Far away.
Cold metal. Dim light.
Frieza opened his eyes.
Pain hit him immediately—deep, unfamiliar, terrifying.
He tried to move.
His body responded… slowly.
His golden form did not return.
For the first time in his life, Frieza did not laugh.
He remembered the roar.The vanish.The moment everything went white—
And then nothing.
"…They nearly erased me," he whispered.
Not with hatred.
With fear.
From that day on, Frieza stopped boasting.
He began studying.
The planet was quiet.
Not dead like Namek had been. Not loud like Earth. Just… still. Pale green skies. Wide oceans. Ancient stone structures half-buried in moss and time.
Namekian elders lived here now—survivors who had fled long before Frieza returned.
Piccolo guided the pod down carefully.
Inside, Broly and Vegeta didn't move.
They slept.
Not normal sleep—deep, unmoving, broken only by shallow breaths and faint flickers of unstable energy.
Piccolo stayed close.
Sometimes Broly's fingers twitched, lightning faintly crawling under his skin before fading.
Sometimes Vegeta's aura flared for a split second—then collapsed, like his body rejected the idea of power entirely.
The elders watched from a distance.
"This is the cost," one of them said quietly."Final Oath burns deeper than flesh."
Day Eight
Broly woke first.
He didn't sit up. Didn't speak. Just stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as if he was relearning how to exist.
"I'm… here," he whispered.
Piccolo nodded. "You are."
Broly swallowed. "Is he—"
"He's alive," Piccolo said before Broly could finish.
Broly closed his eyes.
Day Ten
Vegeta woke up.
He tried to stand.
His legs gave out immediately.
Piccolo caught him before he hit the floor.
Vegeta clenched his jaw. "…Pathetic."
"No," Piccolo said. "Alive."
Vegeta didn't argue. He just stared at his hands, trembling slightly.
Day Thirteen
They could finally walk.
Barely.
Broly leaned heavily on a staff the elders gave him. Vegeta moved stiffly, each step deliberate, controlled—like he didn't trust himself anymore.
They didn't train.
They didn't spar.
They sat.
They breathed.
And for the first time since Namek, they talked.
Three days after Broly and Vegeta could walk unassisted, the elders finally spoke.
They gathered beneath an ancient stone arch, symbols carved so deeply they looked burned in.
"Flow was never meant for Saiyans," the eldest said."And Final Oath was never meant to exist."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
The elder turned to Broly and Vegeta.
"Flow erases excess power to grant control. Final Oath consumes everything to protect another. Together… they create a contradiction."
Vegeta's fists clenched. "And?"
"And next time," the elder said calmly,"one of you will die."
Silence.
Broly's breath hitched.
Vegeta didn't look away. "Which one?"
The elder shook his head. "The universe will decide."
Another elder stepped forward. "You must never attempt Flow again. Never pursue Final Oath. If it awakens a second time… there will be no recovery."
Piccolo felt the weight of it settle like stone.
That night, Vegeta stood alone, staring at the stars.
Broly approached quietly. "You're thinking about it."
Vegeta exhaled slowly. "I hate it."
"Hate what?"
"That we won," Vegeta said. "And still lost something."
Broly nodded. "I'm scared of it."
Vegeta looked at him sharply.
Broly didn't flinch. "If that power comes back… I don't know if I'd stop myself."
Vegeta was quiet for a long moment.
"…Then we don't walk that path again."
Broly blinked. "What?"
Vegeta turned to face him fully. "No chasing death. No burning everything just to win."
Piccolo stepped out of the shadows. "Then you'll need a new kind of training."
"Control," Vegeta said.
"Separation," Broly added.
Piccolo nodded. "Learning how to fight together without becoming one."
The stars above them were calm.
But all three knew—
This wasn't the end.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.