[20]. Frieza Descends

Inside the palace of King Vegeta's capital.

Fresh flowers were arranged throughout the grand hall, leaving a path down the middle lined with a bright red carpet. The entire space was filled with a celebratory atmosphere.

Seeing that everything was set up, King Vegeta was about to summon all the Saiyans for one final meeting.

Suddenly—

A Saiyan who bore a strong resemblance to Nappa strode in angrily.

"Your Majesty, what's the progress on investigating my son's disappearance?"

This man was none other than Nappa's father. Two years ago, his son had vanished without a trace. Since then, there had been no word.

As one of King Vegeta's most trusted right hands, and head of a prestigious family among the Saiyans, Nappa's father had long expected results. Yet after all this time, the King had still done nothing to resolve the matter.

King Vegeta's face darkened. "I have more important things to deal with now. We'll speak of this later."

With that, he turned and left the hall.

"You…"

Nappa's father raised a trembling finger at the King's back.

Two years. No news. He had already sensed the truth. But the King's indifferent attitude now chilled him to the core.

All their loyalty and service—what had it amounted to?

Nothing but coldness.

…

That same day.

Zzzzzzz!

A high-pitched screech tore through the sky—a sound of air pressure tearing against metal.

The previously bright sky darkened as if something enormous had blocked out the sun. Countless spacecrafts blotted out the heavens, swarming in like locusts.

Frieza's fleet had entered Planet Vegeta's atmosphere and now hovered ominously above.

At the center, a massive mothership held position, flanked in symmetrical formation by rows of smaller ships. These minor vessels were insignificant in the grand scheme—mere decoration.

The main ship's engines roared orange beneath it, and its outer shell was wrapped in black metal, forming a circular corridor. Translucent panels emitted a golden glow like embedded jewels.

In the middle sat the command chamber, encased in a curved dome of glass. Inside, one could clearly see a small, ominous figure with two sharp horns atop his head, crimson eyes, purple-black lips, and twin streaks beneath his eyes like trails of blood.

Frieza.

He held a glass of crimson wine and raised it with elegant indifference. "So, we've arrived at Planet Vegeta?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza," Dodoria answered respectfully.

"Summon King Vegeta. Tell him to bring all the Saiyans to meet me."

"As you command."

…

King Vegeta quickly called a meeting with the Saiyan upper ranks.

"Frieza is now directly above Planet Vegeta. He demands that all Saiyans come to meet him."

In the palace, the final conference began. But something about Frieza's request felt… off. Why wasn't he landing?

King Vegeta had a bad feeling.

"We should bring Bardock and his squad to greet Frieza too. If Frieza gets angry, it could be serious!"

"That's right!"

Many voiced their agreement.

"Forget Bardock. Let's go meet Frieza now," King Vegeta raised both hands to dismiss the matter.

"But… he said all Saiyans…"

"Hm? Didn't you hear me?" King Vegeta narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed.

The truth was, he couldn't find Bardock at all.

He had searched and come up empty. Bardock had vanished.

King Vegeta's eyes flashed coldly as he stood there silently.

No one dared speak again. The room fell silent, and the King led his men out to greet Frieza.

Outside, he looked up—and froze.

Above, the sky was blotted out by countless ships. Not a single ray of sunlight could pierce through. The dark, oppressive atmosphere made King Vegeta feel deeply uneasy.

Is it just my imagination?

He hoped so.

King Vegeta formed a small energy sphere in his palm—then let it fade.

It wasn't just any energy ball. It was a fabricated moon.

His eyes gleamed with menace. Frieza, you better not try anything stupid…

…

Frieza floated from his mothership, seated in his hover pod, flanked by subordinates.

Curiously, the elite Ginyu Force was nowhere in sight, even in a situation this grand.

"It's been a while, King Vegeta," Frieza said, smiling faintly like greeting an old friend.

"Greetings, Lord Frieza!" King Vegeta rose into the sky, bowed slightly, and saluted.

Behind him, all his men echoed the chant.

"Greetings, Lord Frieza!"

Over two thousand Saiyans shouted in unison, their voices rumbling through the clouds.

All of them stood silently, their expressions emotionless and their bodies bent in a bow. No matter how much they hated Frieza, they played the part perfectly.

Frieza said nothing. Neither did his subordinates.

He simply watched them all remain bowed, saying not a word.

The atmosphere froze.

What is Frieza up to?

King Vegeta gritted his teeth, fists clenched. He cautiously peeked up at Frieza—only to see him grinning with amusement.

Then—

Frieza suddenly spoke. "King Vegeta, don't you Saiyans have a warrior named Bardock? I don't see him here."

Bardock was famous even among Frieza's men—a low-class warrior with a power level of 10,000. Frieza had heard of him, and his curiosity had been piqued.

His tone turned cold. King Vegeta began to sweat.

Only just recently had he realized Bardock and his team had vanished. No matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find them. He now feared Bardock planned to make some grand gesture at Frieza's arrival.

Damn that Bardock!

"Uh, well…" King Vegeta stammered, unable to find an excuse.

He couldn't admit he had no control over Bardock.

What kind of king couldn't command his own people?

Frieza's blood-red eyes flashed with cold light. Though his body was small, an overwhelming aura erupted from him—cold and dreadful.

All the surrounding spacecrafts wobbled violently, as though they'd collapse at any moment.

And then—

Just as suddenly, Frieza retracted his ki, as if nothing had happened.

Sweat beaded on King Vegeta's forehead—and those of all behind him.

If Frieza's aura alone was this terrifying… how powerful was he really?

"Hahaha, don't worry. Relax, everyone!" Frieza chuckled like it was all a joke.

Behind him, his men exchanged strange glances—like spectators watching a play.

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