The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the distant cityscape. Towers of glass and steel shimmered like polished gemstones, and tiny figures—humans—bustled about in their usual, hurried manner. From his vantage point atop a jagged rock formation miles away, Beerus watched with mild curiosity, arms crossed over his chest. His golden eyes, sharp and unblinking, followed the chaotic movements below as if studying ants scurrying to and fro.

The wind whispered past his tall, pointed ears, rustling the loose ends of his blue-and-gold Egyptian garb. His tail flicked lazily behind him, the only hint of movement from the otherwise statuesque figure. He observed their lives with a sense of detached amusement—humans and their unyielding busyness, always moving, always building, always surviving, yet blissfully unaware of how fragile their existence truly was.

A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "All that rushing about," he murmured to himself, his voice a smooth blend of indifference and latent power. "As if any of it matters in the grand design." His gaze shifted, locking onto a cluster of children playing in a park, their laughter rising faintly even from this distance. Beerus tilted his head, ears twitching slightly. Their joy was...peculiar. So simple, yet so genuine.

He exhaled slowly, the breath leaving his thin, hairless frame with a whisper of disdain. "I wonder," he mused, his tone dripping with casual menace, "how quickly that joy would vanish if I simply willed it." His fingers flexed, the promise of devastation dancing at his fingertips. But he didn't move. He simply watched, eyes half-lidded with that eternal calm that belied his status as a God of Destruction.

After a moment, he raised his hand and examined it as if appraising its potential. His smirk grew, and he chuckled under his breath. "Not today," he decided, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Let them have their fun...for now."

He turned away from the city, tail flicking with idle satisfaction. The day was still young, and his patience—however thin—had yet to wear out. For now, the mortals would continue their busy little lives, blissfully unaware that the God of Destruction had spared them on a mere whim.