Freza landed shoulder-first on a surface that felt like cold glass. A loud thud was followed by a long groan from Qoriski, who landed right on top of a pile of files that had been sucked in with him. The room had no walls, only an eternal darkness filled with thousands of floating holographic screens, displaying wildly fluctuating galactic stock charts.
"Ow, my back... Master Freza, I swear, if we survive this, I’m claiming triple workplace accident insurance! This has officially entered the category of employee torture!" Qoriski moaned while trying to sit up, clutching his aching lower back.
"You’re lucky it’s just a backache, Qor. Look at Pak RT he’s passed out while hugging a broken piece of his broom," Freza replied as he slowly stood up. He straightened his crooked tie and brushed digital dust off his shirt sleeves.
"Good heavens... where are we now? Why is it so quiet, like a modern mass grave?" Pak RT suddenly regained consciousness, his eyes blinking as he stared at the holographic screens surrounding them.
"Welcome to the Emergency Arbitration Room, Sir. This is the place for disputes so massive they cause the central system to error out," Freza explained softly. His eyes continued to scan the surroundings, looking for any sign of a jury or mediator.
"So where’s the person in charge? Are we just supposed to watch these charts go up and down? Master Freza, I’m hungry; all the coins in my stomach came out earlier, and now it feels completely empty!" Qoriski complained.
"Quiet for a second, Qoriski. Don't you feel something strange? The gravity here is stable, but the air pressure... it’s like being in a board meeting that just decided on mass layoffs," Freza whispered.
Suddenly, a giant marble table emerged from the darkness in front of them. Behind the table sat an entity consisting only of a collection of white light in the shape of a faceless human silhouette. In front of it sat a gavel made of black diamond that radiated a cold aura.
"USER NUMBER 001-FREZA. AGENT QO-R15-KI. AND... UNREGISTERED CIVILIAN." The voice was not heard through their ears but vibrated directly inside their skulls.
"Present, Mr. Judge! Uh, or is it Mr. Director? Sorry, what should I call you so I don't get hit with a contempt of court charge?" Freza asked with a forced tone of calm.
"I AM THE SUPREME LIQUIDATOR. THE FINAL AUTHORITY BEFORE REALITY IS DELETED. YOU HAVE CREATED A RECURSIVE DEBT-LOOP THAT THREATENS THE FINANCIAL STABILITY OF THE MULTIVERSE."
"Whoa, Master Freza! See? You’re being accused of bankrupting the universe! What did I tell you? Don't play around with too many legal clauses!" Qoriski whispered in a panic, his hands trembling.
"Shh! Don't make me look guilty! Just listen to me," Freza took a step forward, staring boldly at the silhouette of light. "Permission to speak, Mr. Liquidator. I didn't create that loop alone. Your system started it by launching an invasion without a business feasibility audit. I only provided a counter-response in accordance with the civil laws you wrote yourself in the ToS on page twelve thousand!"
"YOUR DATA IS IRRELEVANT. THE ANDROMEDA CONSORTIUM HAS DECLARED BANKRUPTCY, AND EARTH 2.0 IS A RESTRUCTURING EFFORT. YOUR ACTION OF INSERTING A CHAIN-LAWSUIT VIRUS IS AN ACT OF SABOTAGE."
"Sabotase? No, that’s called asset protection!" Freza countered loudly. "How can you call it restructuring if you’re deleting our Hunters' emotions? Humans without emotions are defective products! Their market value is zero! You just intentionally destroyed the goodwill value of our planet!"
"Master, are you seriously yelling at that light?!" Qoriski’s eyes widened, ready to run if there was an explosion.
"Quiet, Qor! This is high-level negotiation!" Freza snapped. "Mr. Liquidator, listen to me. If you delete us now, the Andromeda Consortium’s debt to the citizens of Earth will never be paid. It will become an 'Uncollectible Debt' that will ruin the universe's trial balance forever. Do you want the universe's financial reports to stay in the red for eternity?"
The light entity fell silent for a moment. The black diamond gavel in its hand was slowly placed on the table. "EXPLAIN YOUR INTENT, AUDITOR."
"Simple. Stop trying to make that robotic Earth 2.0 or 3.0. Return Earth to its original condition, but with the status of a 'Company Under Supervision.' Let me and the Apocalypse Collection Office handle the operations. We will pay off those invasion debts through the proceeds of Hunter looting, which we will tax professionally. You get a steady deposit, and we get our lives back. A win-win solution, right?"
"BUT EARTH HAS BEEN DECLARED THE ORIGIN OF THE BUG. HUMANS EXPLOIT LEGAL LOOPHOLES TOO OFTEN, JUST AS YOU ARE DOING."
"That’s not a bug, that’s called creativity in negotiation!" Freza cut in quickly. "Why do you think other galaxies are boring? Because they follow the rules too strictly! You need us to keep this ecosystem dynamic!"
"Master Freza, look! The screen behind him is starting to turn yellow!" Qoriski exclaimed.
"That’s a sign he’s starting to weigh my offer," Freza whispered with satisfaction.
"But Master... if we go back to Earth, will the monsters still be there? If the monsters are gone, who are we going to collect taxes from?" asked Pak RT, who had been just listening until now.
"The monsters will still be there, Sir. But we’ll give them clear employment contracts. No more wild monsters attacking randomly. Everything has to go through the bureaucracy of the Apocalypse Collection Office. Want to attack a village? You need an IMB a Permit to Attack Buildings!" Freza answered randomly but convincingly.
"AUDITOR FREZA, YOUR OFFER CARRIES HIGH RISK. HOWEVER, THE DATA CHAOS YOU CREATED INDEED CANNOT BE RESOLVED WITH A STANDARD DELETION."
"Exactly. Hand over the new draft contract. Let me draft the points, and you just sign it over a magical stamp," Freza pulled a gold pen from his pocket the pen he had taken from the Golden Mask’s desk earlier.
"I WILL GRANT A NINETY-DAY PROBATIONARY PERIOD. IF WITHIN THREE MONTHS EARTH’S BALANCE SHEET DOES NOT SHOW A POSITIVE PROFIT, THEN I MYSELF WILL DELETE YOUR EXISTENCE FROM THE DATABASE."
"Ninety days? That’s so short, Master! Getting an ID card processed can take a month!" Qoriski protested.
"Enough, Qor. In ninety days, I’ll make Earth the most profitable company in this galaxy!" Freza looked at the Liquidator. "But there’s one more thing. I need my assistant here, Qoriski, to be promoted to 'Permanent System Employee' with full salary. Stop giving him those hell-meal coupons."
"Master... you’re actually fighting for my salary?" Qoriski’s eyes welled up, moved.
"Yeah, so you’ll stop constantly nagging me to borrow money," Freza replied shortly.
"PERMISSION GRANTED. CONSTRUCTION OF EARTH’S REALITY BEGINS AGAIN IN THREE... TWO... ONE..."
The void suddenly cracked like glass hit by a sledgehammer. A blinding white light exploded, swallowing Freza, Qoriski, and Pak RT. The sensation of falling hit them again, but this time it felt warmer.
Freza opened his eyes. He smelled exhaust fumes, the aroma of roadside fried snacks, and the noisy sound of horns at the HI Roundabout. He stood in the middle of the street, his shirt still wrinkled, but in his hand was now a shiny bronze office nameplate.
"We... we’re back in Jakarta?!" Qoriski jumped for joy, hugging a nearby utility pole. "Mbak Citra! Pak RT! We’re not going to die!"
"Look, Master Freza! Monas is still there! But why... why is there a huge LED screen at the top that says 'EARTH UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT'?" Pak RT pointed toward Monas.
"That’s a sign our work has just begun, Sir," Freza replied with a smirk. He looked toward the crowds of Hunters starting to emerge from small portals around the HI Roundabout.
"Master, look! There's a Goblin carrying shopping bags in front of Plaza Indonesia! Should we go after him?!" Qoriski was ready with his hammer handle, which had suddenly become whole again.
"Wait a minute, Qor. Look who's standing in front of the Plaza Indonesia entrance," Freza narrowed his eyes.
A woman in a very sharp black suit, holding a digital tablet, stood there checking her watch. Beside her stood two armored executioners whose levels were unreadable by Freza's system.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Freza. I am from the Galactic Central Tax Office," the woman said in a very cold voice. "We heard you have just taken over the management of Earth. We are here to conduct an initial audit of your personal wealth."
"Huh?! We just got here and we're already being audited?!" Qoriski gaped.
"Relax, Miss. I have all the records," Freza replied while reaching into his pants pocket, but his face suddenly turned pale.
"Master? What is it? Did the documents go missing?!" Qoriski asked in a panic.
Freza pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. It wasn't the contract he had just agreed upon with the Liquidator, but a bright red billing statement with a total that made his eyes nearly pop out.
"Qoriski... Pak RT..." Freza's voice trembled.
"What is it, Master?! Don't give us a heart attack!"
"The Liquidator lied... He didn't just bring back Earth," Freza pointed to the last line on the note. "He just charged the entire operational costs of 'Heaven and Hell' for the last million years to my personal account as a reality restoration administrative f*e."
"WHAT?!" Qoriski and Pak RT screamed in unison.
At the same time, the Jakarta sky turned a deep crimson again. Instead of monsters, thousands of tax officers with black wings descended from the sky, carrying asset seizure warrants so long they draped over the skyscrapers.
"Mr. Freza, if you cannot pay the first installment within ten minutes..." the woman in the black suit raised her hand, and the executioners behind her drew their swords. "...then we will seize all of your internal organs as collateral."
Freza stared at the gold pen in his hand, then at the thousands of tax officers in the sky. He realized one thing he had missed in his audit earlier.
"Damn it... I forgot to read the footnote on the last page..."
Suddenly, a massive explosion occurred beneath their feet. The asphalt of the road split wide open, and from within emerged a figure far more terrifying than any monster they had ever faced. The creature held a giant hammer that read: DUE DATE.
Freza only had time to scream one word before the darkness struck again...
Latest Chapter
The Ancient Eyes Of The Chronicle
Freza felt the cold vibration pierce deeper, no longer just along his spine, but through the very core of the fingers gripping the violet pen. The violet light flickered, as though the pen itself sensed the horrifying gaze now fixed upon it with indescribable intensity. This was not the coldness of the Arbiter of Nothingness, which now merely observed from afar, but the coldness of absolute ownership.Qoriski jolted, clutching Freza’s arm. He saw his friend’s hardened expression, his eyes widened not in fear, but in recognition of an undeniable existence.“Freza! What is it now?” Qoriski shouted, his voice carrying a fresh note of despair.Every threat seemed greater than the last.Freza did not answer. His gaze remained locked forward. He could feel the presence, not like a physical entity claiming space, but like an essence that had always existed there, long before “existence” or “nonexistence” had ever been defined. The aura carried the weight of the first truth, the very foundati
The Fracture of Eternal Nothingness
The pen in Freza’s hand, now radiating a faint dark violet glow, pulsed softly, feeling like far more than a mere tool. Before him, the Veiled Chronicle of Nothingness lay open, revealing a new blank chapter. Yet within it, Freza could sense the resonance of doubt from the Arbiter of Nothingness.Not loud doubt, but microscopic tremors within its absolute logic, a fracture far subtler than any crack left by Malakor’s hammer.Qoriski stared at Freza, confusion mixed with relief shining in his eyes.He saw the pen, saw the open Chronicle, and felt the shift in the atmosphere, still cold, yet no longer as suffocating.“Freza... what is that?” Qoriski asked, pointing at the Chronicle’s blank page. “A new chapter? For what?”Freza drew a deep breath, feeling his primordial core pulsing in harmony now, though echoes of the division that had nearly consumed him still lingered.“This is a chapter for ‘meaningful emptiness,’” Freza answered, his voice calm, though every word now carried a new
The Ink Of Nothingness Creeps
The pitch-black ink flowed, not from the tip of the pen, but from within the body of the now half-transparent instrument, like an eternal wound gaping open. It pooled in Freza’s palm, cold enough to burn, a coldness that drained away all light and sensation. It was liquid nothingness, promising not creation, but absolute emptiness.Freza gasped, his breath catching in his throat. His fingers tightened, not to release the pen, but to stop the invading darkness from spreading. The cold pierced him, not with pain, but with the absence of pain itself, a far more terrifying threat.Qoriski shouted, his voice cracking with pure terror. He watched the black liquid creep forward, watched Freza’s hand tremble violently, his eyes widened with a horror he had rarely witnessed. Instinctively, he reached out, then hesitated, afraid his touch would only accelerate the corruption.The Arbiter of Nothingness remained silent and unmoving. Yet its presence weighed heavily upon them, a silence screaming
The Eyes of Nothingness Pass Judgment
Freza felt it.Not merely surveillance, but a cold penetration, stabbing directly into the core of his newly fused existence.The pen in his hand suddenly felt frozen, as though it was no longer made of matter, but of pure nothingness that devoured all warmth.The air around them thinned, not physically, but existentially.Qoriski flinched and turned toward Freza, deep concern radiating across his face.He felt the drastic shift in the atmosphere, a pressure far older and less definable than Malakor’s aura of the 'Death Penalty.'"Freza? What is it now?" Qoriski shouted, a faint note of panic in his voice.Freza’s eyes remained fixed on the open pages of the 'Treatise of Veiled Nothingness' before him, yet all he could see now was the reflection of those eyes.Eyes with no eyelids, no irises, no pupils.Only primordial emptiness staring back at him, reflecting limitless nothingness."This... isn't Malakor," Freza whispered hoarsely, his eyes widening as a horrifying realization crept
The Pen That Writes Fate
Freza’s fingers, still cold from touching the ancient energy of the book, now held a pen. It was no longer merely a writing instrument, but an extension of his renewed resolve. Its weight settled in his grasp, a burden unlike any hammer, yet no less deadly.Qoriski stared at him, his eyes filled with unspoken questions and concern. He had witnessed too much in such a short time, destruction and rebirth that had torn apart his understanding of existence.“Freza… what just happened?” Qoriski asked, his voice trembling slightly.“What… what will happen to Malakor?”Freza exhaled, a breath that felt heavy, carrying the weight of billions of destinies. The air around them felt lighter, yes, but the calm was deceptive. It was only a pause before a greater storm.“Malakor will repay his debt,” Freza replied, his voice calm, though a trace of weariness lingered within it, a fatigue far beyond the physical.“He will be forced to recreate every ‘potential’ he ever rejected. Every ‘existence’ he
The Inverted Debt of Doomsday
Malakor recoiled, his breath caught in his throat. The image was not merely an illustration, it was projected destiny. The endless wheel of existence, a cycle of creation and destruction he believed he had mastered, now spun around him, a punishment of his own making.“No… that’s not possible!” Malakor shouted, trying to tear himself away from the image clinging to his mind, as if he were bound to the wheel itself. His silver hammer trembled, no longer with the aura of the “Penalty of Death,” but with the raw vibration of fear.Freza, now reassembled into a more coherent form yet carrying a new light of understanding, regarded Malakor with an unreadable gaze. He was no longer merely the True Arbiter, he was a keeper of records, an entity who understood the weight of every choice, every rejected potential.“You want to repay your debt, Malakor?” Freza’s voice echoed, deeper than before, carrying the resonance of thousands of potentials he had once denied. “You want to recreate what you
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