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"Android 17 is still standing, and Frieza hasn't been eliminated yet!" Krillin's voice cracked with a desperate hope that rippled through the spectators of Universe 7. "We have the numerical advantage. If the Tournament of Power ended this very second, we would win by default!"
Tien Shinhan narrowed his eyes, his tactical mind racing as he observed the crumbling arena. "As long as we can hold out until the clock runs out, victory is ours. But against a monster like Jiren, even in his weakened state, surviving that long is a monumental task for Frieza and 17."
The sudden reappearance of the golden tyrant and the selfless cyborg sparked a wave of jubilation among the Universe 7 benches. On paper, they held the upper hand. However, that joy was short-lived, quickly replaced by a suffocating tension.
Numerical superiority meant nothing if their remaining fighters couldn't bridge the astronomical gap in power. Frieza and Android 17 were formidable, but Jiren was a wall that seemed impossible to scale. Worse yet, Son Goku lay slumped on the cold rubble, his body broken by the divine backlash of Ultra Instinct.
"Damn it all!" Beerus roared, his purple aura flickering with unbridled frustration. "If only Goku could have held on for a few more seconds! Just a moment longer and Jiren would have been history!" The God of Destruction gripped the railing, his teeth gritted.
Goku had surpassed the gods; he had brought the invincible Pride Trooper to his knees. But the toll of Perfect Ultra Instinct on a mortal frame was absolute. The silver light had vanished, leaving behind a crushing debt of pain. Beerus knew it wasn't Goku's fault, yet the bitterness of being so close to absolute victory was almost too much to bear.
In stark contrast, Vermoud let out a boisterous, mocking laugh that echoed across the Void. "Hahahaha! Talk about a divine twist of fate! It seems victory has decided to stay with Universe 11 after all!" He turned a smug grin toward Beerus. "Your Saiyan reached the peak, Beerus, but he couldn't stay there. He defeated Jiren, sure, but he failed to finish the job. In this arena, if you aren't off the ledge, you're still a threat."
To Vermoud, this wasn't an embarrassing winâit was destiny. Universe 7 had clawed their way back with miracle after miracle, but their luck had finally run dry. Jiren would systematically dismantle the remaining stragglers and then toss the incapacitated Goku into the abyss. There was no way Goku could trigger that godly transformation again. The game was over.
Across the infinite dimensions, viewers watched with bated breath, feeling the same stinging regret as Akira. The tactical transmigrator watched the screen, his mind calculating the slim margins. Just a few seconds, the multiverse collectively whispered. If the backlash had struck a moment later, the struggle would be over. The spectators lamented Universe 7's cursed timing. First, the loss of Majin Buu's healing abilities to a nap, and now this.
"Can Frieza and 17 actually pull this off?" Zhang Chulan asked, his voice barely a whisper. Silence was his only answer. Even the arrogant Frieza remained silent, his usual smirk replaced by a cold, calculating gaze. This was the final threshold. The fate of eight universes hung by a fraying thread.
In the center of the devastated stage, Jiren stood tall, though his Ki was a shadow of its former self. He commanded Frieza and 17 to eliminate themselves, his voice devoid of emotion. Frieza merely chuckled, his Golden form shimmering despite the scuffs on his armor.
"I no longer feel that absolute pressure you once radiated," Frieza taunted, his voice dripping with venom. "Your legendary power has cracked. You're about to taste the bitterness of defeat... and it will be at my hands."
The insult ignited a spark in Jiren. He lunged, knocking 17 aside with a brutal strike before engaging Frieza in a high-speed blur of blows. Shockingly, Frieza held his ground, his movements precise. He continued to needle Jiren, sensing the mental instability behind the titan's eyes. "Power built on isolation is surprisingly fragile once it's shattered," Frieza hissed. "I can hear your heart wailing, Jiren. You're terrified of returning to that weak, pathetic version of yourself."
Enraged, Jiren pinned Frieza's tail under his boot, raining down a torrential storm of heavy strikes. Frieza took the punishment, proving himself to be the universe's most resilient punching bag, refusing to stay down. Seizing the opening, Android 17 surged forward, locking Jiren in a desperate grapple. At point-blank range, 17 triggered a massive Ki explosion, sacrificing his own stability to catch Jiren in the blast.
As the smoke cleared, Jiren fell to one knee, coughing and visibly drained. Frieza approached, a cruel death beam flickering at his fingertip. "Any last words?" Frieza sneered, wasting precious seconds on theatrics.
That pause was all Toppo needed. From the sidelines, the candidate for Destruction screamed, "What are you doing, Jiren! Are you going to let it end like this? Is this pathetic display your final stand?" Frieza mocked the "noisy companion," but Jiren merely muttered that he had no such thing.
Toppo's voice rose to a roar, shaking the very foundation of the arena. "You never trusted anyone, but look at why you fought! For your own pride, Jirenâfight to the end! Even if you don't believe in your own strength right now, I believe in you! You are Jiren the Gray! You are stronger than anyone!"
The weight of that trust, something Jiren had rejected his entire life, acted like a catalyst. A terrifying, scorched-earth aura erupted from Jiren's body, rising like a pillar of crimson flame. With a single, casual wave of his hand, he sent Frieza tumbling away. The sheer heat of his resurrected Ki forced Frieza and 17 into a desperate defensive stance as the monster of Universe 11 stood back up, more dangerous than ever.