Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH85

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ESCAROT

It seemed my little introduction had severely pissed him off… and that brought a huge smile to my face. His original form was something else in terms of presence alone, sure, for the average person this form of his might be the least intimidating, but for those that know, well, the air around him looked different, thicker, heavier, like the atmosphere itself was caving around him.

The pressure of his ki was unbelievable now. And I could only feel the very tip of this giant iceberg.

I could feel my blood pumping, my every cell screaming in unadulterated pleasure at the idea of fighting him. It was an intoxicating feeling, one only a few could begin to comprehend.

He stopped about fifty meters out. Hovering just above the ground, arms at his sides, tail swaying behind him in lazy arcs. He looked smaller than before… no, that wasn’t it, he looked leaner, but about the same size as before.

"You know," he said, his voice cutting through the silence clean and sharp, "I've been thinking about what you said to me a few moments ago. What was it again?" He tilted his head. "Ah, yes. That I wasn't even worth a warm-up."

He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. He was clearly pissed, and that made me unimaginably happy.

"I'm going to make you regret every single second of your pathetic, miserable existence starting now."

I got into my stance. Feet planted, fists up, weight balanced. The battle lust was screaming at me, clawing at the inside of my skull, telling me to go go go and punch that fucker in the face— but I held it.

I grinned.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

I moved.

The distance between us vanished. I threw everything into the punch. My fist connected with his face and the impact sent a shockwave out in every direction, kicking up dirt and cracking the ground beneath us.

His head turned. And his expression was one of shock.

FRIEZA

He hit me.

Again.

My neck ached where the blow had landed — a dull, lingering throb that while minor, shoudlve been impossible. I turned my head back to face him, and he was already there, throwing another strike that I caught on my forearm.

The force of it pushed me back.

I dug my heels in and stopped.

This shouldn’t be…

Just how powerful this filthy monkey truly was?

My first estimate — based on his first attack — had assumed he'd caught me at my absolute lowest, that the gap between us was a chasm he'd bridged with a single lucky shot. That estimate was clearly wrong.

We exchanged blows. His fist came at my jaw — I leaned away, countered with a strike to his ribs. He blocked it with his forearm, spun, and drove his knee toward my stomach. I caught it, shoved him back, and fired a death beam that he batted aside with the back of his hand.

His right foot came around in a hook kick that caught me square in the side of the head, and the world tilted.

The kick sent me skidding across the ground, feet carving trenches in the dirt, and before I could fully reset, he was on me again. A flurry of punches that I deflected, each one landing with enough force to remind me that somehow, this monkey was still able to keep up.

Then, in a sudden burst of speed, the monkey ducked under my kick, and with his elbow hit me clean on the chin, pushing me backward into a mountain.

The rock shattered around me on impact as my body dug into the core, stopping after a few moments. Deep inside the mountainside, surrounded by dust and cracked stone, I sat for exactly one second.

I wasn’t hurt, not by any means, after all I was far from using any measure of real power… but I was shocked.

Four percent.

I was using four percent of my true power, and this Saiyan — this monkey, this low-class, nothing of a creature — was keeping up with me, even while suppressed he was still keeping up with me. The distinction was important. But the mere fact that the distinction existed at all was...

Insulting.

I hadn't had to use effort in a fight in years. Everything died the moment I decided it had to die. Entire civilizations crumbled at a fraction of my attention.

I rose out of the mountain, dusting off my shoulder with casual indifference. This insult was something I was going to make him pay for in ways he couldn't begin to imagine, but first I would have some fun.

"Impressive," I said, and I meant it. Not the compliment — the acknowledgment. "It's not often that the boasts of worms like you turn out to be true. You told me my first form wasn't worth a warm-up, and it seems you weren't entirely full of hot air after all."

He looked at me, grinning like an idiot. That grin. That insufferable Saiyan grin. I was going to wipe it off his face permanently.

"However," I continued, "I wouldn't get too full of yourself. What you've seen so far is barely a fraction of what I'm capable of. You've been fighting a ghost, monkey. A shadow of what I actually am."

He smirked. "Oh, I know. Trust me — so don’t worry, you're in for a treat."

"Ohohohoho~" The laugh escaped before I could stop it. I was genuinely amused. "A treat, he says. How delightful. I do love it when my victims talk back, it makes their screams of pain and suffering all the more delightful."

I lowered myself to the ground, standing on the broken earth, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Let me make this simple for you. All it will take for me to end your miserable life is six percent of my power. No more. I was using four before, and that was clearly insufficient to make a proper impression. So six it is. That should be more than enough to break you."

He cracked his neck. Rolled his shoulders. Didn't say a word.

I moved first this time.

The difference was immediate. My fist caught him in the chest before he could guard, and the blow lifted him off his feet. He recovered mid-air, twisted, and threw a counter that I slapped aside with my tail. My knee found his stomach. He doubled over. My elbow came down on his back and drove him into the ground hard enough to crater it.

He coughed. Pushed himself up. Came at me again.

I intercepted him. A palm to his face stopped his momentum dead, and I held him there, feet off the ground, dangling from my hand like a rag. His eyes were wide — not with fear, but with… excitement. He was pushing against my palm, trying to break free, and for a moment, I let him struggle. Let him feel the difference between before and now.

Then I threw him. He tumbled across the ground, bounced twice, and skidded to a stop.

He got up. Slowly this time. Wiping blood from his lip.

I was already on him, delivering a barrage of strikes. He blocked some. Dodged others. Took a few clean hits that should have put him down and didn't. Every time I thought I'd found his limit, he squirmed past it, adapting, learning, adjusting on the fly like the cockroach he was.

Annoying. Deeply, profoundly annoying.

But also — and I hated myself for thinking it — interesting.

“Surge!”

I threw a straight punch at his face. He slipped it. My other hand came around in a backhand. He ducked. And then his fist was in my stomach.

The hit landed clean. Solid. I felt my body shift backward from the force of it —

I looked down at him. He was grinning again. Blood on his teeth, sweat on his brow, and that stupid grin plastered across his face like he'd just won the lottery. Then, he kicked me in the face, before grabbing my head and driving his knee into it at full force, pushing me back.

"More than six percent, am I right?"

I stared at him. Then I laughed.

"Well, I'll be the first to admit when I'm wrong. And that doesn't happen often, so savor it."

I think I was starting to understand how he was this strong. He was the legend his people spoke about…

The Super Saiyan. The fairy tale those brutes whispered about around their campfires. The golden warrior of myth who would rise up and topple empires. His hair wasn't blonde, that much was clear, so that meant the legends had gotten that wrong, apparently… but then again, legends rarely got everything right. The specifics didn't matter. What mattered was the power. A Saiyan who could stand in front of my final form and trade blows, even if I was at a fraction of my full power, was… impressive.

It had to be him. There was no other explanation.

It never even crossed my mind that these filthy monkeys and their stupid legends had an iota of truth. That said, this turn of events has presented me with a unique opportunity , so let's test the limits of this myth before shattering to dust.

Ten percent.

That would do for a start.