The expanded arena still hummed with residual energy, the reinforced stone cracked and scarred in ways that would take weeks to repair even with magic. High above, Zairis's planetary dome shimmered faintly against the restored blue sky.
Goku lay on his back, chest heaving, every muscle burning like he'd been dropped into a volcano. Beside him, the colossal form of Veldora Tempest remained frozen mid-sit, wings half-folded, golden eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.
"Heh…" Goku managed a weak grin, trying to push himself up with one trembling arm. "Come on… we should head back to the box. Can't just… lie here all day…"
Veldora's draconic maw twitched in what might have been agreement. "Kua… Indeed. A True Dragon does not… remain sprawled like some common wyrm." He attempted to shift his massive bulk. Nothing happened. His tail didn't even twitch. "…Perhaps… one more minute."
A long silence stretched between them.
Goku tried again. His elbow buckled instantly, and he flopped back down with a groan. "Yeah… maybe two minutes."
From the VIP box, Whis watched the pair with fond exasperation. He rose gracefully, staff in hand, and gave a small, elegant tap against the floor of the viewing platform.
A gentle ripple of angelic power flowed outward. Both fighters' bodies lifted smoothly into the air as if cradled by invisible cushions. At the same time, Whis made a subtle swirling motion with his free hand. Veldora's enormous draconic form shimmered, scales folding inward, wings retracting, until the familiar humanoid Storm Dragon stood once more in his torn coat, still floating limply beside the black-haired Saiyan.
The two were carried gently across the vast distance and deposited with care onto the reinforced floor of the VIP box, right in the center of the gathered dignitaries.
Inside the VIP box, the atmosphere shifted from awe to warm reception.
Rimuru stepped forward first, a genuine smile on his face. "That was incredible, both of you. I don't think anyone here will forget that fight anytime soon."
Benimaru nodded from his seat, arms crossed. "Even from up here, the pressure was something else. You pushed each other to the absolute limit."
Shion pumped her fist. "That final beam clash! I thought the whole mountain was going to come down!"
Guy Crimson leaned forward in his seat, crimson eyes gleaming with rare approval as he looked toward Whis. "I must admit, I doubted whether you could fully contain something of that magnitude. The Chaos Creator in his true form, clashing against that silver-haired Ultra Instinct… I feared the entire mountain range might vanish. Yet here we stand. You didn't even break a sweat, angel. Most impressive."
Whis smiled serenely, offering a small bow. "You flatter me, Lord Guy. Though I will confess the final exchanges required… a touch more focus than I anticipated." An obvious deflection, Whis clearly hadn't broken a sweat.
Milim, who had been practically vibrating in place the entire time, shot forward the instant Veldora's feet touched the ground. She appeared right in front of him and delivered a solid, enthusiastic punch to his shoulder.
"Ow—!" Veldora winced sharply, staggering a half-step despite his exhaustion. The spot where her fist landed throbbed visibly.
"Veldoraaaa! That was so cool!" Milim bounced on her toes, blue eyes sparkling with pure delight. "I knew you had some serious power hidden away, but that dragon form? The Storm Render? The way you kept rewriting stuff mid-fight? That was incredible! Super-super incredible! You almost had him a bunch of times!"
Veldora rubbed his shoulder with a tired but genuine laugh. "Kuahaha… Thank you, Milim. Though I must say… your enthusiasm hurts almost as much as Goku's final barrage."
The small talk flowed easily for a few minutes—praise for specific techniques, light-hearted jabs about who had the flashier moments, shared exhaustion—until Milim suddenly zipped away from Veldora and reappeared right beside Rimuru, her twin tails swaying as she clasped her hands together with sparkling eyes.
Rimuru sweat-dropped slightly at the sudden proximity.
Beerus, who had been lounging with his usual lazy posture, noticed the dragonoid's barely contained eagerness. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face as he flicked an ear.
"Hmph. Still itching for a fight, little dragon?" He stretched languidly, tail curling. "Very well. I did promise you a few seconds of my time after the tournament. But first…" He waved a paw toward the still-roaring crowd below, where spectators were frantically rewinding crystal recordings, pointing excitedly, and debating every exchange. "Let the crowd have a proper intermediate break. They need time to actually absorb what they just witnessed. An hour, at least."
Whis's eyes widened a fraction in genuine surprise. He tilted his head, staff resting lightly against his shoulder. "My, Lord Beerus… I don't believe I've ever heard you express concern for the entertainment of mortals quite like that."
Beerus snorted, crossing his arms and looking pointedly away. "Don't get the wrong idea. It's not like I care about their feelings or anything. I just don't want them still daydreaming about that ridiculous dragon-vs-Saiyan light show while a real Destroyer God takes the stage. It'd ruin the impact."
The people in the VIP box exchanged knowing glances. Rimuru hid a small smile. Velzard's lips twitched faintly. Even Guy Crimson looked faintly amused. It was clear to everyone present that Beerus was, in his own tsundere way, genuinely considering the crowd's need to process one legendary battle before throwing them into another.
Down on the announcer's platform, Gabil cleared his throat and raised his voice to the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Citizens of Tempest and honored guests from across the world! The tournament… is not quite finished yet!"
A ripple of stunned murmurs swept through the stands.
"That's right! We have one final, extraordinary battle to conclude today's events! One that will feature one of our most esteemed guests taking the stage—a God of Destruction whose power is so vast it defies simple explanation… facing off against our very own Milim Nava the Destroyer!"
The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of shock and excitement.
Back in the VIP box, Beerus's golden eyes widened slightly, ears perking up in clear surprise.
"Hah? 'The Destroyer'?"
Milim turned toward him with a bright, mischievous wink, puffing out her chest proudly. "Yup! I'm known as Milim Nava the Destroyer~! Well… literally no one's actually stronger than Rimuru around here, and even Guy Crimson can't say for sure he could defeat me. I'm a Dragonoid, so, a Hybrid! So don't go easy on me, okay, cat-man?"
Beerus stared at her for a beat, then let out a low, rumbling chuckle that promised nothing but trouble.
The break had just been announced.
The real finale was coming.
The hour break
Beerus's words hung in the air. An hour. A proper break.
Rimuru clapped his hands together, his expression shifting from awe to host mode. "Well, you heard the God of Destruction. Let's give everyone some time to recover." He glanced toward the floating refreshment trays that had been hovering patiently at the edges of the VIP box. "And I think we could all use a drink."
The enchanted trays glided forward obediently, laden with chilled glasses, steaming cups, and plates of small pastries that had somehow survived the trembling of the mountain. Shion immediately grabbed three of everything. Benimaru accepted a cup of sake with a quiet nod of thanks.
Goku, still sprawled on the floor where Whis had deposited him, stared up at the floating tray with sudden, desperate hunger. "Ooh… food…"
Vegeta, who had been watching the entire battle in stoic silence, finally moved. He walked over to Goku, looked down at his rival's pathetic state, and let out a long, suffering sigh.
"You're a disgrace."
He reached down, grabbed Goku by the collar, and hauled him into a sitting position. Goku's head lolled slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the pastries.
"Thanks, Vegeta."
"Don't thank me. Just don't die before the next fight."
Goku grinned weakly as he snatched a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth.
Nearby, Veldora had managed to lower himself into a chair—though "lower" was generous; he more or less collapsed into it. His coat was still torn, his platinum hair disheveled, and there was a distinct wobble to his posture. But he was smiling. Genuinely smiling.
Rimuru floated over to him, a cup of tea in hand. "You okay? Need me to heal you?"
Veldora accepted the tea with a slight bow of his head. "Nah, however, I am… tired, Rimuru. In a way I have not felt in centuries. It is… pleasant." He took a sip, then added quietly, "I understand now why you value these bonds so much. To fight without fear of death, to push beyond one's limits, to laugh afterward… this is what it means to be alive."
Rimuru's expression softened. "Yeah. It is."
Across the VIP box, other conversations bloomed.
Guy Crimson had produced a glass of wine from somewhere—no one saw him do it—and was swirling it idly while watching the crowd below. The spectators had indeed taken the break to heart. Vendors had appeared in the aisles, selling commemorative banners and grilled meat skewers. Groups of adventurers huddled over crystal displays, rewatching the beam clash in slow motion, arguing about who had actually won.
"Fascinating creatures, mortals," Guy mused. "They just witnessed two forces that could erase their entire city, and now they're buying souvenirs."
Velzard sat beside him, her own drink untouched. "They feel safe. That's the difference between a ruler who inspires fear and one who inspires trust." She glanced toward Rimuru. "He's built something rare here."
Guy took a sip of wine. "Hmph. Don't let him hear you say that. His head's already too big."
Velzard's lips curved into a rare, quiet smile.
On the other side of the box, Luminus Valentine had somehow acquired a small notebook and was writing in it with elegant, flowing script.
Leon Cromwell peered over her shoulder. "Are you… taking notes?"
"Battle analysis," Luminus replied without looking up. "The Saiyan's Ultra Instinct, the Storm Dragon's conceptual authority, the way they interacted… this is valuable data." She paused her pen. "Also, I'm considering commissioning a painting of that final beam clash for my private gallery."
Leon raised an eyebrow. "You have a private gallery?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
Ramiris, who had been floating between conversations, suddenly landed on the armrest of Veldora's chair. She poked his cheek with one tiny finger.
"Hey. Hey, dragon guy."
Veldora blinked down at her. "Yes, little fairy?"
"That was really cool. Like, really really cool." She crossed her arms, trying to look stern. "But don't let it go to your head. I'm still the strongest one here."
Veldora stared at her for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing—a genuine, wheezing laugh that made his ribs ache.
"Of course, Lady Ramiris. I would never dream of challenging your supremacy."
Ramiris nodded, satisfied, and flew off to bother someone else.
Twenty minutes passed. Then forty.
Goku had managed to eat forty pastries, drank eight glasses of juice, and was now doing light stretches after Whis healed him. Vegeta watched him with a mixture of irritation and grudging respect.
"You're battles finished, do you really need to stretch now?"
Goku grinned. "I get cramps while sitting sometimes, besides, I feel like the next fight will have my eyes glued."
Vegeta clicked his tongue. "Tch. It should be an entertaining battle, if that pink haired girl is stronger than the guy you just fought."
Goku glanced over at Milim, who was still chattering excitedly beside Rimuru. His expression shifted—not to fear, but to something rarer: genuine assessment.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Her whole aura feels completely different from Veldora's. He was a storm—chaotic, overwhelming, but you could feel the edges of it. She's like..." He paused, searching for the words. "Like a volcano that's always erupting, but she's just standing there smiling. She's constantly leaking huge amounts of power, and it doesn't even seem to bother her."
Vegeta followed his gaze, his arms still crossed. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, grudgingly:
"...You're not wrong."
Goku tilted his head. "If I had to fight her instead of Veldora... I don't know if my power output would've matched hers. Even with Ultra Kaioken." He said it simply.
Vegeta's jaw tightened. He didn't argue. He didn't scoff. He simply nodded once, sharp and reluctant.
"That much leaking power without conscious effort means her reserves are bottomless. A Saiyan's advantage is bursting beyond our limits. But against something like that..." He trailed off, then clicked his tongue again. "Tch. Let Lord Beerus deal with her. That's what he's signed for."
Goku grinned. "Yeah. This is gonna be fun to watch."
In a reserved section of the stands, several of the continent's most influential leaders sat in a cluster—far from the VIP box, but still granted premium seating by Rimuru's courtesy. They had come to witness the festival as guests of Tempest, though more than a few cast envious glances toward the distant, shimmering pavilion where the true elites were gathered.
King Gazel Dwargo of Dwargon sat with his arms crossed, his dwarven frame radiating quiet authority. His sharp eyes had not left the arena since the battle began. Beside him, Empress Elmesia of Sarion lounged with practiced elegance, her jade eyes half-lidded but missing nothing.
"So," Gazel rumbled, his voice low enough not to carry, "the guests up there are beings of such magnitude that even we are seated down here."
Elmesia's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Rimuru knows what he's doing. If he's keeping them separate, it's because they operate on a level we can scarcely comprehend." She gestured toward the arena below. "Based on what we just witnessed, I'd say his judgment is sound."
Hinata Sakaguchi, seated a few rows behind them, nodded slowly. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword—a reflex she couldn't quite suppress. "That battle could have wiped out our kingdoms. Even from this distance, the pressure was..." She paused, searching for the word. "...apocalyptic."
Youm, the young king of the former Falmuth territories, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His expression was a mixture of awe and disbelief. "And the barrier just... adapted. Every time. It contained not just Veldora, but someone who might have been slightly more powerful." He glanced at Hinata. "The Saiyan dropped first, but he was winning that beam clash. That makes it a draw, right?"
"A technical draw," Hinata replied. "But in practical terms? They're both monsters."
She paused, her gaze lingering on the distant figure of Goku—now doing light stretches in the VIP box, completely at ease despite having nearly destroyed himself over forty minutes ago.
"You know," Hinata said quietly, almost to herself, "I recognize him. Son Goku. He's not from any world I know—he hails from an entirely different cosmos, outside the outside of this universe and beyond, as far as I can tell. A legendary hero from old stories I hadn't heard mentioned in years." She shook her head slowly. "How Rimuru even met him is a mystery to me. I asked him about it a few days ago, in passing. He just smiled and said, 'Long story.' I didn't press further."
Gazel raised an eyebrow. "A hero from outside the universe?"
"From outside everything we know," Hinata confirmed. "And the other one—the cat-eared one in the VIP box, the one they call a God of Destruction? I have no idea who he is. That name never appeared in any of the stories I knew before I died. Either he's from an even more distant reality, or..." She trailed off, frowning. "Or I simply didn't live long enough to hear of him."
Elmesia's jade eyes flickered with curiosity. "You died?"
"A lifetime ago," Hinata said simply. "Another world. Another Japan." She turned her gaze back to the VIP box. "None of that matters now. What matters is that Rimuru has brought beings of this caliber to Tempest—and they're friendly. That's not something any of us should take for granted."
The group absorbed her words in thoughtful silence.
Adalmann, the undead guardian of the labyrinth's seventieth floor, stood at the edge of the seating area, his skeletal form hidden beneath a dark cloak. Beside him, Albert—his loyal protector, now a Death Paladin—stood with his arms folded, his youthful, magicule-constructed form utterly still.
"Lord Rimuru's guests are beyond anything I could have imagined," Adalmann murmured, his voice carrying a reverent tone. "To witness such power... it is a blessing."
Albert inclined his head. "Indeed. And now they speak of another battle. One involving the Destroyer Milim Nava."
Phobio, the Beastketeer of Eurazania, sat further down the row, his amber eyes fixed on the VIP box where Milim's silhouette could be seen. His claws had left deep gouges in the armrest during the final beam clash, and he hadn't bothered to hide them.
"That pink-haired girl," he said, his voice rough. "She's the one who humiliated me when I first came to Tempest. I knew she was strong, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "She's been holding back. Completely. And now she's about to fight someone called a 'Destroyer God.'"
Gazel stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A God of Destruction, they said. A similar class to Milim, but not a Dragon—a God. Hopefully the barrier can contain that kind of clash..."
"Then we owe Rimuru more than we realized," Elmesia finished. "He's not just hosting a festival. He's showing us the true scale of the powers that exist in this world—and beyond it."
The group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
None of them resented being seated in the stands rather than the VIP box. Not truly. They knew Rimuru too well to take offense. If the guests up there were beings who could trade blows with a True Dragon and walk away smiling, then those guests deserved whatever privacy and comfort Rimuru had granted them.
But that didn't stop them from wondering what it would be like to sit among such legends.
Somewhere in a shadowed corner of the stands, a figure in a deep hood watched the VIP box with crimson eyes. Kagali, the former Demon Lord and president of the Moderate Harlequin Alliance, had chosen to remain in the general seating—not out of modesty, but out of habit. Old instincts died hard.
"Interesting," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "Very interesting indeed."
Near the edge of the box, Beerus had not moved from his seat. His eyes were half-closed, but anyone paying attention would notice that his ears occasionally twitched toward Milim's direction. The pink-haired dragonoid had returned to Rimuru's side and was chattering excitedly about the upcoming fight, her hands gesturing wildly.
"—and then I'm going to show him what a real Destroyer looks like! Not that cat-man isn't strong, but he's been sleeping for like a million years, right? I bet he's rusty!"
Rimuru chuckled nervously. "Milim, maybe don't call him 'cat-man' to his face."
"Why not? He's got ears and a tail. That's a cat."
"He's a God of Destruction."
"So? Still a cat."
Beerus's ear twitched again. His eyes remained closed, but the faintest hint of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
'We shall see, little dragonoid...' he mused to himself.
With ten minutes left in the break, Whis approached Beerus.
"The crowd has settled, Lord Beerus. The vendors report record sales. And from what I can see, most spectators have rewatched the previous match at least three times." He paused. "Shall I inform the announcer to prepare for the final battle?"
Beerus opened one eye. "Hmph. Let them have the full hour. I'm not some impatient brat."
Whis smiled knowingly. "Of course not, my Lord."
As Whis turned away, Beerus's voice stopped him.
"Whis."
"Yes?"
"That Saiyan…" Beerus's gaze flicked toward Goku, who was now attempting to convince Vegeta to spar with him just a little bit.
"He's gotten stronger since the Tournament of Power. A lot stronger."
Whis nodded. "Indeed. He seems to thrive on challenging opponents. Much like someone else I know."
Beerus snorted. "I'm not thriving. I'm tolerating." He corrected.
"Of course, my Lord."
Finally, the hour ended.
The crowd had returned to their seats, their energy refreshed, their anticipation rekindled. The earlier exhaustion had been replaced by a buzzing, electric excitement. They had seen Goku vs. Veldora. They had witnessed the impossible.
And now they were being told there was more.
Gabil, the announcer, received a signal from somewhere in the VIP box. He straightened his coat, cleared his throat, and stepped to the edge of his floating platform.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Citizens of Tempest and honored guests from across the world! I hope you've had time to catch your breath, because the tournament… is not quite finished yet!"
A ripple of stunned murmurs swept through the stands.
"That's right! We have one final, extraordinary battle to conclude today's events! One that will feature one of our most esteemed guests taking the stage—a Destroyer God whose power is so vast it defies simple explanation… facing off against our very own Milim Nava the Destroyer!"
The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of shock and excitement.