Understood.
Here is your continuation exactly as requested:
Vegito gives the Super Evil name and the command.
Uub annihilates Future Gohan with the most complex nonstop combo so far.
Future Gohan slips away and ascends into Perfect Mystic, slightly surpassing Uub at first.
Then both grow at insane rates mid-fight, overtaking each other constantly.
No commentary, no cutaways — only pure, raw, hyper-complex martial choreography.
Ends with both bleeding, smiling at each other, still ready to continue.
This is long, dense, and the choreography escalates to the highest level yet.
Uub (Super Evil) vs Future Gohan (Perfect Mystic) — Part 3The Infinite Exchange
Uub's aura was still rising, the crimson pillars of power spiraling around him like demonic firestorms. Vegito T2 leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a rare glint of approval.
Vegito T2:
"You've done it.
Call it Super Evil from now on…
Now destroy him."
Uub didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
His body exploded forward.
Future Gohan barely raised his guard before Uub's fist detonated against it.
The impact inverted the air.
The shockwave collapsed the arena floor inward like a sinkhole.
Gohan flew backward — but Uub appeared behind him before momentum could even carry him.
A hammer fist dropped.
Gohan deflected.
Uub bent his arm unnaturally mid-swing, rotating the elbow into a spear-shaped joint jab straight into Gohan's ribs.
CRACK.
Before the pain hit, Uub flickered out of view, reappearing above Gohan with both legs descending like falling guillotines. Gohan blocked — Uub's legs split into two overlapping afterimages, both striking from slightly different angles.
Gohan was struck by both.
He crashed down —
Uub caught him by the hair mid-fall —
swung him in an arc —
and hurled him upward.
Before Gohan gained altitude, Uub teleported behind him, spine-first kneeing Gohan so hard the older Saiyan bent around the strike like a bent blade.
Then Uub spun, heel whipping across Gohan's jaw, neck twisting harshly.
Gohan's consciousness darkened for a fraction.
Uub grabbed his arm — twisted — dislocated the shoulder — then with a brutal wrench reset it only to plant a fist into the exact same joint, sending a shock-paralysis down Gohan's right side.
Then the barrage truly began.
Uub's body blurred into six overlapping motion-copies — not illusions but instantaneous micro-movements.
One elbow.
One knee.
One uppercut.
One spinning kick.
One rib strike.
One solar plexus jab.
All landing in one quarter of a second.
Gohan's lungs collapsed. His body folded. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a wide arc.
Uub's eyes burned.
He phased behind Gohan —
palmed the back of his skull —
and drove him straight down like a living meteor.
Gohan smashed through three layers of the arena.
Uub followed, foot-first, aiming to crush him deeper—
But Gohan rolled aside at the last instant.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Barely breathing.
His left eye was half-swollen shut.
But he smiled.
He exhaled.
And the world bent.
His golden aura vanished—
then exploded back out in pure white-gold, condensed and swirling with astral textures.
His hair didn't spike.
It thickened.
Deepened.
Shone with supernatural density.
His muscles tightened into a perfect warrior's form.
His eyes sharpened to predatory focus.
This wasn't PSSJ2.
This wasn't PSSJ3.
This was Perfect Mystic — the absolute ceiling of his hybrid potential, refined to its ultimate, lethal calm.
Gohan vanished.
Uub's fist hit only an afterimage.
Gohan reappeared crouched low, sweeping Uub's ankle with a hyper-precise toe hook. Uub stumbled — and Gohan was inside his guard instantly.
A punch.
Not to hurt —
but to disable.
He struck the inner bicep nerve cluster, then the outer pec tendon, then the mid-rib hinge point — in three perfectly timed jabs.
Uub's right side faltered.
Gohan spun, heel smashing into Uub's temple.
Before Uub's head completed the rotation, Gohan grabbed his wrist, yanked him forward, and landed a rising knee so perfectly aligned that Uub's jaw cracked audibly.
Uub tried to roar—
Gohan cut the breath off with a palm strike under the diaphragm.
Uub convulsed.
Gohan wrapped behind him —
hooked both legs —
and suplex-threw him upward.
Uub flew—
Gohan appeared above him —
double-fist hammer blow downwards—
Uub blocked weakly —
Gohan broke the block with a feint elbow then slammed a rising kick into Uub's spine.
Uub choked violently as his body arced.
Gohan grabbed his face and SMASHED him downward with enough force to create a crater inside a crater.
Dust erupted.
Gohan hovered above, breathing steadily.
Perfect Mystic Gohan was now winning.
But Uub didn't break.
He screamed.
Crimson Ki detonated beneath him.
He shot up like a flash-bomb.
His movements now more chaotic, limbs twisting with Majin elasticity.
He struck Gohan from seven angles simultaneously — elbows, knees, headbutts, a palm strike, and a snapping tail-like extension of corrupted Ki.
Gohan blocked four.
Dodged two.
One connected — tearing a line of blood across his cheek.
Uub's grin grew feral.
He twisted mid-air, body contorting unnaturally, and lashed Gohan with a spinning triple-heel strike.
Gohan staggered.
Uub pressed harder.
His blows now looped in curved paths, using nonlinear trajectories no Saiyan could predict. The speed climbed. His aura burned hotter.
He caught Gohan in the jaw.
Then the throat.
Then the belly.
Then a savage knee that nearly broke Gohan's nose.
Gohan deflected the next three attacks—
But Uub phased—
And hammered a punch into Gohan's gut so brutally the older Saiyan folded over his arm, coughing blood.
Gohan inhaled sharply.
His aura doubled.
His eyes blazed with white flame-like Ki.
He straightened his posture — every muscle tightening, focusing — and the pressure around him became surgical, razor-sharp, lethal.
Uub's next punch hit empty air as Gohan side-stepped by a millimeter.
And Gohan struck back.
One punch to Uub's throat.
A heel to his spine.
A forearm across the jaw.
A knee to the ribs.
A headbutt that rang Uub's skull like metal.
Uub staggered, dizzy.
Gohan didn't stop.
He unleashed a flurry that blurred reality:
palm
palm
fist
knee
elbow
shoulder check
finger jab
heel snap
shin whip
hip strike
backfist
stomach jab
throat feint
rib crush
spinning heel
lung chi-collapse tap
solar plexus punch
double chop
All landing in one continuous flow, a perfect martial symphony.
Uub roared in pain, fury, and exhilaration.
It was pure violence without pause.
Both fighters blurred into spiraling masses of muscle, Ki, blood, and instinct. Every motion chained into ten more. Every strike flowed into a counter that became a reversal that became a counter-counter.
Gohan dodged a knee — elbowed Uub's ribs — caught a punch — twisted — backhanded Uub — redirected a blast — and kneed him in the temple.
Uub countered with a contorting backbend kick — flipped over Gohan's head — smashed a double-axe strike — wrapped his arm around Gohan's throat — hurled him — lunged — and hammered a palm into Gohan's sternum.
Gohan spun mid-air — caught Uub's wrist — snapped an uppercut — swept his legs — punched his spine — redirected Uub's Ki burst into the ground.
Uub twisted unnaturally — kicking backward with both heels at once — impacting Gohan's chest — contorting to the side — punching Gohan's kidney — biting his forearm — blasting corrupted Ki point-blank into Gohan's ribcage.
Gohan headbutted him — knee'd his jaw — elbowed his skull — then unleashed a martial combo so fast it looked like six Gohans attacking at once.
The arena surface disintegrated beneath them.
Cracks spread like lightning.
Blood sprayed in arcs across the air.
Their breaths were wild.
Their eyes locked.
Neither willing to die.
Neither willing to lose.
Both evolving every second.
And then—
A final exchange.
A punch from Gohan.
A punch from Uub.
Both hit.
Both staggered.
Both panted.
Both bled.
They stood only a meter apart, chests rising and falling, cracked lips dripping blood.
Gohan wiped the blood under his nose.
Uub wiped the blood from his mouth.
Then—
They both smiled.
Not friendly smiles.
Warrior smiles.
Hunter smiles.
Smiles of two beings who had finally found an equal.
Future Gohan lifts his trembling fist, blood dripping from the knuckles, but his expression… that sharp, half-confident, half-unhinged grin… it's unlike anything he's worn this tournament.
He raises the fist higher.
"Goten… Trunks…"
His voice cracks, not from exhaustion, but from excitement.
"Do you guys remember this?"
His arm begins to vibrate—no, shred the air around it. The movement is so erratic and fast that the wind curls in spirals around his elbow, threads of compressed pressure snapping like invisible whips across the arena floor. Then he opens his hand—slowly, deliberately—and the moment the palm spreads, it becomes a blur. His fingers ripple like afterimages caught between dimensions.
The spectators feel it before they see it:
a chill, a displacement, a wrongness, as if Future Gohan's hand is phasing through the atoms of the world.
He lowers that hand toward the tiled floor.
The fingers pass right through it—
like a ghost breaching solid reality.
Goten (Timeline 1) jumps from his seat instantly, eyes sparkling:
"Show him what you did to us, Gohan!!"
Trunks winces, remembering exactly how that training session broke three ribs and a jaw.
Uub doesn't wait.
He launches, pure Super Evil rage behind the dash, hoping to crush Future Gohan before this technique becomes fully real.
Future Gohan tilts his head.
Just barely.
A micro-movment.
Uub's fist misses his cheek by less than a grain of sand.
And then—
Gohan's vibrating hand snaps forward, slicing through Uub's torso like a blade made of pure discontinuity.
Uub gasps—eyes widened—hands flying to his shoulder as if a limb was severed.
But nothing is cut.
No wound.
No blood.
No pain.
Just the phantom of something terrible touching him.
Uub blinks.
Future Gohan stands calmly, hand lowered, as if nothing happened.
Uub snarls, frustrated, powering forward again—
but his punch hits nothing but the afterimage of Gohan's jaw.
Future Gohan's hand strikes again.
No wound.
No damage.
But Uub feels as if his spirit is being rattled loose.
He grits his teeth and swings—
blocked.
Swings again—
countered.
Again—
hit by nothing and everything simultaneously.
Both fighters spike upward in power, growing almost violently with every exchanged motion.
Their speed increases. Their energy sharpens. Their footwork becomes so intricate that the audience sees only fractals of motion, silhouettes overlapping like broken frames of an animation reel.
Uub fires a high kick—Gohan vanishes—reappears folding his body sideways like bending light—Uub twists into a corkscrew punch—Gohan's forearm phases through it and taps Uub's chin—Uub flips midair firing a downward heel—Gohan's torso bends at an angle no spine should—Uub rebounds into a sprint—Gohan ambushes from the left, then from the right, each hit bypassing the laws of touch.
The rhythm becomes chaotic, then precise.
Eruptive, then surgical.
Like two gods trying to rewrite the physics under their feet.
Gohan disappears completely.
Then—
THRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—
A sound, like a machine-gun made of thunder, detonates through the arena.
Future Gohan appears behind Uub.
No—beside him.
No—above him.
He is everywhere, delivering strikes faster than Uub's senses can register.
Punches.
Elbows.
Kicks.
Chops.
Fingertips.
Knees.
Forearm smashes.
Spinning hooks.
Dragon-whip kicks.
Breaker elbows.
Inverted roundhouses.
Razor palm-heels.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions.
Tens of billions.
Hundreds of trillions.
Each one phasing through Uub's body without leaving a mark.
Uub stands paralyzed in the center of the storm, eyes wide, body frozen.
His nerves scream that he's dying, yet his skin is untouched.
And then—
a single drop of blood falls from Uub's lip.
Vegito (Timeline 2) leans forward, expression baffled:
"What is he even doing? Is this… beyond my grasp?"
Another drop of blood.
Then another.
Then a choking sound.
Uub collapses to his knees, hand clamped to his gut as if a blade is twisting inside him—
yet there's no injury.
And then—
he vomits a splash of blood onto the arena floor.
His body twitches once.
Then goes limp.
He falls unconscious, face-first.
Future Gohan stands over him, chest heaving, eyes still glowing with the eerie sharpness of that impossible technique. He doesn't gloat. He doesn't roar. He only gives Uub a warrior's nod—brief but sincere.
Then he turns toward Vegito.
That grin returns—wolfish, confident, exhausted, triumphant.
"Your warrior was the best.
Hope we meet at the finals."
Vegito's jaw clenches so tightly the veins in his forehead pulse.
His fingers curl around his forearm, knuckles whitening in anger he can't hide.
Future Gohan walks out of the arena without looking back.
Winner:
Future Gohan (Timeline 1)
Future Gohan barely steps off the arena tiles before Timeline 1 erupts around him.
Goten leaps straight into his brother's chest, arms wrapped around his neck, laughing like he hasn't in years.
Piccolo gives him that silent proud look—arms crossed, antennae angled forward just slightly—his version of cheering.
Kid Trunks punches Future Gohan's shoulder in excitement, complaining, "You could've finished that faster!" while obviously beaming.
Adult Gohan (Present Timeline 1) claps his counterpart on the back, his smile honest and wide.
Future Gohan blushes—actually blushes—while still trying to keep the cool, confident aura.
It creates this strange mixture of warrior seriousness and shy pride, and everyone in Timeline 1 feels it.
Even the spectators from other timelines glance over.
Because for a moment, Timeline 1 looks like a family that just watched their eldest son take the world by storm.
Meanwhile, Uub is gently carried out of the arena by angelic attendants.
The arena resets.
The energy of the previous fight clears like fog lifting from a battlefield.
Both Gohans share a final nod before Present Gohan steps into the ring.
Future Trunks walks in from the opposite end, sword strapped to his back but clearly unused for this fight.
They stare at each other for a moment…
Then both laugh—because really, could fate have arranged anything else?
Trunks steps closer, stopping so near that only Present Gohan can hear him.
"Hey… doesn't matter who wins. We need to get as strong as possible in this fight for the semis. And the finals.
So—let's push each other past everything. No holding back."
Present Gohan nods once.
Quiet, confident.
Fully agreeing.
Only three others hear it:
Piccolo (T1), Piccolo (T2), and Gast.
All three narrow their eyes at the same time.
The warriors step back into their starting positions.
Trunks' voice echoes out across the arena:
"We don't need an introduction.
I know exactly what you're capable of.
You know exactly what I'm capable of.
So let's just go all out from the start."
Present Gohan grins. "Deal."
Whis raises his fingers.
A tiny ripple of divine ki trembles through the ground.
"Begin."
The very instant the word is spoken, both rush forward—transforming mid-charge, like two meteors heating up as they close in.
Gohan shifts first—
Super Saiyan, hair flashing gold with a crack of static.
Super Saiyan 2, sparks hissing across his forearms.
Super Saiyan 3, hair bursting down his back as his brow vanishes.
Then the golden flames condense—
Perfect Super Saiyan—
then sharpen—
Perfect Super Saiyan 2, the aura slicing the air like a burning halo.
Trunks mirrors every stage in perfect synchronization, their power signatures climbing so hard the arena tiles tremble before they even touch.
And then—
CLANG!
But not metal.
Not bone.
A sound like two compressed shockwaves smashing together.
Both warriors meet in the dead center of the arena, each performing a 180-degree inward spinning kick, their shins colliding with enough force to ripple the barrier around the entire dimension.
The moment their legs rebound, neither touches the ground.
Their bodies twist mid-air, gravity forgotten.
Gohan snaps his right leg backward, using the recoil to pivot into a downward heel—but Trunks catches it with the edge of his forearm, deflecting it outward.
Trunks counters by twisting into a rising knee aimed at Gohan's ribs, but Gohan folds his torso sideways, letting the knee pass inches from his chest, then launches a backfist that distorts the air around it.
Trunks ducks—not backward but forward—letting the fist skim over the top of his hair as he spins beneath it, sweeping Gohan's supporting leg.
Gohan catches himself with one hand, flipping over the sweep, and attempts to land with a hammerfist meant to crater Trunks into the floor.
Trunks raises both arms above his head in an X-block, slides one foot back, and absorbs the strike by channeling momentum through his stance.
The tiles beneath his boots crack in a perfect spider-web pattern.
Gohan immediately follows with an elbow thrust toward Trunks' collarbone—
Trunks rotates clockwise, the elbow grazing his cheek, and in the same spin throws a sidekick aimed directly for Gohan's sternum.
Gohan angles his body, catching the kick against his left palm, then squeezes, trapping Trunks' shin.
Before Gohan can counter, Trunks bends backward unnaturally far, planting his free hand on the ground, and using the trapped leg as leverage flips himself upward, driving his other heel toward Gohan's chin.
Gohan releases the leg, bends backward to dodge the heel, and slides under Trunks' aerial rotation, both fighters spinning past each other like two rotating blades missing by a breath.
They land simultaneously, both dragging one foot back across the tile to regain footing.
Then they rush each other again.
Gohan feints a high jab, but it splits into three afterimages—
Trunks doesn't fall for it; he reads the real one and parries it to the inside, using the opening to thrust a palm strike toward Gohan's solar plexus.
Gohan counters by twisting his hips and letting the palm glide along his ribcage harmlessly, then shoots a rising knee toward Trunks' jaw.
Trunks jerks his head back—
just enough—
then grabs Gohan's knee mid-rise and swings him by the leg like a hammer, attempting to smash him into the ground.
Gohan spins with the throw, planting his elbow into the ground to prevent a crash, redirecting his momentum into an upward cyclone kick aimed directly at Trunks' chin.
Trunks leans back, the kick slicing the air an inch from his face, then he jumps backward—
Gohan pursues instantly, no reset, no breath, no pause.
He launches a rapid-fire flurry:
a left jab, right hook, left elbow, upward knee, spinning backfist, downward axe kick.
Each one flows into the next with no dead angle, every limb switching tempo and rhythm.
Trunks parries the jab, deflects the hook with his shoulder, blocks the elbow with his wrist, pushes the knee off-line using his hip, ducks beneath the spinning backfist, and catches the axe kick on both forearms.
He slides backward from the force—carving two lines across the tile—
then bursts forward with his own chain:
a diagonal chop, a hip-torque straight punch, a grounding stomp, a whip-like roundhouse, a double jab into a spinning hammer.
Gohan weaves through the chop, tilts around the punch, hops above the stomp, blocks the roundhouse with a forearm shield, and meets the spinning hammer by locking wrists with Trunks, creating a shockwave that blasts dust into a swirling ring around them.
They're in a deadlock now—
muscles tensed, auras flaring, foreheads inches away—
sparks crackling between their clashing energies.