The massive old Namekian, Guru, sat in a throne-like chair built to accommodate his immense size. His eyes, half-closed with the weight of years, slowly opened as he sensed the presence of Nail and their guest. Despite his frail appearance, an undeniable aura of wisdom and power could be felt around him. "Ah, Popo. It is good to see you again. How have you been? And where is Khami?"
Mr. Popo offered a warm smile as he approached, holding out a sealed letter. "Everything is fine, Guru. Khami sent me with this letter for you."
Guru nodded slowly, his heavy eyelids fluttering as he reached for the letter. "Naiiiil," Guru called out, his voice resonating through the room with a deep, commanding tone. "Read this letter to me."
"Yes, master," Nail replied, stepping forward to take the letter from Guru's hand. With careful precision, he unfolded the letter and began to read aloud. "Greetings, Guru. I hope this letter finds you in good health."
Guru's face softened with a small, knowing smile. "Greetings and peace upon Khami. All praises be to God; I am in good health."
Nail continued, his voice steady and respectful. "My assistant, Mr. Popo, along with some of my students, has come to retrieve another student of mine who was kidnapped by a Saiyan and taken to your planet. As you may know, the journey from Earth to Namek is a long one, and unfortunately, our fuel stock is running dangerously low. Therefore, I humbly request you to provide us with some fuel oil for our spaceship. Mr. Popo shall handle the payment. I would be deeply grateful for your assistance. Yours sincerely, Khami."
Guru let out a deep, rumbling sigh. "How could a Saiyan manage to kidnap a student of Khami's while he still lives? Has Khami grown that complacent?"
Mr. Popo frowned before responded softly, "Unfortunately, Guru, Khami is not as strong as he once was."
...
Later, as Mr. Popo prepared to depart, the enormous can of fuel oil in tow, he hesitated, turning back to Guru. "Before I leave, I must ask... Why do you and Nail look so troubled? Has something happened?"
Guru's expression grew somber, his ancient face marked by sorrow. "Nail, you explain. I do not have the strength to recount it."
Nail's face darkened as he spoke. "Last month, a group of aliens landed on our planet."
Mr. Popo's eyes widened in shock. "Aliens?"
Nail nodded grimly. "Yes. They came seeking to purchase Ragon from us. It was clear their intentions were malicious, so we refused. Since then, they have been attacking our villages, torturing our people to force the location of the Ragon mines from us. Thousands of our brothers and sisters have been massacred. We fear the worst... There's talk that they plan to annihilate most of our population and sell our planet to a multigalactic resort."
Mr. Popo's expression turned grave. "That's... horrific. But why haven't you stopped them? Are they truly that powerful?"
Nail's voice was heavy with frustration and despair. "Yes. Terrifyingly so. Some of our strongest warriors were defeated with ease, as if they were nothing. If only Guru were still in his prime, he could have wiped them out effortlessly. But now... as you can see, even walking is a struggle for him."
Guru sighed deeply, the weight of his years evident in his voice. "I was considering asking you to inform the son of Katas about our plight. But I suspect he too has grown old and weak, much like myself."
Mr. Popo looked down, his thoughts deep and troubled. "Yes, Khami has also aged... But I might know someone who could help."
Guru's tired eyes opened slightly, a flicker of hope sparking within them. "Who?"
Mr. Popo reached into his pocket, pulling out a small device connected wirelessly to his spaceship's systems. "How about a video call with Khami? He would be pleased to hear from you, especially after so long."
Guru's expression softened, curiosity and hope mingling in his ancient gaze. "Is that possible from such a distance? If it is, then by all means, let's do it."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A door upon the lookout opened, throwing bright white light.
One by one, Goku and Tien stepped out of the door, their clothes torn and ragged. Their faces, though marked with fatigue, held a newfound intensity; a transformation had occurred within them. The air around them seemed charged.
Khami and Korin were waiting for them, the anticipation in their eyes mingling with concern.
Khami broke the silence, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Didn't I tell you? There was no way you'd last a full day in there. It's only been six hours."
Korin nodded in agreement. "I'm surprised you survived as long as you did. Your training over the past two years must have paid off in ways you hadn't imagined."
Goku and Tien approached, their steps measured and deliberate. There was a quiet confidence in their demeanor, as if the challenges they had just faced had tempered their spirits, forging them into something greater. They were the same men—but at the same time, they were not.
Goku sniffed at his tattered collar and chuckled lightly. "Man, I really need to change into something less... crispy."
Tien clenched and unclenched his fist, feeling the raw power coursing through his veins. It was almost surreal, like he was still getting accustomed to this newfound strength.
Before they could exchange more words, the shrill sound of a phone ringing pierced the air.
Khami raised a hand, signaling for them to wait. "Excuse me," he said, his tone suddenly serious as he hurried inside. He entered a darkened room and picked up the phone, his expression tightening as he listened. "A video call... from the spaceship. Perfect timing."
Moments later, Khami returned, his face etched with worry. The gravity of whatever he had just heard weighed heavily on him.
Goku and Tien exchanged a glance, sensing the change in the atmosphere. "Who is it?" Tien asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.
Khami hesitated for a moment before handing the phone to Goku. "Goku, Tien... Someone needs to speak with you." His voice was strained, revealing the depth of his concern.
Korin, sensing something amiss, stepped closer. "Khami, what's going on? Is there something we should be worried about?"
Khami nodded, his eyes dark with concern. "Yes, Korin. My planet... Namek..is in grave danger."
Korin's eyes widened in shock. "What?! But I thought Namek was protected by legendary warriors?"
Khami sighed heavily, the weight of his words almost too much to bear. "It was, once. But there were only a few of them left the last time I mentioned it. Now, those warriors have either aged, passed on, or left the planet. As it stands... Namek is defenseless."
...
Goku's face darkened as he finished the call, his fists clenched in anger. "How dare they!"
Tien's expression was equally serious, his brow furrowed in thought. "This is indeed something to worry about. I just hope we can be of some help."
Goku's teeth were gritted, his rage barely contained. Oppression... He despised it with every fiber of his being. Ever since he was a child, his heart had always gone out to those who suffered, no matter who they were.
Korin watched the scene unfold, a deep unease settling in his chest. It was rare to see Goku angry, and when he did get angry, it was a sight to behold—something that made even the bravest warriors pause.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Namek...
Guru's weary eyes narrowed as he gazed at Mr. Popo, his ancient wisdom tempered by the weight of countless years. "Do you truly believe your friends could make a difference, Popo?" he asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
Mr. Popo nodded with quiet confidence. "Yes, Guru, I do." His thoughts drifted to Goku, the relentless warrior who had pushed his limits time and again, surpassing every expectation during his training with King Gai. Mr. Popo knew that Goku's power had likely grown tremendously in the past year as well, and if anyone could stand against the looming threat, it would be him.
Nail stepped forward, his expression serious as he handed a slip of paper to Mr. Popo. "This is the shortcut," he said, his voice low and grave.
Mr. Popo accepted the paper, tucking it into his pocket with care. "Thank you," he replied, sensing the gravity of the journey ahead.
"Be careful," Nail warned, his eyes narrowing with concern. "The warphole is treacherous, filled with dangers even the most skilled pilots fear."
A reassuring smile tugged at the corners of Mr. Popo's mouth. "Don't worry, Nail. I'm the best driver you'll ever meet. I'll be back in a week," he said with a wave, his tone light but resolute.
As Mr. Popo walked toward the exit, Nail silently accompanied him, the air heavy with unspoken fears.
Once outside, Mr. Popo took a deep breath, his gaze lifting to the sky. With a sudden burst of energy, he ignited his aura, and shot into the sky, disappearing from view.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .
Meanwhile, almost halfway across the planet...
Frieza's lips curled into a sinister smile as he listened to Zarbon. The icy tyrant's tail flicked with amusement, his dark eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, Vegeta," Frieza murmured, his voice dripping with cruel delight. "Hm hm hm..."
To be continued...