KA-BOOOOM!
The stage lit up like a star going nova.
Silence followed.
Smoke.
From the crater, Jiren rose slowly—bloodied, shaking.
Dave landed across from him, hunched over, breathing heavy. He wiped blood from his mouth, smiling.
"You're the strongest I've fought," he said.
Jiren met his gaze, one eye swollen, but still burning. "And you… have surpassed your limits."
They both stood.
No more tricks. No more transformations. Just two warriors—each refusing to fall.
And then—
they ran at each other.
Their final clash began.
The crowd rose to their feet.
Even the gods watched, interested—because now, it was clear:
Either Dave or Jiren would decide which universe survives.
No tricks left. No more backup. Just two titans at their absolute peak.
They met in the center of the ring, slow at first—circling. Bruised. Breathing heavily. Each footstep echoed like thunder across the broken terrain.
Then—
they moved.
Dave struck first, fist glowing with condensed white-green energy. Jiren blocked, countered with a sweeping kick—Dave ducked, uppercut, Jiren reeled, but planted his feet and threw a brutal right that caught Dave across the jaw.
CRACK!
Dave spun midair—caught himself—and blasted forward again, forehead slamming into Jiren's.
Their auras erupted, swirling together like colliding suns.
Each blow now carried intent not to win—but to end it.
Goku and Vegeta stood on the edge of the viewing platform, tense.
"He's beyond anything I imagined," Goku muttered, eyes locked on Dave.
Vegeta clenched his fists. "And Jiren… still hasn't given up. Damn it—they're both insane."
From the arena, Dave growled, forcing Jiren back with a barrage of body blows, then leaping into a flying knee that cracked the red aura around him. Jiren faltered—
Dave grabbed his arm—swung—
And hurled Jiren into a wall of floating debris.
Rocks exploded.
Dave launched up after him, streaking through the air—his body now flickering with unstable light. He slammed Jiren with both fists and drove him straight down into the arena floor, cratering it entirely.
The stage groaned. Cracks spread.
The Grand Priest frowned. "It can't take much more…"
Jiren rose again. Bleeding. One eye shut. Aura pulsing faintly.
Dave stood across from him, bent over slightly, chest rising like a piston, lips curled in a faint grin despite the pain.
"You don't stay down," Dave muttered. "Stubborn to the end."
Jiren's voice was hoarse but steady. "Because I fight… for everything I lost."
He raised a fist. His aura burned one final time, not as wide—but deeper, more focused.
Dave mirrored him, raising his own.
The world fell silent.
And then—
they charged.
Fist met fist. The shockwave rippled across dimensions.
Energy surged upward in a blinding column of light—
BOOOOOOM!!
The light consumed the arena.
The Zenos leaned forward.
Smoke blanketed the battlefield.
And then—silence.
As the dust cleared…
Only one figure remained standing.
The smoke hung thick over the broken remains of the arena.
Pieces of shattered stone floated in the air like dying stars, the last echoes of the final clash fading into a haunting silence.
Then—
A footstep.
Heavy. Echoing.
Dave emerged from the light, blood dripping down his face, one arm limp at his side, the other clenched into a trembling fist. His aura flickered wildly—unstable, flickering between white, green, and faint crimson—but it still burned.
He was standing.
Across the battlefield, the air shimmered.
Jiren—body limp, eyes wide with disbelief—was falling backward, slipping over the shattered edge of the arena.
He didn't scream. He didn't resist.
He just… accepted it.
And vanished into the void.
In an instant, he reappeared on the spectator platform, knees hitting the ground. Toppo and Dyspo rushed to him, stunned.
"Jiren!" Toppo called, catching him.
Jiren raised his head slowly, staring at the ring.
"I lost," he whispered.
Back in the arena, Dave collapsed to one knee, panting, barely conscious—but grinning.
"That was one hell of a fight," he muttered.
But then—a sudden kick struck the side of his head, sending him tumbling sideways, sliding across the rubble and out of bounds, into the void.
In a flash, he reappeared in the spectator stands.
Dave groaned, rubbing his jaw. "Sneaky bitches…"
He looked up and saw Krillin, Tien, and Android 18 standing nearby, all visibly stunned.
"It's okay," Krillin said, trying to stay optimistic. "We still have Goku and Vegeta in there."
Beerus growled from behind them. "You have doen your part, you have eliminated the strongest in the Tournament, there is no need to worry about anything now, Goku and Vegeta will take care f things now."
Dave exhaled and slumped down beside them, only to glance over and see Caulifla standing nearby, arms crossed, smirking.
She shrugged. "Hey, it was me. I saw my chance and took it. You were wide open."
Dave chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Sneaky bitch."
Caulifla laughed. "You're tough, but the second you relaxed, you were mine."
Dave leaned back and looked up at the vast sky above the arena.
"Damn," he thought, 'even with Broly's power, I had to push myself that hard just to fight Jiren. That guy… he's unreal.'
With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes.
His battle was over.
And then, opening his eyes once again, Dave looked back into the arena.
"Hmm… no more powerful fighters left," he thought. "So Goku and Vegeta will surely win now."
But then, a chill ran down his spine.
Doubt crept in.
'Wait… does this mean it ends with them winning? If Goku wins, he might… no, he will probably wish that other friend came back—just to fight them again. And Vegeta... he'll definitely wish for something specific, maybe something prideful or personal...'
Dave's expression tensed.
'And what if the Zenos don't like it?'
He swallowed hard.
'They might erase us all.'
He looked down at his fists, then up at the Grand Zenos—cheerfully bouncing in their seats, blissfully unaware of the weight their judgment held.
'Damn it,' Dave thought, staring at the arena floor. 'I hope nothing like that happens… no stupid wish, no universal erasure. Just let us survive this.'
And with that, he leaned forward, watching the arena below.
Waiting.
Praying that his teammates wouldn't screw it all up.
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