Whis: "Match Two — Baby Vegito Black of Timeline Six versus Bardock of the Saiyan Empire, Timeline Five."
For a moment, no one spoke. The energy in the arena felt wrong.
From there, he stepped out.
Baby Vegito Black.
At first glance, his frame mirrored Vegito's, but his movements didn't. He walked as if space folded politely for him, each step leaving faint distortions behind. His gi was the color of dusk — charcoal and violet, stitched with silver veins that pulsed faintly, alive. His eyes carried no light; just reflection, like a mirror pretending to be a person.
Piccolo (T1) folded his arms. " Everything around him bends."
Bulma (T2) "His presence fells Very similar to someone like Buu, But with a taint of superiority complex"
Across the opposite gate, Bardock emerged, his boots striking the repaired stone with that same steady rhythm that once led Saiyans to war. His fur-lined tail flicked once, crimson aura already burning faintly around him.
This wasn't the Bardock that fell to Frieza long ago. His body carried the shape of evolution—a deep scar across his chest, eyes sharp as if they'd seen every possible death and refused them all. The crimson fur spreading from his arms to his back glowed under the barrier light. Super Saiyan 4.
King Vegeta (T5) smirked from the royal stand. "Show him what a true Saiyan looks like."
Raditz (T5) grinned wide. "Father doesn't even need a warm-up."
Rosan (T5) whispered, almost reverently. "He's the strongest version of himself… no shadow in any timeline matches that will."
But the others weren't convinced.
Future Gohan (T1) narrowed his eyes. "That other Vegito… he's not alive the same way we are. There's something off in how he exists."
Goku (T1) nodded slowly. "Feels like… a god, Just like Beerus ."
Vegeta (T1): "I Wanted to fight Both of those fusions to see if they are all that."
Inside the ring, the two stopped within meters of each other. Silence stretched thin as wire.
Bardock's voice came low, gravel and resolve.
Bardock "You've got the face of a warrior I respect. Pity it's twisted by something foul."
Baby Vegito Black tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning Bardock like data.
Baby Vegito Black: "Respect. Pride. Such redundant human language. I am the perfected version of them—Saiyan instinct without limitation. You'll be the control sample."
Bardock smirked. "Then let's see how perfect you scream when I hit you."
A ripple of anticipation went through the stands.
Whis raised his staff once more.
"Match Two — begin."
From the stands, Future Bulma adjusted her cracked-lensed scanner, frowning as the readings looped, broke, and recalibrated.
Bulma: "Seventy-four quintillion… base form."
The words left her mouth like a verdict.
A cold murmur ran through every timeline's bench. Even Goku (T1) stopped smiling. Future Gohan turned his head slowly toward Vegeta.
Down below, Bardock's teeth clenched as the invisible weight pressed down on him. His heartbeat seemed to echo louder than the crowd. The crimson light of his Super Saiyan 3 form flickered, instinct already warning him — he couldn't afford hesitation.
He dropped into stance, golden electricity crawling.
Bardock: "Fine. Let's see how far the gap really is."
He erupted forward, no roar, no warning — just motion. The air screamed behind him, light bending at his back. Long Golden Hair
Super Saiyan 3
Baby Vegito Black didn't move. His eyes were closed, his arms still folded behind him as if in prayer.
Bardock's fist slammed into his chest. The sound alone fractured the ground, sent cracks spiraling to the barrier, and hurled shockwaves through the stands.
Nothing.
The impact didn't even sway him. Baby Vegito's head tilted slightly, eyelids lifting in slow precision until the faint violet of his pupils met Bardock's eyes. That was when Bardock's blood froze.
A smile — faint, calm, and wrong.
Baby Vegito Black: "Do you see now, mortal? The absurd gap between us. Despair beneath the weight of reality."
Still with his hands clasped behind his back, he shifted — a single, perfect rotation. His right leg swung upward in a seamless arc.
A 180-degree back kick connected squarely with Bardock's Forehead.
The sound was clean, sharp — a thunderclap folded into silence.
Bardock vanished — no streak of light, no afterimage — then a moment later, the barrier screamed, flashing white as his body struck it hard enough to rattle the foundations of the arena.
He dropped to one knee, blood tracing down the side of his face, fur torn where the kick had landed. His breathing came rough, teeth gritted tight against the pain. That single hit had nearly cracked his equilibrium.
King Vegeta (T5): "Bardock!"
Raditz: "No way—one strike?"
Goku (T1) said nothing, eyes fixed.
Inside the ring, Bardock rose again, body trembling but gaze unwavering. His tail bristled; his aura flared so violently the stone beneath him glowed red-hot.
Bardock: "You talk about despair, god… Fine. Let's see how you handle the strongest of saiyans"
The air behind him exploded as his power surged, gold lightning tearing through the crimson glow. His hair spiked higher, veins burning with energy.
Baby Vegito Black watched, expression still carved from marble. His eyes, however, gleamed brighter now — not with interest, but recognition.
Bardock exploded forward, faster than sight, his fists a blur of primal fury. The same opening combination he once used to beat Ruthless Vegeta — an overhead feint, a gut hook, two rising elbows, and a hammer kick that could tear apart mountains.
Every strike landed. Every impact echoed.
And yet—Baby Vegito Black didn't budge.
Each hit met something that wasn't resistance, but reality itself bending around him. Bardock's blows simply… vanished the instant they connected, swallowed by pressure too dense to define.
His own knuckles screamed from the recoil. His breath shortened.
Bardock stumbled back half a step, frustration boiling in his throat. Without thought, he thrust both hands forward — an instinct more than a technique. Blue-white ki erupted from his palms, pure, wild, a beam that tore open the ground in a burning path straight toward Baby Vegito Black.
The godling's eyes opened.
No gesture. No aura.
Just his gaze.
The beam dissolved the instant it reached him — unwound molecule by molecule until only air remained. The silence after was louder than any explosion.
Bardock froze, pupils narrowing.
His voice was barely a whisper, half shock, half grim amusement.
Bardock: "I guess… I'll have to try that again."
Up in the stands, Ruthless Vegeta (T5) leaned forward, recognizing the shift in Bardock's stance, the way his muscles tightened.
Ruthless Vegeta: "He's gonna do it again… he's really gonna do it."
Below, Bardock's aura flared wild, his control slipping under the rush of fury and instinct. The gold lightning snapped red, his hair shifting shade by shade, the fur along his arms and chest darkening to crimson once more. His body screamed with the weight of the transformation, but he forced it anyway.
Bardock (roaring): "RRRAAAAHHHHHHH—!"
The sound shook the clouds apart. Energy flooded the entire arena as he clawed his way back into Super Saiyan 4, the form writhing against him, unstable, alive.
And Baby Vegito Black… just smiled.
The arena shook as Bardock's roar climbed into the stratosphere. His golden aura convulsed, folding inward before erupting into a deep, blood-red flame that rolled across his body like molten iron. His muscles hardened, fur spread across his arms and chest, his brow thickened, and his eyes burned with primal instinct — the unmistakable gaze of a warrior who'd clawed his way past death itself.
Super Saiyan 4.
The transformation ripped the sound out of the air for a heartbeat — then the pressure wave hit, a thunderclap that flattened the clouds and warped the barrier's surface. Every spectator flinched except Baby Vegito Black, who stood calmly amid the hurricane of power, the faintest look of disappointment in his gaze.
Baby Vegito Black (coldly): "I thought you would be more fun than Gast… but I was wrong."
He vanished.
The air imploded where he had stood. In the same instant, Bardock burst forward, red lightning coiling around his fists, shouting in raw defiance:
Bardock: "Don't you dare look down on me!!"
They met halfway, two streaks of light colliding head-on.
The impact shattered everything — barrier, ground, the lingering fragments of space around them. A pulse of energy expanded outward, ripping the arena apart like fabric under strain.
Both staggered back, blood arcing into the air — Bardock from the mouth, Baby Vegito from a thin cut along his cheek.
Baby Vegito wiped the blood away with his thumb, staring at it almost curiously. Then, with a faint smirk:
Baby Vegito Black: "You got unlucky… if I liked to drag fights, you might've had more time to stay alive. But I don't."
His aura detonated.
The gold of a Super Saiyan — but denser, darker, folding space around him like a living star. The barrier flickered as its angelic energy fought to hold back the radiation of his ki. Just being near him felt like drowning inside gravity.
Even the gods watching leaned back instinctively.
Then — light.
From his outstretched hand, a razor-thin beam lanced through the air, cutting reality itself. Bardock barely tilted his head in time — the beam grazed his ear, vaporizing a line of flesh.
Before he could blink, another beam flashed by, shearing a few strands of his hair.
Then ten more appeared.
Each one came from a different angle, a lattice of death in motion. Bardock roared, crossing his arms, deflecting two, shattering one with a desperate kick — but every parry left another burn, another shallow wound.
He dropped to a knee, panting, his senses blurring—until he looked up.
There were three Baby Vegitos now. One above, one to his side, one directly ahead.
But it wasn't clones. It was speed — impossible, incomprehensible velocity, the godling moving so fast his afterimages overlapped reality itself.
Bardock's pupils widened as the world turned into streaks of gold. Then came the storm.
A hundred trillion blows. Each strike breaking the sound barrier before the last finished echoing. Punches came from all directions, slipping through Bardock's guard like needles through cloth. He swung, blocked, countered, screamed — but every motion was drowned in that relentless rain of attacks.
Each impact rippled his aura, sent cracks through the ground, tore blood from his skin. The only sound left was the endless percussion of fists colliding faster than thought — Bardock's defiance swallowed in the golden blaze of Baby Vegito Black's wrath.
Bardock's body hung in the air like a torn flag, every breath a ragged, breaking wheeze. His fur was scorched, his skin split open from a hundred trillion impacts, and his vision trembled at the edges. But in that shaking, blood-blurred stare… there was still fire.
Still defiance.
He spat blood, wiped his mouth with the back of his shaking hand, and growled out through cracked lips:
Bardock: "You're… strong. Too strong… I was saving this for the final round… but I guess… I need it now."
He rose higher.
Higher.
Higher.
A slow, deliberate ascent—like a warrior climbing his own execution platform.
Below him, Baby Vegito Black simply turned around.
Not to face him.
But to offer his *back*.
Hands behind him, posture relaxed, head tilted slightly like he had already grown bored.
Baby Vegito Black: "Go ahead."
He didn't even look over his shoulder.
"Do as you might… primal mortal."
Bardock's teeth clenched so hard his jaw cracked.
He thrust his hands upward—
—and the sky *answered*.
A yellow sphere ignited from his palms, swelling with every heartbeat. It churned and roared like a newborn star, its surface alive with lightning.
Raditz (eyes widening): "He's… using it. We… we need to help. All of us. For our survival!"
Immediately, Raditz raised his hands.
Then Tora.
Then Fasha.
Then every member of Timeline 5.
Even Ruthless Vegeta—reluctant, furious, but understanding—slowly lifted his hands last, sending his colossal pride toward Bardock's desperate star.
And it grew.
Bigger.
Brighter.
Heavier.
The entire arena trembled as if struggling to hold the weight of this miniature sun.
Bardock's wounds closed.
His breath steadied.
His aura reignited, multiplied—he roared as the energy fed *him*, fed the attack, fed the very air around him.
He held it until the massive yellow sphere was so enormous it barely fit within the arena's boundaries.
Then—
Bardock: "EMPIRE'S HOPE!!!"
—he hurled it.
The universe turned white.
The sphere descended like judgment itself, the pressure shredding the atmosphere inside the barrier.
Only then did Baby Vegito Black finally turn around.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Expression unreadable.
He raised one hand.
Palm forward.
Baby Vegito Black: "Negative Blast."
A beam, black at its core and white at its edges—like an inverted Kamehameha—erupted from his palm.
The clash was instant.
Explosive.
A storm of gold and void colliding, tearing the air into ribbons.
But the difference in power…
was *insulting*.
Baby Vegito's beam drilled through the Empire's Hope like a blade through mist. A perfect hole tore through the center of the gargantuan sphere—
—and the entire attack shattered, collapsing on itself.
The Negative Blast surged onward.
Straight toward Bardock—
He was unconscious before he knew it.
His body sagged, limp, the overwhelming drain of using Empire's Hope consuming his last spark of awareness.
That tiny slump was what saved him—the beam skimmed past where his head *had* been an instant before.
The attack hit the angelic barrier—
—and simply vanished.
Erased.
Not deflected.
Not absorbed.
Just… undone.
As if Baby Vegito Black had removed its right to exist.
Bardock's limp body fell from the sky, crashing into the arena floor.
Motionless.
Spent.
Broken.
The announcer barely needed to speak.
Victory goes to Baby Vegito Black.