Universe Six had unleashed its fangs. Four Super Saiyans—Cabba, Caulifla, Kale, and Renso—blazed with golden auras as they carved a path of destruction through their section of the arena. Their combined might had already sent several fighters tumbling into elimination, and their rampage showed no signs of slowing.
Among the warriors competing in the Tournament of Power, many possessed respectable skills and unique abilities. The four Saiyans from Universe Six had that power—and they wielded it with devastating efficiency against anyone who crossed their path.
"This is insane! Are they all this strong?!" A fighter from Universe Eight vaulted over a shattered pillar, desperate to escape the golden-haired demons.
"Why is the entire arena filled with those glowing freaks?!" another shouted, panic rising in his voice.
No matter which direction they looked, Super Saiyans dominated the battlefield. Goku, Gohan, and Vegeta from Universe Seven. Cabba and his allies from Universe Six. Each group had claimed a different section of the arena, and from any vantage point, it seemed like golden-haired warriors had surrounded them completely.
These Saiyans weren't just numerous—they were overwhelming. The number of fighters they'd eliminated had already become difficult to track. Anyone with average power levels had learned to give them a wide berth, focusing on survival rather than glory.
A bulky stone warrior from Universe Eight rolled behind a cluster of broken rocks, finally finding a moment to catch his breath. The golden-haired monsters were occupied elsewhere. If he stayed hidden, maybe he could outlast—
A green arm snaked around the boulder and seized him with crushing force. The appendage felt impossibly flexible yet strong as steel, wrapping around his rocky body like a python. The very stones he'd been hiding behind cracked and crumbled under the pressure.
"I've been watching you." Piccolo emerged from the shadows, his expression flat and cold. "Running away was your first mistake. Running toward me was your last."
The stone warrior struggled against the Namekian's grip, but escape proved impossible. Instead of fear, though, a cruel smile spread across his craggy face. "Trapped me? You stupid bastard—I trapped you!" His eyes gleamed with malicious triumph. "My ability turns everything I touch to stone. You're finished!"
Without moving, without even exerting visible effort, the stone warrior released his petrification power. A strange, corrupting energy rippled outward from his body along Piccolo's arm. The Namekian's green skin hardened instantly, muscles stiffening as living flesh transformed into lifeless rock. The petrification crawled up his forearm like a spreading infection, advancing toward his shoulder.
"Hahahaha!" The stone warrior's laughter echoed across the battlefield. Victory was his—
The laughter died in his throat.
Piccolo had severed his own arm. The cut was clean, surgical, and deliberate. Green blood dripped from the smooth stump where his limb had been, but the Namekian's expression never changed. No pain. No hesitation. Just cold calculation.
The stone warrior blinked, momentarily stunned. Sure, his opponent had escaped petrification, but now he was down an arm. How could he possibly fight—
In the span of a heartbeat, flesh writhed and grew. A new arm sprouted from Piccolo's shoulder, the regeneration so rapid it seemed to blur. Muscle, skin, and sinew materialized from nothing until a perfect replacement stretched before him, completely whole.
Before the stone warrior could even process what he was seeing, that new hand shot forward and wrapped around his throat.
He didn't get the chance to scream.
Piccolo's arm extended like elastic, carrying the stone warrior's body across the arena in a smooth arc. With a final flick of his wrist, the Namekian hurled him over the edge. The fighter vanished into the void below.
Piccolo retracted his arm casually, then fired a ki blast that obliterated the petrified stones littering the ground. "Hmph. Boring trick. Universe Eight is pathetic."
"Uncle Piccolo! Are you alright?" Gohan landed beside him, golden aura still flickering around his frame. Despite the ongoing battle, he looked fresh—barely winded.
"Obviously." Piccolo's lips quirked slightly. "These weaklings aren't worth the effort. But you need to stay alert. Not everyone has shown their hand yet."
Gohan's expression sobered. He followed Piccolo's subtle glance across the arena. "Right. The robed warriors from Universe Eleven... and Jiren."
Neither had moved. The grey-skinned giant called Jiren stood with his arms crossed, observing the chaos with quiet intensity. The other Pride Troopers from Universe Eleven maintained defensive positions, waiting for the initial bloodbath to thin the numbers. They were conserving energy, letting weaker universes eliminate each other first.
"I'll take a breather too," Gohan said, powering down to his base form. "Save energy for when it matters."
"Smart." Piccolo nodded approval. "By the way, your father engaged Universe Two's fighters."
Just moments ago, Gohan had defeated Instant Transmission user Jimizu from Universe Two. The universe's leader, Ribrianne, had rallied her allies—the self-proclaimed "Kamikaze Firestorm" magical girl squadron—to rescue their fallen comrade. But Goku had intercepted them before they could interfere, telling Gohan to keep moving while he handled the situation.
"He's probably looking for another strong opponent," Gohan said with a slight smile.
"Knowing Goku? Absolutely." Piccolo's expression softened with amusement. "But don't worry. Android 17 is fighting nearby. He'll back him up if needed."
Indeed, Android 17 was currently locked in combat with Vikal, a winged warrior woman from Universe Two. Vikal's aerial agility made her frustratingly evasive, but 17's patient, methodical assault was slowly wearing down her defenses.
Meanwhile, Goku faced three opponents simultaneously: Ribrianne, Roasie, and Kakunsa. The Kamikaze Firestorm trio moved with practiced coordination, their energy attacks weaving together in dazzling patterns that forced even Super Saiyan Goku onto the defensive.
Wave after wave of ki blasts hammered against his guard. None of them individually carried enough power to truly threaten him, but the constant barrage was grinding away at his stamina. The trio positioned themselves carefully—if one got into trouble, the others could immediately provide support.
"This isn't working," Goku muttered, arms crossed in front of his chest to block another coordinated assault. "I need to end this fast."
"Time to go further!"
His decision made, Goku suddenly dropped his guard. The magical girls' attacks surged forward—only to disintegrate against a crackling field of silver lightning that erupted around the Saiyan's body. The electricity split the air with sharp, violent cracks, completely nullifying their ki waves.
His power spiked dramatically. The sudden explosion of energy kicked up a violent windstorm, sending debris flying across the arena. The three magical girls instinctively raised their arms to shield themselves from the stinging sand and gravel.
"He... he's changing!" Roasie gasped.
What had been golden Super Saiyan transformation now gleamed with something more—streaks of brilliant silver mixed with the gold, and the raw pressure emanating from Goku's body had doubled, maybe tripled. The difference was night and day.
For a heartbeat, uncertainty flickered across Brianne's face. Then her expression hardened with determination. "Fine! If that's how you want to play it, we'll show you our true strength!" Her voice rang with absolute confidence. "Everyone—it's time! Let the power of love transform us!"
The three women struck poses, their movements synchronized as they began... dancing.
Goku's battle-ready stance faltered. He stared, completely thrown off guard. The Universe Two warriors were transforming? Through... dance?
And not just any dance. This was something else entirely. Something that defied description. Something that made Goku's brain actively reject what his eyes were seeing.
Up in the stands, Beerus felt his stomach churn violently. The food he'd consumed earlier threatened to make a sudden reappearance. "Someone—anyone—throw them off the stage! NOW!"
Raditz, demonstrating wisdom beyond his years, had already covered his eyes. Some horrors were better left unseen.
When the transformation completed, Ribrianne, Roasie, and Kakunsa stood revealed in their "true forms"—and the change was... dramatic. Especially Ribrianne, who had gone from a slender, beautiful young woman to a rotund, middle-aged figure squeezed into what could only be described as a vicious parody of magical girl attire.
But Goku's instincts screamed warnings. Beneath the absurd appearance, their power levels had skyrocketed.
"Prepare yourself!" Ribrianne charged forward, her bulk moving with shocking speed. Despite her size, her strike carried immense force. Goku barely dodged, the displaced air from her punch creating visible shockwaves.
Kakunsa and Roasie hung back, hands glowing as they gathered energy. Twin waves of brilliant ki erupted from their palms, chasing Goku's movements like heat-seeking missiles.
Under the relentless bombardment, Goku's aura flared. His power surged in response, generating enough force to momentarily stagger all three opponents. In that instant of vulnerability, Goku vanished.
Instant Transmission brought him directly behind Ribrianne. His boot connected with her back in a devastating kick that launched her backward like a cannonball—straight toward a massive figure who'd been standing motionless near the edge of the arena.
Broly hadn't moved since the tournament began.
Ribrianne's tumbling form crashed into him with tremendous force. Her weight and momentum should have been enough to bowl over anyone—
Broly didn't budge. Didn't even sway. He stood like a mountain in a hurricane, completely unmoved by the impact. Ribrianne bounced off his chest, her own momentum carrying her face-first into the ground. She skidded across the arena floor, leaving a trail in the dust.
For the entire tournament, Broly had followed Raditz's instructions to the letter: Stand still. Don't move unless someone attacks you directly. If they attack you, destroy them.
Ribrianne had just attacked him.
Something shifted in Broly's eyes. The lifeless, dormant quality that had defined his presence since the tournament began changed. His body lifted slightly—not flying, exactly, but hovering a few centimeters above the ground as raw energy formed a visible cushion beneath his feet.
A low growl rumbled from his chest.
His black hair suddenly erupted upward, each strand rigid and wild as the color shifted from black to a luminous, grass-green. His pupils dilated, then vanished entirely, leaving only white sclera that gleamed with primal fury. Muscles swelled beyond human proportion, expanding at an unnatural rate as power flooded his body without limit.
The transformation unleashed a presence that dwarfed everything else in the arena.
From one end of the battlefield to the other, a hurricane-force wind screamed across the World of Void. Fighters braced themselves or were knocked off their feet. Debris that had been kicked up by previous battles was now pulverized by the sheer atmospheric pressure. The ground beneath Broly cracked in spiderwebs that spread for dozens of meters in every direction.
"W-what the hell?!" a fighter from Universe Three stammered. "Is that another one of those golden warriors?!"
"No..." someone else whispered, voice trembling. "The color's wrong. But that appearance... that power..."
The speaker's legs were already shaking.
The entire arena had become a showcase of Super Saiyans—golden-haired transformations everywhere you looked. But this one? This thing that Broly had just become?
It defied comparison. It transcended words.