The battlefield lay heavy with tension. The mountains still quivered from the shock of Rudra's earlier strike, the dust refusing to settle as if nature itself held its breath. Frieza crawled out of the cracked stone, brushing off pebbles from his pristine white armor-like skin. A thin smile played on his lips, but his crimson eyes glimmered with something far less playful—curiosity.
"Interesting…" Frieza's voice was low, sharp like a knife dragged across glass. "You don't have the numbers for this fight, boy. Your energy, your 'Ki'—it's so pitiful, even weaker than that long-haired fool, Raditz. And yet—" he raised his fingers, flexing them as if remembering Rudra's kick, "you actually hurt me."
The other Saiyans stood back, battered from their defeats. Vegeta clenched his fists, veins pulsing across his temple.
"How?!" Vegeta spat. "His Ki is a fraction of ours! It doesn't make sense—!"
Frieza turned his gaze toward Vegeta, amused. "Oh, my dear prince… you Saiyans always measure strength in such crude ways. 'Power levels' this, 'Ki' that. You think raw numbers define destiny. But this one—" he gestured toward Rudra with a slow tilt of his hand, "he is something… different."
Rudra's expression remained calm, his breathing steady as though the chaos of the battlefield hadn't touched him.
"I don't fight with numbers, Frieza," Rudra said. His voice carried no arrogance, only certainty. "What you sense is only the surface."
Frieza chuckled darkly. "Surface? Oh, I adore riddles. Let's peel back that surface, shall we?"
He blurred forward. One instant he stood yards away, the next he was directly before Rudra, talons slashing for his chest. Rudra shifted—not hurriedly, but with minimal movement, body vanishing in an afterimage as he reappeared behind Frieza.
The Emperor froze, eyes narrowing. "Again with that trick…"
This time he spun with ruthless precision, tail whipping toward Rudra's ribs. The crack echoed as the tail struck—but Rudra raised his forearm, blocking cleanly. The impact rippled the ground beneath them, stones flying upward like startled birds.
"You anticipated me again?" Frieza muttered. "No… you knew where I'd strike."
Rudra's eyes glowed faintly with focus. "Every movement begins with intent. Intent begins with spirit. And spirit… is louder than any shout."
For the first time, Frieza's smirk faltered into a thoughtful frown. He stepped back, circling Rudra like a predator analyzing its prey.
"You're not drawing on Ki at all, are you?" he hissed. "Your energy feels… foreign. Not divine, not demonic. Something else. What are you?"
From the sidelines, Goku leaned forward, sweat dripping down his face. "He's reading Frieza before he even moves… incredible."
Nappa growled, confused. "Tch, but his power level's not even breaking a hundred thousand! How's he—?"
"Shut up and watch," Vegeta snapped, eyes locked on Rudra. Though pride burned his chest, a colder thought gnawed at the back of his mind: If this human really surpasses even us despite his weak Ki… what does that make our entire race?
Frieza continued his verbal needles, taunting as he tested.
"Perhaps you're some kind of freak accident of nature. Or maybe… a trickster? Hiding your true power behind that façade of weakness?"
He suddenly lashed out with his death beam—faster than light, a thin scarlet dart. It seared through the air toward Rudra's forehead. But Rudra tilted slightly, letting the beam graze past his ear and explode harmlessly against the mountain.
The Emperor's grin widened. "Hah. Not instinct. Awareness. You saw that coming."
Rudra exhaled calmly. "Your beams are deadly because you rely on overwhelming speed. But speed still carries rhythm. Once rhythm is understood, it's no different than a beating drum."
Frieza's teeth flashed. "Then let's change the tune."
With a scream, he unleashed a barrage—hundreds of beams, faster than the eye could follow, carving through the battlefield like crimson rain. The Saiyans shielded themselves, rocks melting into molten streams. But Rudra…
Rudra moved like water itself. Each step, each lean of his torso was exact, weaving between death beams so precise that not a hair was singed. His body bent where the attacks parted, his aura calm, every dodge flowing into the next.
When the storm ended, he stood untouched.
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Goku's mouth hung open.
Frieza's smile sharpened. "Marvelous… marvelous! You're not stronger. You're not faster. Yet here you stand, untouched. You're using something beyond simple flesh."
Rudra's voice was quiet but resolute.
"My body and soul… are no longer separate. Through balance, spirit becomes matter. That is why your Ki cannot suppress me."
The Emperor's tail twitched, amusement flickering into irritation. "Balance? Harmony? Hmph! How revoltingly poetic. Do you truly believe your little meditations make you my equal? I, who command ten million in raw power?"
Rudra's gaze did not waver. "Power without discipline collapses under its own weight. I don't need to be your equal. I only need to see the path you yourself cannot."
For the first time, Frieza's laughter carried a strained edge.
"Then allow me to test that conviction, little monk. Let's see how your 'balance' holds when I stop holding back!"
---
The battlefield trembled as Frieza's aura exploded outward, shattering the ground beneath him. His killing intent pressed against the fighters like a tidal wave. Even the Saiyans staggered under the sheer force.
But Rudra stood firm, breathing slow, his stance like a rooted tree. His calmness itself was the greatest insult to Frieza's pride.
"Fine," Frieza hissed, veins beginning to show along his temples. "Let's cut your philosophy to pieces."
And with that, he lunged—this time, with true killing intent.
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To Be Continued…
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