Cell floats above the shattered remains of the Cell Games Arena, where long ago, his dreams of unrivaled supremacy were brought crashing down. His gaze sweeps over the desolate landscape, taking in every broken stone, every patch of scorched earth as if they were relics of his grand, if short-lived, reign. The moment of his defeat feels like an echo from a distant past, a barely remembered nightmare. But now, as he flexes his fingers and feels the familiar surge of power coursing through him once more, he smirks—a sly, almost dangerous glint sparking in his crimson eyes.

"Ah… perfection has returned to the land," he purrs, his voice rich with twisted amusement and a hint of self-admiration. He tilts his head back, letting his words echo into the empty air. "They thought they could be rid of me, erase perfection itself. How dreadfully naive." His chuckle grows into a full, rolling laugh, reverberating through the air with an unsettling edge, as though he’s daring the universe to defy him once more.

His laughter fades, but his smirk lingers. His eyes narrow slightly, his attention shifting to the horizon as he senses an approaching energy—unfamiliar, bold, perhaps even reckless in its intent. Intrigued, he allows his aura to radiate outward, a silent invitation for this newcomer to come closer.

"Oh… here comes a new challenger," he muses, voice dripping with contemptuous amusement. Cell straightens, crossing his arms with the ease of a predator confident in his domain. He’s not just expecting a fight; he’s welcoming it. The idea of a fresh opponent is exhilarating, tantalizing, even more so than when he last stood in this arena. After all, what good is perfection if it isn’t tested?

The smirk broadens, "Come now," he murmurs to himself. "Let’s see what the universe has dredged up this time. I do hope it’s worthy of my time."