Vegeta's younger brother, Prince Tarble, had been scared out of his wits. He looked at Frieza's face — plastered with smiles — then at the space pirates who had, until moments ago, looked like they ate civilizations for breakfast, and were now beaming with an almost saintly warmth. His entire worldview cracked down the middle.
Something was wrong with Frieza. Something was wrong with his big brother. Something was wrong with every single person here!
He clung to his wife Gure, trembling from head to toe.
Bulma waved the two of them over to grab some food, and only then did they manage to relax — just a little.
One nail, brought down an empire.
All Ino had done was nudge one of Frieza's subordinates into remembering the Earth's Dragon Balls. After that, one thing led to another, and Frieza's plans had been detonated ahead of schedule.
Frieza was walking on eggshells over there — but her situation wasn't exactly breezy either.
Grand Zeno was nothing like a Supreme Kai, a Destroyer, or an Angel Attendant. He didn't use energy. What he wielded was something more like a fundamental rule of existence.
In Ino's estimation, the world as Grand Zeno perceived it — the authority he exercised — operated on an entirely different plane from anything she and her allies could touch.
When she, Aeos, and Kuronoa had worked together to erase the Demon Realm Supreme Kai, they'd had to pry open a timeline, and it had cost each of them dearly. Yet Grand Zeno could casually erase an entire universe without paying any price at all.
If Ino and her companions still belonged to the world of immortal cultivators, then Grand Zeno was a being from the primordial chaos — a completely different system, completely different methods.
Facing a child who wielded this kind of terrifying power, she had to keep him occupied. In other words: keep him playing.
Leaning on her own transcendent status, Ino had accompanied Grand Zeno through three rounds of Gomoku. She lost each one with precisely calibrated imprecision — just enough to hold his attention. It was exhausting. Every single move required her to scan the timeline repeatedly, terrified that one wrong stone would put Grand Zeno in a bad mood, and with a flick of his little hand the Seventh Universe would vanish in a flash.
After that, she'd suggested they play Hawk Catches Chicks.
Beerus was the hawk. Champa was the mother hen. She and Grand Zeno, along with Vados and Whis — both shrunken down to match — lined up behind him as the chicks.
Champa was already fat, and now he was absolutely terrified on top of it — two steps into a run and he was already heaving and wheezing. But he didn't dare complain. He spread his arms wide and used his considerable bulk to shield the chicks behind him. Beerus clawed and swiped, not daring to look too ferocious — couldn't go scaring Grand Zeno — so instead he leaned into the ridiculous: randomly tripping and tumbling for no reason, sticking out his tongue, performing the look of a man absolutely furious yet utterly incapable of grabbing a single chick from behind Champa.
He wasn't half bad at it, honestly.
Even the Grand Minister stood to the side, clapping and cheering them on.
Not far away, Frieza was staring with his mouth hanging open. Was this really the Destroyer he remembered? Was he actually in the real world right now? Was he dreaming?
He stood there rigid and conspicuous, and Grand Zeno spotted him.
Grand Zeno turned to Ino. "Xiao Ino, how come that guy is just standing there not moving?"
How would I know why he's just standing there! Ino was wringing out her brain trying to protect Earth, trying to protect the Seventh Universe.
She could only improvise: "He's... hmm, he's probably thinking about what act he wants to perform next. Don't let the look fool you, Your Majesty — he's actually quite a funny character when you get to know him."
Having temporarily bluffed Grand Zeno, she glanced left and right — and spotted Nappa, towering above the crowd.
She connected to him through sensory telepathy.
"Mr. Nappa, go tell Frieza he needs to put on a performance in a bit. Go, now!"
Nappa: ???
If I say that to Frieza's face, he'll rip me apart on the spot.
"Go!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
Nappa had no choice. Face set in a stiff mask, he marched over to Frieza with enormous steps.
Frieza looked up at him, eyes full of curiosity, wondering what this former subordinate of a subordinate could possibly have to say.
Nappa, with complete seriousness, gave an exaggerated thumbs-up aimed at the Hawk Catches Chicks game. "The higher-ups have spoken — you're putting on a performance in a bit. Got it? You'd better not screw this up, or, heh heh..."
Frieza stared at him, jaw dropped.
Was this still the Nappa he knew? This insignificant little nobody — this bottom-feeder — was actually threatening him?!
He could feel his volcanic temper threatening to blow, but in that instant, the presences of Vegeta, Hit, and Beerus — and something even more terrifying behind them all — converged on him like a vice. He understood with bone-deep certainty: say a single "no," and being pulverized would be getting off lightly.
Endless, crushing fear smothered the anger.
After some internal pep-talking, he gave a nod so stiff it looked more like a grimace, his smile uglier than tears, and accepted the assignment.
He turned to look at his Chief of Staff, Sorbet.
What kind of performance was he even supposed to do? Did he have any talent for this sort of thing?
Sorbet leaned in and whispered two sentences. Frieza stared at the man with deep suspicion. You want me to do that for my performance? Are you trying to stage a coup?
Before long, the Hawk Catches Chicks game entered its halftime break — Beerus and Champa were both nearly dead from exhaustion, and more importantly, from sheer stress. Ino waved Frieza over, expression urgent: get over here and do your act, and let me breathe for one minute! Just one breath!
If you don't let me catch my breath, I will make sure you never breathe again.
Frieza, face miserable, had no choice. He accepted Sorbet's suggestion.
He balanced an apple on top of his head, stood ramrod straight.
"Come on then. Shoot."
To add some flair to the act, Frieza voluntarily raised the difficulty: he told Sorbet to put on a blindfold.
A sharp crack rang out.
A trembling Sorbet pulled the trigger.
A flash of golden light — and the apple sat completely untouched.
The laser pistol in Sorbet's hand looked compact — and indeed was compact — but its firepower was absurdly out of proportion to its size. It punched a neat, clean hole straight through Frieza's side, front to back.
The pain nearly blasted him clean out of his Golden Form.
What the hell! You said "small" laser gun! How is the killing power this high?!
He clutched his side, sweating from every pore in agony, and in no time at all, blood had soaked half his body red.
Not far away, Grand Zeno couldn't help but cover his mouth and ask Ino: "Xiao Ino, is he going to be okay?"
Ino kept her expression serene. "He's fine, Your Majesty. For Frieza, this is nothing. His race has top-tier regeneration."
Really? Grand Zeno looked over at Frieza with undisguised concern.
Behind Grand Zeno, Beerus drew a slow finger across his own throat. The message needed no translation.
Frieza felt the entire universe was out to get him. But he was made of stern stuff. Crimson light flickered between his fingertips. Like a martial arts master sealing a pressure point to stop bleeding, he pressed at the wound in rapid succession, used the heat to cauterize the flow, and then — face contorted into an expression of indescribable complexity — gave Sorbet the signal to put the blindfold back on and keep shooting.
A minute later, Sorbet finally hit the apple on top of Frieza's head. Grand Zeno burst into delighted applause and immediately called everyone back for another round of Hawk Catches Chicks. Frieza, meanwhile, collapsed to one knee on the ground, his body shot through like a sieve, nearly drained of blood entirely...
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