Beerus leaned forward, silent.
"And here I thought Goku was the best," he smirked, then added, "Saiyans... what a magnificent race."
Whis nodded. "Still, that Ultra Instinct is half-baked. He might need more work to fully reach that state."
Beerus grunted in agreement, his eyes never leaving the battlefield.
Dave advanced through the dust and smoke—battle-worn, aura flickering, but still standing.
Jiren hovered above, silent, eyes narrowed. His chest rose and fell heavily. Dave had outlasted him in a test of endurance—and worse, he’d pushed Jiren harder than even the God of Destruction of his own Universe.
But Jiren wasn’t done.
He closed his eyes. For a moment, everything went still.
A pulse of pressure exploded outward from Jiren, darker and deeper than before. His crimson aura sharpened, focusing into blades of energy licking upward like wild flames. His body surged—not growing in size, but refining, compacting every ounce of power.
The stone under him cracked again.
From the stands, Dyspo gasped. "He’s focusing everything—pure, absolute control."
Toppo grimaced. "That’s not just power... it’s the will of someone who’s refused to lose his entire life."
The Grand Priest raised an eyebrow. "Jiren is now beyond full power. He’s touching something more primal—limitless potential under absolute control."
Jiren’s eyes snapped open—glowing red.
Dave grinned. "There it is. I was wondering if I’d get your real best."
Jiren responded by vanishing—a blur of red light—and reappearing in front of Dave with a thunderous punch. Dave blocked, but the impact still sent a wave of energy across the arena.
And then they fought.
Fast. Brutal. Perfect.
Fist met fist. Knee slammed into rib. Elbows collided with jawlines. Each hit from Jiren now carried surgical precision and explosive weight. Dave fought back hard—overwhelming at moments—but Jiren adapted rapidly.
The arena shuddered. A tower collapsed behind them. The audience leaned in, silent, locked on the two god-tier warriors.
Dave landed a massive blow to Jiren’s side—Jiren coughed blood, but twisted and countered with a brutal hook to Dave’s temple.
The shockwave cracked the air.
They both leapt back—panting, bleeding, glowing.
Jiren nodded. "You’re worthy."
Dave smirked. "Took you long enough."
In the far distance, Hit’s eyes gleamed from behind a fallen boulder. His Time-Skip technique flickered into play for just an instant—barely a tenth of a second.
Dave staggered forward.
From behind him, Hit appeared in a shimmer of violet mist—silent, precise, a dagger of space-time efficiency. One palm hit Dave square in the back, charged with compressed temporal force.
"Sorry," Hit muttered. "You’re too dangerous to leave in."
Off-balance. Surprised.
Right toward the edge of the arena.
Jiren’s eyes widened.
Dave spun in mid-air, trying to correct his momentum—
But the damage was done.
His foot scraped the edge—
The crowd erupted in stunned silence.
But then—Dave suddenly leapt back onto the arena.
He landed with a thud, cracking the ground beneath him as he turned to face Hit. "Sneaky bastard," Dave muttered, eyeing the assassin.
Hit’s eyes widened in disbelief—but he quickly regained his composure.
"You need to be eliminated for my universe’s survival," Hit said coldly.
Dave nodded, grinning. "You’re quite good."
In a blur of motion, Dave appeared right in front of him.
Hit tried to jump back, instinctively activating a Time-Skip—but it was too late. Dave was already there. His fist slammed into Hit’s chest like a missile.
The impact sent Hit flying like a pinball, his body bouncing across the arena.
A final strike launched him past the edge—and into the void.
A moment later, he reappeared in the spectator stands, coughing but conscious.
Dave exhaled and turned his gaze back to Jiren. "I also needed to eliminate you... for my universe’s survival."
Jiren stood slowly—his posture composed, but his body radiating power. Muscles bulging, veins pulsing, his aura began to rise like an awakened beast.
He stepped toward Dave.
"Let’s finish this," Jiren said.
Dave’s aura flared—half white, half green, flickering with violent energy. Jiren’s aura surged with deep red fire.
And then—they charged.
Their fists met again, and the world cracked around them.
Their fists collided again, the impact tearing a shockwave so fierce that it bent the very space around them. The floor of the arena cracked further, pieces floating upward under the pressure of their ki. Every strike now came with a roar of thunder and a flicker of ruptured time.
Jiren’s red aura twisted into a vortex around him, his muscles tensed to perfection, each move sharp and ruthless.
Dave moved like a storm given form—his half-white, half-green aura crackling with instability, his expression sharpened by pure will.
Jiren struck—fist to rib.
Dave countered—elbow to jaw.
A knee from Jiren. A spinning heel from Dave.
They moved like gods.
From the stands, the spectators couldn’t even see the hits—only flashes of color and energy, followed by the thunderclaps of their collisions.
Zeno jumped in excitement. "This is the best fight ever!"
The Grand Priest narrowed his eyes. "Their power is threatening the structure of the Null Realm itself."
Suddenly—Dave feinted left, vanished, and reappeared behind Jiren. He launched a palm strike into Jiren’s back that sent him skidding across the arena, carving a trench through the stone.
Jiren growled and dug his feet in, stopping just short of the edge.
Dave charged—but Jiren’s eyes lit up.
And then, Jiren unleashed his full fury.
A deep, bellowing roar erupted from within him as he raised both arms and released a focused explosion of crimson energy straight into the sky.
It cascaded down as a rain of piercing red blades—pure will made manifest.
Dave shielded with his arms, sliding back as each blade struck him like a meteor, slicing the battlefield apart.
With a wild yell, Dave rushed through the storm, ignoring the burns, the cuts—and punched Jiren square in the gut.
A moment of weakness. Dave grabbed his arm, flipped him over, and smashed him into the ground—then leapt up and unleashed a brutal energy blast down on top of him.
The stage lit up like a star going nova.
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