Goku said nothing. He looked past Frieza, toward the ruined Namekian village where his friends lay beaten. Vegeta, dead by Frieza’s hand. Piccolo, barely conscious. Gohan and Krillin, huddled behind a rock, their energy signatures flickering like candles in a storm.
“But the Dragon Balls are scattered! Porunga can’t—”
“You fool,” Frieza hissed, staggering forward. “You saved them… and left yourself here. With me.” dragon ball z 68
Far away, in the ruins of a dying starship, Frieza’s severed torso floated through the void, preserved by his own malice. And somewhere deeper in space, a small pod carrying a black-haired man with a broken body drifted toward an uncharted asteroid.
“What are you doing?” Frieza screamed, sensing the sudden drop in Goku’s energy. “You’re wasting your power!” Goku said nothing
Goku looked up, and despite the exhaustion, he grinned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”
“I wish…” he whispered, not to the dragon, but to the ball itself. “…for them to live.” Piccolo, barely conscious
Goku stood amid the rubble, his Super Saiyan hair a stark gold against the dying light. Across from him, Frieza—or what remained of him—trembled. Half his skull was missing, his tail severed, his body a patchwork of cuts and fury. But his eyes still burned with the arrogance of a tyrant who refused to understand defeat.