Chapter 2: The Summoning of the Emperor

The kingdom was silent. The air in the chamber, once filled with frantic hope, was now suffocating under the weight of failure. The colossal form of Guru lay unmoving in the center of the room, his once vibrant energy completely snuffed out. His death, sudden and unexpected, left the king and his council speechless, their hearts sinking with the realization that their plan had gone horribly wrong.

"Dead... he's dead..." the king muttered, his voice barely audible. His crown slipped slightly as he wiped a hand across his brow. "What now, Archmage? We sought salvation, and instead, we have a corpse."

Archmage Cailen, the frail wizard who had orchestrated the summoning, stood paralyzed with disbelief, his shaking hands clutching his staff. The runes on the floor still flickered faintly with residual magic, their glow dimming as Guru's lifeless body cooled.

"I-I don't understand," the archmage stammered. "The ritual... it should have brought us a warrior capable of defeating the Dark Horde. That being—he was powerful once, I could sense it, but..."

"Once isn't good enough!" barked one of the younger mages, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "We need someone who can fight now, not some ancient elder on his deathbed!"

The king's gaze hardened, his fear for his people pushing aside his disappointment. "Then we must try again," he declared, his voice regaining some of its authority. "We cannot stop now. If we do nothing, the Dark Horde will sweep through the kingdom by week's end."

"But, Your Majesty," Cailen warned, "the energies involved in these summoning rituals are unstable. Each attempt risks pulling something... unpredictable into our world."

"Something worse than death?" the king snapped, his eyes filled with determination. "We have no choice, Archmage. We must try again."

The room fell silent once more. The mages and advisors exchanged worried glances, but none dared challenge the king. Archmage Cailen, though weary and uncertain, nodded gravely. He raised his staff, preparing to channel the magic needed to initiate another summoning. The air around them thickened with arcane power, and the glowing runes on the floor brightened, pulsing with renewed intensity.

The king approached the summoning circle, his face grim. "We need a true warrior this time. A being of unparalleled strength, ruthless enough to defeat our enemies."

Cailen hesitated. "Your Majesty, such power might come with... unforeseen dangers. The stronger the warrior, the harder it will be to control."

"Do it," the king commanded. "We have no other choice."

With a deep breath, the archmage began to chant, his words flowing like a river of arcane power. The runes flared brighter, the glow becoming almost blinding. The walls of the chamber trembled as the summoning circle reached deeper into the fabric of reality, seeking a soul that matched the king's desperate plea.

Far across the universe, in the cold emptiness of space, a terrible battle had just come to an explosive end.

Frieza, the Emperor of the Universe, floated helplessly in the vacuum, his body broken and charred. His once pristine, armored form had been torn apart, half of his body reduced to twisted metal and burnt flesh. Namek was gone, its fiery destruction casting a haunting light in the distance.

His mind still burned with hatred and disbelief. That Saiyan—Son Goku—had humiliated him, defeating him in battle and leaving him to die on the shattered remains of the planet he once sought to conquer. Frieza's thoughts were filled with rage, vengeance, and a cold determination to survive.

As the darkness of space threatened to consume him, a strange sensation gripped his consciousness. Before Frieza could understand what was happening, he felt a pull, a sudden wrenching force dragging him through space and time. For a brief moment, the agony of his injuries vanished, replaced by an overwhelming surge of magic.

And then, Frieza was no longer in space.

He materialized with a burst of dark energy in the center of the summoning chamber, the same place where Guru had been just moments before. The room seemed to shudder at his arrival, the air itself vibrating with an oppressive, malevolent force. The mages, caught off guard by the intensity of the summoning, stumbled back, shielding their eyes from the blinding light.

When the light faded, Frieza stood in the middle of the summoning circle. Or rather, what was left of him.

His body was still in the same mutilated state it had been when Namek exploded: half his face was scorched, one arm and both legs were missing, and his once-pristine tail had been severed. Yet despite his grievous injuries, Frieza's crimson eyes glowed with an eerie, malevolent light. His expression twisted into a sneer as he looked down at the humans before him, disgust clear on his face.

"Where... am I?" Frieza rasped, his voice dripping with venom. "What pathetic place is this?"

The mages were frozen in place, terror etched across their faces. The sheer malice emanating from the being before them was overwhelming, suffocating. Even the king, who had boldly ordered the summoning, took an involuntary step back, his mouth dry as he gazed upon the terrifying figure.

The archmage, his body trembling with the weight of the power they had summoned, stammered, "Y-You have been called to this realm to... to aid us. We summoned you, warrior, to defend our kingdom against the Dark Horde."

Frieza's eyes narrowed, his bloodlust flickering as he processed the situation. These insignificant beings had summoned him, dragged him from the edge of death in some foolish attempt to harness his strength. A cruel smile spread across his disfigured face.

"You... summoned me?" Frieza's voice was low, dangerous. "You, insects, dare to think you can command me?"

The king, trying to muster courage, stepped forward. "You are powerful, yes," he said, voice wavering. "We need you to fight for us. Defeat the Dark Horde, and we will reward you handsomely."

Frieza's laughter filled the chamber, a cold, chilling sound that made the mages' skin crawl. "Fight for you?" Frieza hissed, his sneer widening. "You insignificant fools... I am Frieza, the Emperor of the Universe. I bow to no one. And you think... you can command me?"

With an almost casual flick of his remaining hand, a burst of dark energy shot from Frieza's fingertips, ripping through the closest mage and sending his body crumpling to the floor. The remaining mages screamed in horror, scrambling to get away from the terrifying alien.

The king, now pale with terror, backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. "N-No! Wait! We didn't mean—"

Frieza hovered slightly, his broken body barely holding itself together. But even in his weakened state, his malice was palpable, his bloodlust unmistakable. "You summoned me here to fight, did you? Then perhaps... I will start with you."

The archmage's eyes widened in pure horror. The ritual had gone terribly wrong, and now they faced a nightmare far worse than anything they had ever imagined. Frieza's energy pulsed with destructive intent, and as he floated closer, the room seemed to grow darker.

"Your Majesty..." the archmage gasped. "We've made a grave mistake."

Frieza's smile only grew wider.