The cell was nothing. A void of steel and soundless pulse.
No walls. No ceiling. Only the pressure. The hum of hatred held in magnetic stasis.
Goku stirred.
Chains. Ki-dampening, forged by something beyond Namekian tech. Slung around his wrists, his ankles. Bound to nothing, yet bound to everything.
He could feel it still—Frieza's claws in his flesh. The humiliation. The defeat.
The shame.
He had given everything. Ultra Instinct. Ultra Ego. True Saiyan Godhood. Still fallen.
Still mortal.
And now—this.
A ritual interrupted.
Frieza had come to take his blood. Not to kill him. Not yet. But for something else. Power. Knowledge. A weapon, maybe.
But he never got the chance.
One moment, Goku lay broken on the altar floor—stripped of strength, helpless.
The next—Frieza was gone.
No warning. No energy spike. No rupture in space.
Just… gone.
Vanished like breath in cold air.
And Goku was alone.
For a second.
Because something else had filled the silence.
Something ancient was awake.
And it knew his name.
"Kakarot..."
A whisper not heard but felt. Deep. Primeval. Not speech—memory.
It called not to him, but through him.
And far beyond, across the stars, on the other side of the void—
Frieza screamed.
𖤐
Nullixx.
He did not awaken. He resumed.
Existence—a straight line interrupted. A sentence never ended.
The seal had fractured. Imperfect. A drop of divine Saiyan blood—untouched by time, unchecked by entropy—fell like a tear into the wound of the cosmos.
And he opened his eyes.
What lay before him: a fractured realm, carved between dead dimensions. Bones of time. Shadows of dead gods strewn like fossilized screams.
He rose.
Nobody. Not yet. Just form. Raw, black geometry in motion. Angles that were bent in the wrong directions. A silhouette of absence.
And he remembered…
The Zeno. The Judgment. The Erasure.
He had been a god once—not by title, but by right. Before gods had names. Before reality knew hierarchy.
He was Null. Nullixx. The Echo at the End.
And now... the seal trembled. The blood sang.
A name bubbled up from the ichor-stained dark.
Kakarot.
What was that name? Who gave it? Why did it echo?
More memories. Not his. But real.
Golden hair. Screams. Combat like thunder. Victory... always earned. Loss... never accepted.
He had not tasted this before. Emotion?
No. Identity.
He reached through the void.
Claws of thought. Hands of negative matter.
And made a portal.
𖤐
Frieza was mid-incantation.
Clad in ritual armor—gold-trimmed, smeared with Goku's blood—he stood atop the altar carved into Planet Frieza's polar void. Obsidian spikes around him. A sky of writhing black aurora.
The blood dripped. Into the core-sigil. Into the mouth of the relic he had unearthed—an artifact without language, unearthed from the bones of a pre-creation world.
He smiled. Sharp. Unworried.
"So it begins. The birth of my eternal dominion."
He thought himself master of this game.
He did not see the portal open behind him.
Not until the temperature fell.
Not until the shadows turned red.
Not until gravity twisted, and the stars bled ink.
Frieza turned.
The thing stepped through.
Not walked. Not flew. Stepped—like a concept choosing form.
Nullixxwas there. And the universe adjusted.
Frieza stared.
The aura was wrong. Not ki. Not god ki. Not even destruction or creation.
Absence.
The raw math of the void given hatred.
And it looked at him.
Not with eyes. With judgment.
"You are... not him."
The voice was broken static. A death rattle in a black church.
Frieza narrowed his gaze. "You must be Nullixx."
Silence.
Then—a chuckle. Like tectonic plates shifting.
"You wear his scent."
"My scent?" Frieza tilted his head. "Ah. The Saiyan's blood."
He spread his arms. "You're welcome. I gave you life."
"You gave me inconvenience."
In an instant—space cracked.
Frieza didn't flinch.
Black claws shot forward, slicing through the atmosphere.
Frieza's tail coiled, countering. His aura flared—gold, dark, crystalline.
"You think I fear you?"
"You should."
Nullixxlifted his hand.
And reality folded.
Frieza screamed, not from pain—but rage—as he was dragged, unasked, through the aperture. The ritual altar shattered. The stars above Planet Frieza dimmed.
𖤐
Goku snapped upright.
Chains disintegrated.
The seal no longer held.
The universe was realigning.
Frieza was gone.
And something else had taken his place.
The cell door blew off its hinges.
Flames of divine fury poured from his skin. No form. No need. Rage itself, crystallized.
He stepped forward.
One step.
Two.
And the world bowed beneath his footfalls.
𖤐
Where was Frieza?
Inside Nullixx'srealm.
Not Hell. Not Heaven.
A place beyond.
A vacuum carved from the soul of erased gods.
A throne rose beneath his feet, uninvited.
Nullixxcircled.
"You are pride. Ambition. Arrogance incarnate."
Frieza smirked. Blood on his lips. "Guilty."
"I admire it."
Silence.
Then: "I do not destroy what I admire. I repurpose."
"You want an ally?" Frieza laughed. "You're insane."
"No."
He leaned closer.
"I am purpose. I am what Zeno feared. I am the failure in the system."
"You want to kill the Omni-King?"
"I want to end everything he began."
A flicker of thought.
"I want the Saiyan."
Frieza scowled.
"You had him."
"I had his blood. I want the soul. The flame."
A beat.
Frieza turned his head slightly.
"Perhaps we want the same thing."
Nullixxstared.
Two tyrants.
Two monsters.
One throne.
Not allies.
But... an understanding.
For now.
𖤐
Goku stood on the ruins of the lab. Breathing, no longer shallow.
His aura scorched the air. Uncontrollable. Godly. Terrifying.
He had been humiliated.
He had been broken.
Now he would transcend.
Nullixx. He felt it.
A dark mirror. Something ancient. Something pure.
Not evil. Not chaos.
Absence.
And Goku understood something he had never understood before.
He was not the hero of this story.
He was the catalyst.
And the war to come…
Would not be for victory.
It would be for definition.
𖤐
Somewhere, in the bowels of deep space, Beerusstirred.
Whis opened one eye.
The scrolls of fate rewrote themselves, unbidden.
And Zeno, the Omni-King, blinked once.
And frowned.
...
To be continued…