other Kiankos, who had been watching the sparring match in stunned silence, now leaned forward, their attention rapt.

"In battle," Zero went on, "it's not always simply 'my power level is higher, so I win.' That mindset is simplistic and flawed. There are countless variables at play—speed, technique, and perhaps most importantly, ki control."

Zero's tail flicked sharply, punctuating his words. His gaze bore into Mikan as he continued, "The difference between you and me is not merely raw power. It's skill. I've trained in advanced ki control techniques, and because of that, I can read you like an open book. I can see which parts of your body you favor, identify your weaknesses, and track your blink spots—all by observing the flow of your ki. This isn't about me being stronger than you. It's about me being more skilled."

Mikan's jaw clenched, his frustration evident. "What do you mean won?" he demanded, his voice filled with defiance. "Lord Zero, I haven't given up!"

Zero waved his hand dismissively, his expression calm but resolute. "You may not have given up," he said, "but what would be the point of continuing this battle? You're not ready. Learn ki control, Mikan. Master it. Once you've done that, we can have a proper match."

The words landed heavily on Mikan. He stared at Zero, his frustration gradually giving way to understanding. The message was clear—this was not a dismissal, but an opportunity. A chance to grow, to bridge the gap between them.

Zero turned slightly, his tail flicking once more as if to signal the end of the lesson. "You have the potential to surpass even my expectations, Mikan. But power without mastery is wasted potential. Prove to me that you're worthy of a real fight."