"Where are you in such a hurry to go, King Frieza!?"
Just as Frieza was about to head to Planet Vegeta and show those foolish Saiyans what despair looked like, a chilling voice rang out behind him.
"What?!" Frieza spun around in a panic. That voice belonged to the damn monkey he had just killed. How could this be?
Karochi stood before him, completely unharmed. His clothes were torn, but there wasn't a single injury on his body!
And he was different from before. Golden aura wrapped around him, his hair stood on end, and its outer edges had turned a strange wine-red. His blue eyes fixed on Frieza, making his scalp tingle.
What's going on? Why is this Saiyan still alive, and why does he look completely unharmed? And what's with that form? Frieza was secretly astonished. He felt an unprecedented pressure coming from his opponent.
It was like being watched by some kind of beast. Those blue eyes especially brought to mind the legend passed down through his race—the ridiculous tale of the Super Saiyan: Warn the others. Be wary of Saiyans with golden hair!
But although his opponent had changed, his hair hadn't turned gold. So what was this strange pressure?
Though his mind was full of questions, their king still put on an elegant air. "Ohohoho! I never thought you Saiyans would struggle like cockroaches on the brink of death! I don't know where you learned to survive in a vacuum or how you gained that strange ability to recover, but you'll regret not dying sooner."
It was fine. If he could beat him once, he could beat him again!
"Is that so? Then please—" Karochi's expressionless blue eyes stared at Frieza. He vanished in the middle of his sentence. "Give me your guidance, King Frieza!"