Piccolo and Goku rooted their feet into the ground with Ki to withstand the immense shockwave unleashed by the Spirit Bomb. Gohan, too light to endure its full force, was swept off his feet. He hovered just above the ground, shielding his eyes against the roaring explosion.
Dende had disappeared, but none of them could afford the luxury of searching for him in the midst of this cataclysm.
The world seemed to heave a sigh as the Spirit Bomb's fury ebbed. Dust hung in thick, suffocating clouds over the scarred terrain, which forced Goku, Piccolo, and Gohan to squint through the haze. They reached out with their senses, straining to detect any hint of Ki.
What they sensed was utter pandemonium—a chaotic tangle of erratic energy signatures that provided no clarity nor anything of use. It was like turning on a radio and hearing nothing but harsh static. Still, deep in their guts, a sense of unease began to grow.
The air quivered. From the epicenter of the Spirit Bomb, a shadow stirred. At first, it was just a faint shift in the smoke. Then, as the figure pushed through the dense veil, its identity became unmistakable.
The trio froze as their collective hopes shattered in an instant.
Frieza landed before them with such force that the scorched ground shattered beneath his feet. He was visibly more battered and scorched than before, but the fiery shroud of purple energy swirling around him spoke of his power and fury.
In Frieza's outstretched hand was Ajax, limp but alive. The young warrior dangled like a broken marionette, his feet just barely above the ground as he fought against the unforgiving grip around his throat.
The red aura of the Kaioken had vanished.
Frieza sneered darkly as he lifted Ajax higher, parading him like a trophy. His charred visage twisted into a cruel grin as he drew his arm back.
Through sheer willpower, Ajax met Piccolo's gaze. 'RUN ALREADY, DUMBASS!' he bellowed telepathically.
The message barely left his mind when a wet, nauseating sound followed. Crimson sprayed outward and splattered on the cracked earth below.
Frieza slowly retracted his arm, his fingers wrapped around something red and pulsing—Ajax's heart, still faintly beating in his grasp. The tyrant shot Ajax a glare full of venom.
"Survive this, you pest."
For a moment, Ajax's mind struggled to process what he was seeing. It felt surreal, as though his own body no longer belonged to him. Then, the fierce agony registered. His chest burned as though it were set ablaze, and blood flooded his throat, choking him. The sharp, metallic taste of blood overwhelmed his senses, confirming that this was no nightmare—it was his reality.
Then, before his eyes, Frieza's fingers curled inward and mercilessly crushed his heart into an unrecognizable pulp. The gesture had a terrible sense of finality.
Around them, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence.
Ajax felt himself tossed aside like a broken toy and no longer spared a single glance. His body crumpled to the ground in a heap, his head striking a rock at just the right angle to leave him semi-propped up.
Pain.
It was all that Ajax could feel: a searing, unbearable pain radiating from the gaping void in his chest. But alongside the agony came a creeping numbness. It slithered outward from the wound, overtaking him inch by inch and turning his limbs impossibly heavy. A terrible, unnatural coldness trailed behind it, seeping into his very core.
Deep down, Ajax knew he wouldn't be around long enough to feel it spread to his entire body.
His adaptation went into overdrive, but no amount of adapting could compensate for a missing heart. A detached, faintly analytical part of his mind could acknowledge this truth, but he stubbornly clung to life even as death crept closer with every passing second.
But even in this state, Ajax caught the brief flicker of realization in Piccolo's eyes. It was subtle but enough to spur the Namekian into action. Without hesitation, Piccolo spun on his heel and bolted, moving at his absolute top speed.
He managed to cover nearly 200 meters before a thin, crimson beam of energy lanced through him, piercing his back and exiting cleanly through his chest.
From Ajax's vantage point, the hole appeared to be a perfectly placed shot on the left side of Piccolo's chest. It looked as though it had struck the heart—or enough of it to make survival virtually impossible.
Piccolo's body lurched forward from the impact, then crumpled into an unceremonious heap on the ground. Blood streamed freely from his mouth, pooling beneath him as his chest rose and fell faintly—the only indication he was still alive.
Across the battlefield, Gohan and Goku's faces twisted in horror. Any remaining sliver of hope died when they saw Piccolo fall.
"FRIEZAAA!"
Goku's furious shout shattered the silence. Though exhaustion was etched into every line of his face, he still forced himself upright. The faint, fiery glow of Kaioken flared around him once more, reignited despite his drained Ki reserves through sheer willpower.
With what little energy remained, he hurled himself at Frieza. But Frieza barely acknowledged him.
Goku closed the distance and threw a desperate, wild punch, but Frieza effortlessly sidestepped the attack. In the blink of an eye, his tail lashed out, coiling tightly around Goku's waist. Goku struggled, gritting his teeth and clawing at the tail, but Frieza offered him no further chances.
The first punch slammed into Goku's stomach with bone-crushing force, so powerful that Ajax, even from afar, could swear he saw a bulge appear on Goku's back. A strangled gasp escaped Goku as spittle sprayed from his mouth, while the Kaioken aura flickered feebly before vanishing altogether.
Frieza didn't stop to admire his handiwork.
Without uttering a single word, the tyrant continued to unleash blow after blow. The harsh thud of fist meeting flesh echoed like a hammer striking an anvil. Goku's body jerked violently with every strike, his resistance rapidly fading until he hung limp in Frieza's grasp. But even then, Frieza's assault showed no hint of easing.
It was clear that Frieza intended to beat Goku to death.
Through his blurred vision, Ajax caught a glimpse of Gohan in motion. Fighting through the numbness, he forced himself to focus and reached out telepathically. 'Gohan, d-don't… attack. Block Frieza's… vision!' Then, sharper and more desperate, he added, 'And Dende, don't… m-move! Frieza can… probably sense e-energy!'
Gohan hesitated for only a moment before shifting tactics. His Masenko stance transitioned smoothly into the pose for the Solar Flare, and a blinding burst of light washed over the battlefield.
When the light faded, a grim reality welcomed Gohan.
Goku lay sprawled on his back, his mouth open in a soundless scream, as Frieza loomed above him. The tyrant's tail remained loosely coiled around Goku's waist, while one foot pressed firmly against his chest, pinning Goku in place.
The brilliance of the Solar Flare had completely failed to interrupt Frieza's assault.
However, the Solar Flare had managed to accomplish one thing—it had annoyed Frieza. The emperor's eyes narrowed with irritation as he straightened up, unwinding his tail from Goku's body. His gaze shifted slowly toward the source of the interruption and locked onto Gohan, whose trembling body froze under his full and undivided attention.
The young boy's face turned ghostly pale, his youthful features melting into pure terror as he realized that not only had he caught Frieza's attention, but he was also the last one standing.
Frieza vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared directly in front of Gohan. The young Saiyan didn't even have time to flinch before Frieza's knee drove deep into his stomach.
For a microsecond, Gohan was lifted off the ground by the force of the impact. Then, his head snapped forward, blood bursting from his mouth and painting the ground in vivid crimson. He crumpled to his knees, his forehead pressing into the dirt as waves of agony wracked his small frame.
Meanwhile, Ajax had barely registered Gohan's plight.
In fact, his focus wasn't on Gohan at all. His true attention was locked onto Piccolo—or, more precisely, onto what he was delivering to Piccolo.
In his current state, even the simplest use of telekinesis was no different than lifting a mountain, but nevertheless, inch by inch, the small object floated through the air toward its target. Upon reaching his destination, Ajax released his telekinesis.
Plop!
Half of a small green bean landed just a centimeter from Piccolo's lips.
Why had he told Gohan to use the Solar Flare? It had been a setup for this! So what if Frieza could sense energy now? A Senzu bean had no Ki signature, no traceable energy for Frieza to detect!
Piccolo's dull, half-lidded eyes drifted toward the bean lying before him. Blood flowed freely from his wound, forming a dark pool beneath him, and the faint grip he had on consciousness was slipping fast. Despite that, through the haze of impending death, Piccolo's gaze found Ajax's.
In that instant, their eyes connected, and Ajax channeled every ounce of resolve he had left into that look. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, but his message was conveyed loud and clear.
'Take it,' his eyes seemed to demand. 'It's your goddamn turn now.'
Piccolo blinked sluggishly in response. His hand remained motionless—he was too weak for that—but he tilted his head just enough for his tongue to nudge the bean into his mouth.
A faint crunch.
The effect was instantaneous.
BOOM!
The ground beneath Piccolo's feet exploded into a shallow crater as the fiery aura of Kaioken roared to life around him. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet and launching himself into the distance at full speed.
Frieza's head whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief. He had been certain—absolutely certain—that Piccolo was finished. And yet, there he was, not just alive but moving with a speed that should not have been possible for someone who had been on the brink of death moments before.
A furious snarl twisted Frieza's face as his hand snapped upward. A dense crimson sphere of energy formed at his fingertips, and with a wave, he sent the blast screaming through the battlefield at terrifying speed, striking Piccolo.
–Or at least, that was what should have happened.
The blast hadn't even traveled twenty meters when a small figure suddenly appeared in its path, standing resolutely.
It was, of course, Gohan.
Electricity of the Stormforged Mantle crackled around the young Saiyan as he stood his ground. The intensity of his glare and the absolute determination in his posture made it clear he wasn't about to let the blast reach his mentor.
Piccolo's panicked mental voice surged into Gohan's mind.
'Gohan! What are yo—!'
But Gohan immediately cut him off, mentally shouting, 'Oh, for Kami's sake, just shut up and run, Mr. Piccolo!'
Far in the distance, Piccolo clenched his teeth. The sight of Gohan taking a hit meant for him left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew this wasn't the time for arguments or hesitation. If Gohan was buying time, then Piccolo couldn't let it go to waste.
With a burst of speed, he pushed himself past the pain from his mostly healed heart, though a bitter thought gnawed at him as he soared away. It should've been me.
Indeed, in another timeline, in a different fight, Piccolo had been the one to take the first hit for Gohan. But here, in this world, the roles had been reversed!
Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, Gohan spread his arms wide, his aura blazing furiously as he braced himself for the oncoming wave of energy. A scream tore from his throat as the blast slammed into him with unbelievable force.
But Gohan wasn't reckless—he was smart. He knew his limits. He wasn't strong enough to stop the blast cold, but he didn't need to.
Even as the energy burned him, Gohan twisted his torso to align with the blast's momentum. It was a strategic move borne of quick thinking and a deep understanding of how Ki attacks worked. Instead of resisting the force directly, Gohan used his body's movement to shift the blast's trajectory while minimizing the time it spent in contact with him.
That subtle shift was the only reason he wasn't vaporized on the spot.
It was a minute adjustment, insignificant in most circumstances. However, that small change was amplified across the immense distance between Frieza and Piccolo. What should have been a direct hit now veered wider as it traveled, missing its target by miles. The energy disappeared into the horizon.
From where Gohan stood, Piccolo was no longer visible, already far out of sight.
Piccolo was safe.
But the cost was immense.
The blast had made contact with Gohan for only an instant, but that brief moment was enough to scorch his skin, leaving it charred nearly entirely black. Deep third-degree burns covered the rest of his body, and Gohan trembled as smoke curled up from his small frame.
The acrid stench of burning flesh was overpowering.
But despite the horrific injury, Gohan lifted his head. His eyes, bloodshot and barely open, locked onto his enemy. His lips twisted into a snarl, exposing his bloodied teeth, and his trembling form seemed to stand taller.
But then adrenaline ran out.
His strength ebbed away, and his knees buckled. Gohan collapsed, crumpling to the blood-soaked ground on his knees. His vision darkened as it flickered in and out of focus.
Frieza shot an irritated look in the direction where Piccolo had vanished. Crossing his arms, he extended his newly honed energy sense outward. His tail, which had been flicking agitatedly, soon settled into a slow, relaxed swish as he marveled at the immense range of his reach.
Satisfied that the Namekian hadn't escaped, he redirected his attention back to the boy before him.
His crimson eyes fell upon Gohan. Step by step, the tyrant approached, his pace unhurried.
But then, he halted, his expression darkening as he felt a tug at his ankle. Frieza glanced down, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise as he saw Goku—barely conscious—clinging to his ankle with a shaking hand, having dragged himself across the blood-soaked earth.
Goku's grip spoke of pure desperation.
Frieza's expression remained unchanged as he cast an unimpressed look down at the pathetic sight. He regarded Goku's feeble attempt as one might observe a fly trying to take down a lion.
With a single, dismissive jerk of his foot, Frieza yanked his leg free from Goku's desperate grip. Before Goku could react, Frieza's other leg shot forward and smashed into Goku's chest with such force that the sound of ribs splintering echoed for hundreds of meters.
Goku's body was launched backward like a ragdoll, skidding across the ground until he came to a crumpled halt. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he convulsed, and each instinctive attempt to draw air only filled his lungs with more blood.
Frieza ignored Goku. His focus was already shifting back toward Gohan as he stalked forward like a predator closing in on its wounded prey.
He stopped in front of Gohan, tilting his head as he studied the boy.
Gohan, still kneeling, fought to move even as his body slipped into shock. But despite his efforts, his arms hung limply at his sides, his head bowed as if in prayer.
But it was a demon that stood before him, not God.
A moment later, Gohan's body was lifted off the ground, rising against his will. Gohan struggled against Frieza's telekinesis, but his efforts were futile—he dangled there like a marionette held up by its strings.
From his place on the ground, Goku struggled to lift his head. His vision swam, and each breath felt as though it were being drawn through a burning, waterlogged chest. He managed to still make out Gohan floating before Frieza.
"N-Ngh... Frie… za... p-please…!" Goku gasped, dragging himself painfully across the ground toward his son, worsening his already grievous injuries. Blood bubbled from the corners of his mouth as he forced out the words. "Y-you… don't... h-have to... do t-this... K-kill… me… INS-INSTEAD...!"
Frieza didn't so much as spare a glance in Goku's direction, nor did he acknowledge the plea in any way. He stood menacingly before Gohan and slowly began curling a single finger.
At that moment, Gohan's limbs began to twist.
At first, the movements were minor—a small bend here, a slight twist there—but they quickly escalated. Gohan's arms and legs were twisted at horrifying angles, bending far beyond what was natural or possible.
Gohan winced, trying to stifle his screams, but as the pain grew unbearable, it ripped from his throat anyway.
The innocent youth in his voice made the sound all the more heartbreaking.
"St… stop!" Goku's shout tore its way past the blood filling his lungs. "P-please… FRIEZA… STOP!"
Crack, crack, crack!
The sound of Gohan's bones breaking continued.
Move, damn it! Move! Goku's mind screamed at him, but his body refused to respond. His heart thundered violently in his chest, each beat excruciatingly loud in his ears, but it was unable to mask even the slightest echo of Gohan's screams.
"GGAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Gohan's scream was filled with so much raw agony it struck Goku's very soul. Tears streamed from Gohan's soot-smeared, charred face as his youthful features twisted in torment.
Frieza remained unmoved. The tyrant basked in the boy's suffering before raising his hand slowly, as though he had all the time in the universe. His long, jagged fingers curled tightly around Gohan's head.
As Frieza lifted his arm, Goku—hidden just behind the tyrant's frame—came into view.
Gohan's wide, terrified eyes instantly sought his father's, pleading for solace and salvation.
"DADDYYYY—!"
Gohan's scream was abruptly silenced.
Squelch!
Blood erupted like a crimson fountain as Frieza violently tore Gohan's head from his body and casually tossed it aside like worthless trash.
The head soared through the air, leaving a trail of blood in its wake, before dropping with a muffled thud. It rolled once, twice, before coming to a stop some distance away, facing Goku. Gohan's bloodshot eyes, each gazing in a different direction, seemed to bore into Goku's horrified ones.
The final expression Gohan wore was one of pure terror.
Goku's breath froze in his throat.
"Ah… Ahh!" The image seared itself into his memory with such intensity that words failed him. All he could do was stare in horror at the gruesome sight of blood dripping steadily from the stump of his son's severed head.
Drip… drip…
His son—his bright, courageous, innocent son—was gone.
The battlefield seemed to freeze, time itself grinding to a halt, but for Goku, it felt more as though his entire world had shattered.
If you were to ask anyone who knew Goku what kind of person he was, they'd probably speak highly of him. They'd describe him as kind, almost to a fault. A man brimming with compassion, one who believed in giving second chances—even to his enemies. They might call him a hero with an unshakable moral compass, a guardian with a heart of gold, or simply a good man with infectious optimism.
But not everyone would see him in that light.
There exists a smaller, quieter group of voices. If you asked them about Goku, you would hear something that might take you by surprise. You might hear "monster" whispered in hushed, fearful tones. You might hear "murderer," spat with such venom that the word almost seemed to burn their mouths. Or, perhaps, you wouldn't hear anything at all—just a look of unspoken terror, haunted eyes staring through you, as though they were trapped in a nightmare.
You see, Goku is a man of reason. He is kind and empathetic even on his darkest days. But even the kindest of saints have their bottom line.
There's a reason people fear the wrath of a good man.
Because when a genuinely good man—one who believes in redemption and mercy—is driven past that final line in the sand, all that awaits his aggressor is hellfire.
Killing Krillin or Ajax—that was already unforgivable. Goku would grieve; he would mourn... and then he would unleash his wrath.
But torturing and murdering Gohan?
That was something else entirely.
Goku didn't know when he had risen to his knees. He didn't know when he started screaming. But he felt the instant when something deep within him snapped.
He exhaled sharply, his breath misting the air even though the temperature remained unchanged. Slowly, he raised his head, eyes blazing with hatred.
His pupils glowed a piercing aqua.