After I come back from my enlightenment. The Yardratian elder began to reveal the nuances of their techniques, I couldn't help but marvel at their simplicity—yet, it felt oddly limiting. They spoke of their abilities with a kind of reverence that was almost amusing. "Ah, yes, Lord Frieza," the elder began, his voice imbued with an earnestness that could rival a saint. "Our techniques are rooted in harmony and balance, focusing on the purity of one's spirit."
I fought back a smirk, suppressing my instinct to remind him of the absolute irony in speaking of purity in my presence. Instead, I played along. "Of course, Elder. I can see the wisdom in your ways. Truly, what a commendable approach to life... for a bunch of mere mortals." I gestured grandly, letting the sarcasm hang in the air like a thick fog.
The elder, oblivious to my underlying tone, nodded eagerly. "Yes! It's vital that one aligns their spirit with their abilities. Only then can one master the art of teleportation."
I feigned deep contemplation, tilting my head. "Ah, yes, aligning one's spirit. So noble. I suppose that's why I was born with a natural talent—surely, it's nothing to do with sheer power or ruthlessness, right?" I let the statement linger, allowing a touch of malice to seep through my otherwise cordial facade.
I already knew what I needed from this planet: Spirit Fission. There was nothing more to it. And yet this fool rambles to me about Harmony, balance, humility? Did this old fool really think I had come here for a spiritual awakening? The very notion was laughable.
His voice droned on, speaking of some "great inner peace" required to harness the technique. I had to resist rolling my eyes. Inner peace? I, Lord Frieza, am the most powerful being in the universe. I need peace like a blade needs softness—utterly unnecessary. The real beauty of power is in its control, in wielding it with precision. And that, I have mastered.
"I don't need your full lecture, elder," I interjected, not bothering to mask my disdain. "Believe it or not, I'm not here to write poetry about balance. Show me the key technique—if you would be so kind."
The elder paused, clearly unsettled by my interruption. His lips trembled slightly, no doubt aware of the thin line he was walking between fulfilling his sacred duty and incurring my wrath. He was smart enough to tread carefully, though not smart enough to realize how little patience I had for this backwater mysticism. There was always something amusing about these types—so full of ancient wisdom, yet so utterly useless when it came to the real matters of power.
He cleared his throat. "Lord Frieza, as I was saying, Spirit Fission requires not only technical understanding but a deep spiritual attunement. Without such—"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure it requires all sorts of profundities you've spent your life mastering," I cut in, waving my hand dismissively. His insistence on this mystical nonsense was beginning to test my patience. "Lucky for you, I have a rather sharp learning curve."
He hesitated, no doubt wondering if I could actually master such a complex art without his full tutorial. His ancient eyes flickered with doubt, but my stare, cold and cutting, made him realize I wasn't asking. I never ask. His silence confirmed that realization.
"Very well, Lord Frieza," he finally said, his voice a touch more cautious than before, his body hunched slightly as if he feared some sort of reprimand. "But understand this technique requires—"
"Oh, don't concern yourself with what it requires," I said, stepping forward, my tail twitching in thinly veiled impatience. "Show me how it's done, and I'll do the rest."
The elder blinked, clearly taken aback by my arrogance—though why anyone is ever surprised by that, I will never understand. He shuffled over to the center of the room, his frail hands moving with slow, deliberate precision as he began the process of demonstrating Spirit Fission. It was almost pitiful to watch him, his every movement dripping with care, as though he were handling some fragile work of art. As if it required such delicacy.
I leaned back, folding my arms, watching with growing amusement as the old man moved through the technique with exaggerated slowness. It was clear that, in his eyes, this technique was more of an art form than a brute-force method. How quaint.
"Pay attention, Lord Frieza," he said, his voice strained with the weight of his self-importance. "The technique of Spirit Fission is delicate. You must visualize the energy as threads woven into a tapestry. The key is to—"
I sighed audibly, cutting him off with a raised hand. "Oh please, spare me the metaphors. Let's just get on with it, shall we?"
The elder's expression tightened, though he wisely said nothing further, resuming his demonstration. As I watched, it became clear how it worked—the energy wasn't being destroyed, it was being unraveled, plucked apart like strands from a carefully woven fabric. It was all rather tedious, really, but not beyond my grasp.
I imitated his movements effortlessly, my hands moving with the kind of flawless grace that only I could possess. My eyes narrowed, my mind focusing, and in an instant, I could feel the energy around me respond. The threads of power, invisible to the naked eye, shifted under my control, separating as easily as water parting for a blade.
The elder blinked, his breath catching as he watched me execute the technique with the ease of a master. His disbelief was almost palpable, and I could hear the gears turning in his feeble mind, trying to comprehend how someone could so effortlessly accomplish what had taken him decades to perfect.
"Astounding…" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief, his frail hands trembling ever so slightly.
I smirked. "Yes, well, you did say it was complex. I suppose it would be—if you weren't me."
He stared at me in silence, his ancient mind clearly struggling to process what had just happened. It was almost pitiful, really. What a delight it is to remind others of their place.
I took a step back, admiring my work for a moment. There it was—the power I had sought, the ability to unbind energy itself. It was a fascinating technique, to be sure, and one that I would put to far better use than this withered old fool ever could.
I turned away, already losing interest. "Well, this has been... enlightening," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. Enlightening my ass. "But I think I've learned all I need to from you. Yardrat has served its purpose. You're dismissed."
The elder remained silent, bowing slightly in a futile attempt to hide his humiliation. His life's work, his precious technique, now belonged to me. And Yardrat? A mere footnote in my conquests.
With a flick of my tail, I began to leave the room, my steps calm and measured. I had what I came for. There was no need to linger any longer.
After all, there were far more important things to conquer.