Frieza's fist was completely crushed, yet there was no pain on his face, only utter shock.
How was that possible?!
How could this happen?!
Frieza had always treated the creation of his own army as little more than a pastime. He was too strong, and his race was too strong. There was simply nothing for them to do.
His strength alone could utterly overwhelm the entire army.
Usually, he even had to suppress his immense power and maintain a weak state.
Other than a few people who would almost never cross paths with him, he had never regarded anyone highly.
This time, he had merely come looking for some amusement. Even upon hearing news of the Dragon Ball, he had only found it interesting.
Encountering a toy that could contend with him in his weakest state had likewise only amused him.
It was like using a twig to tease an ant, watching it bare its fangs and claws as it battled the twig, completely unaware that he could crush it at will!
But what was going on now?
His speed and reactions, far superior to the other man's, and his vastly greater strength had all become utterly useless!
That winding route and sequence of attacks from earlier had instead seemed to make him actively crash into the other man's hand, with no way to alter the outcome.
As for the power he had always been proud of, before that irresistible might, he could not contend with it in the slightest!
He had even completely ignored the pain of his crushed fist.
Ignoring his shattered fist, Frieza pulled back and stared at the figure dressed in white feathered robes like a sage, with six gemstones floating behind his back.
His expression was so gloomy it seemed ready to drip water...
"How