The silence after Champa's blow was unbearable.
Not empty, but accusatory—like the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if what had just happened was allowed to exist.
The solar system they had been standing in collapsed inward on itself, stars folding, light screaming as it died, matter dragged into nothingness by the sheer excess of force.
And yet Frieza did not move.
Then Vados spoke destroying the oppressive silence.
"My lord," she said calmly, her voice cutting through the void with surgical precision, "I am quite certain you have just destroyed their ascension to Godhood."
The words struck Champa harder than any counterattack ever could.
His arm began to tremble. His body shaking as the disbelief settle his root in his Bones.
"V-Vados…" His voice came out thin, small, almost lost. "You're joking. You have to be. That thing—" He pointed at Frieza, finger shaking. "That thing is a mortal¿¿¿. He is freak. A mistake." He swallowed hard.
"No mortal could stands after that."
Vados finally turned her head toward him. There was no anger in her eyes.
No reproach.
Only pity.
"Well then, my lord," she said quietly, "you may wish to reconsider what you believe a mortal is."
Champa followed her gaze.
Frieza was looking at her now.
Not like prey. Not like an enemy.
But like a phenomenon—something rare enough to be studied rather than destroyed.
The next instant, reality tore.
Frieza vanished.
There was no flash. No ripple. No divine technique. Champa didn't even perceive motion—Frieza was simply no longer where he had been. His eyes widened in delayed panic. "Wha—?!"
Only Vados somewhat saw it.
Not speed, but violation. Distance collapsed without permission. Cause failed to precede effect. The universe didn't register movement; it registered arrival.
Frieza was suddenly in front of her.
So close that the space between them ceased to exist.
"Vados—MOVE!" Champa shouted, heart lurching.
Too late.
Frieza raised his hand. Not glowing. Not charged. Not threatening. Open and Inviting.
The sheer audacity of the gesture made the void feel smaller, more fragile.
For the first time in eons, Vados hesitated. Angels did not hesitate.
And yet her fingers trembled—only slightly—as she placed her palm in his.
Contact.
Her breath caught despite herself. His hand was cold like the edge of oblivion, yet beneath it pulsed a terrifying vitality—dense, overwhelming, compressed like a star forced into flesh. It felt wrong.
And disturbingly… right.
Frieza lifted her hand slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers.
When his lips brushed the back of her hand, the act sent a shock through existence—not of power, but of defiance.
A mortal acknowledging an angel. No—something more dangerous.
A challenger greeting an equal.
"And what," he asked smoothly, voice low enough to feel intimate even across the void, "might be the name of such a beautiful angel?"
Vados let out a soft laugh before she could stop herself.
The sound echoed far too loudly in the void. "Vados," she said, forcing composure back into her voice.
Her cheeks—normally untouched by emotion—colored ever so slightly, a faint bloom of light blue beneath porcelain calm.
Frieza smiled.
Interested.
"How exquisite," he murmured. "An angel who still remembers how to feel."
Something cold coiled around Champa's heart. Because in that moment, he finally understood. This wasn't arrogance. This wasn't power.
This was ascension—stolen by force.
Beerus lay broken.
The solar system was gone. And an angel stood faintly flushed before a smiling Absolute demon.
Champa took a step back.
For the first time in his life, a God of Destruction grasped the truth.
They were no longer witnessing a fight.
They were witnessing the end of the hierarchy.
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The perspective shifted.
Far beyond collapsing stars and broken gods, beyond causality and spectacle, the scene unfolded within the Zeno Palace—an expanse of white so absolute it felt unreal, a place where space itself existed only because it was permitted to.
The Grand Priest stood before a vast projection of reality, hands folded behind his back, expression unreadable. Upon the screen, the image was clear: Frieza standing before Vados, lifting her hand, pressing his lips against it with deliberate grace.
A Zeno Guard stiffened beside him.
"Grand Priest," the guard said, voice tight, controlled by discipline more than calm, "are you not going to stop this?"
The Grand Priest did not answer.
The guard pressed on, unease bleeding into his tone. "That mortal has violated multiple cosmic laws. Destruction without authority from a God of Destruction. Direct combat with one. Near-fatal damage inflicted." His jaw clenched. "Whis is not intervening only because of your order. Why?"
Still, the Grand Priest said nothing.
Seconds passed.
Then—quietly, almost gently—he spoke.
"Because we cannot."
The words landed like a fracture in reality.
The guard froze. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing into outrage. "What did you just say?" His voice rose sharply. "How dare you. Do you doubt the King of All, Zeno-sama?"
For the first time, the Grand Priest turned his head—not toward the guard, but slightly, as though acknowledging the question without granting it importance.
"Sense the time and space of this multiverse," he said calmly.
The guard hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he closed his eyes.
One second passed.
Two.
Then his breath hitched.
His eyes snapped open as he staggered backward, legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees, palms striking the pristine floor as though grounding himself against madness.
"No…" he whispered. "No, no, no—how is that possible?"
This was a being who would not flinch if universes were erased like chalk from a board.
Now he was shaking.
The Grand Priest still had not looked at him. His gaze remained fixed on the projection, on Frieza, on the subtle curve of a smile that should not have existed.
"Our multiverse," the Grand Priest said evenly, "is not the within the true totality of existence. It is… isolated."
The guard's breathing turned ragged.
"We are cut off from the greater structure," the Grand Priest continued. "Contained. Sealed. A bubble of reality."
His tone did not change. "A cage I am not certain even Zeno could destroy."
The guard slowly lifted his head, horror visible in his eyes.
"And that same energy," the Grand Priest said at last, voice calm enough to be merciless, "exists within that mortal."
Silence followed.
Not the quiet of peace—but the kind that precedes collapse.
On the screen, Frieza released Vados's hand and smiled faintly, as if aware that he was being spayed upon.
that even here, in the highest seat of creation, something fundamental had just been acknowledged.
The Grand Priest did not blink.
The implications alone were enough to drown a multiverse in chaos.
That their Universe just a play ground for an Higher being.