Blood ran down both warriors—thick green from Gast's Namekian veins, and deep crimson-black from Cell's engineered perfection. Their breathing was ragged, but the gleam in their eyes told the universe the truth: this fight was far from over.
Cell hovered in midair, panting, but smiling like a lunatic. His body was fractured, cracks glowing molten red as if magma ran under his bio-engineered skin. Yet every tremor of his limbs carried unimaginable strength.
"Kaioken… x… TWO THOUSAND!"
The explosion wasn't just sound—it was pure devastation. The crimson flare didn't merely burn; it consumed the spectrum, dyeing the shattered coliseum in blood-red brilliance. The force of his aura ripped meteors from the void and sent them spiraling like leaves in a storm.
"He's going higher?!" Krillin (Timeline 9) gripped the railing, his voice cracking. His bald head gleamed with sweat. "This is insane—his body should have exploded a thousand times over!"
Tien's third eye narrowed, tracking every twitch of Cell's movements. "It's his regeneration. He's destroying and rebuilding his body in real time. That's how he's surviving this multiplier…" He clenched his fists. "But even with Kaioken x2,000… the strain… this is madness."
Launch, sitting behind them, muttered nervously, flipping a revolver in her lap. "You guys call that madness? I call that a walking apocalypse."
Gast's Resolve
Across the battlefield, Gast floated with his arms extended, veins bulging as emerald energy spiraled upward like an ancient dragon's breath. His skin darkened to a deeper green as mystic symbols appeared across his chest and arms, glowing like carved scars. His antennae flickered with lightning.
"Cell… you adapt too well," Gast admitted, voice calm yet heavy, vibrating like the echo of a planet's core. "I underestimated the arrogance of science."
Cell smirked, eyes glowing like two molten suns. "And I underestimated the desperation of a dying race." His grin widened, blood dripping from his mouth. "You've given me everything I wanted, Gast. Pain… evolution… and the thrill of breaking past my design."
Gast closed his eyes for a breath. "Then let us finish this."
He slammed his palms together.
"Grand Fission Cannon!!"
A colossal beam spiraled out, wide enough to erase a moon, its energy so dense it bent light and sound into silence.
Cell grinned savagely. "You're not the only one with toys."
His aura collapsed inward, condensing into an obsidian-black sphere thrumming with crimson veins. His hands shook as he forced his unstable energy into a single devastating mass.
"Omega Death Kamehameha!!"
When the two beams met, the universe screamed.
Shockwaves and Screams
The shockwave didn't just rattle the stadium; it tore at reality. Spectators clung to the indestructible railings, their teeth chattering as gravitational distortions twisted their senses. The Angels raised their hands in unison, reinforcing the barrier before the wave could annihilate half the multiverse.
Bulma (Timeline 1) gripped Chi-Chi's arm so hard her nails dug in. "My god… Gohan's match wasn't even CLOSE to this scale…"
Chi-Chi's face was pale, trembling. "If that monster—Cell—had been around in our time…" She couldn't finish the sentence.
Over with the Saiyan Empire, Bardock tilted his head, eyes sharp with warrior's hunger. "Hmph. That bug's got spirit. But the Namekian… the way he fights…" He smirked. "He's not breaking. Not yet."
Raditz grinned savagely. "Still think Vegito's untouchable, huh? After THIS?!"
King Vegeta, arms crossed, eyes glinting, replied coldly, "Neither of them touch Vegito. But this…" He leaned forward slightly. "…this is the closest I've seen to something worth fearing."
Turles, lounging in his seat with a smirk, chuckled low. "Hah. And here I thought this Namekian would bore me. Guess I was wrong." Taizo sat beside him, arms folded, watching in silence. His sharp eyes weren't admiring—they were calculating.
The Clash Breaks the World
The twin beams erupted in a cataclysm that shattered the remaining platforms. The Angels strained to keep the barrier sealed as mountains of debris spiraled like confetti, gravity buckling under the collision of ultimate techniques.
Gast pushed harder, every muscle swelling, his emerald glow burning white-hot. His teeth clenched, veins pulsing like vines. Across from him, Cell roared like a demon ascending beyond godhood, his crimson aura exploding outward in chaotic tendrils.
For a moment—just a heartbeat—they were even.
Then the beams detonated.
A second sun bloomed in the arena, erasing everything in pure annihilation. Silence followed for a single breath before the roar hit—a shockwave so vast it flung fragments of the coliseum into other dimensions.
Both Warriors: Laughing
Out of the smoke, two figures emerged—broken, bleeding, burned, but still alive. Their skin peeled in places, exposing raw muscle and glowing ki beneath. Gast's arm hung limply, shattered from the force. Cell's chest was a cavern of molten wounds, yet his grin hadn't faded.
He staggered forward, Kaioken still blazing like a scarlet inferno. "Gast… look at me…" His voice was ragged, animalistic. "I'm becoming something beyond perfection. This… THIS IS WHAT I WAS MADE FOR!!"
Gast's single eye opened, glowing like a green star. "Then die… perfect."
Unleashing Everything
The next exchanges were pure savagery. No techniques. No elegance. Just flesh, bone, and raw ki ripping reality apart. Every punch sent thunderclaps across the arena, shattering space like glass. Their regeneration couldn't keep up anymore—chunks of flesh flew, blood spraying across shattered tiles.
Cell laughed even as Gast's fist caved his jaw, regenerating mid-blow to counter with an elbow that cracked Gast's skull. Gast retaliated by tearing one of Cell's arms clean off and using it as a club before Cell grew two more and impaled him through the chest.
Spectators were horrified. Launch covered her mouth. "They're… they're not even fighters anymore. They're monsters."
Yamcha swallowed hard. "No… they're beyond that. They're demons wearing gods' skin."
Even Broly—sitting hunched forward like a caged beast—watched with something between awe and hunger. His lips curled into a savage grin. "Yes… YES… SHOW ME MORE!!"
Beside him, Vegito didn't blink. His face was cold, unreadable—but inside, his pulse thundered. Impressive… he thought. But not enough.
Baby Vegito Black smirked faintly from his solitary spot, his red eyes glinting like dying suns. "All this noise… and for what? Pathetic."
The Final Stand
Gast staggered back, his entire body trembling. His wounds refused to close fast enough. He raised his hands one last time, ki spiraling into an emerald tornado behind him.
Cell crouched low, his crimson aura raging uncontrollably, chunks of skin peeling like molten bark. His grin was wild, eyes glowing with madness. "One last dance… Namekian."
They moved.
The Last Collision
No words. No time. Just motion faster than thought. Their fists met—and the explosion that followed was beyond sound, beyond sight, beyond comprehension. For an instant, the universe went blind.
When the light died… two broken figures lay crumpled on what remained of the arena. Neither moved.
The crowd held its breath. Silence deeper than space.
Then—Cell twitched. A faint smirk on his torn lips. Gast stirred an instant later, his eye barely open. They were both… alive.
The announcer hesitated, sweat pouring down his face. "I… I think this is a—"
He stopped. Because Cell's body… flickered.
Pieces of him dissolved into black mist. His ki signature… vanished. Completely.
"W-Wha—where did he go?!" Krillin jumped up, panic in his voice. "He was just THERE!"
Gast lay still, barely conscious, his single thought echoing: This… isn't over.
The announcer gulped, voice trembling:
"By… by rule of elimination… Gast of Timeline Seven… is the WINNER!!"
The stadium erupted in chaos. Questions flew. Screams. Cheers. Fear.
Vegito stood slowly, eyes sharp. "That wasn't Instant Transmission," he murmured, voice low. "Someone… moved him." (And for some reason he did a Weird smiled as If he knew)
Baby Vegito Black chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh… this game just got interesting."
Broly's grin widened, feral. Future Gohan tightened his fists, sweat dripping down his brow. Bardock spat to the side. Turles smirked.
Here we go.
The arena was still trembling from the Cell vs Gast apocalypse. Smoke clung to the shattered tiles like ghosts refusing to leave, and the spectators—fighters and families alike—remained on edge. The angels had restored the arena's platforms with a wave, but the memory of that cataclysm lingered in everyone's bones.
Then the announcer's voice, bold but trembling with excitement, pierced the silence:
"Next match… Match Twelve! Goku of Timeline One… versus Turles of Timeline Ten!"
For a moment, the arena pulsed with whispers. The name alone made warriors lean forward.
Turles. The rogue Saiyan emperor, conqueror of countless worlds. The man who took the concept of power and forged an empire from it. And opposite him: Son Goku, the eternal warrior, smiling under pressure like it was breakfast time.
Bulma (Timeline 1) folded her arms, eyes flicking between the ring and her husband Vegeta.
"This is going to be a mess. That guy looks just like you used to—minus the sense of humor."
Vegeta smirked, chin tilted. "Turles… he reeks of ambition. It'll make him sloppy."
Chi-Chi wrung her hands. "Goku better not get reckless. Why does he always have to fight monsters like this?"
Across the stands, Bardock (Timeline 5)'s scarred face was unreadable, but his clenched fists told the story.
"Kakarot… and Turles. Two sons of Saiyan bloodlines. Hmph. Let's see which one drags the other into hell first."
Taizo—Turles' son—stood with arms folded, smirk tugging his lips. "Father won't hold back like against that fusion clown's brat. This is going to be surgical."
From the gods' row, Vegito (Timeline 2)'s lips curved into an entertained grin. "Finally, some real hand-to-hand art before the next slaughter."
And in the shadows, Baby Vegito Black leaned forward just a fraction, red eyes gleaming. Silent. Calculating.
Goku stepped into the ring like he was stepping onto an old friend's porch, smile wide, shoulders relaxed. His orange gi was tattered from his earlier sparring matches, but the weight of his presence—the calm confidence that came from decades of war—made even the strongest feel it in their bones.
Turles arrived opposite him, his cape flowing like black fire, armored chestplate gleaming under the cosmic lights. His tail curled lazily at his waist, a serpent ready to strike.
"So," Turles said, voice smooth like poison silk, "you're the one who threw away his Saiyan birthright… for dirt and friendship."
Goku chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Heh… maybe. But I've had a good time. Guess we'll see whose way of life worked out better, huh?"
Turles tilted his head, lips curling into something between a smile and a snarl. "We will."
The angel dropped his hand. "Begin!"
The sound that followed wasn't an explosion—it was a whisper of death. Both warriors blurred forward, fists clashing in midair with such precision that the shockwave imploded the tiles beneath them. The stands vibrated like the roar of a titan.
Goku grinned, his movements fluid, reactive, always one breath ahead. "Not bad! You've got some speed."
Turles' eyes narrowed as he parried a hook and countered with a bone-crushing knee, which Goku blocked with his forearm.
"Speed means nothing without intent, Kakarot."
They broke apart, vanished, and reappeared with fists colliding so hard the sky cracked like shattered glass. Sparks of pure ki rained across the ring.
Krillin (Timeline 1)'s jaw dropped.
"Goku..he Just keeps growing hu!"
Tien (Timeline 9) squinted, veins bulging in his temple.
"Their footwork… their timing. It's clean. Too clean. Turles fights like he's dissecting him."
Bojack, lounging on a floating rock, smirked.
"Hmph. Kid gloves. When the teeth come out, someone's losing a limb."
From Timeline 8, Frieza chuckled behind his hand, golden eyes glittering.
"Two monkeys dancing. At least it's entertaining."
Vegito whispered under his breath, lips curling:
"Turles isn't just brute force… he's reading Goku like a damn book."
Back in the ring, Goku ducked a devastating right and countered with a rib-shattering elbow that made Turles' body bend like steel under strain. Turles grunted but grinned, twisting midair and driving his heel into Goku's spine with surgical precision.
Goku crashed into the tiles, crater blooming under his body—then shot out like a cannonball, grinning wide.
"You hit hard! You've been training a lot, huh?"
Turles hovered above, aura crackling faintly. "Conquering makes for good cardio."
Both warriors floated opposite each other, eyes blazing with unspoken promises. The crowd went silent, every soul knowing what was coming next.
Goku's grin softened into something sharper. "Guess I gotta take you serious now."
Turles' smirk widened, tail flicking like a predator's lash. "Don't keep me waiting."
The air turned gold.
In an instant, two pillars of light erupted, shredding the calm like divine swords. Goku's aura roared, brilliant gold, the stadium basking in the infernal glow of his Super Saiyan form. His hair shot up like a crown of fire, eyes emerald and fierce.
Turles' transformation was darker—a jagged storm of energy, primal and vicious. His hair blazed gold too, but his aura flickered black at the edges, a mutation born of his corrupted Saiyan physiology.
The shockwave alone sent entire rows of spectators bracing, weaker fighters coughing blood just from the pressure.
Yamcha (Timeline 9) whistled low.
"Super Saiyan already? Sheesh, they're not messing around."
Bardock smirked, fists tightening.
"That's it, Kakarot. Show him what a real warrior looks like."
Broly, far above in the stands, tilted his head slightly, muscles tensing as a grin tugged his lips.
"Last Fight was better."
And Baby Vegito Black? He barely blinked, but his lips twitched—an expression unreadable, Pure boredom.
They clashed—and the universe screamed.
Tiles melted under stray ki sparks. Each kick shattered sound itself.
Goku roared, launching a barrage of blows that blurred into golden arcs of death. Turles absorbed them with terrifying efficiency, countering with savage elbows and precision strikes to pressure points.
Goku laughed mid-fight, even as blood trickled from his lip.
"Man—you fight like Vegeta, but meaner."
Turles sneered, veins bulging at his temples.
"And you fight like a clown. Let's see if you laugh when your bones snap."
He vanished—appearing above Goku with a crushing axe kick, sending him plummeting like a meteor. The ring shattered again, smoke devouring the floor.
From the crowd, Raditz (Timeline 5) was on his feet, roaring:
"YES! BREAK HIM, TURLES! BREAK HIM!"
Chi-Chi covered her mouth, trembling.
"Goku… oh no…"
Vegito, arms folded, eyes razor sharp, muttered:
"Turles' output isn't wild like Broly's. It's controlled—efficient. That's dangerous."
Future Gohan, quiet but burning inside, clenched his fists.
"Dad… don't you dare lose."
The smoke cleared—and Goku stood, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning wider than ever.
"Okay. You're strong. I like that."
Turles floated down, eyes like molten gold. "I'm not done. Neither are you."
And then… it happened.
Their auras spiked violently. Gold darkened. Lightning crawled like serpents across their bodies. The ground split like a screaming wound as the barrier shuddered under the pressure.
Super Saiyan 2.
The crowd erupted into chaos. Some cheered. Others simply stared, their hearts breaking under the weight of power they could never touch.
Goku's hair blazed brighter, electricity snapping like divine whips. His smile sharpened into something feral.
"Now this is a fight!"
Turles tilted his head, aura whipping into a cyclone, voice dripping venom:
"It was always going to be."
They lunged.