Conditions

A trace of emerald green still lingered in his hair, but the color had rapidly faded from the roots, returning to a calm black that spilled over his broad shoulders and back.

The transformation placed an enormous burden on him. A sense of collapse swept through his body like an icy tide.

A faint pain rose from deep within his muscles, as though they had been torn apart.

It was his body protesting after being pushed beyond its limit.

Yet he still stood straight. His eyes, newly returned to black, held the fatigue of fierce battle, but remained clear and calm as they looked directly at Whis.

"Mr. Broly."

Whis turned around, the distant yet gentle smile returning to his face. His voice softened as well, utterly different from the absolute majesty he had displayed moments ago.

"I believe that, with your intelligence, you have already guessed that Beerus and I came all the way to this remote planet Vampa for more than just... an 'exchange.'"

Broly said nothing.

The wind across the wasteland tousled his black hair and fluttered the tattered hems of his trousers.

His skin still retained the lingering heat of battle.

A few seconds later, his low, steady voice sounded.

"The Tournament of Power?"

Whis's brow lifted almost imperceptibly. A rare flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, but it was quickly concealed beneath his perfectly measured smile.

"Oh? You know about it?" he asked curiously. "Did Beerus mention it just now? I recall that we never spoke that name during the battle."

"I guessed."

Broly's answer was blunt and direct, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression, as if he were merely stating an irrelevant fact. "When your energies collided just now, there were conceptual fluctuations in the information."

He was lying.

He knew perfectly well what the Tournament of Power was.

Those memories from another world were far too clear: Grand Zeno's sudden whim, the survival of multiple universes, the incomparably brutal free-for-all in the arena... But he could not let the unfathomable Angel before him detect any of that.

He would not—and absolutely did not want to—let the other party know the truth.

His gaze was calm and open as it met Whis's eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through everything, without the slightest ripple.

Whis narrowed his pale violet eyes, his gaze lingering on Broly for a moment longer, as though trying to see through the secrets beneath his rugged exterior.

He lightly tapped his staff through the air. A faint ripple spread from its tip, but he did not press the matter further.

"That's right."

Whis nodded. His voice was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable gravity.

He raised a hand, and his slender fingers traced through the air. Specks of starlight gathered, vaguely outlining a vast universe.

"The Tournament of Power, personally overseen by Grand Zeno. Eight universes will each select their ten strongest warriors. They will engage in an unprecedented melee within the World of Void—an extraordinary realm beyond time and space."

He paused. Within the universe formed by starlight, a point of light abruptly dimmed, shattered, and vanished.

"The universes that survive to the end will be allowed to continue existing. The universe that comes last... Grand Zeno will simply 'erase' it."

As his words fell, even the wind seemed to stop.

Whis withdrew his gaze and looked at Broly.

His usual relaxed smile had disappeared, replaced by a rare seriousness.

"Beerus and I crossed the sea of stars to come here because we were looking for you, Broly. We hope you will become one of Universe 7's ten representatives and take part in this tournament that will determine the life or death of the universe."

Broly remained silent.

He stood on the barren rocky ground, his bare feet feeling the rough, icy gravel of Vampa.

Forty-one years on this lonely planet replayed through his mind like stretched-out black-and-white film, frame after frame.

The dim, lightless years of imprisonment; the searing pain left on his skin by the energy suppressor. Two desperate yet failed escape attempts, and the starry sky that had always remained beyond his reach. The stunned face of his father, Paragus, as he vanished beneath Broly's uncontrollable power. And just moments ago, that earthshaking clash with Beerus, the one who called himself the God of Destruction...

All those fragments, all that weight, pressed down upon his heart now, while slowly burning through his blood.

He raised his eyes toward the boundless darkness beyond Whis, beneath the sparse starlight.

He understood that this was not merely an invitation. It was more like a crack in the wall, a faint beam of light.

This was an opportunity to break free from Vampa's shackles.

An opportunity to truly step into the vast starry sky and face the unknown and its challenges.

Perhaps... it was also his first chance to truly take "fate" into his own hands.

The wind swept up fine sand and lashed it against his heavily muscled body.

At last, he spoke. His voice was low, but it carried the force to pierce the silence.

"I can participate."

He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over Whis before landing on Beerus, who stood nearby with an impatient expression.

"But I have one condition."

Beerus had been standing with his arms folded, but suddenly turned around. A dangerous glint flashed through his purple catlike eyes, and his brow furrowed tightly.

"Terms?"

He sneered, and the God of Destruction's aura spread without restraint, warping even the air.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Do you think your current situation gives you the right to negotiate terms?"

Broly did not retreat. Instead, he stood even straighter, like a mountain.

He met Beerus's gaze without the slightest hint of backing down and said, word by word:

"I do."

His aura barely changed, yet a primal, immense confidence naturally radiated from him. "Because I'm strong enough."

Beerus's mouth twitched slightly.

He recalled the savage, nearly endless power this guy had displayed during their clash just now.

Even if he did not want to admit it, this was someone who could not be subdued by status and rules alone.

He snorted and turned his head away, tacitly giving his consent.

"Then, what are your terms?"

Whis spoke at the right moment, lightly tapping his staff against the ground as he asked encouragingly.

Broly took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Vampa's cold, thin air.

He looked into the void as though he could see through the future. His voice was calm, yet unwaveringly firm:

"I want freedom."