"I said, move aside!" Frieza's voice turned even colder.
Goku still did not move, only spreading his feet slightly on the ice.
Frieza stopped wasting words and struck.
In a flash of golden light, he was already before Goku, driving a fist at his chest. Goku's black hair hung loose, but he had already tilted aside. The fist grazed past his ear, and the wind it raised lashed painfully across his face. A sweeping kick followed; Goku tapped his toe against the ice and slid several meters away, almost flush with the ground.
Frieza refused to believe it. He unleashed more than a dozen consecutive blows, the blades of energy from his fists and feet carving the surrounding ice into a mess. The people on the ice could only see two shadows darting through the shattered ice: the golden one chased the black one, and wherever it went, explosions followed. Yet every strike missed by a hair, never touching so much as a corner of Goku's clothes.
"Son Goku," Frieza said, stopping and staring at him. "Why do I get the feeling that you are about to collapse? This marvelous martial art must consume an enormous amount of energy, must it not?"
Goku took a breath. Just as Frieza had guessed, his incomplete Ultra Instinct could not last much longer. The two holes in his chest were still seeping blood, and his movements had already slowed by a fraction.
He fought as he retreated, backing up to Broly's side.
Frieza's attacks had all missed, and his expression grew increasingly ugly. He could tell that this strange movement technique would not hold out much longer, but for the moment, he simply could not do anything to Goku.
Goku turned and shouted to the people behind him.
"Piccolo, help me hold him