Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in the temporary shelter built by our heroes...
Gohan, Krillin, and Yamcha had just risen from their afternoon prayers. The atmosphere in the small, makeshift shelter was heavy with a sense of desperation. Despite their efforts, Dende's condition showed no signs of improvement. They had even tried to feed him the beans dug up from the planet's soil, only to end up nearly aspirating him.
They had saved him again at that time, though barely.
Krillin glanced at his companions, his voice quiet but determined. "Guys," he began, "I think there's one more thing we haven't done yet. "
Yamcha raised a brow, curious. "Huh? What is it?"
"A prayer of need," Krillin said softly. "Let's ask God for help in the name of an act we did solely for His sake."
Yamcha blinked, processing Krillin's words before nodding resolutely. "Alright… Let's do it."
The three warriors stood together, facing forwards, their hearts heavy with both hope and uncertainty. A few moments later, after completing their prayer, kneeling down, they raised their hands in unison.
Gohan's voice was the first to break the silence, a whisper filled with emotion. "My God, overseer of the universe…" His young eyes softened as a memory surfaced. "There was one day… Dad had gone to the market to sell his produce, and Mom was sick, bedridden." He paused, the image of his mother lying weak in bed flashing before him. "I went outside and milked our pet goat. When I brought the glass of milk back to my mom, she had fallen asleep. I knew how hard it had been for her to find rest, so I stood there, waiting. The whole night, I just stood beside her bed with that glass of milk in my hand. I didn't sit because I was afraid I'd fall asleep." Gohan's voice wavered, his hands trembling. "If that act was done to please You, please… please heal Dende. Please save Yajirobe… save all of us." Tears welled up in his eyes, and he buried his face in his hands, silent sobs shaking his body.
Beside him, Yamcha's hands were raised as well. "My Lord," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "O, Lord of the Worlds… You know I once had a neighbor, a beautiful girl I loved with all my heart. But she rejected me." He hesitated, the memory bringing a knot of shame to his throat. "Then, one day, her family lost everything. She came to me, desperate for help, and I… I agreed to give it, but on the condition that she sleep with me." Yamcha's voice cracked with guilt. "That night, she came to my house. She sat beside me, and I was ready to give in to my desires… but then she raised her hand and asked me to fear You, God. I… I trembled. I got up and gave her the money, and told her to leave." His eyes glistened with tears. "O God, I escaped a great sin that night. If I did it out of fear for You, please… we need Your help. We're desperate, Lord… please."
Krillin's voice joined the prayer, his hands trembling. "O Almighty, You know all things, and You know what we're going through. In the days when I was poor, I borrowed money from a friend and traveled to another country to start a business. Years passed, and I became successful; shops, employees, everything I could've asked for. One day, that same friend came to me. He was broke, his clothes in tatters, and he asked for the money he had lent me years ago." Krillin's voice wavered, his heart heavy with the memory. "I gave him everything. Every shop, every cent… I handed it all to him, saying it was his, that I owed him my success. If I did that to please You, my Lord… help us. Save us from this danger."
As the last words of their prayers hung in the air, the three warriors slowly stood, faces etched with quiet solemnity. They gathered around Dende, their hearts filled with belief.
A soft sound broke the silence: a small, weak stir. Dende's forehead wrinkled, his tiny body twitching ever so slightly.
Gohan's face lit up, his breath catching. "Guys! Look! He's waking up!"
Yamcha, his anxiety melting into joy, pumped his fist into the air. "Yeah! Alright!"
Krillin let out a joyous laugh, relief washing over him.
Slowly, Dende's eyes fluttered open, his voice barely above a whisper. "W-where am I…?"
The room, once filled with tension and sorrow, now brimmed with a quiet, overwhelming joy. In that moment, hope returned to the hearts of our heroes.
...........
Miles away...
Vegeta gritted his teeth, suppressing a groan as a group of Namekian children tended to his wounds. His body flinched as they applied a traditional antiseptic, the sharp sting searing through him. "Argh!" he gasped, his muscles tensing as the burning sensation spread.
"Just calm down, uncle," one of them said, his voice soothing but firm. "It'll be over in just a minute."
Vegeta's breath was ragged, his chest heaving. Whatever they were using to clean his wounds, it felt like fire on his skin.
Between treatments, the children offered him some beans they had dug up from the ground. He chewed them reluctantly, the earthy taste unfamiliar but somehow calming.
One of them sighed softly as he worked. "If only Dende were with us, you'd be healed much faster."
Vegeta remained silent, his jaw clenched as he winced with each sting. A flicker of frustration passed through his mind again. How far had he fallen, reduced to relying on the care of children. He glanced at the young Namekians, their hands steady and determined despite his harsh demeanor. What drove them to help him, he wondered. Why did they persist, even when he barely showed them any gratitude?
...........
...
Two more days passed by...
Thankfully, Dende's condition had improved significantly. When he fully regained his senses, the young Namekian advised the others to dig up some special beans from the soil, which they quickly did.
Once Dende was fed a couple of these beans, his unique saliva, a trait passed down through his family, began to work its magic. Almost immediately, his body started to heal, rejuvenating itself until he was completely restored.
"Alright!" Gohan exclaimed, beaming with relief.
"Yes," Krillin added, smiling. "Finally... Dende, you're back to your best."
..........
...
Meanwhile, aboard Frieza's ship...
Frieza sat in his hoverchair, staring out the window, his gaze cold. Behind him, his tail swayed lazily, like a predator at rest.
Vegeta's power level hadn't been detected for days. Perhaps he truly had perished at Zarbon's hands. But then, who was the mysterious figure that killed Appule and escaped with the prisoner? Frieza's curiosity simmered beneath his icy demeanor.
In the past few days, Zarbon had helped uncover a few more Ragon mines; a feat that had, for now, spared his neck.
Without turning, Frieza spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "Zarbon, use your scouter. Scan for any remaining clusters of power levels. I want everything stripped from this planet before I make it ready for sale."
Zarbon tapped his scouter, the device beeping as it processed numerous signals. Most of them were from the already ravaged cities, only small pockets of old Namekians and children remained. Those were exhausted survivors whose forced labor had helped unearth precious Ragon metal for Frieza's empire.
"Sire," Zarbon reported, his voice steady. "There are a few untouched clusters of power levels left."
Frieza's tail flicked impatiently as his frown deepened. "Then handle it. And Zarbon," he added, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "any failures this time will not be forgiven."
"Yes, sire," Zarbon replied quickly, before hurrying out to carry out the orders. Outside, he encountered Dodoria, and swiftly briefed him.
"So, what's the plan?" Dodoria grunted.
"You take a squad and head for the cluster in the Southwest," Zarbon instructed. "I have a hunch it's those weaklings who slipped past you last time. I'll check the power levels to the East."
Dodoria nodded, his expression hard. "Got it."
Without another word, both soldiers parted ways, hastily gathering their troops. Time was slipping away, and Frieza's patience was stretched thin. Zarbon and Dodoria were each aware of the unspoken truth: if the Ginyu Force arrived, Frieza's reliance on them would plummet, and with it, their chances of survival should they fail their orders.
They had to succeed. Failure wasn't an option.
To be continued...