The sky above New Planet Vegeta churned with smoke and flame as Frieza's donut-shaped mothership plummeted, a wounded beast spewing black plumes. Untamed wilderness stretched below—half-formed towns dotting the rugged terrain, the Saiyans' new home still raw and unfinished. Frieza and his elite guard leapt from the wreckage mid-descent, hovering in the frigid air, their silhouettes sharp against the chaos. Ginyu barked orders, guiding them toward a cluster of buildings—a lifeline on this wild rock.
Survival was simple: purge the Saiyans, signal headquarters with their detectors, and await rescue. Frieza's tail lashed, his mind alight with vengeance. Paragus's bomb had flipped his trap—now, this planet would burn for it. As their boots hit the dirt, a trap sprang shut. Paragus emerged, flanked by a ragtag army of cosmic soldiers, their weapons glinting in the dim light.
"King Frieza," Paragus called, voice thick with smug triumph, "like our welcome?" His one-eyed glare burned, a lifetime of bitterness unveiled.
Frieza's laugh was a shard of ice. "Oh ho ho! Quite the surprise, Mr. Paragus." He knew the truth—Planet Vegeta's "natural disaster" was his handiwork, a lie to mask genocide. Paragus knew too, fueled by a blood feud. His son Broly's shield had spared him that day, a defiance Frieza now rued. The old Saiyan's plan crystallized in Frieza's mind: lure him here, let a comet finish the job—a poetic "natural" end to mirror his own deceit.
Paragus's gambit was flawless—almost. Frieza had meant to raze this world, but the bomb forced his hand early. "I'll not let you die easy," Frieza hissed, eyes narrowing. Paragus had outplayed him once; it wouldn't happen again.
"Think that next time, King," Paragus shot back, unshaken. Beside him stood a hulking youth—bare-chested, a metal ring encircling his neck, eyes dull with suppressed fire. Broly, his son, loomed like a storm held in chains. Legendary Super Saiyan: 10,000 at birth, rising unchecked. Unlike his kin, Broly's power swelled naturally, S-cell limits irrelevant. King Vegeta had feared him, exiled him—yet here he stood, Paragus's trump card.
Frieza's gaze shifted, calculating. "Your crutch, I presume?" he said, voice dripping disdain.
Paragus swelled with pride. "My son, Broly—the terror your frozen kin dread, the Legendary Super Saiyan. Surprised, King?" His own combat power—mere thousands—paled beside his creation, a living weapon to topple empires.
Frieza's laugh cut deeper. "Oh ho ho! If you think I, the Universe's Emperor, quake at some 'legend,' you're deluded!" Namek had scarred him—Cooler's defeat via a borrowed Super Saiyan form—but a year of frigid training had forged him anew. Frieza: 5 billion (enhanced). Super Saiyans were gnats now; he'd crush them with a flick.
Paragus bristled. "Dismissing Broly's might?" His hand dipped into his cloak, retrieving a remote. "Say hello, son." Buttons clicked, and the neck ring's hum faded—Broly's leash undone. Unstable, prone to rampages, he'd been caged for safety. Now, Paragus unleashed him, grinning at Frieza's doom.
Broly blinked, raising a hand. "Hi, I'm Broly. Nice to meet you, King Frieza." His voice was flat, a child's greeting in a titan's frame.
Paragus froze. Frieza blinked. Silence shattered as Ginyu and the guards snickered, barely stifled.
"Broly!" Paragus snapped, forehead veins bulging. "Not like that—I meant kill him!"
Broly flinched, wounded. "Father, you said 'greet'—why yell now?" His dull eyes flickered, confusion warring with obedience.
"Oh ho ho!" Frieza's mirth rang out, mocking. Paragus slapped his own face, exasperated. "Idiot! Kill Frieza—now!"
Realization dawned, and Broly's lips curled. "Oh! Why didn't you say so? I'd love to." The air thickened, a seismic pulse erupting from him. Broly: 6 billion (base). Power roared, unbridled and raw, shaking the ground. Frieza's smirk faltered, heart stuttering as the Saiyan's aura dwarfed his own.
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