Hit's eyes narrowed slightly. His knife-hand had actually passed straight through his opponent's body.
In the next instant, a massive force slammed into Hit's chest, blasting him backward through the air.
"So that was it. An afterimage you deliberately left behind." Hit's face remained impassive.
For the first time, Piccolo had landed a clean hit, yet there was no triumph on his face. If anything, he looked even more grim.
"I've been guarding against your trump card this whole time. I didn't expect you to break through at the critical moment."
"You're sharp." Hit nodded. "Yes. Just now, the time I can skip with Time-Skip increased from 0.1 seconds to 0.2."
He steadied himself, a rare note of emotion entering his voice.
"I don't even remember how many years it's been since I've fought at this level. If this continues, I may break through again."
Piccolo snorted.
"No matter how far your Time-Skip evolves, it won't matter. I've already found a way to crack it."
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Piccolo's figure flickered wildly, and dozens of Piccolos appeared across the arena.
At the same time, every Piccolo raised one arm to his forehead and began condensing energy at his fingertips.
"More afterimages won't help," Hit said flatly.
His fists snapped out in rapid succession, and each afterimage shattered under the wind pressure of his punches.
But the afterimages kept forming nonstop.
Above Piccolo's brow, the orange energy sphere grew brighter and brighter, gradually becoming a blazing orb that made the air feel heavy.
It radiated a destructive aura, as if it could swallow everything it touched.
At the same time, hundreds no, thousands of arms shot outward, stretching and elongating as they clawed for Hit.
Hit's expression didn't change. He weaved through the tight space, smashing one elongated arm after another.
The afterimages were illusions, lacking real striking power, yet they still caused trouble forcing Hit to spend time locating Piccolo's true body.
"Well done, Namekian!" Beerus rose from his seat. "Beat him!"
Even Levos felt a surge of hope.
Piccolo's battle sense was never inferior to anyone. He had plenty of lethal techniques.
He'd just been held back by the "meta" of the era power creep leaving him behind the main cast, until he barely had any meaningful spotlight in the late stages of the canon story.
But if his level caught up to Goku and the others, he would absolutely be one of Earth's most reliable warriors.
Like right now.
With his Orange form, Piccolo had stepped into the top tier able to fight evenly with a monster like Hit, a veteran who'd lived for over a thousand years.
The charge reached its peak.
"Special Beam Cannon !"
All of Piccolo's afterimages dropped their right hands at once, and hundreds of spiraling beams shot toward Hit.
The beams were unimaginably fast, reaching Hit in a blink.
At that moment, Hit vanished from where he stood.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Almost every beam missed.
Piccolo's lips curled upward.
His elongated left arm had been waiting, like a farmer guarding a tree stump for a rabbit to run into it. The moment Hit reappeared, the arm snapped around him again.
Piccolo pointed with his right hand.
A flash exploded so bright people could barely keep their eyes open.
The real Special Beam Cannon fired, straight at Hit.
Violent air currents erupted. The beam's explosive energy gouged the arena cleanly in two along its path.
If it landed, Hit's chest would be punched open with a hole.
It was sharp, vicious, and perfectly timed and Hit was restrained. There was no reason it shouldn't hit.
Champa panicked.
"Hit! Dodge!"
But Hit looked trapped in a certain defeat. Piccolo's grip bound him tightly. There was nowhere to run.
Hit suddenly pulled both hands free, bringing his fingers together into a rectangular frame aiming it at Piccolo from afar.
In that instant, time seemed to stop.
Piccolo's movements froze. Even the Special Beam Cannon stalled in mid-flight.
Piccolo's pupils shrank. His face locked into pure disbelief.
The crowd was still reeling from the terrifying beam then the reversal hit them like a slap.
"What was that?!"
"He still has another card?!"
Everyone's heart turned cold.
Piccolo's technique had already been terrifying, yet Hit's looked even more unreasonable.
"Time-Cage?!" Levos was stunned. "Damn…"
Hit really wasn't playing fair.
Breaking through mid-fight was one thing. But using a technique he only developed shortly before the Tournament of Power right now?
Master Hit, be honest.
How many stat points have you been hoarding for centuries without spending?
Then Levos remembered: Hit had also had his potential unlocked by the Namekian Dragon Balls.
He felt slightly less shocked.
Champa, you truly never stop doing evil.
Levos had already stopped hoping Piccolo could win.
He focused all his attention on this new move.
Grind, then. If they're grinding, he'd grind harder.
On the arena, Hit slipped free. Piccolo's expression grew stiff.
"This is a technique I've been envisioning for a long time. I didn't expect to suddenly comprehend it today." Hit spoke calmly. "I call it Time-Cage."
"It slows the flow of time around the target."
The gods exploded into uproar.
"This is absurd! It's already touching the domain of rules!"
"How can a mortal hold a power like this? Manipulating time is a grave crime!"
"And he's explaining it so openly, using it without restraint!"
The reaction was fierce.
Only Champa's smile went rigid as he kept sneaking glances at Zeno.
"Don't worry, Lord Champa." Vados glanced at him. "Hit's technique stretches time along its dimension. It doesn't rewind or reverse it. There's no condition for altering history."
"Really?" Champa asked suspiciously.
"Of course," Vados replied with certainty.
Sure enough, Zeno clapped his tiny hands.
"Time-Cage! So cool!"
Champa's heart dropped back into his stomach. He immediately cracked open a bottle of soda to celebrate.
"Hit, go! Knock that guy out! If you lose, I won't forgive you!"
Hit looked back his gaze icy.
A bead of sweat slid down Champa's temple. He lowered his head at once and took small, obedient sips of soda.
"I almost forgot Hit's job is assassin." Levos muttered. "And the kind you can't see or catch…"
Hit slid his hands back into his pockets and walked toward Piccolo at a leisurely pace, as if strolling through a garden.
Rumble !
Freed from Time-Cage, Piccolo regained control. The Special Beam Cannon shot off the broken arena and disappeared into the starry void.
Piccolo frowned.
If Hit wanted to, he could've knocked him off the stage during Time-Cage with ease.
The advantage was obvious. Hit hadn't even used his full strength.
Not defeating Piccolo outright was a kind of courtesy.
Piccolo wasn't bitter about it.
But when the moment of surrender truly arrived… there was still a quiet loneliness in his chest.
Then a familiar voice reached him.
"Piccolo. Don't forfeit. Keep fighting."
Piccolo froze.
It was Levos.
"If you can crack Time-Skip, you can crack Time-Cage. You can crack any killing technique too. Would the old Demon King Piccolo ever admit defeat? Don't let Kami's personality hold you back!"
"I'm not a Demon King… and I'm not Kami…"
"Then who are you?"
"I'm just…" Piccolo caught in his throat.
"A Namekian who forgot his name."
In Namekian, "Piccolo" meant another world and it was also the command that opened a Namekian spaceship.
It had never truly been a name.
Piccolo understood.
Levos wanted him to reclaim the self that belonged to him alone.
Ever since meeting Levos, Piccolo had witnessed enemies he once couldn't even imagine.
They had clawed their way out of hopelessness step by step.
Even now, though the crisis wasn't gone, the road ahead no longer felt as pitch-black as it once did.
Back then, reason had told Piccolo the truth: Earth had no hope.
And yet someone had persisted in silence dragging them out of despair, leading them onto the stage they stood on today.
The more rational you are, the easier it is to see how cold and dark the world can be.
And Levos was always that stubborn, unyielding man the one who would climb up from the bottom and charge forward, again and again, bringing people a warm slice of sunlight.
If anyone had the right to give up, it was never Piccolo.
His heart hardened. His fist clenched.
"By tradition, I've already lost… but…" Piccolo's eyes ignited with a dazzling light. "I need to prove something to everyone."
"A Namekian would rather die than surrender!"
His fighting spirit roared like flames, burning hot enough to sear the air.
Levos felt his scalp go numb.
Uh… Piccolo, don't overthink this…
I just want you two to stay on the arena longer so I can keep farming this training room.
The longer they fought, the more Levos benefited from his "secret grind."
But in the very next instant, Piccolo's aura expanded violently surging beyond its previous peak.
"So… let's fight again!"
The entire audience erupted.
"Fight again! Fight again! Fight again!"
A fire rose in Hit's eyes, as if his blood had finally been lit.
Two towering pressures shot skyward. Space itself began to warp.
Rumble !
With a shrieking hum, the shockwaves of their collision swept the entire area.
Weaker spectators clutched their ears, screaming in pain.
At the same time, the distortion spread wider and wider, crawling outward like cracking glass.
A crisp shattering sound rang out.
The warped space collapsed.
Everyone stared in disbelief as the two fighters at the center vanished.
Even the raging hurricane that had enveloped the arena was sucked into a swirling, rainbow-colored hole.
"What… just happened?"
"That energy spike was insane…"
"They… broke through dimensional space? That's unbelievable."
Not just the fighters many of the gods were stunned too.
They couldn't understand how two mortals could suddenly unleash such terrifying power.
Everyone stood staring at that iridescent space.
"I can't see! I can't see!" Zeno shouted impatiently.
The Grand Priest snapped his fingers, presenting a divine pad to Zeno.
Zeno swiped the screen and immediately sank into the battle feed.
"Awesome! So exciting!"
Zeno was having the time of his life. Everyone else could only stare helplessly.
"This Namekian's spirit isn't bad." Beerus looked impressed. "His name is Piccolo, right? I'll remember it."
Then he glanced at Buu and Pual.
"You two the pink chubby one and the blue-haired girl. If you perform well, I'll remember you too."
Buu looked like he half understood. Pual looked nervous.
"Master Levos… can I really do it?"
Levos smiled faintly.
"Of course. As long as you turn Super Saiyan, no one can beat you."
"But… I still haven't managed to transform…"
"Believe you can." Levos patted Pual's shoulder. "When you need to transform, keep thinking of the things that make you angry. Rage is the trigger for a Saiyan's transformation."
"Yeah! Got it!" Pual's eyes lit up with determination.
They didn't have to wait long.
Bang bang bang bang bang!
The air snapped violently. Calm space shattered apart and two figures tumbled back onto the broken arena.
They were back.
Neither fighter looked good.
Hit's clothes were torn full of holes, his body marked with wounds.
Piccolo was worse covered in blood, his face drained, barely able to stand, as if he might collapse at any second.
The battle still wasn't decided.
"Piccolo! Are you okay?!" Goku shouted from the edge of the stands.
"I can keep going."
On the opposite side, Champa's heart was in his throat.
"Hit, don't you dare lose! I already opened a bottle of soda to celebrate for you!"
Hit stared at Piccolo.
"Piccolo… you're a worthy opponent. Fighting you has benefited me greatly."
"And you were incredible too, Hit." Piccolo smiled faintly. "You broke through Time-Skip's limits again."
"I once lamented that the vast universe held no opponents… until you gave me the answer."
Piccolo's smile deepened.
"Let's end this."
Their eyes burned with fighting spirit.
They both swung at the same time.
But both were at the limit. Their blows carried no aura, no grandeur just the last weight of will.
Their fists met… and locked in the air.
Everyone held their breath, eyes wide, waiting for the loser to fall first.
Thud!
Two bodies collapsed almost simultaneously, dust bursting upward.
"Uh… who won?"
Both fighters were unconscious. The rules didn't specify what to do in a situation like this.
No one knew what to call it.
Would they judge by who woke up first?
Or declare a tie?
Many eyes turned toward the Grand Priest.
"Grand Priest," Supreme Kai Roh of Universe 9 said respectfully, "since there is no winner, I propose no universe receives points this round."
Beerus and Champa instantly exploded.
"You're the universe whose fighter got eliminated first what right do you have to talk?!"
"Exactly! Why no points? Obviously our Hit won!"
"It was clearly Piccolo!"
"Hit!"
"Piccolo!"
The two angels immediately shut down the twins' argument.
Rubbing the bumps on their heads, Beerus and Champa fell silent and waited for the Grand Priest's ruling.
"After reviewing the divine pad playback," the Grand Priest announced calmly, "Hit fell 0.1 seconds later than Piccolo."
"The winner of this match is Hit!"
"Universe 6 gains another point."
Universe 7 felt regret, but not disappointment.
Piccolo had reached his limit and he had given everyone an unforgettable fight.
As soon as the result was announced, Levos brought Piccolo back for treatment.
Hit also woke after Vados healed him.
"The one who should've won was Piccolo," Hit said quietly. "I'm over a thousand years old. This doesn't feel like victory."
"Hmph." Piccolo raised an eyebrow. "You still didn't use your assassin's true killing technique. I lost fair and square."
Gulp gulp
Burp.
After downing the whole bottle of soda, Champa let out a long burp.
"Perfect, Universe 6! We've got this in the bag!"
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