Chapter 122 – Have We Met Before?

Unable to gain the upper hand over each other, Goku and Frieza pulled back and hovered a short distance apart in the air. Goku's chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing labored as the Kaioken's monstrous strain pushed his muscles to their limit. The faint red aura clinging to him flickered weakly like a candle on the verge of going out.

Frieza, though still standing, wasn't faring much better. His breathing was uneven, and his usual composure was fraying at the edges. One hand rested against his chest, just above the deep, discolored bruise left by Ajax's punishing Rokuogan.

For a moment, neither made a move as their gazes clashed in an unspoken battle of wills. The air between them grew oppressively heavy until Frieza finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with the faintest edge of strain.

"Have we perhaps crossed paths before?" he asked, his head tilting slightly. "Now that I took a proper look at you, you feel strangely... familiar. Perhaps it's just déjà vu, but I wonder."

"Never met you," Goku replied curtly as he met Frieza's stare without flinching. "I think I'd remember meeting someone as evil as you."

Frieza chuckled at the blunt insult.

"No, no, I truly think we've met before," Frieza mused as he tilted his head back with an exaggerated hum, as though the memory danced just out of reach. "But alas, I can't seem to place it. What a shame. Not that it will matter for long."

With Goku's firm conviction that this was their first encounter and Frieza's memory faltering, the banter quickly fizzled out. It was a conversation whose longevity was doomed from the start.

Their conversation ended, and their battle reignited. The sky darkened, as if the heavens themselves recoiled from the fury unleashed below. Each collision of their power shook Namek to its core, sending fissures that glowed like veins of molten light spidering across the tortured planet.

To Namek, this was no mere battle—it was a cataclysm.

~ Down Below ~

The shockwaves from the distant battle sent sharp gusts through the air that whipped Ajax's hair into disarray. Immobilized by his injury, he winced as the wind kicked up dust that stung his eyes and caked his sweat-soaked skin.

However, despite being temporarily incapacitated, Ajax's Ki sense remained as sharp as ever. He quickly picked up on a small presence steadily approaching him at the pace of a light jog.

His eyes flicked toward the source of the energy. Odd. Nothing was visible, yet his Ki sense insisted someone was drawing near.

As the presence came closer, the faintest footprints began to materialize in the sandy soil before him, as if imprinted by a ghost. Ajax's brows twitched.

Ah. Dende. And the kid's using that useful-as-fuck of a spell—"Concealment."

Moments later, the invisible presence settled beside him, and Ajax felt the familiar sensation of Dende's small hand gingerly poking and prodding at the gaping wound on his chest. After a brief assessment, it became clear that Dende had concluded that the injury, as gruesome as it looked, wasn't immediately fatal, as he made no move to heal it.

Of all people, Dende was the one who understood Ajax's limits best. After all, the young Namekian had witnessed Ajax perform even more horrendous acts of self-abuse—and healed him from said abuse—only half an hour prior.

Without a word, Dende slipped his small, invisible arms under Ajax and began to half-drag, half-fly him away from the battlefield.

Luckily, their retreat went unnoticed. Goku and Frieza's cataclysmic battle raged on above and continued to whip the winds into a chaotic frenzy. The sheer noise and intensity of the fight drowned out all else—a perfect cover for the pair's escape.

About thirty seconds later, Dende lowered Ajax onto a patch of relatively stable ground. Concerned faces quickly gathered around, each wearing a different expression.

Gohan's face had gone pale, his queasy expression betraying his discomfort at the sight of the gruesome wound on Ajax's chest. Piccolo observed silently, arms crossed, his frown deep and unreadable. Nappa winced openly, almost sympathetically.

Vegeta, in contrast, clearly didn't give a shit, a fact made clear by the way he didn't even spare a glance. His gaze remained locked on the distant battle, his face stony, as though chiseled from cold marble.

Krillin, on the other hand, dropped to one knee opposite Dende. Leaning over, he stared at Ajax with wide eyes.

"Oh dude, Ajax… How are you still alive?!" Krillin's voice cracked slightly as he blurted out the question.

'Sheer spite, man. Sheer fucking spite.'

Ajax had resorted to telepathy to respond—his shattered ribs, gaping chest wound, and practically exposed lungs made speaking just a tad difficult. Even so, he managed to raise a silent thumbs-up in Krillin's general direction. It was the kind of gesture that somehow conveyed both reassurance and dry humor, a silent, 'I'll live... probably.'

"Hey, hey, I'm very tired, very stressed, and currently the only thing keeping Ajax from dying. So maybe quit gawking, step back, and let me do my thing before he burns through the 'sheer spite' that's keeping him alive, yeah?"

Krillin blinked, startled, and turned to Dende with wide eyes, taken aback by the unusually firm tone from the typically soft-spoken Namekian. A faint glow of healing energy already surrounded Dende's hands, and he looked mildly annoyed at being unable to reach the wound with Krillin in the way.

"Right, right! Sorry, Dende!" Krillin stammered and quickly moved aside. He then glanced back and said to Ajax, "Just, uh… try not to do anything crazy for a minute, okay?"

'Define "crazy," Krillin.'

Krillin shot Ajax an unimpressed look.

As the exchange played out, the pale green energy radiating from Dende's hands spread across Ajax's chest. Already, the worst of the damage began to mend, torn flesh and shattered bone knitting back together under the soothing glow. But Ajax had one more critical request to make.

Reaching out telepathically to Dende, he conveyed his plan:

'Don't heal me all the way. Leave it looking worse than it really is. I need Frieza to believe I'm barely hanging on, so he'll see me as less of a threat.'

Ajax's logic was sound. Frieza already loathed him—a hatred Ajax had thoroughly earned through every act of defiant spite and every injury he'd managed to inflict. If Frieza believed he was a non-threat, then the emperor's focus would naturally remain squarely on Goku, giving Ajax the freedom to act. But if Frieza suspected he was back in fighting shape, there was a non-zero chance that the tyrant might choose to prioritize him before continuing with Goku.

This wasn't unfounded paranoia either. Not long ago, Frieza had already singled Ajax out as his first target, despite the pressure and interference from Goku.

Dende didn't respond, not aloud nor telepathically, but Ajax felt the subtle adjustment in the energy flow. The young Namekian had heard him—and understood. As the healing progressed, Ajax let himself relax, placing his trust in Dende to manage it while everyone else's focus stayed on Goku's battle with Frieza.

Then, it happened, just as Dende was halfway through his healing.

A sudden wave of bloodlust crashed over him, oppressive and suffused with intense killing intent. It seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere all at once, like an omnidirectional pressure bearing down on him. Ajax's instincts roared to life as adrenaline flooded his system and overrode his pain and exhaustion.

In an instant, the crimson aura of the Kaioken erupted around him, its fiery heat distorting the air as his body snapped upright into a tense, half-kneeling stance.

Enemy?!

But as quickly as it had appeared, the bloodlust vanished without a trace, as though it had never existed at all.

"Ajax, what the hell?!" Krillin yelped, stumbling backward at the unexpected eruption of energy. Gohan flinched and instinctively dropped into a defensive stance, while Piccolo's sharp eyes immediately swept the area. Dende reactivated Concealment, and even Vegeta glanced over, his face shifting ever so slightly—though whether it was curiosity or irritation was hard to tell.

Though none of them had sensed what had startled Ajax, all of them had raised their guard nonetheless.

But Ajax didn't truly register any of those actions. He remained rigid, the Kaioken aura around him flaring in erratic pulses as his Ki sense blanketed the surroundings. Could this be Frieza's doing? Could the tyrant's hatred be so intense, so visceral, that it reached them from across the battlefield?

A moment passed. Then another. Each passing second was punctuated only by the distant thunderous booms of Goku and Frieza's battle raging overhead. However, no threat emerged.

The oppressive silence between the Z Fighters remained heavy, but as the seconds turned into minutes, they began to relax.

All except Ajax.

His Kaioken aura continued to flicker around him, restless and protective. But as time dragged on without an attack, doubt crept in. Finally, with a reluctant grunt, Ajax eased himself back down, though his body remained tense and the faint glow of Kaioken still burned faintly around him like a flickering ember.

Ajax didn't want to think that it was simply his imagination.

But reality seemed to disagree. No shadows moved, no ambush came, and no foreign Ki flickered. Whatever had triggered his instincts was either gone—or had never been there at all.

After a long pause, Ajax exhaled sharply, letting the Kaioken fade. He glanced at the still invisible Dende, who hesitated briefly, then resumed his work. The pale green glow of healing energy returned, knitting his wounds with quiet efficiency.

As Dende continued his work, Ajax let his eyes sweep over the group. They all seemed to have dismissed the incident as a false alarm. All except one.

Across the clearing, Vegeta stood with arms crossed, his expression dark and contemplative.

Ajax's eyes narrowed as he noticed Vegeta watching him with furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. There was a peculiar intensity in the Saiyan Prince's gaze. Their eyes met, and for a brief, heavy moment, neither spoke nor looked away.

Vegeta's frown stayed for a moment longer, his mind undoubtedly racing, though he kept his thoughts to himself. Eventually, he turned his gaze skyward as the ferocious clash above reclaimed his attention. The sheer scale of the battle made it impossible to ignore for long.

Soon enough, the rest of the group followed his lead, their collective focus shifting back to the fight that would determine everyone's fate.

"Come on, Goku!"

"You've got this, Dad!"

Krillin and Gohan's voices barely rose above the roar of distant shockwaves. All eyes were on Goku now—the lone warrior standing between them and death.

Ajax, however, couldn't shake the unease twisting in him. The fleeting surge of bloodlust he'd sensed lingered in his thoughts like a persistent itch that he could not scratch. Restless, he glanced toward Piccolo, who stood a few steps away, his expression as unreadable as ever.

'Piccolo, you still have your Senzu bean, yes? Keep it close in case you need it later.'

The reply came swiftly and a little sharper than expected.

'I already used it.'

For a moment, Ajax's thoughts stalled as he gaped at Piccolo. His first instinct was to question the decision, perhaps even chastise Piccolo. But he caught himself, swallowing down the words before they could take shape.

Not the time, he reminded himself firmly.

The mild rebuke on his tongue dissolved into a resigned sigh. Unfortunately, he didn't know the full context of what had transpired before his arrival. For all he knew, Piccolo had made the best possible decision under the circumstances. Trust was paramount now—trust in each other's judgment and the belief that every action taken was with the group's survival best interest in mind.

In the grand scheme of things, teamwork far outweighed a single, already-digested Senzu bean.

Still, Ajax's brief flicker of dissatisfaction must have leaked through, because Piccolo's expression darkened. His sharp eyes narrowed as he clearly picked up on the subtle, fleeting change in Ajax's demeanor.

'Don't act like you have any right to judge me. I kept everyone alive, and unlike you, I won't hoard a Senzu bean while someone I care about bled out and died in front of me.'

For a moment, it looked like Piccolo had more to say. But then, mid-action, he stopped, his head tilting slightly, antennae twitching as if he were listening to something only he could hear. After a brief moment of silence, Piccolo scoffed under his breath and turned back to the battle above without another word.

Ajax's eyes narrowed, but he refrained from letting the jab escalate into a full-blown argument—especially not now.

Besides, he could read between the lines. If Piccolo's cryptic remark about "someone he cared about dying" was referring to Gohan, then Ajax couldn't fault him for it. He knew that Piccolo would have given his life to save Gohan, and honestly, it would have been strange if Piccolo hadn't used the Senzu bean.

"I get you; that's why I didn't say shit," Ajax muttered under his breath, his voice low and unflattering. "Fucking uncalled for, you ass."

His words were quiet enough to theoretically remain unheard by anyone else, but he noticed Piccolo's ear twitch subtly.

Good. Let him hear it.

For a moment, the tension lingered between them, but neither chose to escalate it. There were far more urgent matters to worry about, and the universe quickly reminded them of that. A sudden boom shattered the silence as Goku and Frieza collided once again.

Everyone's attention snapped to the sky. Krillin and Gohan's faces were filled with anxious hope as they watched Goku's figure darting through the air.

But while Krillin and Gohan clung to their optimism, Ajax and Piccolo wore grim expressions. Unlike the others, they weren't relying on blind hope to interpret the fight. They both had the power to perceive the battle—the fleeting exchanges, the subtle shifts in momentum, and the increasing strain on Goku.

From a distance, it might have seemed like Goku was holding his own, but Ajax could see the truth. The sharpness of Goku's movements was beginning to dull, his reactions becoming just a fraction slower. Every exchange with Frieza drained more of his energy than he could spare, and though Goku pressed on, the toll of the Kaioken was something no amount of willpower could overcome indefinitely.

Goku was running out of time.