Rage consumed Quitela like wildfire, burning away any pretense of restraint or measured combat. What had started as a plan to merely humble Raditz, to teach this arrogant Supreme Kai a lesson about hierarchy and respect, had transformed into something far more personal. Now he wanted to make Raditz suffer. To crush him completely. To demonstrate beyond any shadow of doubt the insurmountable gap between a Supreme Kai and a true God of Destruction.
Quitela's form blurred.
One instant he stood on the ground, the next he'd closed the distance between himself and Raditz with a speed that approached teleportation. His short arms bent at sharp angles, muscles coiling as massive amounts of destructive energy compressed into his compact frame. The buildup alone generated a storm of displaced air, wind howling as reality struggled to contain such concentrated power.
This was no longer a measured attack. This was Quitela unleashing his full ability while consumed by fury—and Raditz knew better than to take it lightly.
His divine aura flickered under the crushing pressure of Quitela's killing intent. The red-orange flames of Super Saiyan God wavered and compressed, clearly being suppressed by the sheer weight of a God of Destruction's unleashed power. Raditz's expression hardened with understanding: facing someone at Quitela's level while holding back was suicide. He needed his absolute strongest form.
BOOM!
Quitela's fist shot forward at light-speed, aimed directly at Raditz's skull with enough force to shatter planets. But at the exact instant his attack launched, Raditz's body moved—shifted—transformed. The red-orange aura surrounding him flickered and died, replaced in a heartbeat by brilliant silver-white radiance.
Perfect Ultra Instinct.
Quitela's devastating punch slid past Raditz's head, missing by mere millimeters as the Saiyan's body twisted with impossible precision. The displaced air from the attack's passage made Raditz's silver hair ripple, but the strike itself found only empty space.
Both fighters hung suspended in mid-air for half a second, frozen in that moment of near-miss. Then, simultaneously, they exploded back into motion.
Quitela felt confusion warring with shock as he launched another assault, this time targeting Raditz's face with a combination strike. But Raditz's body seemed to move before Quitela's attack even fully formed—turning, shifting, flowing like water around stone. Within a timeframe measured in ten-millionths of a second, Raditz had already dodged and countered, his body dropping low as his fist drove toward Quitela's exposed midsection.
The punch looked simple. Straightforward. Almost basic.
The impact was anything but.
A single strike somehow became thousands—white streamers of light erupting from Raditz's fist in an interlaced pattern that seemed to violate the laws of physics. Each individual impact carried enough force to level mountains, and they struck Quitela's body in rapid succession, creating cascading shockwaves that rippled through multiple dimensions simultaneously.
The entire Destroyer's Realm trembled like it had been struck by a cosmic earthquake.
"Ghk—!" Blood and saliva sprayed from Quitela's mouth as the accumulated force drove the air from his lungs. His eyes went wide, bloodshot veins standing out starkly. "Who... what are you... how can you—"
He didn't get to finish the question. Raditz was already moving again, his leg whipping around in a devastating roundhouse kick. The attack came faster than Quitela's perception could track—faster than he could consciously react to—the white streams of Ultra Instinct's power exceeding even a God of Destruction's defensive capabilities.
At the last possible instant, Quitela's combat instincts took over. His arms came up in a cross-block, catching the kick through pure muscle memory and millions of years of battlefield experience. Even so, the impact drove him backward, his feet tearing furrows in the ground as he slid dozens of meters before managing to arrest his momentum.
Gods of Destruction prided themselves on adaptability and combat evolution. Quitela was no exception. But even with all his experience, even with his divine nature and refined technique, he simply couldn't overcome the fundamental advantage that perfected Ultra Instinct provided. The automatic response, the perfect defense, the attacks that came at speeds beyond conscious thought—it created an almost insurmountable edge in direct combat.
Quitela stood on the scarred ground, his entire body trembling with a mixture of exertion, pain, and disbelief.
"This is impossible," he gasped, voice barely above a whisper. "You've mastered Ultra Instinct. The perfected state. That means you've reached the same realm as me." His teeth ground together audibly. "But you're just a Supreme Kai! How?! HOW?!"
The most prominent emotion beneath his confusion, however, was still rage. Pure, incandescent fury at being bested, at being made to look weak, at having his pride as a God of Destruction ground into the dust.
Cognac had seen this coming from the moment Raditz appeared. The Angel had sensed the Supreme Kai's true power immediately, recognized the threat he posed, and tried to warn his charge. But Quitela, consumed by arrogance and absolute confidence in his superiority, had dismissed the warning. And now they'd reached this point—a God of Destruction struggling against a Supreme Kai, an inversion of the natural hierarchy that should have been impossible.
"Lord Quitela!" Frieza's voice cut through the tension, cheerful and falsely concerned. The tyrant strolled forward with that characteristic smirk, even extending one hand in a gesture of friendly support. "You seem to be having some difficulty. Would you like assistance? I'd be happy to help."
"I don't need ANYTHING from you!" Quitela snapped, rejecting the offer with cold vehemence.
Internally, Quitela despised Frieza almost as much as he despised Beerus. The only reason he'd even considered recruiting the tyrant was desperation—recognition that Universe Four needed every advantage it could get. But Frieza was a snake, speaking in constant double-meanings, his loyalty belonging only to himself. Any universe that relied on him was inviting disaster, because this was a being who would absolutely cause chaos at the worst possible moment just for his own amusement.
Seeing his offer spurned, Frieza spread his hands in mock innocence. "Well then, I'll simply have to wait for the good news. Do your best, Lord Quitela. I have every confidence in you."
His tone was perfectly supportive, his posture elegantly deferential—the picture of a loyal subordinate encouraging his leader. But Raditz, watching carefully from his position, noticed details that betrayed the performance: the almost imperceptible trembling in Frieza's body, the way the muscles of his face remained stretched taut, the beads of sweat forming on his brow despite his casual demeanor.
The curse was active. Frieza's evil thoughts—and he was certainly harboring plenty of them right now—were triggering the punishment. He was suffering, enduring agony while maintaining his facade of calm. And judging by his continued antagonism toward Quitela, he was deliberately making himself suffer more because watching these two gods tear each other apart brought him such perverse joy.
Frieza wanted both of them injured, weakened, humiliated. That desire was worth any amount of pain.
"STOP TALKING!" Quitela roared, done with pretense and diplomacy.
His aura exploded outward, purple destructive energy wreathing his entire form. He launched himself at Raditz with renewed fury, his fist tearing through the air barrier with enough force to create sonic booms. The sheer malice radiating from him—the killing intent of a God of Destruction pushed past his breaking point—was almost physical in its intensity.
But Raditz didn't meet the charge head-on. Instead, his body simply reacted, Ultra Instinct guiding his movements without conscious thought. He flowed around Quitela's attacks like smoke, each punch and kick passing through empty space while Raditz's silver pupils tracked every movement with perfect clarity.
One strike missed. Then another. Then ten. A hundred. Quitela's fists became a blur of motion, creating afterimages that filled the air, but not a single blow connected. It was like trying to punch a ghost—Raditz was always exactly where Quitela wasn't attacking, his body positioning itself with mathematical perfection.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Quitela's scream carried raw desperation. "I refuse to believe this! I WON'T accept it!"
The more his attacks failed, the more frantic he became. His strikes grew wilder, faster, more powerful—but also less precise. He was spiraling, losing control, his technique deteriorating as frustration overwhelmed discipline.
"I think that's quite enough, Lord Quitela," Cognac said mildly, his smile carrying hints of both amusement and concern. "Surely you understand the situation by now?"
"Oh my, the God of Destruction appears to be struggling quite badly," Frieza added with obvious relish, drifting over to stand near the Angel. "How... unfortunate."
Cognac didn't seem bothered by Frieza's proximity or his mocking tone. "Indeed. Lord Quitela's techniques, while refined, simply can't overcome perfected Ultra Instinct. The gap is insurmountable without a significant advantage in raw power." His smile widened fractionally. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat concerned about what will happen next."
"Oh?" Frieza's interest sharpened. "Concerned how?"
"Lord Quitela can be quite terrifying when truly enraged. Once he begins fighting with pure Destruction energy rather than conventional attacks... well, things may escalate beyond my ability to contain safely."
Frieza's eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement. The more violent the battle became, the more he enjoyed the spectacle. The curse made his skin burn with phantom flames, but it was worth it to watch these gods destroy each other.
BOOM! CRASH! BOOM!
The battle raged on, neither fighter giving ground. Raditz launched waves of ki blasts that lit up the sky, while Quitela countered with spheres of faint, sickly-glowing energy—Destruction energy in its purest form. Whenever Raditz's attacks made contact with those spheres, they simply ceased to exist, annihilated at the fundamental level before they could detonate.
The entire Destroyer's Realm shook with each exchange. Space itself seemed to groan under the strain, reality buckling as god-level powers clashed. Fortunately, Cognac had erected protective barriers in advance, preventing the dimension from collapsing entirely under the accumulated stress.
"RADITZ!" Quitela's voice cracked with frustration and rage. "Ultra Instinct means nothing against the power of a God of Destruction! I'll show you—I'll show you what true annihilation looks like!"
His aura shifted, transforming from the standard purple glow of divine energy into something else entirely. That pale, translucent radiance—Destruction energy in its most concentrated form—began coating his entire body like a second skin.
"I GIVE YOU DESTRUCTION!"
BOOOOOM!
What erupted from Quitela wasn't a simple energy blast or focused beam. It was a tide—a vast, overwhelming tsunami of annihilation that washed forward like the end of all things. The power radiating from that wave was apocalyptic in scope, carrying enough destructive force to erase half a universe from existence if unleashed in open space.
But concentrated here, in this relatively small dimensional pocket, the power became even more terrifying. Every particle of Destruction energy was compressed, refined, made infinitely more potent by the confined space. This wasn't just an attack—it was the concept of ending made manifest, the universe's reset button pressed with deliberate malice.
Quitela's mind had gone beyond rational thought. His killing intent was pure, absolute, murderous. If this attack connected, it wouldn't just defeat Raditz—it would erase him so completely that not even memories would remain.
Frieza felt his body move involuntarily, instinct overriding pride as he ducked behind Cognac's position. Even from this distance, even with the Angel's protective barriers in place, he could feel the touch of that Destruction wave against his skin like acid. One wrong move, one second of exposure, and he would simply cease to be.
"This is what the Angel meant by 'difficult to control,'" Frieza whispered, his usual arrogance completely absent. For the first time in recent memory, he felt genuine, primal fear. "He wasn't talking about the combat itself. He meant Quitela would literally try to destroy everything..."
The wave of Destruction swept forward, an inexorable tide that devoured light itself. Shadows spread across the Destroyer's Realm as the pale energy consumed everything in its path. Matter didn't explode or disintegrate—it simply stopped existing, removed from reality as if it had never been.
And caught in the center of that apocalyptic assault, Raditz seemed impossibly small. A single figure, wreathed in silver light, facing down the fury of a God of Destruction who had abandoned all restraint.
For a moment, it seemed hopeless. What could anyone do against that? How could even perfected Ultra Instinct overcome pure, absolute annihilation?
Then—in the heart of the Destruction wave—a light appeared.
Small at first. Almost imperceptible. A thin white line, sharp and precise as a razor's edge, cutting through the pale tide of annihilation. The line widened, growing from thread to ribbon to slash, carving through Quitela's ultimate attack like a hot knife through silk.
"No..." Quitela's eyes went wide with disbelief. "That's... that's IMPOSSIBLE!"
The silver radiance intensified. Raditz's aura blazed brighter, and brighter still, pushing back against the Destruction energy with sheer force of will and divine power. Ultra Instinct didn't just dodge the attack—it rejected it, the perfected state creating a zone of absolute protection where annihilation itself couldn't penetrate.
The Destruction wave shattered like glass, fragmenting into countless particles of pale light that scattered across the battlefield. Behind the dispersing energy, Raditz emerged unscathed, his silver aura burning with undiminished intensity.
The destructive power that should have erased him from existence instead became his backdrop—beautiful, terrible fragments of annihilation drifting through the air like luminescent fireflies, creating a scene of devastating beauty.
Raditz stood in the center of it all, untouched, unharmed, victorious.
"Impossible," Quitela whispered, the word barely audible. "This... this can't be happening..."
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