"Rejoice!"
"The great son of Titan, the new king of Sakaar, the revered Prince Lothar!"
"Not even fallen gods can stop Prince Lothar's advance!"
"This is power beyond all limits! A transformation that surpasses the Super Saiyan! Super Saiyan 2!!!"
Excited beyond measure, The Other held a voice amplifier he'd stolen from Woz's pocket, standing atop the massive obsidian speaker cube that broadcast his voice to every corner of Planet Sakaar. He gave it everything he had, delivering a rousing anthem to Lothar's glory into the ears of every Sakaaran.
He wasn't exactly sure what to call Lothar's newly awakened form, but considering Lothar had once named his golden-haired transformation "a Super Saiyan beyond a Saiyan," The Other took it upon himself to dub this next stage Super Saiyan 2.
This way, he could retain Prince Lothar's favorite moniker, Super Saiyan, while clearly conveying that his power had risen to a whole new tier.
To The Other, it was a perfect naming convention.
And if Prince Lothar continued to evolve, well, he could just keep following the formula: Super Saiyan 3, 4...
And if Lothar eventually ascended to godhood? Then naturally, Super Saiyan God.
The Other admired his own genius. Such a clean, badass naming system!
"But why not name it by color?" a voice chimed in.
"Wouldn't 'Super Saiyan Gold' sound even cooler?"
Woz, the ever-enthusiastic mechanical companion who had grown up alongside Lothar, bounced over on his stubby legs and tilted his head, genuinely curious.
His wide grin was adorable, but to The Other, utterly exasperating.
As a fellow member of the Lothar Hype Squad, Woz's enthusiasm was, in his opinion, totally substandard.
Just repeating "Prince Lothar is amazing" over and over? Come on, that's weak sauce!
He'd told Woz countless times: it's about presence, about flair!
You had to chant with the fire of conviction, like him!
And naming it by color? What if one day Lothar decided gold looked tacky and switched hues?
Would we then have Super Saiyan Red, Super Saiyan Blue?
The Other rolled his eyes, rare for him.
Why not just call it Super Saiyan Rainbow and be done with it?
"Ohhh…" Woz blinked his big round eyes. "That makes a lot of sense."
"Trust me, you'll never go wrong!" The Other thumped his chest proudly, radiating the confidence of Sakaar's #1 Lothar fanboy.
"And besides, Woz, I think you—"
While the two hype-men were animatedly discussing naming conventions, Hela silently let her conjured bow and arrow fade into mist. Her eyes were downcast, a storm of emotions swirling beneath her calm exterior.
"That man… he evolved again…"
She was progressing. But so was he, and faster.
Mother… can I really surpass him?
She recalled the encouragement her mother Frigga had given her upon returning from Svartalfheim. Lifting her gaze to the man who had just torn apart the darkened sky with sheer force alone, Hela found herself shaken.
No... what am I thinking?
Mother always said I'm the most gifted!
As long as Asgard continues to rise, I'll catch up… and then surpass him.
I will.
Her long black hair whipped about as if casting off her doubts. Her gaze settled on Lothar, who had just landed. Something in her eyes, sharp, competitive, made Lothar blink.
"…?"
"You wanna fight?"
His hair, just returned to black, flared back into brilliant gold as surging energy pressed against Hela's very lungs.
"…"
Get lost!
Just go, damn you!!!
The Princess of Asgard, so used to ruling with ease, felt an overwhelming sense of grievance. She wanted to go home and complain to her mother Frigga, and maybe badmouth Lothar a little, just for that extra bit of moral victory.
Because right now, she couldn't beat him.
Facts were facts.
"Phew…"
"This is impossible…"
"How did you do that?"
Jennifer, still flushed and barely able to stand after having her strength all but drained, staggered upright. Her dazed gaze was full of disbelief.
She'd only had a sip of the broth, just the diluted divinity in the soup base had nearly unraveled her soul.
Lothar? He downed the entire pot. Including the concentrated, purified marrow at the bottom.
"You're just weak," he scoffed, seeing that Hela had no intention of actually fighting. With that, he let the golden light fade, reverting from Super Saiyan 2.
"Woz, can you track Ego's energy signature?"
"Ego? What for?" Jennifer asked, suddenly alert despite her exhaustion, jolting upright at the mention of her ex-lover's name.
"Simple," Lothar said flatly. "I'm going to make him pay."
Lothar had never been one to forgive and forget.
Now that he'd grown stronger, what else would he do but seek revenge?
Let Ego just walk away? After everything?
What's the point of power, then?
If he'd died back then, fine, he'd accept that.
But he didn't die.
And that meant one thing: it's time to settle the score.
Lothar was utterly confident in his new strength.
Hela, however, would've preferred to call it arrogance.
Plain and simple: the man was drunk on power.
She had no doubt.
"Prince Lothar," Woz said, now back in wristband form. A blue holographic screen unfolded before them. "No signal. Ego's tracker is completely offline."
"Maybe," Woz suggested, "you could try a different approach to find him."
Lothar's words sparked something in Hela. She remembered, Ego's core had been injured. His power must be drastically reduced.
And he hit me too, she thought.
If Lothar wanted revenge, maybe she'd reluctantly join in.
Just to… you know, help out.
...
Three days later
A scandalous Ego-themed photo book titled "Unbound Essence" was released to the galaxy, proudly signed by someone calling themselves The Master of Art.
The Grandmaster, devotee of debauchery and cosmic hedonism, fanned the flames by publicly endorsing the release, using his reputation in the interstellar pleasure scene to drive up sales.
He even teased an upcoming "spicier" volume, set to premiere in the gladiatorial arena of Sakaar.
"ARE YOU ****ING KIDDING ME?!"
Somewhere in the cosmos, Ego, not quite as dead and far from secluded as one might hope, was throwing a tantrum.
In his hands was the accursed photo book, featuring himself in scant garb, his masculine allure strategically and tantalizingly posed.
The cover quote, from one of the Grandmaster's sleazy cronies and self-proclaimed expert on intergalactic relations, read:
"A trailblazer shattering cosmic taboos, a man who proves that even males can express sensuality across the stars. He is the symbol of freedom."
Freedom, my ass!!!
"GRANDMASTEEERRRRRR!!!"
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