The void was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Broly and Vegeta drifted among the debris, barely conscious. Their bodies were scorched, cracked, flickering in and out as if reality itself hadn't fully decided whether they were allowed to exist anymore.
Final Oath was gone.
What remained was damage.
Piccolo felt it before he saw it—a wrongness in the air, a hollow pressure in his chest. He snapped his head up, eyes widening.
"They're dying," he said sharply.
Kakarot turned. "What?"
"Their energy isn't stabilizing," Piccolo growled. "It's collapsing. If they stay out there any longer, their bodies won't hold."
Vegeta twitched weakly, fingers curling once before going still.
Broly didn't move at all.
Piccolo didn't hesitate.
"I'm going after them."
The Namekian survivors had salvaged what little technology remained—one pod, barely functional, its hull cracked, its systems flickering. It wasn't meant for deep void travel. It wasn't meant for this.
Piccolo didn't care.
He slammed the hatch shut as alarms screamed to life.
"Hold together," he muttered, gripping the controls. "Just a little longer."
The pod lurched forward, engines coughing, then screaming as it tore into the void.
As Piccolo approached, his heart sank.
Vegeta's aura had completely vanished.
Broly's heartbeat—barely there.
They looked less like warriors now and more like burnt-out stars, drifting remnants of something that once burned impossibly bright.
Piccolo forced the pod closer, ignoring every warning.
"Don't you dare," he growled through clenched teeth. "Not after all that."
He opened the hatch manually, cold nothingness rushing in as gravity failed.
Piccolo leapt.
He grabbed Vegeta first.
The Saiyan prince's body was frighteningly light. Fragile. Piccolo had never felt that before.
"Idiot," Piccolo muttered as he pulled him in. "You always take it too far."
Broly was worse.
His body was burning hot and ice-cold at the same time, energy fluctuating wildly, threatening to tear him apart from the inside.
Piccolo wrapped both arms around him, straining.
"Stay with me," Piccolo said quietly. Not commanding. Not scolding. Almost… pleading.
For a terrifying moment, Broly didn't respond.
Then—barely—
His chest rose.
Once.
Piccolo exhaled shakily.
The pod screamed as Piccolo forced both Saiyans inside, sealing the hatch just as the engines began to fail completely.
Power flickered.
Life support dipped.
Piccolo slammed his fist into the console. "Move!"
The pod lurched—then shot forward, tearing away from the void as debris and dead light swallowed the space behind them.
Inside the pod, it was silent except for alarms and shallow breathing.
Vegeta stirred faintly.
Broly's fingers twitched.
Piccolo slumped back against the wall, exhausted, eyes never leaving them.
"You two shook the universe," he said quietly. "Now you're going to survive it. Whether you like it or not."
Outside the pod, the void closed in again.
But something, far away, watched the pod disappear.
The pod shook violently as it tore through space.
Warning lights flashed red, then dimmed, then flared again. Life-support alarms screamed in uneven bursts, as if even the systems were unsure how long they could function.
Piccolo moved fast.
He dragged Broly and Vegeta onto the narrow recovery platforms, hands steady despite the fear tightening in his chest. Scanners screamed the moment they connected.
"Come on… no, no—" Piccolo muttered.
Vegeta's readings were wrong. Not low—unstable. His energy spiked and collapsed in erratic waves, like a dying star flaring one last time before going dark.
Broly was worse.
His body temperature fluctuated wildly, energy tearing through him in violent surges that had nowhere to go. Final Oath was gone—but its afterimage remained, burning pathways through his body that were never meant to exist.
Piccolo clenched his fists.
"They didn't just push past their limits," he said quietly. "They burned through them."
Vegeta's chest rose slowly. Too slowly.
His fingers twitched, then curled into a fist before relaxing again.
The scanner shrieked.
Piccolo slammed his hand onto the stabilizer controls, flooding Vegeta's system with calming energy. Vegeta's aura flickered weakly, refusing to settle.
"He's fighting it," Piccolo realized. "Even unconscious… he won't let go."
Vegeta's voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
"…Broly…"
Piccolo froze.
"He's alive," Piccolo said firmly, leaning closer. "Focus on breathing. Don't move."
Vegeta's brow tightened in pain. "If he… doesn't make it…"
"You will," Piccolo snapped. "Both of you will."
Broly convulsed suddenly.
The pod lurched as a surge of energy blasted outward, slamming Piccolo into the wall. Alarms spiked instantly.
Broly's eyes flew open—glowing faintly, unfocused, terrified.
"I—can't—stop it—" Broly gasped.
Final Oath residue flared violently around him, lightning tearing across his skin. His body wasn't just injured—it was rejecting its own power.
Piccolo rushed back, gripping Broly's shoulders.
"Listen to me," Piccolo said urgently. "Don't fight it. You don't need to be strong right now."
Broly shook violently. "If I let go… I'll disappear…"
"No," Piccolo said. "You'll live."
Piccolo pressed his palm against Broly's chest, channeling his own energy—steady, controlled, grounded. Namekian energy wrapped around Broly like a binding force, anchoring him.
Slowly—painfully—the surges weakened.
Broly collapsed back onto the platform, gasping.
Piccolo stepped back, breathing hard.
"They survived Final Oath," he said aloud, mostly to himself. "But their bodies weren't meant to hold it. If we don't stabilize them soon…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The pod lights flickered again—then steadied.
Vegeta's breathing evened out slightly.
Broly's energy dropped to a weak, trembling hum.
Alive.
Piccolo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them.
"You two don't even know how close you came," he muttered.
Broly didn't wake up.
He fell.
A scream.
Not his.
Vegeta's voice, raw and breaking: "If we stop—WE DIE!"
Broly's body jerked violently on the recovery platform. The monitors spiked.
Frieza's golden form looming, laughing, cracks spiderwebbing through his aura.
Broly's fists breaking apart as he punched anyway.
Pain. Heat. Cold. Too much.
Vegeta on one knee, blood floating in the void, eyes still burning.
Don't fall. Don't you dare fall.
Broly gasped.
"I—can't—" he whispered, even though his eyes stayed shut.
Piccolo snapped upright, rushing to his side. "Broly. You're safe. You're not there anymore."
The vanish.
Then impact—BOOM—existence screaming as they collided with Frieza one last time.
Broly felt it again: bones cracking, power tearing out of him, the certainty—
If this fails, we die.
His hands clenched so hard the metal beneath him warped.
"No—" Broly rasped. "Don't—let go—"
Piccolo placed both hands on his shoulders, firm, grounding. "Broly. Look at me."
Broly couldn't.
Because—
Vegeta's face, inches from his, battered and desperate.
"If this is it… I'm glad it was you."
Broly's chest hitched violently.
"VEGETA—"
His energy surged, Final Oath's afterimage flaring dangerously. Lightning crackled, uncontrolled.
Alarms screamed.
Piccolo didn't move away.
"You didn't fail," Piccolo said steadily, even as the pod shook. "You finished it. He's alive. You're alive."
The final roar.
Both of them screaming—not power, not rage—survival.
AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Then silence.
Then falling.
Broly's eyes snapped open.
They weren't glowing anymore. They were terrified.
"I felt myself disappear," he said, voice shaking. "Like if I stopped… there'd be nothing left."
Piccolo met his gaze. "That's because you were right on the edge."
Broly swallowed hard. "I don't want to go back there."
"You won't," Piccolo said. "Not alone. Not again."
Broly's breathing slowly steadied.
But his hands still shook.
Because somewhere deep inside him, the fight hadn't ended.
It had embedded itself.