Cold's golden fists no longer dented Uub's body the way they had minutes ago. His claws scraped, but they could not break through the storm of black fire and pink lightning. Uub's movements sharpened with every second, as if his body was learning during the fight, adapting, growing.
The boy's crimson eyes burned with something beyond rage now—purpose.
Vegito leaned forward, arms folded, smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was deceptively casual, but his eyes gleamed."Hnh. Look at that. Every breath he takes, he gets stronger. Cold's golden form can't keep up anymore."
Gohan (T2) brow furrowed. "You mean…"
Vegito tilted his head, red aura flickering faintly around him."Right now? Uub's the second-strongest fighter in this whole timeline. If even you fought him, Gohan—you'd die."
Gasps rippled through the stands. Future Gohan clenched his fists.
Down in the arena, King Cold was being unraveled piece by piece. His golden aura flickered, broken, while Uub's storm only grew fiercer. The boy's fists slammed into his ribs, cracking bone, shattering organs. A spinning kick dented Cold's skull, blood pouring down his face.
Cold staggered, wheezing, but Uub was relentless.
The boy leapt, his small hand clamping around the emperor's throat. Fingers like steel dug into flesh, cutting off breath, cutting off hope. Cold clawed at him, golden talons raking, but nothing loosened that grip.
The audience stood frozen as the sight burned itself into history: the mighty emperor, lifted from the ground by the throat, dangling helplessly in the grip of a human child.
Cold's eyes bulged, his body twitching. Purple blood streamed down his chest. His voice cracked, hoarse."N… no… I surrender! I surrender…!"
The words dripped like poison. For the first time in centuries, the king of the Cold Clan begged.
Uub's crimson eyes burned into him, unblinking. His aura flared again, and Cold screamed as his neck cracked. Just before the boy's ki exploded, Cold shrieked louder, trembling in humiliation."I YIELD!"
Silence fell.
The Grand Priest raised a hand, voice calm, absolute."Match Seventeen—victory: Timeline Two, Uub."
Uub's grip loosened, and Cold's body collapsed to the ground like discarded meat. The boy stood over him, chest heaving, aura burning, but eyes sharp and focused.
From the stands, Frieza's tail lashed wildly, teeth bared. Both stared at their father, broken and humiliated, and neither spoke.
The dynasty of the Cold family lay in ruins.
Vegito chuckled, loud enough for all to hear."Heh. So much for the great Cold empire. First Frieza, then Cooler, and now even the mighty King Cold. Guess the bloodline just wasn't built to last."
Beside him, Vegeta smirked, arms folded."Pathetic. All that arrogance, all that talk of royal lineage… and a single boy crushed them. If I were one of them, I'd never show my face again."
Vegito leaned back, grin sharp."Good riddance. Makes room for real warriors."
The dust had not yet settled when the silence broke. The image still burned in every fighter's mind: King Cold, mighty ruler of the Cold Clan, dangling helplessly in the grip of a boy's small, bloodstained hands. The moment his trembling lips had formed the word surrender—the dynasty crumbled.
Frieza's voice erupted from the stands, shrill and venomous, a shriek that cracked with disbelief.
"FATHER! You—how dare you! How could you fall to this… this filthy insect!"
His tail lashed uncontrollably, gouging deep trenches into the stone beneath his feet. His crimson eyes darted to his father's broken form, sprawled and twitching in humiliation on the ruined tiles of the arena.
Beside him, the rest of Timeline 8's warriors stared in mute horror at the spectator stands. General Sorbet's jaw quivered as he clutched the railing. Tagoma's teeth ground so hard blood welled between them. The armored elites of the empire, each a remnant of Cold's dominion, looked not just shocked but wounded, as if their own spines had been snapped in half by proxy.
A soldier finally spoke, voice low, bitter.
"First Cooler… erased like trash. Now Lord Cold, begging like a commoner. If our enemies see this…"
Another spat onto the ground, eyes locked on Uub's blood-soaked body below.
"It's over. The dynasty has no teeth. We are carrion now, and the vultures will come."
Frieza spun on them, his aura snapping violet sparks.
"Silence! You dare call me carrion? I am still Lord Frieza, Emperor of a thousand galaxies! My father's weakness does not stain my throne!"
But the way his voice cracked betrayed the truth. His father's defeat wasn't just a humiliation—it was a death sentence for the Cold name.
Uub turned, his crimson gaze sweeping over the Frieza Force contingent. His body still dripped blood, his red hair burned like fire, the mark glowing sharp on his forehead. He didn't speak, didn't even gesture, but the silent weight of that stare was heavier than any insult. It told them: You are nothing now.
King Cold groaned, clutching his shattered ribs, trying to rise. He lifted one trembling arm toward his son.
"Fr… Frieza… avenge me. Restore… our name."
Frieza's jaw clenched, trembling rage twisting his features. He wanted to scream, to blast the arena apart and erase Uub where he stood. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not under the eyes of Beerus, Whis, the Grand Priest, and twelve timelines' worth of warriors.
He sat down slowly, tail coiling tight around his throne. His silence was louder than rage.
On the opposite side of the arena, the reactions could not have been more different.
Goten leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Did you see that?! He held Cold up like he was nothing! I thought he was done for when Cold went gold, but—bam! He just got stronger again!"
Krillin wiped sweat from his brow, shaking his head. "That kid's terrifying. I trained with him once—just once—and he nearly broke my arm back then. Now? He's leagues past anything human."
Future Trunks exhaled, still staring at the boy. "He's not just strong. He learns as he fights. Every punch… every counter… it was like watching him evolve in real time."
Vegeta smirked, arms folded. "Hmph. At last. A human worth acknowledging."
Vegito continued, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.
"he's.. amazing."
Vegeta snorted. "Don't get soft, Vegito."
Vegito chuckled. "Soft? No. I just know potential when I see it. And that boy's the future of this timeline, No the future of ALL timelines, whether any of us like it or not."
The Grand Priest raised his staff, the arena trembling as the rubble began to repair itself, tiles reforming beneath Uub's battered feet. His voice echoed, serene but commanding.
"Match Seventeen is concluded. Timeline Two advances."
The boy finally let his aura die down, his red hair dimming, his body collapsing to his knees. He was spent, broken, but victorious.
As the attendants whisked Cold's body away, Frieza's gaze followed, his tail lashing slower now, but no less vicious. His whisper slithered out like poison.
"This is not over."
The Grand Priest lifted his staff again, voice ringing out.
"And now, Match Eighteen: Timeline Two's Piccolo… versus Timeline Eight's Slug."
The stadium stirred. Murmurs ran through the crowd like wildfire.
Two green figures stepped forward, mirror images yet warped reflections. Piccolo—tall, stern, his aura sharp and disciplined. Slug—hunched, massive, his skin darkened with age but pulsing with unnatural strength. Their eyes met across the repaired tiles, and the tension thickened immediately.
Trunks leaned to Goten. "This one's… weird. They're both Namekians, but…"
Piccolo's gaze never left his opponent as he adjusted his cloak. "Slug isn't just a Namekian. He's twisted—he's what we could become if we abandoned everything but greed for power."
Slug's grin revealed jagged teeth, his voice like gravel grinding together.
"You dare call me twisted, whelp? I am Super Namek, born of the purest might. You're just a watered-down guardian playing at warrior."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "We'll see."
From the Frieza Empire's corner, Sorbet leaned forward, teeth gritted. "Slug will crush him. He must. After Cold's humiliation, after Frieza's silence—this is our last chance to salvage honor."
But from the other side, Vegeta smirked. "Slug? He's nothing but a bloated Namek who thinks size equals strength. Piccolo will dismantle him piece by piece."
Vegito tilted his head. "Don't underestimate him, Vegeta. Slug's no pushover. But…" He looked down at Piccolo, his voice certain. "…Piccolo isn't the same as the one we knew. He's been fighting above his level this whole tournament, just like Uub. He'll adapt. He'll win."
The Namekians stepped onto the stone, the crowd's murmurs falling into silence as their auras began to rise. One sharp and refined. The other heavy, monstrous.
The dynasty of the Cold family had just been humiliated beyond repair. Now it was the Namekians' turn to decide who among them carried the future.
Piccolo stood tall, lean, every step deliberate. His sharp eyes glowed with quiet intensity. His cloak snapped in the wind of residual ki. Slug lumbered forward, massive, his hunched frame towering, his aura already rippling the tiles beneath his feet. His lips curled into a jagged grin.
The crowd's whispers echoed. Two Namekians. A clash of lineage.
The Grand Priest lowered his staff."Begin."
Slug wasted no time. His fist blurred despite his bulk, carving straight for Piccolo's jaw. The sound cracked through the air. Piccolo raised a single hand, catching it. His arm trembled only slightly, then pushed back. The shockwave splintered the tiles beneath them.
Piccolo's voice was cold."Too slow."
Slug snarled, twisting. His other hand swung down like a hammer. Piccolo ducked, spinning, his leg sweeping across Slug's ankle. The giant staggered, but caught himself, tail whipping toward Piccolo's head. Piccolo tilted, letting it graze past his antenna, then retaliated with a sharp jab to the ribs.
The strike echoed. Slug's grin widened."Not bad. But you'll need more than tricks."
They clashed, fists and claws snapping faster than the eye could follow. Piccolo's blows were surgical, each one placed to interrupt rhythm, to test balance. Slug's were savage, heavy, aiming to overwhelm. Neither landed clean dominance, the fight playing out like a brutal chess match at lightning speed.
Gast leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "This is… real Namekian combat. Not raw power—mind against mind."
Slug's grin twisted cruel. He inhaled deeply, chest swelling. A moment later, he spat a jet of green acid, sizzling through the air. Piccolo side-stepped, but the acid grazed his cloak, dissolving it instantly into ash. The crowd gasped.
Slug's laugh shook the tiles. "I'll melt you to the bone!"
Piccolo blurred forward, but Slug's arm stretched like a whip, wrapping around Piccolo's waist. With a roar, Slug swung him overhead and smashed him into the tiles. The ground cratered. Before Piccolo could recover, Slug's other arm stretched, slamming him again, then again, like a ragdoll.
Krillin's fists clenched in the stands. "Come on, Piccolo!"
Slug reeled him in, tightening his grip, claws digging into Piccolo's flesh. His grin split wide, blood dripping down his fangs."You think you're my equal? You're a pale child compared to a Super Namek."
He drove a knee into Piccolo's stomach, the sound of ribs cracking echoing across the arena. Piccolo spat blood.
Slug lifted him higher. "Beg."
But Piccolo's glare never wavered. His lips parted just enough for words to hiss through."You talk too much."
His arm split—multi-form—and one hand slammed into Slug's face, detonating point-blank with a shockwave of ki. The giant staggered back, howling, his grip loosening. Piccolo flipped midair, landing hard but upright, blood dripping down his chin.
Slug wiped his mouth, chuckling even as purple blood oozed. "Heh… good. You've got spirit."
Piccolo didn't answer. His aura flared, emerald flames licking the ground. He raised two fingers to his forehead. Energy spiraled."Special Beam Cannon!"
The spiral lance shot forward, drilling through the air. Slug roared, crossing his arms, aura flaring gold-green. The beam struck, piercing his shoulder, drilling through. Blood exploded from the wound.
Slug staggered, his regeneration sparking. Flesh knit, but slower.
Vegito smirked in the stands. "Hnh. He figured it out. He's targeting the energy pathways. The body can heal, but when the circuits of ki are torn apart, regeneration lags. Brilliant."
Slug snarled, clutching his wound. "You think you're clever?!"
He raised both hands, energy storming. Dozens of violet orbs swirled, each humming with destructive force. With a roar, he unleashed them, a storm of ki raining down.
Piccolo blurred, weaving between blasts, aura shield shimmering. Still, one struck his leg, detonating, sending him skidding. Slug charged through the storm, fists hammering. Piccolo blocked, countered, redirected—but the giant's sheer bulk pressed him back.
Finally, Slug's claws raked across his chest, tearing cloth and flesh. Piccolo winced but grabbed the wrist, twisting, snapping the joint. Slug screamed, his arm dangling limp.
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "You're not untouchable."
Rage twisted Slug's face. His body swelled grotesquely, muscles ballooning, his frame doubling in size. The ground cracked under his weight. His aura flared dark green, a haze of corruption.
Gohan gasped. "He's… transforming?!"
Gast's eyes narrowed. "He's forcing his body beyond limits. A grotesque version of growth… "
Slug's laugh boomed. "Now… I'll crush you like an insect!"
He swung, each blow like a meteor. Piccolo blocked, but the force was overwhelming. His arms shook, bones creaking. Slug's fist connected, sending him sprawling. The giant stomped down, the arena quaking, barely missing Piccolo as he rolled aside.
Slug stretched both arms, snaring Piccolo mid-dodge, slamming him into the wall. He leaned down, snarling. "This ends now."
But Piccolo smirked through the blood on his lips. "No… it begins now."
His body split—multi-form again—clones erupting around Slug, each glowing. They attacked in unison, fists and kicks striking every joint, every nerve. Slug roared, thrashing, but his massive form left openings. Each blow landed surgical, precise.
The real Piccolo appeared above, two fingers glowing."Special Beam Cannon!"
The spiral beam drilled through Slug's chest, piercing straight through his oversized heart. His body convulsed, blood geysering. He staggered, knees buckling. His regeneration sparked, but faltered, slower and slower.
Piccolo landed softly, calm as ever. "You rely on size and brute force. I rely on mind. That's the difference between us."
Slug groaned, collapsing forward, his body shaking violently. His aura sputtered, then died.
The Grand Priest's voice was final.
"Match Eighteen—victory: Timeline Two, Piccolo."
The stands erupted. The Z Fighters cheered, relief washing over their faces.
Vegeta smirked, arms folded. "As expected. Slug was all bark. Piccolo made him look like a child."
Vegito nodded, his tone more serious. "That's Piccolo for you. Slug never stood a chance, even when it looked like he did."
From Timeline 8's corner, the Frieza Force sat in silence. First Cooler, then Cold, now Slug—all crushed. The humiliation burned. Frieza's tail lashed silently, his eyes fixed on the battlefield, but he said nothing.
Piccolo adjusted his shredded cloak, standing tall, gaze calm but unyielding. He looked at Slug's fallen form one last time, then turned away.