The Grand Priest floated toward the center, his staff lowering slowly until it touched the platform. The whole arena went still — every timeline, every survivor, every god-in-training watching.
A ripple of divine sound moved through the barrier."From sixty-four warriors," Daishinkan said, his voice echoing across universes, "only eight remain."
The staff lit up, and in a swirl of silver and blue, a massive projection of the new bracket appeared high above the arena. Each name shimmered like a constellation, paired by glowing lines of fate.
⚔️ NEW BRACKET — QUARTERFINALS
Match 1: Vegito (Timeline 2) 🆚 Broly (Timeline 4)Match 2: Baby Vegito Black (Timeline 6) 🆚 Bardock (Timeline 5)Match 3: Uub (Timeline 2) 🆚 Future Gohan (Timeline 1)Match 4: Present Gohan (Timeline 1) 🆚 Future Trunks (Timeline 1)
Even the angels guarding the barrier turned their gaze toward the fighters who had made it this far — each radiating a distinct kind of presence.
Daishinkan smiled faintly. "As per divine adjustment," he said, "these pairings were chosen by randomly. A mortal who rose to the heavens. A Saiyan who defied extinction. A fusion that embodies contradiction. A soul reborn from chaos."
He raised one hand, the bracket expanding behind him. "Let the next phase of the Tournament of Timelines begin."
🌠 Crowd Reaction — Across the BenchesTimeline 1 — The Originals
Goku leaned forward, eyes wide at the bracket glowing above, fully healed with a Zenkai on top now."Me against Broly was wild enough," he said with a half-grin, "but Vegito? Can Broly also close the gap with him?."Piccolo shook his head. "You're underestimating that monster. Even a fusion's not safe against him."Bulma was already scanning readings, muttering, "The energy signatures from that matchup… they're absurd. Those two could vaporize half a reality if they aren't careful."Future Gohan sat quietly, staring at his own pairing. Uub… huh. His eyes narrowed. "Guess the student's getting his turn to test the teacher."Present Gohan crossed his arms. "And I'm up against Trunks. That's going to be… different." He half-smiled. "I'll have to fight seriously from the start."
Timeline 2 —
Vegito rose from the bench, stretching his shoulders, smirking at the sky."So they finally want me to play with the berserker," he muttered. "Fine. Let's see how far that monster's evolution can really go."Uub turned toward him, quiet but serious. "If I win against Gohan, I'll meet you in the semifinals."Vegito nodded approvingly. "Good. Don't make it boring."Piccolo from T2 chuckled. "If Vegito gets serious, there won't be much left of the arena."Bulma (T2) crossed her legs, flipping open her scanner. "Good thing it auto regenerates..i have to get that tech."She glanced toward Bulma (T1) across the way and smirked — an unspoken rivalry even between the scientists.
Timeline 4 — The Ruined Empire
Only Broly sat on his bench. Alone. Silent.The light from the bracket flickered across his scarred face, his breathing slow but heavy.He tilted his head, staring at Vegito's name beside his own. His lips curled into a faint grin."Fusion," he muttered. "Let's see if you can scream louder than me."
Timeline 5 — The Saiyan Empire
King Vegeta slammed his fist into the railing. "What kind of madness is this?! Bardock against that corrupted mockery?!"Ruthless Kakarot grinned. "Hah! I want to see that. Bardock'll finally face someone who fights like I do."Bardock himself stood, rolling his shoulders, eyes fixed on the projection. His aura flickered faintly red — residual power from his Super Saiyan 4 form."Baby Vegito Black, huh?" he muttered. "You're not the first god-thing I've broken."Rosan, still recovering, gave a faint smirk. "If you live through that, old man, I'll buy you a drink back home."King Vegeta growled. "If you live through that, I might start calling you lord Bardock."
Timeline 6 — The Dark Fusion
Baby Vegito Black said nothing.He stood at the edge of his bench, eyes narrowed, the faint pink shimmer of his corrupted ki seeping out like mist. His tone was calm, too calm."So they finally want me to fight a Saiyan worth my time."He raised a hand, examining his palm as if already imagining Bardock's skull beneath it."Perfect."
Timeline 7 — The Namekians
Gast sat cross-legged, meditating, still bruised from his loss. He looked up at the new matchups with a faint smile."Balance, huh…"Slug, still being healed, grunted. "Balance my ass. Those monsters aren't mortal."Gast's eyes flickered toward Gohan and Uub. "No… but they remind me of what Namekians used to be. Evolving by trial."
Timeline 9 — The Humans
Roshi Prime exhaled from his seat. "Looks like we're down to the big leagues, eh?"Krillin (T9) laughed nervously. "Big leagues? More like gods ruining a tournament for fun."Tien crossed his arms. "If Vegito and Broly fight at full power, we might not have a ring left."Yamcha leaned back, grinning. "I just hope someone punches that black-haired fusion's face off."Roshi smirked. "Heh. I like your optimism."
As the chatter rippled through the crowd, Daishinkan raised his staff once more.The arena's center glowed gold, resetting the stage — all debris erased, the stone flawless again.
"Rest time ends," he announced, the glow of divine runes spreading outward. "The Quarterfinals begin in three minutes. Prepare yourselves… for the battles that decide the fate of strength itself."
The projection of the bracket rotated slowly above him — eight names still burning like stars in the void.Eight warriors.Eight paths.One truth awaiting at the end.
And as the lights of the arena rose once again, every eye turned toward the platform — waiting for the first names to be called:
Perfect. Cinematic realism it is — grounded, quiet intensity, where power is implied through weight and silence, not exaggeration.
Here's the rewritten Part I – The Walk to the Arena, human-level prose, no AI rhythm, no fanfiction clichés — something that reads like you can hear the sound design.
Grand Priest – "Quarterfinal one. Vegito of Timeline Two versus Broly of Timeline Four."
From the east corridor, Vegito appeared first. His boots touched the polished stone with a sound that was almost delicate. The half-torn gi fluttered behind him, fabric scorched and faded from earlier battles. His hair caught the light—black and gold flickers passing through each strand as though unsure which side of divinity to settle on.
His expression was calm, yet distant. Not arrogance, no tension—
Across from him, from the shadowed entrance, came Broly.
he advanced. The floor almost seemed to shift beneath his weight. Scars crisscrossed his chest and arms—faded but deep, carved by a life that never healed properly. His eyes were green, muted but burning at the edges. His armor hung in pieces, nothing ornamental, everything functional. Each step sounded like an argument against restraint.
When he stopped, the sound died instantly.
Whis tilted his head, fingers idly tracing the length of his staff.
Whis – "Two forms of Power, wouldn't you say? One Eradic, the other… Just."
Beerus barely looked up. His tail twitched once.
Beerus – "Hoping this doesn't end fast."
From the benches, Future Gohan watched without a word. His jaw tightened.
Future Gohan – "I Can only imagine what is like fighting Broly, our Vegito for that master"
Piccolo stood beside him, arms folded.
Piccolo – "Quiet hate is the most dangerous kind."
Goku leaned forward, a faint grin curling at the edge of his mouth.
Goku – "Heh. Haven't seen Vegito look that serious since, Well, Ever."
Vegeta didn't move. His eyes tracked every shift in Broly's muscles.
Vegeta – "He's not angry yet."
From the lower row, Uub sat still, back straight, gaze sharp.
Uub – "Neither's powering up. They're listening to each other's breathing."
Even Baby Vegito Black turned slightly, expression neutral, voice almost soft.
BV Black – "Interesting. One fusion made of balance… facing a creature that rejects it."
The wind shifted.
A slow exhale left Broly's chest, fogging the air for a moment. Vegito mirrored it—shoulders squared, head tilting slightly.
They met at the center.
Broly stopped first. His voice came out low, almost human.
Broly – "You don't carry fear."
Vegito's answer came without pause.
Vegito – "Neither do you."
Bulma exhaled slowly, her fingers still hovering over the scanner on her lap. She looked up at the walkway where Vegito's silhouette began to take shape, the faint blue glow of his aura tracing his frame. A smile ghosted across her lips.
Beside her, Chichi crossed her arms and forced her eyes away from him.
Chichi– "Tch. He better not show off too much."
But her voice wasn't steady. There was a flicker of warmth hiding under the irritation—one she refused to acknowledge.
Goten leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes wide.
Goten – "He's walking like he already won."
His grin widened unconsciously. "Guess that's just Dad times two, huh?"
Krillin chuckled under his breath.
Krillin – "Yeah… but that kind of confidence Can be bad here."
Tien didn't answer right away. His third eye stayed fixed on Vegito's movements, tracing each subtle shift of balance.
Tien – "That's not arrogance. Every step's measured to keep his power still."
He glanced briefly at Uub. "That's the kind of control you've got to learn next."
Uub nodded once, quietly focused.
Uub – "He doesn't need to fight to prove he's strong. Its obvius."
His voice carried a kind of admiration that didn't sound naïve—
Piccolo's arms were folded, but his eyes followed Vegito with rare approval.
Piccolo – "He's past the noise."
Grand Priest – "Begin when ready."
Every sound, every flicker of ki, every breath vanished into the pressure between them.
The air inside the arena bent.
For one long breath, neither warrior moved — only stared. Then Vegito tilted his head, lips curling into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Vegito – "BROLY!!!"
The ground cracked.
Broly roared in answer, voice tearing through the barrier itself.
Broly – "DIE!!!"
They met in the center — an impact so sudden it erased sound for an instant. Pressure exploded outward, forcing the crowd to shield their eyes. The barrier shuddered, fracturing with spiderweb light.
Vegito struck first. His fist blurred into Broly's face before the echo of their collision even finished. Broly flew backward, smashing into the barrier with a roar, denting the invisible wall deep enough to ripple its energy field. But he didn't stop — he *used* it. Like a beast twisting instinct into technique, Broly pushed off the barrier and launched himself back, his whole frame flexing through shockwaves.
Vegito crossed his arms, smiling again — not mockingly, but with a dangerous thrill.
The moment Broly's fist should've crushed his guard, Vegito's image shattered — just afterimages tearing apart in the wake of pure motion.
The real Vegito appeared behind him, heel already driving forward. The kick landed clean, slamming Broly through his own afterimage. Then came the storm — a billion strikes folded into the space of a breath, all hammering Broly's stomach. The air around them rippled like water with each hit.
Blood burst from Broly's mouth in a fine mist. His body convulsed — but his glare didn't break.
Something deep inside him screamed to awaken. Muscles twitched, skin glowing faintly green, energy boiling beneath the surface. But his pride stopped him cold. To transform now… before Vegito even powered up… would be an admission. A surrender.
Broly growled through clenched teeth, one hand clawing over his face — rage shaking him to the bone.
Vegito stood silent, watching, his breathing slow. Then he raised one hand and curled a single finger, motioning him closer. A simple, taunting gesture.
That was enough.
Broly's scream tore through dimensions. Emerald light exploded from his skin, his hair rising and burning into the hue of raw madness. The arena dimmed under the weight of his ki — heavy, thick, alive.
The ground beneath him melted.
He charged. This time the sound came before the movement — a low thunder that rolled like the heartbeat of a storm. Vegito barely had time to cross his forearms before the first punch landed. Sparks of gold and green flashed with every collision as Broly drove him back, strike after strike, too fast for human sight, too heavy for even divine restraint.
Vegito deflected, twisted, sidestepped — each motion precise, surgical. Even as the blows scraped his skin and tore fragments from his armor, his grin never faded.
Vegito – "That's more like it, Broly."
He vanished mid-block — reappearing with a spinning elbow that grazed Broly's jaw, enough to turn his head but not slow him. Broly answered with a backhand that cracked the air, missing by less than an inch. The pressure alone carved a line across Vegito's cheek.
They clashed again — closer now, almost chest to chest, fists colliding so fast their arms seemed like mirrored beams of light.
The sky above the arena flickered with their energy — one golden, one green, weaving into violent halos.
Broly's speed was rising. His rage sharpened his rhythm, each blow finding more purpose, less chaos. But Vegito matched him — reading his timing, adapting, countering by instinct more than thought.
The difference was razor-thin.
Broly pressed forward, veins glowing through his skin. Vegito's smile had faded into focus now — no mockery left, only respect.