Dragon Ball: RNG Rebirth

We share a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Two predators, eager for the hunt.

The shuttle shudders as we enter the planet's atmosphere, the fiery descent painting the sky outside our window. Planet C-14 looms into view, its surface a canvas of greys and browns. The ship's computer beeps, and Zelle's expression sharpens, focusing on the task at hand. "Looks like we're about to hit the ground running," she says, gripping the controls tighter.

The shuttle lands with a thud, the hatch opens, and we step out into the alien world. The air is thick and humid, carrying with it the scent of something metallic and unnatural. The trees here are tall and twisted, their leaves a deep purple that seems almost black in the dim light. The ground beneath us is rocky, and in the distance, we can hear the faint sounds of panic and chaos. The Yumetsians are already under attack, and it's time for us to join the fray.

The gravity hits me like a ton of bricks. Every step feels like I'm wading through quicksand, the muscles in my legs screaming with the effort. I've trained in high gravity before, but this is on another level. I stumble, catching myself on a nearby tree that seems to be made of steel rather than wood. It groans under my weight, but holds firm.

Zelle seems unfazed by the intense pressure, her Saiyan physiology adapting almost immediately. She leaps into the air, her white hair trailing behind her like a banner of conquest. Her power level spikes, and I feel the energy crackling around us. She's a force of nature, a whirlwind of destruction dressed in blue and yellow.

"Come on, Cody!" she calls over her shoulder, not bothering to wait. "Let's go show them what we're made of!"

I grit my teeth and force my legs to move, pushing through the pain. It's a struggle, but I'm not about to be left behind. My eyes scan the terrain, looking for anything that could give us an advantage. The gravity is a handicap, sure, but it's one we can use if we play our cards right.

The jungle stretches out before us, a labyrinth of shadows and danger. The foliage is so dense that it's hard to see more than a few feet ahead. The ground is treacherous, littered with rocks and vines that seem to reach out to trip us. The scouter on my eye beeps, the readout displaying a sea of yellow dots scattered through the jungle. Twenty other Frieza Force troops are already on the ground, their energy signatures pulsing like a heartbeat.

Zelle charges ahead, her eyes scanning the horizon. "They're here," she murmurs, her voice a mix of excitement and determination. "The Yumetsians won't know what hit them."

I tap my scouter again, zooming in on the dots. "Spread out," I instruct her, "We need to cover more ground, find their settlements before they can mount a defense."

We sprint through the jungle, our movements silent despite the gravity's pull. My eyes dart from side to side, looking for any sign of the enemy. The air is alive with the sounds of battle: distant explosions, the screams of the dying, and the roars of those fighting for their lives. It's music to our ears, a symphony of destruction that fills us with a primal hunger for more.

As we press deeper, the sounds grow louder, the trees parting to reveal a clearing. At the center is a large, metal structure, the heart of the Yumetsian resistance. It's a fortress, bristling with weaponry and surrounded by a moat of bubbling, toxic liquid. The dots on my scouter converge here, confirming my suspicion that this is our target.

"Looks like the party's already started," Zelle says with a wink, her eyes alight with battle lust. She cracks her knuckles, the sound echoing through the stillness.

We approach cautiously, the scent of burning metal and the scent of fear thick in the air. A squad of Yumetsian warriors emerges from the foliage, their grey skin smeared with dirt and blood, their eyes wild with desperation. They're strong, but their movements are sloppy, untrained.

"Leave some for me," I say, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of my lips.

Zelle laughs, her power level spiking. "As you wish."

A Yumetsian male, clad in a crude metal armor that barely covers his muscular frame, emerges from the shadows, a snarl on his lips and a spear in his hand. His horns are a mess of jagged edges, a stark contrast to the refined elegance of the Frieza Force's elite. His eyes are a piercing red, the birthright of a warrior destined for greatness. Or so he thinks.

His power level is a pitiful 550, a mere ant compared to the might of myself, yet in the dense gravity of C-14, every ounce of strength counts. He charges, a primitive war cry echoing through the jungle. The spear's tip glints with a deadly intent, aimed straight for my chest. I laugh, the sound cold and mocking, as I dodge with a grace that seems to defy the very laws of physics. His weapon slices through the air, the wind of its passing whispering a promise of death that falls on deaf ears.

"Ever thrown a spear, before?" I taunt, my voice carrying over the din of battle.

The Yumetsian warrior snarls, his grip tightening on the weapon. "You'll see soon enough, blue scum," he spits out, a thick accent marring his words.

The Yumetsian looks me in the eyes and declares "I am a royal warrior for the rulers of our world!"

I chuckle darkly. "Royal? You call yourself that with a power level like that?"

Ignoring his words, I gather my ki, focusing it in the palm of my hand. The energy coalesces, forming a perfect sphere of deathly intent. I shoot it at the warrior, the air around us crackling with power. His eyes widen in shock as the blast connects with his chest, a look of disbelief etched on his face. He stumbles backward as the life drains from his body. His horns, once a symbol of his warrior heritage, now seem a mockery of his fallen pride.

"This is what happens to those who dare oppose Frieza!" I roar, the echoes of my words bouncing off the metal fortress. The other Yumetsians hesitate, their confidence shattered by the swiftness of their comrade's demise.