There it was a stop for a moment.
and then..
Gohan lunged, the fractured earth detonating beneath his feet as if gravity itself was shattering under the pressure of his stride. His body cut through the distance in an instant, right arm chambered tight to his ribs, muscles knotting into cords, veins bulging like cables straining to snap. His momentum roared like thunder.
Black met him, almost casually, by flicking his wrist. Thin, rose-colored projections of energy stretched from his fingertips, sharpened into sickening razors. Their collision was a flash of red and flesh—Gohan's fist plowed through the blades, skin ripping raw across his knuckles, blood misting into the air like rain torn apart by a storm.
But he did not falter. His forward drive was unbroken, the pain little more than fuel. His knee whipped upward, a savage spike crashing into Black's ribs with a wet crack.
"GUH—!" Black gagged blood, crimson spraying across the void. His torso bent under the impact, ribs bowing unnaturally, edges pressing against the inside of his pale skin like knives trying to cut their way out. But his body twisted grotesquely, a shoulder rotating farther than any joint should allow. His elbow jammed into Gohan's throat with brutal precision.
Gohan stumbled back, clutching his windpipe, gasping for air like a drowning man. Black's grin split his face wide, teeth stained red, lips slick with his own gore—yet the crack in his ribs was visible, a sharp outline straining against the surface of his flesh. The wound thrilled him.
Instead of slowing, it drove him forward.
He blurred into the distance, body vanishing into streaks of rose light. Dozens of phantoms peeled away from him, their forms carving at the empty air, each one cutting like a phantom executioner. Gohan braced, aura flaring around him, and slipped between the illusions with violent jerks of instinct—steps that bent the stone beneath him, movements sharp and desperate. He hunted for the true body, teeth clenched through the sting in his throat.
He found him midair.
The exchange was a brutal dance of fists, forearms, knees, and shins. A chop met a hook, a sweep bled into a rising kick. Each strike thundered with the sound of stone collapsing, and each one tore flesh from bone. Splinters of blood scattered across the void like shrapnel.
Black refused to fall.
He caught Gohan's final elbow with his shoulder, the impact snapping the joint out of socket. The arm dangled useless, skin already swelling into a purple welt. And yet with his other arm, he drove one of his jagged blades deep into Gohan's left thigh.
The scream tore from Gohan's lungs, raw and animal. Blood surged down his leg in thick streams, splattering across the ruined earth beneath them. His stance faltered, weight collapsing around the injured limb. But his fist answered, smashing into Black's face with a force that folded bone. Cartilage in the nose gave way, collapsing inward, blood jetting outward in a grotesque spray.
Both staggered. Both crippled. Both grinning like demons.
Their duel collapsed into savagery.
Black slashed, his hands cutting through the air with inhuman precision. Each swipe opened the world itself, the air warping under the stress of his blows. Gohan met him with pure body—his forearms burning as he blocked, skin splitting open from the sheer abrasion of power against flesh. Every collision left new welts, his skin bubbling and blistering at the edges. He had no time to breathe, no time to recover.
Mystic turned, dragging his bleeding leg like a broken anchor, and roared through clenched teeth. His body twisted violently as he spun, his palm catching Black's forearm mid-swing. He twisted down, dragging the god's body with him, and drove a headbutt into his face. The crack of bone was sickening. Both their foreheads split open instantly, blood streaming down in thick, mingling sheets.
The ground drank their lifeblood.
Black laughed, even as his body shook from the impact. His blade whirled in a sudden, wide arc, carving shallowly across Gohan's shoulder. Flesh split. Muscle fibers snapped like torn rope. The shoulder sagged, nearly disconnected, tendon unraveling inside his arm.
Gohan roared back, veins standing out along his neck, his chest heaving with rage. His body moved like instinct given flesh—jerks, sways, violent bursts of interception. His hands caught the edges of Black's swings, forcing the blades aside even as they ripped open the skin of his palms. He vanished behind Black in a blur of speed and hammered his boot into the god's chin.
The sound of the crack was like a gunshot.
Black's jaw nearly dislocated, twisting sideways, teeth scattering loose inside his mouth. Blood cascaded down his chin in heavy drops. But he would not fall.
Instead, he carved his own palm open with the tip of his energy blade. Blood spilled like dark wine, thick and slick. He smeared it through the air, and reality itself seemed to split at the edges. Dozens of copies of his body tore out of the fracture, each one wielding the same jagged edges of energy. They fell upon Gohan with the hunger of wolves.
He was drowning in bodies.
They clawed and slashed, their blades carving into his ribs, shoulders, thighs. His gi tore into tatters, his skin beneath it shredded into long ribbons of raw flesh. Blood spilled from him like a broken jug, raining over the fractured earth.
Still he fought.
Every swing of his arms was heavy, violent, primal. He tore into the illusions with fists and feet, breaking necks, caving skulls, ripping limbs from sockets. But for each one that collapsed into ash, more swarmed in, dragging him deeper into the haze of slaughter.
The ground itself became a pool of blood.
Through the chaos, the true Black emerged—burned, broken, chest collapsed inward, aura flaring like a storm of thorns. His blade thrust forward, clean and precise. It pierced straight through Gohan's abdomen.
The sound was wet. A rupture of flesh.
Gohan gagged, his throat convulsing, blood bursting from his mouth. His eyes went wide, shock spreading across his pale face. The god twisted the blade inside him, savoring the grotesque spray of gore as it poured from the wound.
"Die with dignity," Black hissed, his voice shredded by his own blood.
But Gohan's hand clamped around the blade itself, blood running down over his fingers. His other arm drew back, trembling violently, but unyielding.
"NEVER!"
The fist crashed into Black's sternum. The bone shattered inward, rib fragments stabbing through lung and flesh. Blood gushed from Black's chest in a violent spurt, coating his own body in crimson. His eyes went wide with disbelief. Gohan dragged him closer, the blade still lodged in his own gut, and hammered another strike into him.
The ground beneath them shattered apart, entire slabs of stone upended.
When the smoke thinned, both bodies were tumbling through the air, slamming into the ruins below with earth-shaking force.
Gohan dragged himself forward, hands pressed to his abdomen, blood spilling between his fingers in thick, hot streams. His body was pale, vision tunneling, the edges of his consciousness flickering in and out. And yet his aura still burned faintly, a flame that refused to die.
Black staggered up as well, his form mangled beyond recognition. His chest caved, ribs jutting outward in jagged spines. His jaw hung crooked, broken sideways. His skin peeled in places where burns had eaten through muscle. Yet the aura that clung to him swirled more violently, feeding on his pain, mutating into something sharper and crueler with every heartbeat.
They were dying.
And yet they were still ascending.
Mystic swayed, wiping blood from his lips with the back of his trembling hand. His shoulder hung useless, his leg barely holding him upright, his abdomen pouring life from the open wound. His face was a mask of crimson, his forehead split, eyes red with fury.
Black's body shook as he straightened, grin crooked, lips painted in blood, teeth shattered into jagged ruins.
They lunged again.
No grace. No distance. No strategy left.
Only flesh against flesh.
Every strike was ruin. A fist cracking into jaw, teeth flying loose. An elbow collapsing a ribcage, blood coughing into the air. A knee splitting skin against muscle. A headbutt caving brows, blood washing down both faces.
Their blood mingled in the dirt, painting the ruins beneath them.
Each movement was slower now, but heavier. Every punch carried the weight of desperation. Every block tore skin from bone. They gripped each other by the throats, squeezing, dragging nails down flesh, biting through skin when fists weren't enough.
There was no longer technique.
Only survival.
And neither one of them would give it up.
The world trembled as if it could no longer bear witness. Dust had not even settled on the ruined plains of Earth when the two warriors vanished again, their movements sharper, heavier, more violent than before. The air cracked, not like thunder but like fabric torn apart.
Future Gohan and Gohan Black reappeared miles above the atmosphere, fists already driving into one another. Flesh met flesh with such force that shockwaves pierced through the stratosphere. The sky lit up like firestorms.
Blood streaked across their faces, smeared into their hair, dripping into the void around them. But neither flinched. Neither pulled back.
"Still standing, mortal?" Gohan Black hissed, spittle mixed with blood flying from his mouth. His eyes burned with divine fury, and yet somewhere deep inside, the faintest glint of admiration flickered.
Future Gohan wiped the blood trickling from his lips with the back of his hand. "You think I'd kneel before you? After everything you've done?" His teeth clenched, his voice breaking between rage and exhaustion. "I'll bury you with my own hands!"
Their fists clashed again. Once. Twice. A thousand times. To mortal eyes, it would have seemed like a single flash of light streaking across the heavens. To them, it was a brutal exchange of knuckles on bone, muscle tearing against unrelenting will.
Black's knee drove deep into Gohan's ribs. A sharp crack followed. Gohan staggered but instantly returned with a vicious elbow to Black's temple, forcing him back. Blood burst from the wound, trickling down the side of his face. Black snarled, almost laughing through the pain.
They plummeted together, burning through clouds, before smashing into the ocean with an explosion that split the waters apart. Steam engulfed the horizon. For a moment, the Earth itself seemed to scream.
When they emerged again, they weren't in the same place. Space tore like a wound, and suddenly their battle unfolded far from Earth, among the glittering shadows of Neptune. The blue giant trembled as their fists carved cracks of light across its atmosphere.
Gohan pressed forward, his strikes growing sharper, faster. Every blow he landed was accompanied by the sound of flesh tearing, bones groaning under stress. His knuckles bled raw, skin split open from constant contact. But he didn't stop.
"You… can feel it too, can't you?" he growled, driving his fist into Black's chest so hard that it sent the god crashing into Neptune's icy surface. The planet shook as geysers of frozen gas erupted.
Black rose from the crater, coughing blood into his palm. He grinned, his teeth tinted red. "You're adapting… your body keeps evolving mid-battle. It's revolting… and magnificent." His aura snapped like lightning, Rosé flames wrapping around him tighter, angrier, hotter. "But don't think for a second that means you've surpassed me!"
He lunged, faster than light, slamming his forehead into Gohan's nose. The crack echoed like thunder. Gohan staggered, his vision blurring. He barely caught Black's follow-up knee aimed at his throat, redirecting it with a twisted arm lock.
The two spun, grappling, tearing into each other with raw, primal fury. There was no technique left—just survival.
"Damn you!" Gohan roared, headbutting Black, their blood smearing together.
"You're filth!" Black spat, breaking free, his fist slicing across Gohan's jaw, nearly tearing it open.
Their voices mixed with their blows, words spat between fists like venom, like fire. Rage made them equals. Pain made them brothers.
Neptune could no longer hold them. Their combined strike detonated against its surface, a blinding eruption that shattered part of its crust. With the force of the blast, they vanished again, streaking through the void, until suddenly—
The Sun.
Its burning light swallowed them as if welcoming them into its inferno. They crashed into the solar surface with no hesitation, their bodies indifferent to heat that could turn worlds to ash. Flames rose in waves, golden seas surging as they tore into each other with renewed brutality.
The fire licked their skin, scorching it, searing open wounds further. Their blood boiled but their power only surged. They screamed, not from the pain but from the madness of battle.
Black's hand seized Gohan by the throat, slamming him deep into the molten surface. He sneered, eyes twitching with bloodlust. "This star will be your grave!"
Gohan's fingers dug into Black's wrist, crushing bone. His voice tore from his lungs in fury. "Then it'll burn us both alive!"
With a roar, he twisted free, dragging Black beneath the molten waves. Inside the blazing core, light turned everything to agony. Their silhouettes clashed like demons wrestling inside hell's furnace.
Their voices echoed in the void.
"You're strong, mortal… too strong," Black growled, blood and fire spilling from his mouth. "Every time I strike you down, you rise higher. Why?!"
Gohan's fist crashed into his ribs, shattering them one by one. His chest heaved with ragged breath. "Because im am a saiyan..you should know that by now!"
Black retaliated, driving his claws into Gohan's shoulder, ripping flesh. Gohan screamed, his blood vaporizing instantly in the solar heat.
Still, he smiled.
For the first time, Black faltered. His strike slowed, his eyes narrowing—not with rage, but something close to acknowledgment. He spat blood into the fire. "you're definily the most fun of all mortals, trash!"
They surged again. Punches, knees, elbows—each one tearing deeper into each other's bodies. Skin split open, muscles shredded. Their faces swelled with bruises, lips torn, teeth broken. Every breath was blood. Every scream was pain. Yet every strike grew heavier.
Inside the Sun, the battle became primal. Beyond gods. Beyond mortals. Beyond reason.
Their dialogue mixed with grunts, snarls, and broken breaths.
"You think… I'll ever… stop?" Gohan gasped, hammering his fist into Black's gut.
"You'll break before I do!" Black roared, answering with a knee that nearly caved Gohan's skull.
"I've already broken!" Gohan spat blood across his opponent's chest, headbutting him again and again until both foreheads split wide open, blood sizzling into steam.
"You… damn… mortal…" Black's words were almost a growl now, his throat shredded.
"Call me mortal all you want…" Gohan whispered, his fist trembling, burning, shattering ribs with each strike. "I'm still the one who's going to kill you."
The Sun convulsed, flares exploding outward, cosmic storms raging as if the star itself recoiled from their violence. The sheer energy of their fight warped its core, bending gravity around them.
And yet, they did not care. They screamed into each other's faces, blood spraying, eyes blazing.
Respect lingered between the fury—silent, begrudging. Black saw in Gohan a reflection of what he despised most: resilience. Gohan saw in Black a twisted version of himself, one who embraced power without restraint.
That respect didn't soften their blows. It made them harder.