"Quarterfinal match one — Vegito, warrior of Timeline Two, versus Rosan, warrior of Timeline Five."
The crowd's noise rippled like thunder as both figures began walking toward the ring.
Vegito came first. He looked almost exactly as he had during the ancient Buu conflict — blue gi with the orange undershirt, white gloves, and a faint confidence in every step. The only difference now was his frame — thicker, sharper, the muscles in his forearms coiled tight, his aura calm but alive like electricity behind glass. His eyes, that signature turquoise, barely even glanced around as he walked. It was as if he'd been here before, and the entire arena was just a rerun he already knew the ending to.
On the opposite side, Rosan emerged from the shadows. He was almost the same height as Vegito — rare for one his age — his frame broad, cut from stone, a monster compressed into the body of a teenager. His hair fell in long, spiked locks that somehow still looked untamed, glinting faintly under the white divine lights even in base form. There was something raw about him — like an unfinished weapon that could still cut clean through steel.
The crowd stilled as both warriors stopped at the center of the ring, mere inches apart.
Rosan's eyes burned red with pride, fury, and something deeper — expectation. He'd been watching Vegito since the start, seen him dismiss King Vegeta without effort, and the memory burned in his chest like acid.
Vegito, by contrast, looked half-awake. He rolled his shoulders once, exhaled slowly through his nose, and tilted his head just slightly to the side, eyes unfocused — almost distant.
That indifference snapped something inside Rosan.
"You're acting like you don't care," Rosan barked, his voice echoing. "What — so when you lose, you can say you were 'trying something else'? Coward."
Vegito blinked once, slowly, as if he'd only now realized the boy was speaking to him.His answer was a single, flat "Hmph."
The silence following that sound was enough to make the gods lean forward in their seats.
Rosan snarled, slamming one foot into the ring. The shockwave cracked the tiles. His aura exploded upward in a brilliant storm of gold — his transformation instantaneous. Lightning coiled around his frame as his hair lifted, lengthening slightly, every muscle tightening into dense, controlled fury.
This wasn't the weak flicker of a first-time transformation. This was a born Saiyan warrior, steeped in battle since birth — Super Saiyan in its purest, most violent form.
"Match… begin."
The Grand Priest's hand dropped, and Rosan was already gone.
He appeared in front of Vegito mid-strike, his fist cutting through air like a bullet. Vegito tilted his head — nothing more — and the punch sailed past his ear.
Rosan followed immediately with a knee aimed at the ribs, a left hook at the temple, then a double spin kick meant to drive Vegito into the ground. Every movement was faster than light, crisp, technically clean — this wasn't a wild brawler.
But Vegito's body moved as if running on an entirely different rhythm. He wasn't blocking — he was absent. Every strike missed him by millimeters, his body weaving through them like he was dancing to a song no one else could hear.
Rosan's frustration deepened. He snarled, forcing power into his strikes. Each hit screamed with sonic pressure, but Vegito just sighed — literally sighed — while leaning back from another punch.
At one point, Vegito even closed his eyes.
Rosan hesitated mid-swing. "You—what the hell are you doing!?"
But Vegito wasn't hearing him. His thoughts had slipped somewhere else entirely.
(How do I even feel that energy again…)(God ki. It's not about rage, or instinct… it's control. Calm inside the storm. But I can't just call it out…)(Maybe… maybe I need to push against something strong enough to break me.)
He turned his head just slightly, the faintest smirk creeping up.(Guess I'll find out the hard way.)
Rosan saw that smirk and mistook it for mockery. His aura spiked violently — bright red sparks now crackling through the golden haze. He shot backward, gathering ki into his right palm, compressing it into a swirling red core.
"Let's see you dodge this!"
He thrust his arm forward.
A massive red beam erupted from his palm, roaring through the air, its heat alone warping the space around it.
Vegito's eyes opened just as it hit him.Only — it didn't.
With one smooth backflip, Vegito's heel met the front of the beam. There was a blinding flash — then the entire wave bent backward, ricocheting into the sky.
The spectators gasped. Even Beerus raised an eyebrow.
Vegito landed lightly on his hands, flipped to his feet, and shot forward, aura igniting in a thin blue shimmer — no transformation, just raw motion.
Rosan barely saw him move.
By the time he raised his guard, Vegito was already there, a single strike away from his throat. Rosan twisted mid-air, dodging by an inch, but the wake of Vegito's punch sent him spinning, his armor tearing at the shoulder.
He caught himself in the air, breathing hard, sweat already forming. His eyes locked back onto Vegito — who hadn't even changed expression.
"Still bored!?" Rosan shouted.
Vegito's answer was calm. "Just… thinking."
"THINKING!?" Rosan screamed. His aura detonated around him again, shaking the entire arena. "You'll regret that!"
He dove, his fist glowing crimson-gold, twisting through the air like a meteor. Vegito raised one hand casually, blocking the strike with his forearm. The resulting shockwave shredded the ground beneath their feet.
Rosan's eyes widened. He blocked it? Effortlessly?
Vegito's tone dropped to a whisper, almost to himself."Not there yet. Still feels… mortal."
Before Rosan could process it, Vegito vanished — reappearing behind him, his voice brushing the boy's ear.
"Try harder."
Rosan spun instantly, swinging with both fists — but Vegito had already slipped through again, weaving between blows with precision so sharp it made Rosan's movements look primitive.
Then, in one seamless motion, Vegito lifted a leg and kicked upward. It wasn't fast — it was clean. A perfect crescent strike that connected with Rosan's jaw and sent him flying back across the ring.
Rosan crashed into the barrier, rebounding mid-air, gritting his teeth as blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His glare turned feral.
He raised both palms, charging another beam — this one far larger, pure red energy pulsing from his skin. The light illuminated the entire coliseum.
Vegito didn't even look up — he simply adjusted his stance, eyes still half-closed.
The crowd watched in silence as the beam fired — a colossal wave of burning red energy, its edges distorting reality itself.
Vegito waited until the last moment, then moved.
His body blurred — not vanishing, just moving faster than the beam could register. He reappeared above it mid-flight, spinning into a mid-air backflip that sent a single shockwave downward — a kick so sharp it split the energy in half.
The red wave tore apart midair, dissolving into two smaller explosions.
Rosan barely avoided one — the other erupted beside him, throwing him off-balance.
By the time he righted himself, Vegito was already there — calm, eyes half-lidded again.
Rosan clenched his teeth. "You're not even trying!"
Vegito tilted his head, almost gently. "You're right. I'm not."
Then his voice dropped, quiet enough that only Rosan could hear:
"But I will."
The ground beneath them cracked as Vegito's aura finally began to stir — faint blue light starting to crawl across his arms like slow lightning veins.
For the first time, Rosan felt it — pressure that didn't explode, but sank.
He gulped. "What… is that?"
Vegito's eyes gleamed. "Me"
And then they moved — both vanishing in the same instant.
⚔️ Vegito (T2) vs Rosan (T5) — Part 2
The dust still hung heavy in the air from their last exchange, thin threads of red energy fading into nothing. The audience barely breathed.
Rosan wiped the blood from his mouth, forcing air into his lungs. He's not even warm yet, he thought bitterly. His knuckles trembled, his aura flaring back up in scattered bursts. Across from him, Vegito stood perfectly still—hands loose at his sides, eyes closed again, the faintest hum of power vibrating from his body.
The silence stretched long enough to feel like defiance. Then, with no warning, Vegito stepped forward. Just one small step—barely a shift of weight. The air rippled.
And in that instant, Rosan's instincts screamed.
Vegito's right fist moved barely an inch—so fast it didn't even register as motion. The shockwave hit like divine thunder.
Rosan was launched across the ring as if ripped from the world itself, smashing shoulder-first into the barrier. The sound—one single boom—echoed across the entire arena. He gasped, body convulsing as his breath left him, coughing a thick spray of blood that shimmered midair before vanishing into the divine dust.
For a heartbeat, it seemed over.
Vegito didn't even look up. His eyes were still closed, expression unmoved. But inside, his focus was somewhere deeper—somewhere chaotic.
Come on. Feel it. That heat that isn't heat. That calm that isn't peace.
His aura flickered—blue, then red, then blue again. His heartbeat quickened, but the energy wouldn't stabilize. It came in sparks, flashes, half-born sensations that tore apart before they could become something real.
He clenched his teeth. The energy was mocking him—so close yet unreachable.
His brows furrowed. A drop of sweat ran down his temple as he muttered low to himself.
"Damn it…"
The air bent around him again, his ki erupting briefly before sputtering. Blue, red, gold—then nothing.
He opened his eyes, finally, staring straight at Rosan. His voice carried across the ring with effortless weight.
"You're truly impressive, Vegeta," he said, and that name—Vegeta—made Rosan's fading consciousness flare with confusion for a second before Vegito finished his thought.
"I admit it. For now… I can't use that form."
The crowd froze. Those words hit like a shot through every corner of the arena.
For some reason, Rosan smiled.
He didn't know what that form was—he didn't even care. All he heard was that the unstoppable warrior standing before him couldn't reach something. That alone felt like victory.
A spark of childish pride lit his features as his aura reignited. "Then I've already won."
He roared. His hair shot upward, golden flame devouring everything around him. It didn't stop there. The light deepened—electric streaks of gold tearing through his aura. His hair lengthened, sharper, wilder, the pressure shaking the divine platform itself.
His roar tore through the air like an explosion.
Super Saiyan 3.
The energy nearly blinded those watching. The sheer rawness of it — uncontrolled, alive, desperate — filled every inch of the ring.
He shot forward again, a blur of light and fury. His speed was monstrous now, his strikes sharp enough to rip the air apart.
But Vegito—
Vegito simply turned his head, eyes cold and focused, body moving with surgical precision.
He dodged everything. Every swing, every kick, every desperate, screaming hit. Not because he was toying with Rosan — but because his body was thinking, searching, feeling.
(How… how am I still locked out? Is this my limit? No… it can't be. I've been beyond this before.)
Rosan screamed again, his aura flaring brighter. He came in low, fist cocked for a final punch — every bit of power he had left behind it.
Vegito's eyes opened wide. Something inside him snapped — not power, but restraint. His expression turned to anger — not at Rosan, but at himself.
"How can I not reach it?!" he roared inwardly. "Did I overestimate myself!? HOW COULD I!?"
He moved.
The sound was less an impact and more a crack in reality itself.
He didn't even punch Rosan — he almost did. His fist stopped a fraction before contact. But the shockwave that erupted from that halt was apocalyptic.
Behind Rosan's head, the angelic barrier fractured. Hairline cracks ran across its surface like lightning splitting glass, the same type of wound that had appeared only once before — during Broly and Vegeta's battle.
The invisible impact sent Rosan spinning backward through the air, his hair snapping back to black, eyes rolling as his consciousness flickered out. His body hit the ground with a thud that shook the stadium.
Silence.
Rosan didn't move. His body twitched once, then went still. His aura vanished completely.
Vegito lowered his hand, his face unreadable. He didn't even seem satisfied — only thoughtful, the edge of frustration still in his eyes.
He whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
"…Still not enough."
Then he turned, walking back toward his bench as the Grand Priest's voice echoed distantly —
"Winner: Vegito of Timeline Two."
Timeline 1 was quiet at first. Goku sat forward, eyes serious. "He didn't even touch him."
Future Gohan nodded slowly. "Can i truly win against him."
Piccolo's voice came low, arms crossed. "And he's still not satisfied. That's the terrifying part."
Bulma's eyes were fixed on the scanner in her hand, the readings burned out completely. "What is this Number?."
Timeline 2, meanwhile, looked more like they were analyzing a weapon test than a match.
Future Trunks exhaled sharply. "That punch—he didn't even connect!"
Piccolo (T2) frowned. "That shockwave cracked the divine barrier. That's supposed to be impossible without god-level energy."
Uub was wide-eyed. "But… didn't he say he couldn't use that form?"
Bulma (T2) finally spoke up, holding her scanner tight. "He's still evolving, his Power just now was almost 50% higher than his last match." She muttered almost nervously.
Timeline 5 was pure chaos.
King Vegeta stood halfway between pride and disbelief. "So that… that's the power of a fusion."
Ruthless Kakarot clenched his jaw. "He didn't even bother finishing the fight properly. That arrogance…"
Bardock stared long at Rosan's motionless body being lifted by attendants. His eyes softened, voice quiet. "That kid… he gave it everything."
Ruthless Vegeta, meanwhile, looked furious. "Rosan… you fool! You thought his interest was weakness?!"
Broly—arms crossed, silent until now—finally muttered, "That Vegito… I Will kill him."
Baby Vegito Black, sitting a few benches away, smirked darkly. "So, the imitation can't yet touch divinity. How predictable." His crimson aura flickered once, like a heartbeat.
Gast, watching carefully, murmured under his breath. "He's on the edge of something dangerous. That kind of instability breaks warriors…"
Android 21, from Timeline 3, had an entirely different reaction. Her eyes glowed faintly pink, circuits tracing through her skin. "That pressure… i Must get him into my hands and drain every ounce of him energy."
Dr. Gero, beside her, scribbled furiously. "If that's true, he's learning faster than data can track. In time i will have that."
And in the midst of all those words, Vegito (T2) sat back down — eyes distant, fists resting on his knees. His breathing was steady, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"I'll reach it. Next match… I'll reach it."