He flung a jagged disc of purple energy—a Death Saucer—at Goku’s head. Goku didn't even move until the last microsecond. With a sharp tilt of his neck, the blade hissed past his ear, slicing through a mountain behind him like a hot wire through wax.

"Frieza, look out!" Goku shouted, his instinct to protect briefly overriding his anger.

But it was too late. The purple energy sliced through the tyrant's torso, silenced his scream, and left him crumpled in the dirt, a broken king of nothing.

Frieza panicked. He summoned another disc, then another. He commanded them to track Goku, the glowing blades looping through the air in chaotic arcs. Goku didn't dodge this time. He leaped, twisting in mid-air, leading the blades in a deadly dance.

Should I write a where Frieza actually wins?

"You're fighting a ghost, Frieza," Goku stated, beginning a slow, heavy walk toward the tyrant. "The ghost of every Saiyan you slaughtered. The ghost of Krillin."

Frieza let out a guttural scream, his ego fracturing along with the planet's crust. "I am the ruler of the universe! I do not lose to monkeys!"

"It's over, Frieza," Goku said. His voice was low, devoid of its usual warmth. "You've lost. Your energy is dropping with every desperate swing you take."