"Hmph! The two of us are more than enough! You're dead today!" Zarbon's roar was pure bluster, a desperate attempt to reclaim some dignity after a year of humiliation.
King Cold shot him a sidelong glance, a flicker of disdain in his ancient eyes. Crass. No patience. No subtlety. But he said nothing. His focus was on the Saiyan woman.
His senses probed her, and despite himself, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his features. Her power was... significant. Far beyond any Saiyan he had ever encountered.
"I never thought a Saiyan monkey could produce someone like you," he said, his voice a condescending purr, hiding his wariness behind a mask of imperial calm. "Are you the legendary Super Saiyan?"
"Not yet." Aira's response was flat, but a hint of genuine disappointment colored her tone. Not yet. These two were powerful, yes. But pressure? The kind that could shatter her limits? She didn't feel it.
King Cold's eyelid twitched. Not yet? If this was her base, what would a true Super Saiyan be? The legend, which he had always dismissed as fantasy, suddenly felt uncomfortably close.
"If it's just the two of you, you can't beat me," Aira stated, her patience thinning. "Show me your real cards, or I'll end this now."
King Cold smiled, a slow, confident curl of his lips. "Patience. Our trump card will satisfy you, I promise." He paused, then produced a small device. A holographic image flickered to life.
"But first, a question." The video played—a Saiyan, suddenly appearing in his palace, launching a furious, suicidal attack. The figure was unmistakable.
"This one. He's your companion, isn't he?"
Aira's eyes widened. Rhode. It was Rhode, years ago, attacking King Cold without warning or reason. The video was grainy, but the fighting style, the aura... it was him.
What? Why would he...? The question hung, unanswered. But the implications were immediate. King Cold had been hunting Saiyans ever since. Vegeta, Nappa, the others—they weren't just missing; they were fleeing. And now, King Cold had come for her.
Her expression didn't change, but behind her eyes, a cold fire ignited. This wasn't just an ambush. This was revenge. And the target was not just her, but everything Rhode had touched.<｜end▁of▁thinking｜>King Cold's revelation hung in the air like a death sentence. The holographic image of Rhode's reckless attack played on a loop, a ghost from the past that had finally caught up to them.
Aira's expression remained outwardly calm, but inside, a storm was brewing. So this was the conspiracy. Not just Zarbon's petty revenge, but the full weight of the Cold Empire, mobilized by a years-old grudge. King Cold had been hunting Saiyans ever since that day. Vegeta, Nappa, the others—they weren't merely absent; they were fleeing for their lives across the universe. And now, the hunter had found her.
"You see," King Cold continued, his voice a silken purr, "I never forget an insult. That Saiyan attacked me in my own palace. He escaped, but his kind did not." He gestured vaguely. "We hunted them. Most are dead. A few, like the Prince, are still running. And now... I find you. His companion."
Aira's jaw tightened. She didn't care about Vegeta or the other Saiyans. But the implication was clear: this was about Rhode. And anyone connected to him was a target.
"That's a shame," she said, her voice cold. "Because if you'd left well enough alone, I might have let you live."
King Cold chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "Bold words, girl. But you're trapped. Those barriers aren't just for show. They'll contain any power you unleash. You can't escape. You can't call for help. And when we're done with you, we'll find your companion and finish what we started."
Containment barriers. Aira's eyes flicked to the shimmering domes. They hummed with energy, clearly designed to withstand immense force. A trap within a trap.
But King Cold had made one critical error.
He had assumed she would try to escape. He had assumed she would be afraid.
Instead, Aira felt something she hadn't felt in years: a slow, spreading warmth in her chest that was not fear, but anticipation. Pressure. Real, genuine pressure. The kind that might finally, finally be enough.
"You want to find Rhode?" she said, a strange, dangerous smile curving her lips. "You'll have to get through me first. And I promise you... I'm going to enjoy this."
Her aura began to rise, not with the controlled precision of Great Ape Power, but with something rawer, something that had been coiled tight for five long years, waiting for a moment exactly like this. The golden light at the edges of her consciousness flickered, teased, threatened to ignite.
Come on, she thought, her eyes locked on King Cold's suddenly wary gaze. Give me more. Give me everything. Give me the spark.
The revelation had been a slow burn in King Cold's mind, a fire that had grown over the past year. He knew Zarbon's strength intimately—a hundred million in his base form, a respectable if unexceptional power. And this Saiyan woman had been using him as a punching bag. Not killing him. Not even trying. Just... sparring.
That meant her power either matched or exceeded Zarbon's. And if that was the case, she was a threat to King Cold himself.
The Super Saiyan legend had haunted his nightmares since he first heard it. A golden warrior, fifty times stronger than any normal Saiyan. If this woman was even close to that... he had to act. He had to eliminate her before she could become what the legend promised.
He had watched her fights with Zarbon, analyzed her patterns, studied her techniques. He had prepared. And now, with Zarbon as bait and the containment barriers in place, he had her exactly where he wanted her.
The video of the Saiyan who had attacked him years ago was the final piece. The connection was clear. This woman and that man were linked. Eliminate her, and the other would come seeking revenge. Then he would eliminate him too.
"You really do know him!" King Cold's voice was a snarl of satisfaction.
"Enough talk."
Aira moved. In a flash, she was before him, her fist aimed at his head with enough force to shatter a mountain.
**BANG! **
King Cold's hand rose, catching the blow with deceptive ease. A cold smile curved his lips. "You don't think you can defeat me with just this, do you?"
Aira didn't answer. She vanished, reappearing behind him, her leg sweeping toward his neck.
**BANG! **
Blocked again.
**WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH! BANG BANG BANG! **
The air shattered with the force of her assault. Each strike was a killing blow, fast enough to blur, powerful enough to devastate. King Cold's calm evaporated as he was forced to defend in earnest, his superior power—perhaps one hundred fifty million to her one hundred ten—the only thing keeping him from being overwhelmed.
But he was holding. Just barely, but holding. The advantage was his.
Aira felt the familiar frustration building. She was faster, more skilled, more ferocious. But he was stronger. Just enough stronger to weather her storm. Just enough to keep the pressure from reaching that critical, transformative point.
Is this it? The thought was bitter. Is this all the spark I get?