As Piccolo stood tall in his Orange form, Hit's expression sharpened. The atmosphere in the ring grew heavy.
"You can manipulate time," Piccolo said, his voice deep and resonant. "But that power has its limits, doesn't it?"
Piccolo wasn't wrong. Even the most formidable techniques had a breaking point if the gap in raw power or strategy was wide enough.
"Hah!"
Piccolo lunged again, his golden-orange aura trailing behind him. Yet, the result remained the same—he was struck by an invisible force and sent skidding across the tiles.
"Interesting," Piccolo muttered, picking himself up. "I think I see it now."
"Hmph. Empty bravado," Hit countered coldly. "My technique cannot be 'seen.'"
"We'll see about that."
Piccolo attacked once more. Again, he was knocked back. He didn't let up, adjusting his stance and charging back in.
Swoosh!
This time, something changed. Just as Piccolo was about to throw a punch, he flicked his gaze slightly to the left. He pivoted and threw a massive haymaker into seemingly empty space.
"What—?!"
Hit suddenly appeared right in the path of the fist. His eyes widened in shock as he barely managed to phase away, narrowly avoiding the blow.
"I was right," Piccolo said. "Your time manipulation is limited to a specific window."
"Hmph. A lucky guess."
"Is it? Let's find out."
Piccolo pressed the offensive.
BOOM!
A solid hit connected, sending Hit staggering back.
"What?!" Champa jumped out of his seat.
"As expected of Piccolo... he figured it out so quickly," Goku murmured, watching intently.
"Wait, Kakarot, you saw it?" Vegeta looked at Goku with surprise. He hadn't quite grasped the trick yet—how had Goku?
"Yeah. Piccolo isn't reacting to where Hit is," Goku explained. "He's predicting where Hit will be 0.1 seconds into the future and striking that spot."
"I see..."
On the stage, Hit stared at Piccolo's stoic orange face. He was genuinely shaken. "How... how did you do that?"
Piccolo's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Did you really think I'd just hand over my secrets?"
"Fair enough. You truly are a formidable opponent."
Hit dropped into a deeper combat stance.
Flash!
Flash!
The two vanished, reappearing high above the ring.
CLANG!
Their fists collided with a shockwave that rattled the spectator stands. Hit immediately tried to trigger a Time Skip to catch Piccolo off guard, but Piccolo was ready. He twisted his body, evading the invisible strike, and countered with a heavy blow of his own.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Even without relying solely on Time Skip, Hit's raw martial arts prowess was elite. The two became blurs of orange and purple, flickering across the arena. To most of the audience, the fight was a confusing mess of sonic booms and afterimages.
"Incredible," Champa muttered, getting restless. "Vados, this is going to take forever, isn't it?"
He was anxious. Hit was his last fighter. If Hit lost, he'd suffer the ultimate humiliation of losing to Beerus yet again.
"Ho ho ho. No need to worry, Lord Champa," Vados said calmly. "Hit's Time Skip doesn't consume much stamina. The Namekian, however, is different. That transformation is taxing. At this rate, his stamina will run out first."
Suddenly, the momentum shifted. Piccolo was struck squarely in the solar plexus by a punch he didn't see coming. Before he could recover, the force of the blow sent him tumbling out of the ring.
"Out of bounds! Hit is the winner!"
The crowd was silent.
Piccolo stood up, frowning at Hit. "What did you do? I should have seen that coming."
Hit offered a small, respectful nod. "You were predicting my movements at 0.1 seconds. I have to thank you—you pushed me to evolve. My Time Skip has improved. I can now jump 0.2 seconds into the future."
Piccolo sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "I see. No wonder I couldn't react."
"Hmph. Is it finally my turn?" Vegeta stood up, cracking his neck as he prepared to step onto the stage.
"Wait, Vegeta," Bulma interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm going next."
Vegeta froze, looking at her as if she had grown a second head. "You? Going next?"
"That's right," Bulma said confidently. "I want to see how his time manipulation compares to the techniques I've been studying. In exchange, I'll have my husband teach you a transformation you'll definitely be interested in later. Deal?"
Vegeta hesitated. He knew how powerful Turles had become. An "interesting" transformation? Could it be...
"Fine. You go first. But you'd better not be lying to me!"
Turles watched from the side, shaking his head. Bulma really knew how to play Vegeta like a fiddle. He had already planned on teaching the Prince Super Saiyan 5 anyway; Bulma was just using an "information gap" to trick him.
As Bulma walked onto the stage, Beerus blinked in surprise. Wait, why is she going up? Isn't this a bit unfair?
The announcer cleared his throat. "Next match: Hit of Universe 6 versus Bulma of Universe 7!"
Vados let out a soft sigh. "Lord Champa... I'm afraid this match is already over."
"What do you mean?!" Champa barked. "It hasn't even started! Hit can jump 0.2 seconds now!"
"It won't matter," Vados replied gently. "The woman Lord Beerus sent out is a fighter on the level of a God of Destruction. She has reached a complete Divine Realm. Hit's power simply isn't in the same league."
"What?! That... How does Beerus have all the luck?!"
Champa stared at Bulma, finally sensing the terrifying pressure she was suppressing. This woman's strength was comparable to his own. How was he supposed to compete with that?
"Hmph. Beerus, you lucky bastard! I can't believe your universe produced someone like this."
"Heh heh heh. You're the one who proposed this tournament, Champa. Don't blame me for being prepared."
Down in the ring, Hit ignored the banter from the gods. His eyes were locked onto Bulma. Every cell in his body was screaming at him, warning him that the person standing before him was an apex predator—an existence of extreme danger.
This was the instinct of the greatest assassin in Universe 6. He stood in a high-tension guard, cold sweat trickling down his neck as he waited for her to move.
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