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16.
The Prince and the Emperor
I discovered another thing that all living beings in the Universe have in common: none can resist the charm of a gift. It's crazy how warmly a conqueror is welcomed if he gifts something… if they are so naive not to realize that's a trap set for them, of course.
My idea proved to be more than successful, not that I had any doubts about it: the amount of planets that responded to my call was astonishing. Having limited possessions, I had to hold an auction to choose who would win them; on the scales, obviously, there's the power of the contenders.
I asked for the strongest warriors from all the buyer planets: the highest bidders, that is, those who offer me the strongest soldiers, win the auction and win the planet. It seems fair to me, given that they will fight for me, that they are at least worthy of it; the real winner anyways is me, since I will effortlessly conquer the planets that would be more difficult to take: when they come to you begging you to be their emperor, everything is much easier. I will easily conquer the few remaining with my own strength.
A new show has just finished. The defenseless fighter is taken away by my men, who will resuscitate him in the healing tanks just enough so that he can get up and leave. His two companions follow him with their heads down: unfortunately he didn't prove up to the task, but I will take them into consideration if there is nothing better.
Dodoria relaxes the muscles contracted by the fight, while Zarbon next to me runs a hand through his hair fixing a few stray locks.
«Not bad, but still nothing sensational» I say. «Next.»
The sliding door opens and the next three warriors enter the room. I observe them as they advance: they are dressed in thick armor that reflects the light; their pale skin makes an incredible contrast with their long black hair, darker than the open space. They seem rougher than they appear, especially given their walk full of haughty arrogance. Head held high, proud look... but what strikes me most about these three is the one walking in the middle of them: a boy who seems to be six, seven years old.
They stop in front of me with their arms crossed, without bowing. They haven't even opened their mouths and they're already starting to piss me off.
«Who are you supposed to be?»
«Hello there, Frieza.»
I lower my head towards the boy. It was already a surprise for him to be there… I didn't expect him to speak.
«We are the warriors from planet Vegeta» he continues «We are here for the auction.»
My lips curl into a mocking smile.
«Why, good. Welcome.» I raise my head towards his companions. «You know this is no place for brats, right?»
One of the two, the one with short hair, seems unnerved by my tone.
«What you're looking at isn't a brat. He is our prince, son of the great King Vegeta.»
His tone makes me think I would gladly slap him in the face.
«I see. And the one you have in front of you is your Emperor, son of the great King Cold» I mimic them. «I hope the brat isn't afraid of blood, because he might see some of it soon. If he bursts into tears, it's on you.»
The two stiffen, visibly outraged; a reaction that would satisfy me if the boy, meanwhile, wasn't grinning.
«What's so funny?»
He crosses his arms, closing his eyes with an attitude that feels way too proud compared to the one a child should have in the presence of the most powerful being in the Universe.
«I'm laughing because I'll be the one fighting, Frieza.»
I'm stunned. After so much time and so many people that I have met, I have learned to never underestimate anybody, but this time it's really difficult. I nod. I'm already anticipating his cries when Dodoria starts spanking him as he deserves.
«You're going to let a child fight?» I say turning to his companions. «You must be really weak if he's the strongest among you.»
«We'll let you see with your own eyes» growls the other, whose long black hair almost touches the floor. I shrug.
«So be it. Who knows, maybe you are better than the warriors I met so far, even if it doesn't take much.»
I nod towards Dodoria, who stretches his neck and gets into position.
The little prince advances towards him and his two companions remain still. They seem very confident despite having just noticed Dodoria and his size; the brat seems smaller and weaker in his presence than he already was.
Only now I notice a weird detail that I had missed: a long, furry tail curling behind him. Really disgusting.
«Lord Frieza, can I hurt him?» my Commander asks me. I don't understand the point of that question.
«Kill him, if necessary. Being a child will not change much.»
«Fair enough.»
The little boy is smiling. He better have some tricks up his sleeve or this whole pointless scene might really displease me… but as soon as I think about it, the fight starts.
He lunges at Dodoria with such power and speed that it makes me doubt he was even a child. He hits him with a punch that doubles the Madorian, emptying his lungs; a moment later Dodoria gets back on his feet and inhales a large breath of air.
«Damn you...» he whispers, and I can't miss the look he throws in my direction. I notice that my eyebrows are raised in surprise.
The boy leaves him no more time to act. He strikes again, but this time Dodoria is awaiting him and has time to block his punch, which would have hit him straight in the stomach if he hadn't stopped it.
Dodoria responds with an uppercut that barely grazes him. That brat is agile: he steps back with a leap and then clenches his fists without abandoning his opponent with his gaze.
I notice that the child is barely holding back. One of the rules I have set, to avoid damage to the ship, is not to use the aura: this must be difficult for him since his hands tremble and his body lights up slightly with the energy he emanates. I can feel it, intrusive and powerful. It's incredible.
The third assault is deadly but predictable. The boy lets out a scream and crashes into Dodoria's shield-clad forearms, but at the speed of light he then disappears, reappearing behind him, and unleashes a very rapid series of punches that my Commander is unable to block. He is hit directly, on the back and then in the face as soon as he turns around. The speed is so high that I can barely see him when, with a new residual image, he reappears in front of him again, throwing a final punch to his stomach that shines with pure energy.
The Madorian kneels and spits dark blood. He holds his chest with one hand but is unable to accept defeat: in his eyes I see a blind rage that is devouring him.
«You little bastard» he growls, and when he gets up he wastes no time before launching the attack again. The boy wasn't expecting it: he finds himself blocked again, grabbed by hands so big that they almost surround him twice.
He tries to squirm but can't flee. Something creaks. Dodoria tightens his grip until he screams and would continue until he broke him in half if I didn't signal him to stop.
Nervous, with resentment and visible disappointment, he throws the boy to the floor; the little prince remains there on the ground for a few moments before getting back to his feet with difficulty. I watch him waver in an attempt to remain upright on his legs.
«Screw your rules, Lord Frieza!» he growls, wiping the blood off his face, but he's not threatening. He is simply trying to justify himself in the hysteria of defeat. «If I could have used energy I would have destroyed that thing in three moves!»
His voice vibrates with something I like. He has lost, he's aware of it, but he doesn't accept it. He is not even old enough to be called a man, but his gaze is adult and the anger he feels does not belong to the child he appears to be. Despite this, I look at him without showing any emotion.
«What did you say your name was?»
«Vegeta» one of his men answers for him.
«Wasn't that his father's name?»
«It's also his name.»
«And where did you say you were from?»
«From planet Vegeta.»
I turn to Dodoria with a smile I can't hold back.
«We have found someone with less imagination than you Madorians. Incredible, isn't it?»
«This is not a joke!» the brat shouts, pointing a finger at me. The smile dies on my face.
It only takes me a few moments. I stand, lifting myself off the throne, and in two steps I'm right next to him. I lower my eyes to meet his.
«I pretended not to hear more than once, little prince. I'm warning you now. I will no longer tolerate you speaking to me that way.»
He doesn't answer but at the same time he doesn't lower his head. The pride that is devouring him must be so strong that it corrodes him, but he must have been told about me and my power. He holds my gaze until I decide to break it.
«Now go.»
They don't hesitate like I expected and leave the room immediately, abandoning the battlefield with the same arrogant pride they had when they set foot there, but with a few more bruises that will humble them.
The whole day goes on like this, between fights, many defeats and even some involuntary victims, which can happen when the disparity between the fighters is abysmal. There were even some daredevils that came representing themselves, hoping of being able to enter my armies in a prominent place. I met excellent warriors today... however, until the last delegation is out of the picture, the thought of that brat does not leave me alone, like a worm that will continue to corrode me until I listen to it.
The last warrior is carried out of the room unconscious and while Dodoria cleans his blood from his hands, I motion to Zarbon to come closer.
«Tell me about those warriors. Those who came with the child.»
«The ones from Vegeta, sir?»
I nod.
«They belong to the Saiyan race» begins Zarbon. «Sources report that their planet of origin was a certain Sadala, which was destroyed following a bloody civil war. It is said that a few survivors fled before the disaster, arriving on a new planet called Plant which they invaded, destroying the original inhabitants despite their great technology and numerical superiority.»
«Not bad» I think aloud.
«Not bad indeed, Lord Frieza. The Saiyans are a warrior race, to simplify. Actually, war appears to be their only interest, and something they undoubtedly excel at.»
Dodoria approaches me. He has fought and won dozens of times today, but from his look I perceive that the humiliation of his only defeat against the Saiyan boy has not abandoned him.
«You got beaten by a brat.»
«Had I used the energy, he would be in pieces now» he says.
«He said the same thing about you.»
«But I will prove it. If I ever see him again...»
«You will. They are the winners of this auction.»
Zarbon nods with a smile. He expected it.
«Do I command to send messengers, Lord Frieza?»
I think about it for a moment, then shake my head.
«No. I'll tell them myself. Tell the pilot that our next destination is Planet Vegeta.»
Next chapter:
The legend of the Perfect Being