Baby Vegito Black said nothing.
No arrogance.
No theology.
Not even contempt.
Only silence.
But inside that silence —
his power Expanded.
A conscious, absolute, defiant decision:
"If he can exceed his own nature… then so can I."
The void around him twisted, as though the air itself recoiled. His pink hair burned brighter, bleaching toward a neon ivory at the tips — his Rose aura spiraled inward, compressing tighter, denser, violently oscillating between magenta, cyan, and parasitic green.
And then—
his power jumped.
Instantaneously.
The spike was so sharp the leftover debris from Vegito's last attack shattered into subatomic dust.
Vegito T2's eyes widened — for a fraction of a fraction of a second — and in that sliver of time the entire battlefield warped with Baby Vegito's ascension.
His voice finally emerged:
Baby Vegito Black (quiet, terrifying):
"…Growth is not your monopoly."
He vanished.
Vegito's pupils contracted—
and Baby Vegito reappeared behind him with a heel descending like a divine guillotine.
Vegito blocked—
but the force still hurled him downward, pulverizing through layer after layer of stone and divine flooring until the arena's last remaining fragments burst upward like reversed shrapnel.
Vegito flipped mid-air, boots skidding across a block of floating rubble, tail bristling with fury.
Vegito:
"So you can evolve on command. Good.
I was worried you'd stay predictable."
Baby Vegito Black's answer was a cold, sharp whisper:
Baby Vegito Black:
"Predictable… is assuming only you deserve ascension."
He blitzed forward.
Vegito saw only the afterimage — a streak of Rose light bending space behind him. Head-on, Baby Vegito collided with him, the impact forming a sphere of compressed force that disintegrated the last stable ground.
The barrier shattered.
A crystal sound, like the breaking of time.
The twelve Angels instantly stiffened.
Whis T1:
"…Impossible—"
The barrier fractured into dust, and then—
Vegito and Baby Vegito Black vanished into the void beyond the arena.
The void.
The realm without coordinates, where only gods, angels, and idiotic fusions could exist without dissolving.
The spectators screamed as a shockwave hit the stands, rattling entire bleachers.
Beerus T1 snapped upright.
Beerus T5 stood, ears drawn back.
Daishinkan raised one hand.
And space itself calmed.
But he frowned — something no mortal or god had ever witnessed.
Daishinkan:
"…They have surpassed the Universal Threshold of Combat Velocity.
Even I must intervene now."
With one serene movement, he extended his palm —
and a new barrier formed.
Perfectly smooth.
Perfectly silent.
Perfectly unbreakable.
The Void Shell.
Every Angel blinked in surprise; none had expected the Grand Priest to personally reinforce the fight.
Inside the Shell, time stabilized — just enough for mortals to perceive.
And that's when the battle returned.
Far above the spectators, two tiny sparks clashed.
Then they were gone.
A heartbeat later, those sparks appeared billions of light-years away, in a tear of empty sky, fist meeting fist in a collision that bent the light around them into spirals.
Then — the Neutral Zone between universes — a plane where existence thins into translucent film. Their silhouettes collapsed into it like reflections on water, distorting, breaking, reforming, colliding.
Then —
back, in the ring-space, both slamming into the broken arena, splitting the Shell with golden and rose impact halos.
Vegito pushed first.
Baby Vegito countered immediately.
Each time one grew stronger, the other grew to match it.
Vegito shot forward, tail whipping, fists blurring so fast they formed lattices of red and black afterimages. His knuckles cracked Baby Vegito's jawline — once, twice, ten times — each blow flattening space in folded planes.
Baby Vegito Black absorbed the strikes, his expression unreadable, until suddenly—
He smiled.
A slow, chilling, delighted smile.
Baby Vegito Black snapped a finger.
Just one.
The shock tore a hole through Vegito's abdominal fur, a beam-light burn that spiraled backward and carved a canyon into the Shell's interior.
Vegito snarled—
then he grinned wider than before.
Vegito:
"…Good. Don't slow down now."
He thrust forward, tail wrapping around Baby Vegito's ankle, hurling him upward while delivering a cross-jab to the stomach that detonated like a contained nova.
Baby Vegito recoiled—
but in that same motion, he spun, hands forming a divine mudra.
A Rose Scythe of pure ki tore through Vegito's side, slicing through fur and muscle and momentum alike.
Vegito's blood sprayed in a spiral — then crystallized mid-air from the sheer pressure.
The spectators gasped.
Vegeta leaned forward, breath caught.
Goku scraped his hand along the railing.
Vegito planted his heel into the air, stopping his flight instantly.
His body moved before thought.
A barrage of punches — thousands in half a second.
Each one was a named strike, a learned strike:
The Turtle School's "Flowing River Strike."
The Crane School's "Piercing Hawk Feint."
Yardrat Phase-Step.
Namekian Loop-Knuckle Form.
Saiyan Ferality Sequence: Red Tail Spiral.
Kaiōshin Reversal Palm.
Every technique he'd ever learned as Goku.
Every tactic Vegeta had internalized in war.
A mosaic of styles, ruthlessly optimized.
Baby Vegito Black was forced back, arms crossed, feet dragging fractal trails of ki sparks.
But his smirk never left.
Baby Vegito Black:
"You think technique will save you?"
Vegito's fist dug into his stomach.
Vegito:
"I think it will kill you."
He hammered forward, each strike folding Rose energy into unstable knots. Baby Vegito Black's spine bent under the pressure, aura ripping open into jagged arcs of green and magenta lightning.
Then—
He stopped Vegito's fist.
With just three fingers.
His pupils dilated into razor-thin lines.
Baby Vegito Black:
"I understand it now."
His aura surged — but now it was refined, its frequency aligning with Vegito's like a mirror inverted.
And then he pushed.
His power spiked so violently that the Shell's interior warped into a funnel — a star being swallowed whole.
Baby Vegito Black was catching up.
Instantaneously.
Deliberately.
Assertively.
Baby Vegito Black:
"You are not the only being capable of authoring his own destiny."
He snapped Vegito's wrist back, slammed him with an elbow to the throat, then twisted and drove a knee into Vegito's ribs hard enough for the fur and skin to ripple like torn fabric.
Vegito coughed blood —
but he laughed.
A wild, ecstatic, feral laugh.
Vegito:
"That's it…
YES. THAT'S IT!"
He flipped backward, tail whipping, landing with a skidding arc of golden sparks.
Baby Vegito flickered into existence before him.
They clashed again.
First clash:
High above the arena, super-heated ki vaporizing clouds.
Second clash:
A trillion kilometers away — light bending into spirals.
800th clash:
The Neutral Zone — existence shimmering around them like water.
1,200,304,346,277,249th clash:
Back into the arena sphere, ground cracking beneath them.
The Shell groaned.
Daishinkan narrowed his eyes and reinforced it further.
Daishinkan:
"…They are approaching Pre-Concept velocity."
Matter surrendering.
Growth accelerating beyond intention.
Even after all that, Vegito T2 was still—
Slightly.
Barely.
Unequivocally.
—ahead.
His blows struck with a density that Baby Vegito couldn't perfectly replicate. His timing remained one frame superior. His reading of motion was sharper. His control of pure ki was cleaner.
No matter how much Baby Vegito grew—
Vegito stayed one breath faster.
One thought quicker.
One heartbeat more ruthless.
The gap wasn't widening.
But it wasn't closing either.
They were trapped in an eternal race—
And Vegito still held the lead.
They met at the center, both roaring, both compressing their ki into spheres that shook the Shell.
Vegito (Super Saiyan 4 Full Power):
"Is that all?!"
Baby Vegito Black (Super Saiyan Rose):
"IS THAT ALL?!"
Their fists collided—
And the Shell brightened white.
Everyone shielded their eyes.
The energy wave rolled outward, silent, absolute, consuming every direction.
Inside it—
Two figures continued fighting.
Though causality itself momentarily forgot which of the two Vegitos was meant to be the dominant one.
Baby Vegito Black hung in the air, his aura a cathedral of malignant pink-green-black fire. The space around him was tessellating, fracturing into polygonal plates as his ki intensity began to overwrite the geometry of the battlefield. His expression was calm—too calm—like a deity who had finally remembered He was one.
Then the real shift occurred.
His voice dropped to something utterly inhuman.
Baby Vegito Black (whispering):
"…Replication is not enough. Reflection is not enough."
His aura did not explode outward.
It imploded—dragging all color, all sound, all motion toward him for half a nanosecond before violently reversing direction.
Baby Vegito Black's ki began climbing at a slope no mortal science could graph — a slope too steep to plot.
He raised one hand.
A scythe of ki emerged — not pink, not red, not divine—
but something that absorbed light rather than emitting it, lined with the green parasitic shimmer of Baby itself.
His other hand ignited into a God-Ki longsword, thin, elegant, vibrating at 7× universal resonance.
The sight alone bent every shadow in the arena toward him.
Baby Vegito Black's eyes sharpened.
Baby Vegito Black:
"Let's amputate your arrogance."
He vanished.
like a frame spliced out of a film reel.
Vegito T2 sensed the motion not with his eyes, or ki, or instincts,
but with metaphorical gravity —
a kind of cosmic awareness that only beings who break beyond septillions of power can grasp.
The scythe reappeared behind his skull.
It should have taken his head.
But Vegito's left hand clamped onto the blade's curve with absolute serenity.
Baby Vegito Black froze.
Vegito didn't look at the weapon.
He didn't look at the arm holding it.
He didn't look at Baby Vegito Black.
He looked inward.
And the red aura began.
It wasn't the explosive, roaring fire of Goku's classic Kaioken.
It began like a pulse.
A heartbeat.
A tremor of a sleeping supermassive star waking up.
Then it repeated.
One pulse became two.
Two became four.
Four became sixteen.
The aura doubled.
Then doubled again.
Then doubled again.
Vegito's hair shifted in the windless void.
His muscles tightened.
His ki field rippled outward like concentric rings in a cosmic ocean.
His voice was not a shout yet.
Just a rising, volcanic murmur:
Vegito T2:
"…don't blink."
The aura ignited.
A sun born inside a mortal shape.
And then Vegito screamed.
Vegito T2 (roaring):
"KAIOKEN…
TIIIIIMES—
ONE!
THOU!
SAAAAAAND!!!"
The universe did not withstand this gracefully.
The space around Vegito bent inward like a collapsing super cluster.
Half the floating debris shattered into nothingness.
frame rate of existence became 0.
Baby Vegito Black tried to retreat—
But Vegito was already in front of him.
And then—
He killed Baby Vegito Black.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
Then again.
A billion times.
A trillion.
A septillion.
A decillion.
Not figuratively.
To beings at their level, "death" was simply the destruction of the physical substrate.
Baby Vegito's body tore apart, reformed, tore apart again before consciousness could even register pain.
One fist broke Baby Vegito Black's spine in the "normal" universe.
Another obliterated him in the 0.001× slowed timeline.
Another killed the version of him that existed 1 attosecond ahead of present time.
Another killed the version 1 attosecond behind.
He was occupying multiple temporal positions simultaneously, collapsing Baby Vegito Black's possible selves across stacked micro-realities.
Baby Vegito Black's body reconstructed in pure instinct —
cells knit, aura flared, ki restored —
because at this level, destruction was merely a suggestion.
But Vegito was faster than reconstruction.
He killed him again.
And again.
And again.
And then—
He stopped.
Not because he had reached a limit.
Vegito had no limit here.
He stopped because, at last, Baby Vegito Black's eyes changed—
from rage,
to shock,
to realization,
to something dangerously close to existential awe.
Baby Vegito Black hovered, chest heaving, half his torso missing before it regrew in a pink-black flare.
Vegito didn't smile.
He extended two fingers.
A blade of invisible force sliced through the air—
snikt
Baby Vegito Black's right hand —
the one holding the God-Ki sword—
spiraled away, severed cleanly at the wrist.
The scythe blinked out.
The longsword fell.
His fingers twitched as if confused by their sudden independence.
Blood — shimmering, rose-gold, divine — floated in zero gravity.
Vegito lowered his hand, calm again.
His voice was quiet, dangerous, absolute:
Vegito T2:
"Here is your premise."
Baby Vegito Black clutched the stump of his wrist, breathing heavy, eyes trembling with a mix of fury, humiliation..
Recognition?!.
The spectators had no idea what had just happened.
Only Daishinkan and the Angels understood that what Vegito had just executed was not a finishing blow…
A thesis written in annihilation.
Vegito held it between two fingers as if inspecting a flawed gemstone.
Vegito
"…You know… I should actually commend you."
His voice carried no arrogance now — only a strange, reflective sincerity, the tone of someone speaking to a distorted mirror of himself.
Vegito
"You didn't run.
You didn't flee into another timeline.
You didn't abandon the fight, even when everything collapsed around you.
Until the very last breath… you stood your ground."
He turned the hand toward himself as if offering a toast to an equal.
Vegito
"After all…
you are me."
Baby Vegito Black hovered above the battlefield now — not in triumph, not in rage, not in fear.
But in a profound, unreadable stillness.
His eyes were black voids burning with Rose light, absorbing every photon of the arena's glow.
The air between them warped.
Atoms vibrated.
The Daishinkan's barrier groaned, lines of runic light straining like stressed muscle fibers.
Below, the spectators remained frozen — not by fear, but because time itself had slowed to nearly zero under the pressure of the two warriors' killer intent.
Vegito opened his palm, raising it toward Baby Vegito Black.
Ki gathered —
slowly at first, then in violent, astronomical waves.
The light of the sphere bent gravity.
The blocks of broken arena around him rotated, pulled into his orbit like moons around a forming supermassive star.
Vegito
"…Let's finish this."
He sank into a stance so rooted it seemed carved into cosmic law.
His ki spiraled upward, coiling around his arm, bleeding golden-red light.
A whisper escaped his throat —
the invocation of a technique that was not merely his own, but the synthesis of both sides of his fused bloodline.
Vegito
"Kame…"
The syllable ignited the air.
Baby Vegito Black finally moved.
His aura — that immeasurable storm of pink, green, and darkness — flared explosively outward, splitting into spirals that twisted like DNA strands unraveling.
His right hand spread open.
The air froze.
A sphere formed —
small, but impossibly dense, pulsing with the vibration of hundreds of universes.
Negative energy poured from him in black rivulets, twisting into the sphere, poisoning its light, mutating its core, making it monstrous.
Baby Vegito Black (quietly)
"…Corrupt…
Negative…
Big Bang."
Every word bent the barrier.
Daishinkan tightened his fingers, and the cracks sealed…
…but only barely.
Baby Vegito's ultimate attack stabilized —
a swirling black hole of divine hatred wrapped in rose-colored god-ki and parasitic Oozaru instinct.
a sentence.
A statement of hatred.
He raised the sphere above his head.
And for the first time since the fight began…
Baby Vegito Black truly smiled.
Vegito inhaled.
Deep.
Calm.
Absolute.
The ki in his palms compacted until even light resisted entering its surface.
A spiraled jet of white-blue energy formed between his fingers.
Vegito
"…ha…"
The ground beneath him broke apart — and then disintegrated entirely.
Space folded backward.
Time rippled.
Beerus T1 blinked slowly — genuinely unable to perceive the technique's upper limit.
And Vegito continued:
Vegito
"…me…"
Reality shook.
A shockwave tore upward through layers of galaxy beyond the void, clearing stars from entire quadrants of the sky in other universes.
Vegito's ki swelled to a magnitude so obscene the Angels' halos flickered.
The final breath came.
Vegito
"…HA!!!"
He thrust his arms forward.
THE ULTIMATE FINAL KAMEHAMEHA
A phenomenon erupted.
It was blue, then white, then violet, then something beyond the visible spectrum.
A beam that didn't move through space — it created a path of space as it advanced.
The Kamehameha roared upward like a cosmic tsunami, fracturing the void with its passage.
Simultaneously—
Baby Vegito Black hurled his Corrupt Negative Big Bang downward, unleashing a blast so dark it made the universe look pale.
The two attacks met.
The battlefield disappeared.
Every block of floating debris instantly vaporized.
The barrier cracked once.
Everything went silent, the way a dying universe goes silent.
The center of the impact became a sphere of impossible geometry — light folding inward, dark folding outward, Rose ki whirling like an event horizon with nerves.
Color bled from existence.
Time dilated — then inverted — then reasserted itself violently.
Vegito roared, pushing forward, his entire body alight with flames of Super Saiyan 4 Full Power — that swirling, red-orange cosmic aura combined with the multicolor resonant halo he inherited from the primal Saiyan Source.
Baby Vegito Black's scream was silent — a visual howl, his mouth open but his voice obliterated by the annihilation around him.
The attacks fought.
They clawed at each other like dueling gods.
But Vegito's beam grew.
It expanded.
It widened.
It devoured.
The Kamehameha overwhelmed the Corrupt Negative Big Bang.
The dark sphere collapsed inward, pirouetted once, then was swallowed whole.
Baby Vegito Black's eyes widened one last time in pure disbelief, a recognition that the impossible was happening.
He was losing.
Vegito's Kamehameha made contact.
A light exploded that transcended timelines — literally.
Every timeline's sky flashed white.
Every mortal felt a tremor in the deepest part of their soul.
For a single instant, the entire multiverse saw one shared, blinding flash — no matter what universe they lived in.
Then—
Silence.
Baby Vegito Black was gone.
Just nothing.
finally wiped from the grand tapestry.
The Kamehameha tapered off into a glowing cascade of photons, fading into the void.
And Vegito… exhaled.
His form shimmered, fur receding, muscle density lowering.
Red aura dimming.
He returned to base.
His chest rose and fell once.
Twice.
Then he stood tall, composed, as if he had just completed a warm-up exercise.
Daishinkan stepped forward.
His voice — calm, serene, emotionless — extended into every timeline at once.
Daishinkan
"…and for the winner of the Tournament of Timelines…"
The Angels bowed.
Beerus lowered his head.
Whis smiled — proud in a way only an Angel who respects strength can.
The Grand Priest raised his hand.
Daishinkan
"Vegito of Timeline 2."
His staff shone, illuminating the warrior who now stood alone at the center of the battlefield.
Daishinkan
"The fused mortal who stands at the summit of all creation's fighters.
The one who has defeated demons, parasites, infinite versions of himself in one singular battle…
and emerged supreme."
He lowered his hand.
Daishinkan
"The champion of all mortals.
The champion of all timelines.
The victor.
Vegito… Timeline 2."
The multiverse trembled in awe.
Vegito Smiled
A quiet, knowing smile —
the smile of a warrior who had surpassed ALL concepts.