The battlefield was silent for a moment — the kind of silence that feels heavier than sound. Tirax stood amid the wreckage, his sharp eyes studying Razor's battered form. The Saiyan still stood, barely, his aura flickering like a dying flame. Scars laced his body, his breathing ragged, yet his golden hair still glowed with stubborn defiance.
"Still standing, are we?" Tirax said with a calm smile, brushing dust off his pristine coat. "I'll give you this, Razor — your will is impressive. But the fight's over. Submit, and I might let you live. Refuse…" His eyes narrowed, a glint of malice surfacing beneath the gentleman's calm. "...and I'll make your death a slow one."
Razor spat blood onto the ground and straightened, refusing to kneel. "Submit?" His voice was hoarse but steady. "I've been a lab rat, a puppet, a weapon. And you think I'll ever bow to the one who built the cage — or anyone for that matters."
Tirax's smirk faltered. "So you refuse."
Razor said, eyes burning. "I remember the pain. The needles. My body being cut open. The endless fights. And I remember the voice of the man behind it all."
That flicker of old, raw Saiyan rage — it ignited again. Tirax sighed as if disappointed. "Then so be it."
He vanished.
A sonic boom ripped through the air as Tirax reappeared in front of Razor, his palm slamming into Razor's chest. The impact sent Razor skidding back, carving a trench across the broken terrain. Before he could regain footing, Tirax was already there again, knee driving into Razor's gut, elbow smashing into his back, fists raining down like a blur of lightning. Razor's body bent, cracked, but he still swung — desperate, furious — only for Tirax to sidestep each blow effortlessly.
From afar, 18 and the survivors watched. The planet's sky had turned crimson from the energy radiating off the two combatants.18's eyes were sharp, but beneath them lay something that felt too close to dread. He's still pushing himself… he's going to burn out.
One of the survivors — a small child clutching her arm — whispered, "Is… is he losing?"
Another one prayed. "Dear god listening to our prayers please save our world from this catastrophe."
But no one answered. The sound of each impact carried the answer well enough.
Tirax blurred behind Razor again, kicking his ribs so hard the crack echoed through the valley. Razor crashed into a cliffside, his aura flickering weakly. His knuckles were bloody. His breath came in gasps. Still, he refused to fall.
"Stubborn to the end," Tirax mused, appearing a few feet away. "But you're beginning to bore me." His tone was casual, as though he were discussing weather, not murder. "Say your last words, Razor. I'll even be kind enough to listen."
Razor lifted his head, blood trickling from his mouth. "I've got nothing to say… to you."
Tirax chuckled. "A pity. I would have loved to hear you beg." His eyes then drifted to the distance — to where 18 stood with the survivors. His lips curled into a smile. "Perhaps I'll find more interesting subjects elsewhere. That woman, for instance. She's an android. I could learn much from her. Maybe… create more like her. And as for those villagers…" He looked at the huddled survivors. "Harmless. Obedient. Perfect slaves."
The words hung in the air.
Razor didn't move. But his aura — faint moments ago — suddenly flickered brighter. His hands clenched, trembling. "Say that again," he growled.
"Oh? Struck a nerve?" Tirax tilted his head mockingly. "Didn't you hear me, little Saiyan? She'll serve well enough—"
He didn't finish. Razor moved — faster than before, but not to strike.
He let Tirax's next attack land.
His hand pierced Razor's abdomen clean through, blood spraying in an arc. Gasps erupted from the distance — 18's included. She launched forward in a flash of blue energy. "RAZOR!"
But Razor's voice, faint but cold, stopped her midair. "Stay… where you are."
He gripped Tirax's wrist, ignoring the blood pouring from his wound. His eyes met Tirax's — green pupils, but glowing with something deeper, older, more terrifying. Saiyan pride. The unbroken will of a dying warrior.
"You made one mistake," Razor said, voice trembling between pain and fury. "You experimented on a Saiyan… but you never understood one."
Tirax frowned, his confidence wavering. He tried to pull back — but Razor's grip tightened like iron.
"You should've pierced my heart," Razor hissed. "Because a Saiyan's pride doesn't let him die easy."
The ground beneath them began to quake. Energy surged from Razor's body like a storm unbound. The air bent, rocks lifted, and the sky itself seemed to darken. Tirax's composure broke. "No… no, this isn't possible—"
"Watch closely," Razor growled. "How your subject kills you."
His aura erupted — golden light expanding violently, blowing Tirax's hair back. Hair lengthened, electricity crackled, and the roar that followed split the sky. Super Saiyan 3.
Tirax's eyes widened in disbelief as Razor raised his other hand — faster than his senses could track. Razor's fist connected with Tirax's jaw, shattering it with a single strike. The next blow caved in his ribs. The next broke his arm.
Tirax tried to scream, but only muffled sounds escaped his broken mouth. Razor didn't stop. His expression was no longer one of anger — it was something colder. Pure, merciless instinct. The embodiment of Saiyan brutality.
He grabbed Tirax by the arm and snapped it at the joint. The scream never left Tirax's throat before Razor punched his face again, silencing him. Then the other arm followed — bones crunching under merciless strength.
18, still mid-flight, froze. Her eyes widened, not from fear for Razor — but fear of him. "Razor…" she whispered. The survivors behind her could only stare, horrified.
Razor lifted Tirax's limp body by the neck, electricity dancing across his palms. Blood dripped down his arms, his face painted in red. "You talked about making more of her… about experimenting on her…" His voice dropped to a guttural growl. "Now let's see how it feels to be torn apart like your experimental subject."
He raised Tirax high — then gripped both sides of his torso. In one swift, brutal motion — he ripped him in half.
Tirax's scream died in the air. Blood poured down in sheets, drenching Razor. His golden aura lit the crimson rain, a horrifying halo around a warrior reborn through vengeance.
From afar, the survivors turned pale. One child vomited. Others fell to their knees, trembling. One man whispered, voice shaking, "He… he's a monster."
The survivor who prayed to God previously trembled, "Our prayers are answered but by who."
Even 18 felt her chest tighten as she hovered nearby. She'd seen brutality before — had caused it before — but this? This was different. This was the unfiltered wrath of a Saiyan pushed past sanity. A soul burning everything, even itself, just to win.
Razor stood beneath the falling blood, eyes half-lidded. The world seemed distant. For a brief, terrible moment, he smiled — a faint, almost peaceful smile — as though enjoying a long-awaited rain.
Then, the power faded. His aura flickered, his hair shortened. His knees buckled.
18 rushed to him as his body fell limp through the air. She caught him before he hit the ground, the weight of his body pressing against her arms. His energy was nearly gone — but he was alive.
"Idiot…" she whispered, looking at his bloodied face. "You really are a Saiyan."
Behind her, the survivors watched — too shaken to cheer, too horrified to move. The monster was dead, yes… but at what cost? The smell of blood hung thick in the air, and even victory felt hollow.
As 18 slowly descended, holding Razor's unconscious body, the dying light of the battle faded behind them — the crimson sky giving way to silence once again.