While years of peace graced the mortal realm, the daily functions of the Other World continued in their orderly fashion. At his immense desk, King Yamma judged the souls of the dead, separating the good from the evil and dispatching them to their eternal destinations.
But there was one exception: Frieza.
Though his crimes were beyond heinous, King Yamma had sent him not to Hell, but to a special prison crafted just for him. The logic was simple: a creature like Frieza would have felt right at home in the fire and brimstone of traditional damnation.
And so, the former emperor of the universe was imprisoned on a tree in a beautiful meadow, suspended in a silken sac that bound him like a cocoon, leaving only his face exposed. There were no scenes of cruelty or suffering that he might have found familiar. Instead, he was surrounded by lush green grass, the sweet songs of birds, and the fragrance of flowers. A holy light permeated this personal hell, making everything appear noble and kind—an eternal mockery of his own dark nature.
Every day, the angelic inhabitants of this realm would perform songs and dances, their cheerful voices grating on Frieza's soul. He longed to obliterate them, to silence their joy, but he was powerless. All he could do was hang in his cocoon and gnash his teeth.
Time has no meaning here; everything is eternal. Frieza had long lost track of how long he had been dead, but his suffering was a constant companion. His hatred for the Saiyans who had defeated him—especially Vegeta and Raditz—festered and grew. He swore that if he ever escaped, the Earthlings and Namekians would pay as well. Even in this idyllic prison, his evil heart could not be cleansed. It only grew blacker with resentment.
Suddenly, Frieza noticed a dim light appear at the far edge of the Other World. It descended steadily, falling toward the depths of Hell.
"Hee hee… well now, what delightful little disturbance is this?" The veins on Frieza's forehead smoothed out, and his grimace slowly twisted into the charming, confident smile he once wore.
The ray of light Frieza had spotted plunged directly into Hell. King Yamma was too buried in paperwork to notice, and the ogres who managed the underworld were preoccupied with their own duties. Souls arrived every minute of every second, and guiding them was no simple task. In the vastness of the underworld, one tiny spark of gloomy light was easy to overlook.
The light descended, slowing as it neared the ground.
"What's this?" A red-faced ogre on duty finally noticed the strange orb. He set down his tools and walked toward it.
The oily black sphere was no bigger than an eyeball. It spun lazily where it had landed, its surface shimmering with a crystalline sheen that captivated the ogre's gaze. He leaned in for a closer look, his throat dry. Nothing like this had ever appeared in Hell before. It was incredible. Should he report it to King Yamma? Or… maybe just pick it up first?
As he timidly extended a hand, his finger still inches away, the dark light suddenly leaped into the air. It pounced on the ogre like a predator, and in an instant, the eyeball-sized orb expanded to match his size. A wave of overpowering evil energy slammed into him, burrowing deep into his body. A foul aura began to seep from his pores.
"Aaaaargh!" The ogre's face twisted in horror, his skin erupting with bulging, blood-red veins. A powerful force filled his body, threatening to tear him apart from the inside.
His roar drew the attention of every soul and worker nearby. The possessed ogre shot into the air, unleashing a colossal wave of energy. In an instant, the Blood Pond for a thousand meters in every direction began to churn violently, erupting in a scarlet mist. The Soul Cleansing Machine, transport vehicles, and all the other equipment in the area were vaporized. The souls of the dead were thrown into chaos.
But it wasn't over. The possessed ogre continued to radiate energy, the shockwaves shaking Hell to its foundations. Even King Yamma felt the tremors and knew something was terribly wrong. But it was too late. With the Soul Cleansing Machine destroyed, countless evil spirits were released. The accumulated resentment of ages swirled through the air, converging on the ogre, filling him, and changing him.
"What's going on?!" King Yamma roared, a rare panic in his voice. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The vibrations from Hell were shaking the entire Other World.
"We don't know!"
"Someone's already gone to check!"
The ogres were even more frantic than their master. This was a catastrophe beyond comprehension.
At the epicenter of the chaos, a huge, fat, yellow creature dropped to the ground. He had powerful limbs and several vents on his body. His expression was dazed, his eyes vacant. He was a being of pure, concentrated evil, yet in this nascent state, his mind was a complete blank. He babbled nonsense, but the energy he casually unleashed was immense. With a single clap of his hands, a shockwave tore through Hell, racing toward King Yamma's palace and even reaching the Check-In Station.
Another boom shook the palace, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on King Yamma's forehead. "Have you figured out what's happening yet?!" he bellowed. "Quick! Send someone else to check!" He slammed his massive fists on his desk, his face pale with dread.
The newborn creature clapped his hands again, treating everything around him as a toy. He punched the ground, tore at the empty air, and used his reality-warping abilities to twist Hell into a chaotic mess. Colorful, bubble-like spheres materialized from his power, trapping sections of the underworld in separate dimensions.
On the Grand Kai's planet, the strongest warrior in the Other World, Pikkon, was in the middle of his training when he felt the disturbance. He froze, stunned by the sheer purity of the evil energy. He had never imagined a monster like this could appear in the underworld. As the unofficial guardian of peace in the afterlife, Pikkon had dealt with his share of troublemaking souls. But this was different. This was a crisis on an entirely new level.
"There's trouble in the underworld," the Grand Kai said, sensing the energy at the same moment.
The graver the situation, the more Pikkon's fighting spirit soared. He clenched his fists, a bead of nervous sweat tracing a line down his temple. "Leave it to me," he declared. "I want to meet this one."
The Grand Kai knew how strong Pikkon was, but he couldn't be certain of victory against such an unprecedented foe. Still, with no other master warrior available in the underworld, he had no choice but to trust him.
"Go!"
With a nod, Pikkon leaped into the air and vanished, rocketing toward the source of the chaos.
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