Two deep gouges scarred the arena floor where Frieza's feet had scraped backward. Smoke rose from his golden form in thin wisps. Kefla's energy barrage had pushed him to his absolute limits—even with his barrier raised, his arms trembled from the strain of blocking.
"Damn... Saiyan..." Frieza's teeth ground together, eyes flashing with pure, incandescent rage.
He roared and launched himself at Kefla, abandoning strategy for raw fury. His eyes promised death—cold, clinical murder dressed in golden light. But Kefla met his killing intent with a fierce grin. No fear. No hesitation. She charged to meet him head-on.
BOOM!
The shockwave from their collision was so violent it caught a nearby fighter at the edge of elimination and simply blasted him off the stage. Collateral damage from gods in conflict.
The two warriors tore through the battlefield, their fight carving a path of destruction. Circular ripples of force spread from each impact, slicing into the ground like invisible blades. The arena floor cracked and fractured beneath them. Neither seemed to notice or care—they were lost in the rhythm of combat, screaming their fury, their voices raw and hoarse like a raging sea battering cliffs.
Hundreds of exchanges. Each one faster, harder, more desperate than the last.
And slowly, inexorably, Frieza began to lose.
His strength couldn't match Kefla's. The fusion warrior's power kept climbing, adapting, overwhelming. A final series of explosive strikes sent Frieza tumbling backward, his body shattering chunks of arena floor. His feet hit the edge—one more step and he'd fall into the void—
A hand seized his tail.
Goku's hand.
Frieza found himself yanked back onto stable ground. He whirled, rage and humiliation warring across his features. "I didn't ASK for your interference!"
Being saved was one thing. Being saved by a Saiyan—by Goku specifically—after losing to another Saiyan? The irony was too bitter to swallow.
"If I didn't help, you'd be eliminated," Goku said simply.
"Hmph." Frieza straightened, trying to salvage his dignity. "I was merely testing her capabilities. Once I unleash my full power, she's nothing but—"
A crimson energy sphere materialized between them, growing rapidly. Frieza's eyes widened and he leaped away from Goku, narrowly avoiding the blast.
Kefla hovered above, her grin feral and wild. She thrust both hands skyward. "Let's see how you handle THIS!"
Dozens—no, hundreds—of red energy spheres manifested around her like a constellation of miniature suns. They hung in the air for one breathless moment, then rained down across the entire battlefield. This wasn't a targeted attack. This was carpet bombing.
"Frieza." Goku's eyes locked onto Kefla, his Saiyan blood singing with excitement. "This opponent's mine."
His hair shifted from black to azure blue, his aura exploding with divine ki. Super Saiyan Blue—no holding back.
Kefla and Frieza operated at similar power levels, true. But Kefla possessed Saiyan biology—the ability to adapt mid-battle, to grow stronger through combat, to never tire. In a prolonged fight, Golden Frieza's stamina limitations would become fatal weaknesses.
But Goku had perfected his Super Saiyan Blue transformation. Full Power Blue exceeded both Kefla's current peak and Frieza's golden form.
"Are you suggesting I'm inadequate?" Frieza's voice dripped venom.
"That's not what I—"
"GOKU!" Vegeta's warning cut through everything. "BEHIND YOU!"
The shout wasn't about Kefla's energy bombardment. It was about the two figures closing in at terrifying speed—the robed warrior from Universe One and Jiren from Universe Eleven.
They'd finally moved.
Goku's instincts screamed danger. His eyes tracked both fighters' trajectories, and in his peripheral vision he caught the white-haired warrior from Universe Twelve also converging on their position.
Kefla's overwhelming display had triggered a chain reaction. Every powerhouse still in the tournament—fighters who'd been conserving energy, waiting for the right moment—had decided that moment was now.
Truly powerful warriors disdained fighting weaklings. But Kefla had proven herself worthy. Her strength had crossed the threshold into divine territory—not through technique or godly ki, but through sheer, overwhelming power.
"Goku!" Vegeta transformed into Super Saiyan Blue as well, sweeping aside Kefla's energy spheres with waves of azure ki. "It's time! No more holding back!"
He'd also perfected Full Power Blue. The endgame had arrived—time to show their true capabilities.
In the stands, Raditz leaned forward, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched the convergence. Every muscle in his body was tense. "Whis. The warrior from Universe One and Twelve—who are they exactly?"
"The robed warrior from Universe One is Shazazero," Whis explained, his tone carrying unusual gravity. "He's Lord Iwan's twin brother. Both were originally candidates for God of Destruction, but Shazazero declined the position to continue his martial arts training." The angel's staff glowed softly. "As for Universe Twelve's fighter—that's Casserale. A warrior who's been training in Hell for thousands of years. Perhaps longer."
The God of Destruction's brother? Raditz's blood ran cold. A Hell-trained martial artist who's lived for millennia?
His initial assessment had been correct—these two were genuine threats. Especially Shazazero. Anyone qualified to become a God of Destruction had to possess divine-level strength.
Even with Goku at his peak, this was dangerous.
Then Raditz noticed something that made his stomach drop. Jiren was moving faster than Shazazero. Only by half a step—a seemingly insignificant margin—but in combat at this level, half a step might as well be an eternity. And the gap wasn't closing. If anything, Jiren was pulling ahead.
Kefla saw them coming. Her grin widened. "BRING IT ON!"
She gathered all her accumulated energy into a single point, then released it in a massive sphere. The attack grew to half a person's height, surging forward like an erupting volcano—molten power made manifest.
Jiren and Shazazero didn't slow down. They charged directly into the tidal wave of destructive energy, their bodies cutting through ki blasts like arrows through rain. They moved faster with each step, as if racing each other to reach Kefla first.
Goku accelerated to join them. Vegeta and Frieza launched themselves into pursuit moments later.
For the first time since achieving fusion, Kefla felt genuine pressure. Her attacks weren't working. These two warriors—the bald one with impossibly wide eyes and the robed martial artist—they were ignoring her bombardment. Their physical presence alone created suffocating force that made the air thick.
Jiren's eyes seemed to burn with inner fire. His expression carried inexplicable weight—not arrogance, not anger, just absolute certainty.
"Your time ends here," Jiren said, his voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere.
He raised one fist. The motion looked almost lazy—unhurried, casual, as if he had all the time in the universe.
But his punch transcended perception.
It was faster than Kefla's enhanced reflexes. Faster than Shazazero, who'd been running neck-and-neck with him. Faster than Hit's Time-Skip, which had seemed instantaneous. The attack existed in a space beyond normal causality.
Kefla tried to dodge. Left—no, the punch was already there. Right—the attack had predicted that too. Up, down, backward—it didn't matter. Jiren's single punch somehow contained infinite variations, blocking every possible escape route simultaneously.
Impossible—
BOOM.
Every eye in the arena locked onto that moment. Jiren's fist connected with Kefla's abdomen. The impact created a shockwave visible as a perfect sphere of compressed air. Kefla's bombardment—her dozens of energy attacks still hanging in the air—simply ceased to exist, snuffed out by the overwhelming force.
The fusion warrior's body folded around Jiren's knuckles. Then she was launched—not just thrown, but propelled with such force that her trajectory drew a perfect arc across the World of Void.
She sailed over the edge and plummeted into darkness.
Hit materialized from dimensional space at the arena's edge, one foot braced on the precipice. He'd tried to intercept with Time-Skip, tried to save Universe Six's ace.
He was exactly one second too late.
Jiren landed softly, his expression unchanged. Shazazero touched down behind him—half a step late, just as he'd been throughout the entire charge. Goku, Vegeta, and Frieza skidded to stops, still approaching. Hit stepped back from the edge, empty-handed, his perpetual calm cracked by the faintest flicker of frustration.
The white-haired Casserale from Universe Twelve continued his approach, converging on the gathering.
Across the arena—in every universe's spectator section—gods and angels held their breath. Swallowed hard. This scene, this moment, marked the tournament's true turning point.
The scattered battles were over. The strongest fighters had assembled in one place.
Almost every top-tier warrior remained in the tournament stood in this space: Jiren. Shazazero. Goku. Vegeta. Frieza. Hit. Casserale. And in the distance, Broly still rampaged while other powerful fighters like Gohan and Toppo fought their own battles.
They studied each other. Calculated threat levels. Measured killing intent. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken challenge.
In Universe Six's spectator section, Kefla materialized—defused back into Caulifla and Kale, both unconscious. Champa gritted his teeth, regret and frustration warring across his features. But he didn't blame them. How could he? They'd done everything possible.
His universe now teetered on elimination. One of their two aces had fallen. Only Hit remained to hold their hopes together.
But the competition...
Champa's eyes swept across the gathered powerhouses. Too many. Too strong. Who could possibly survive when titans like these began fighting in earnest?
Universe Eleven's section erupted with barely contained glee. Their God of Destruction wore a smug expression, savoring the horrified looks from other divine observers.
"With Jiren fighting seriously?" The deity's laugh was insufferable. "Victory is already assured. We need only watch him claim what's rightfully ours."