The battlefield quaked beneath the fury of four separate duels. The air itself seemed to bend under the pressure of unleashed ki, shockwaves spiraling outward like thunder made visible.
Razor darted forward first, a blazing comet of golden light, his aura tearing through the air with a crackling roar. Across from him, Duragon stood like an immovable monolith, his crimson greatsword resting on his shoulder, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
The first collision was deafening. Razor's fist met the flat of Duragon's blade, the impact splitting the ground beneath their feet into a crater.
Duragon's expression didn't change. He swung his sword with a speed unnatural for its size, forcing Razor to duck and counter with a swift kick to the ribs. The sound echoed like a cannon blast, but Duragon only staggered slightly before bringing the greatsword down again.
"His strength… it's unreal," Razor thought, gritting his teeth as the sword missed him by inches and carved a fissure through the ground that stretched for miles.
He shot forward again, faster this time. His movements grew sharper, more instinctive. At first, Duragon had overwhelmed him — every clash pushed Razor back, every swing of that massive blade carried enough force to rupture the air itself. But with each exchange, Razor's eyes began to narrow, studying, adapting.
Duragon's attacks had rhythm — heavy swings with precise control, like a soldier trained for centuries in the art of destruction. Razor began to sense the timing, weaving between slashes, his counterstrikes becoming more refined.
Their battle became a blur of gold and scarlet. Fist met metal, metal met ki, and both shattered the ground again and again.
Duragon blocked another punch with the flat of his sword and drove his knee into Razor's gut, sending him crashing into a mountain ridge. But instead of staying down, Razor burst out of the rubble, lightning crackling around his body.
A smirk curved his lips. "You hit harder than anyone I've met. But if you think power alone can stop me—you're mistaken."
Duragon said nothing, but his eyes glowed faintly, as if acknowledging the challenge.
Meanwhile, Goku's battle raged nearby. He and Korvus collided again and again, their blows creating rings of compressed air that rippled through the sky.
Korvus fought like a brawler — pure, feral strength, with each hit shaking Goku's bones. His muscles bulged, veins glowing faintly with power, but there was no technique behind his brutality.
Goku grinned mid-fight. "You remind me of Nappa—if he'd actually been worth fighting."
Korvus roared, lunging forward with a double-handed strike that shattered the ground. Goku leapt back, his aura flaring brighter. He was studying, testing limits.
He's strong… maybe a bit stronger than me… but not much smarter, Goku thought. That gives me the edge.
Goku feinted left, vanished, and reappeared above Korvus, slamming a heavy kick into his jaw. Korvus stumbled, spitting blood, but grinned — enjoying the challenge.
Their battle continued like a storm, raw power against experience, neither side holding back.
On another front, Vegeta's eyes darted rapidly, tracking the swift and elusive Veyra. Her shadow bent unnaturally with each move she made, twisting into sharp, blade-like tendrils that lunged from every direction.
"Tch. Tricks and illusions," Vegeta muttered, blocking one of the shadow strikes with his forearm before countering with a precise energy blast that sliced through the ground.
Veyra's voice echoed from all directions — cold and detached. "You can't hit what you can't see, Saiyan Prince."
"Then I'll just destroy everything until I do!" Vegeta roared, sending a barrage of rapid-fire ki blasts into the surrounding terrain. Each explosion lit up the shadows, and for a brief instant, Veyra's form flickered.
Vegeta smirked. Got you.
He vanished and appeared behind her, landing a devastating elbow strike that sent her tumbling through the air. But even as she fell, her shadow swallowed her whole, and she vanished again.
Vegeta scowled. "You can hide, but you can't escape my power forever."
Still, in his mind, he was calculating — her ability relied on light and angles. Once he disrupted those conditions, her advantage would crumble.
Gohan's fight, in contrast, was almost clinical. Myra, with her telekinesis, constantly hurled debris, twisted energy, and invisible waves meant to bind his limbs or disrupt his flow.
But Gohan was calm, confident. His energy was stable — mature and refined.
When Myra tried to trap him midair, he effortlessly broke free and countered with a focused beam that grazed her shoulder.
She hissed, pain flashing across her face. "How…?"
"Your control is precise," Gohan said, almost sympathetically, "but your power is too scattered. You can't suppress someone who is stronger than you."
He darted forward, his fist slamming into her guard, then spun midair to deliver a kick that sent her crashing into the dirt below.
Gohan hovered above, his aura flaring golden. "Surrender. You're strong — but you aren't winning this one."
Myra's glare only deepened, but her energy wavered.
Piccolo, 17, 16 and the rest of Z Fighters fought of Duragon's army holding them back from providing support or attacking Earth.
Back at the center of the battlefield, the clash between Razor and Duragon reached a new height.
Razor's body was glowing brighter now, every motion sharper, faster. He was no longer being overwhelmed — he was matching Duragon blow for blow.
Duragon parried a barrage of punches with his sword, but Razor ducked under one swing and landed an uppercut that sent the giant warrior staggering back.
For the first time, Duragon smirked — a faint, almost approving grin.
"You adapt quickly, Saiyan."
Razor wiped blood from his lip, grinning back. "That's what we do best."
The next instant, they clashed again. The sheer force of their collision split the clouds above, the shockwave spreading for miles.
Razor's muscles tensed, his power flaring higher with every strike. Duragon was still stronger, but Razor's adaptability — his instinctive evolution in battle — was beginning to narrow the gap.
Each movement became more fluid, his attacks carrying more precision. Duragon's greatsword tore through mountains, but Razor was no longer caught off-guard; he slipped through openings, countering at angles even Duragon didn't expect.
The ground beneath them was now a wasteland of shattered rock and molten earth.
Duragon's blade came down once more, and Razor redirected it with one hand. Sparks of golden energy and scarlet flame erupted between them.
Duragon's eyes widened slightly. Razor's grin widened.
"Guess I'm starting to get the hang of your rhythm."
He pushed forward, his aura exploding like a supernova, forcing Duragon backward with sheer pressure.
For a brief moment, the two warriors stood locked, power clashing in pure physical will — no tricks, no techniques, only strength and adaptation.
Duragon finally pulled back, swinging his sword to create distance, the air screaming around the blade.
Razor exhaled sharply, his energy steady. His blood was boiling, instincts honed sharper than ever.
And once again, their powers collided — gold and crimson lighting up the horizon as the war between them raged on.