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(Pov Son Ethan)
The silence in the stadium was cutting like a knife. Only thick raindrops hitting the empty bleachers broke that heavy atmosphere. The announcer, still trembling from the scene he had just witnessed, cleared his throat and adjusted the microphone with sweaty hands.
"N-now... the final match!" - his voice came out faltering, echoing through the devastated stadium. "Son Ethan versus Ma... Ma Junior!"
THUMP. THUMP.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked toward the center of the shattered ring. On the other side, Ma Junior - no, Piccolo - approached with that corner smirk that got on my nerves. His belly was still swollen from the jar he had swallowed with Kami inside.
"So you're the one, kid?" - he spat the words, wiping a thread of green blood from the corner of his mouth. "The prodigy everyone won't stop talking about."
I shrugged. "Yeah... guess that's me."
CRACK!
Lightning split the sky, illuminating our faces for a second. In that flash, I saw something in his eyes - it wasn't just malice. There was... curiosity? Respect, maybe?
"Let's see what you're made of then."
We both assumed fighting stances. But it was strange - neither of us rushed to attack right away. It was like two predators studying each other, sniffing out danger in the air.
WHOOSH!
He vanished from in front of me. Pure instinct made me spin left - WHAM! - blocking a kick that would have taken my head off. The impact made the air vibrate.
"Not bad, squirt."
I responded with a crooked smile. "You're not half bad yourself."
And then it really began. A deadly dance in the middle of that storm. Our fists met in the air - BAM! BAM! BAM! - creating small shockwaves. Kicks sliced through the wind - SWISH! SWOOSH! - each seeking an opening in the other's defense.
"Interesting..." - Piccolo stepped back, analyzing. "You have something different. An energy I've never felt before."
It was true. That divine energy flowing through my veins put me at a level similar to a Super Saiyan 2, even in base form. And from the looks of it, Piccolo wasn't playing around either - that thing Fu had done to him, unlocking his potential, made the guy absurdly strong.
"How about we stop playing?" - I suggested, cracking my knuckles.
Piccolo laughed, a guttural, threatening sound. "Thought you'd never ask."
FWOOM!
I concentrated my energy and - POP! POP! POP! - three perfect clones appeared beside me. It was a technique I had perfected, creating copies that were practically indistinguishable from the original.
"Four against one?" - Piccolo raised that green eyebrow. "Think that'll be enough?"
My clones and I spread out, surrounding him. We attacked in perfect sync - a festival of punches and kicks coming from all directions. For a moment, I thought I'd caught him off guard.
But then...
"HAAAAA!"
An explosion of green energy swept away my clones like dry leaves. Piccolo stood in the center, arms crossed, with that irritating little smile.
"My turn."
VUSH! VUSH! VUSH!
Three Piccolos appeared beside him. The same technique! The bastard had copied my move on the spot.
"Two can play this game, kid."
And then it became a war of clones. Eight figures clashing in the air, each impact creating shockwaves that made the rain veer off course. It was impossible to tell who was who in the middle of that confusion of punches and kicks.
CRASH! BAM! POW!
Suddenly, all the clones - mine and his - exploded in smoke. Just the two of us remained, facing each other in the center of the ring. Panting, but with that gleam in our eyes of someone enjoying the fight.
"Enough warm-up," I said, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth.
"Couldn't agree more."
The air around him began to vibrate. A dark aura, almost black, enveloped his body. His green skin began to change, becoming more vibrant, more... orange? His muscles swelled, veins bulged. It was terrifying and mesmerizing at the same time.
"HRAAAAAAHHH!"
The transformation exploded in a flash of black energy mixed with orange. Piccolo now radiated a dark power, courtesy of that damned Fu. His eyes glowed with supernatural intensity.
Well, if that's how he wanted to play...
I closed my eyes. Let my body relax, my mind empty. That technique I had trained so hard for, that had cost me sweat and blood to master...
"Ultra Instinct," I whispered.
A supernatural calm took over me. My hair rose, silver like moonlight. A shimmering aura, almost ethereal, danced around my body. Every muscle, every fiber of my being was in perfect harmony.
Piccolo's eyes widened. "What the hell is that?"
"Your sentence," I replied, my voice strangely calm.
And then...
BOOOOOM!
We collided in the center of the ring with the force of two meteors. The shockwave swept everything within a hundred-meter radius - rain, debris, even the air seemed to have been sucked away. The bleachers shook, some seats were torn out.
Now it was for real. Life or death. And as our fists clashed at a speed impossible to follow with normal eyes, one thing became clear:
Only one of us would leave this arena alive.
CRASH! BANG! KRAKOOM!
Our strikes created mini-tornadoes. With each clash, lightning seemed to be born from the impact. Orange Piccolo with dark energy was absurdly powerful, each punch loaded with ancestral fury. But my Ultra Instinct...
My body moved on its own, gliding between his attacks like water between stones. Each dodge was perfect, each counter-attack surgical. It was as if I could see the future - no, better than that. It was as if future and present were the same thing.
"DAMN YOU!" Piccolo snarled, frustrated at not being able to hit me. "STAND STILL!"
He brought his hands together, dark energy accumulating between his palms. "BLACK MAKANKOSAPPO!"
Two spiral beams, black as night, cut through the air toward me. But my body was already moving, gliding between the deadly rays with supernatural grace.
"It's useless," my voice came out calm, almost serene. "In this state, your hatred cannot touch me."
And it was true. Each of his attacks, no matter how powerful, found only emptiness. Meanwhile, my counterattacks landed with millimetric precision, each blow wearing down his strength.
The rain kept falling, mixing with sweat and blood in the ring. Two warriors at the peak of their powers, dancing a deadly waltz under the stormy sky.
And deep down, inside Piccolo's belly, I could almost feel Kami's presence, watching everything through his executioner's eyes.
The final battle was just beginning.