The Feast of the Gods

The moment Bulma's fleet lifted off from West City's aerospace port, five plasma trails tore five straight gashes across Earth's sky.

The flagship, the "Capsule Ship," led the way, with four escort ships following in a diamond formation. The reflective coating on their hulls burned into a blazing orange-red as they punched through the atmosphere, then cooled into a frigid silver-white the instant they entered the vacuum. The citizens of West City flooded into the streets, craning their necks to watch those five shrinking points of light. No one cheered, and no one wept—after surviving Cell and Majin Buu, Earthlings had developed a quiet understanding when it came to displays on this scale. They knew those lights carried the strongest warriors on the planet. They also knew that if those warriors did not return, there would no longer be a place called "West City" in this universe.

In the flagship's command room, Bulma sat in the captain's chair. The holographic screen before her was divided into more than a dozen windows displaying each ship's engine status, Gravity Chamber data, crew vital signs, and star-chart navigation. She had switched to her largest coffee mug, its surface printed with the Capsule Corp logo and a handwritten line beside it in marker—"Don't blow up." She had developed that habit during the preparations. Every time she built a new device, she wrote those words on it, from Gravity Chambers to spacecraft, from spacecraft to energy limiters. Dr. Brief sat in the co-pilot's seat with a lollipop in his mouth, tightening a loose panel screw with a wrench. Father and daughter had had one final argument before boarding, over whether the flagship's Gravity Chamber power module should use Plan A or Plan B. In the end, Bulma had grabbed a wrench and installed both herself.

In the rear lounge, the ten official contestants and reserve members packed an entire row of seats. Their assorted battle suits and armor filled what had once been a spacious cabin. Ji Ming sat by a porthole, flipping through the Universe 7 Contestant Handbook Bulma had compiled—basic information on the twelve universes, lists of each universe's Gods of Destruction and Angels, and intelligence on known participants. There was very little intelligence, and most of it was blank, but Bulma had circled several universes in red and marked them "High Risk."

Universe 11: Pride Troopers, captain Toppo, known to wield destruction energy. Universe 6: Saiyan civilization has not gone extinct; Super Saiyans may exist. Universe 4: Very little intelligence available. Its God of Destruction, Quitela, had long been at odds with Universe 7's Beerus and might cause trouble during the tournament. Universe 1: Its overall combat power was assessed as the highest among all universes and had never lost in any simulation.

Ji Ming folded the corners of the pages for those three universes, then closed the handbook. Krillin sat beside him, peeling his fifth orange. The peeled segments were neatly arranged on his lap, but he had not eaten a single one. Android 18 sat on his other side. Rarely, she was not wearing her usual cold expression; instead, she rested one hand over Krillin's. Krillin's fingers trembled once before he turned his hand over and clasped hers.

Vegeta was not sitting. He leaned against the cabin wall with his arms folded, staring at the stars streaming past outside the porthole. No golden aura of Super Saiyan power burned around him, but a thread of deep-blue lightning occasionally flickered across his body—his "Deep Blue Form," achieved during the final two months of preparation. Whis had called it an advanced state of "Instinctive Destruction." Son Goku sat cross-legged on the floor with the Power Pole resting across his legs. He had not entered any combat form, merely sitting with his eyes closed. His aura was neither gold nor red, but flowing silver. Ultra Instinct, complete form—he had fully stabilized it during the second-to-last week of preparation. Whis had said that, in this state, his evasion efficiency had surpassed that of a God of Destruction.

Kami's Lookout had been moved aboard the flagship in its entirety. Piccolo, Nail, and Dende had not originally needed to join the expedition, but before Piccolo even realized it, he had walked toward the boarding ramp. Nail had explained to Dende, "We may need to fill in the remaining details of the ancient Namekian sealing technique." Dende's antennae had already begun trembling slightly when he nodded. Majin Buu was asleep across the last row of seats in the lounge, his soft pink body sprawled flat as he blew a snot bubble from his nose. Frieza sat beside him—upright and composed, arms folded, tail quietly curled by his feet. His golden skin reflected a cold gleam under the cabin lights, and an energy limiter was fastened at the side of his neck. At the final pre-match meeting, he had unusually not made a single cutting remark. He had merely added at the end that the reason he did not want to be erased was not because he feared death, but because he feared never getting the chance to defeat the Saiyans and become the emperor of the universe again. Ji Ming had only replied, "Then be a good teammate this time."

Piccolo sat in a corner, using his antennae to sense the fluctuations in everyone's energy throughout the ship. Nail sat beside him with an ancient Namekian sealing scroll spread open. The two Namekians had been discussing it for a long time, intending to use it during the team battle phase to provide the entire team with a brief invincible barrier. Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu sat in the same row. All three of Tien Shinhan's eyes were fixed on his clasped hands—during preparation, he had raised the power of the Neo Tri-Beam enough to briefly suppress high-level opponents, but each use consumed an enormous amount of stamina. The fusion time for Gotenks had not yet arrived. Goten and Trunks sat on opposite sides of the lounge, each holding a bowl of strawberry daifuku Chi-Chi had stuffed aboard and eating until their mouths were covered in powder. Nappa sat behind them, swallowing as he stared at the bowls.

Chi-Chi had not boarded, but her fingerprints were everywhere on the ship—every storage locker in the lounge was stuffed with handwritten notes, each carrying messages like "Remember to eat on time" and "Don't cause trouble for Bulma," attached to everyone's lunch boxes. Vegeta's garlic pork ribs were sealed in a separate thermal container. Frieza's box had been left blank. Piccolo's three boxes of steamed pumpkin were separated by two layers of insulation. Ji Ming's fingers paused when they touched the tempura beneath his own lunch box.

The fleet cruised steadily through deep space. Beyond the portholes, the river of stars dispersed from frozen silver lines back into dense clusters of starlight. Bulma's voice came over the intercom, calm and steady. "We are expected to arrive at the World of Void in three hours. The fleet's Gravity Chambers are open. Anyone who needs to warm up, make your own arrangements."

Vegeta pushed open the door to a Gravity Chamber, immediately set it to maximum, then gradually adjusted it back down. Ji Ming and Son Goku exchanged a glance, then silently headed for different Gravity Chambers. In the lounge, Majin Buu's snot bubble popped with a soft puff, but he did not wake.

When the fleet passed through its final warp, the starry river beyond the portholes vanished completely, replaced by an absolute blackness without a single star. It was not the darkness of deep space, but a more complete void—no light, no matter, no energy fluctuations that any detector could capture. This space belonged to no universe and appeared on no star chart. It existed apart from the dimensions of all twelve universes and was called the "World of Void."

And within that absolute darkness floated a structure so immense that it defied the laws of physics—the World of Void Arena.

It was pentagonal in shape, each side as long as a small city. Twelve floating spectator stands hovered around its outer edge, each representing a universe, every one different in shape and color. Universe 1's stand was built from pure white marble, its surface carved with ancient divine reliefs, solemn as a temple. Universe 6's stand looked as though it had been roughly carved from a single meteorite, with jagged fractured edges still left intact. Universe 7's stand had been arranged in advance by Bulma, its seats covered with blue cushions woven by Chi-Chi. At the very center of the arena stood a massive circular stage. Its floor was made of a transparent yet extraordinarily sturdy material, allowing anyone standing on it to look straight down into the voidal abyss of the World of Void.

Above the arena floated a crystal throne higher than any of the spectator stands. Zeno sat upon it, his short legs dangling over the edge as they swung back and forth. Beside him sat a plate of braised pork packed up from Mount Paozu. There were two Zenos—Whis had brought the future Zeno as well. The two identical little figures sat side by side, one eating meat and the other applauding with a strawberry daifuku from Chi-Chi still in his mouth. The Grand Priest stood several steps below Zeno, his white cape fluttering without wind, his face as placid as water while his golden pupils swept across the arena.

The Gods of Destruction and Angels of the twelve universes took their seats one after another. Beerus strode into the front row of Universe 7's stand, his tail lashing irritably against the back of his chair after he discovered that the God of Destruction of Universe 4, Quitela, was seated beside him. Whis smiled and lightly pinned his tail down with his staff. The other Gods of Destruction also took their seats—some were translucent jellyfish-like beings, some were vine giants covered in plant fibers, and some looked as fragile as dry twigs that would snap at a touch. Yet whenever they released their auras, the air around them froze solid. Every Angel stood behind their God of Destruction. The crystals atop their twelve staffs glowed in different colors in the darkness, like a string of colored lights threaded through the void.

Ji Ming looked over the Gods of Destruction, rapidly comparing them against the intelligence in his mind. Universe 11's God of Destruction, Belmod, wore a clown costume. His smile looked easygoing, but his oppressive presence ranked near the top among the Gods of Destruction. Universe 1's God of Destruction, Iwan, projected natural authority without anger. Even while restrained, the divine energy around him made contestants hundreds of meters away feel an immense pressure. But there was no time to observe further, because the Grand Priest had raised his hand, and the entire arena fell silent in an instant.

"Contestants, you have worked hard. Zeno has been looking forward to today for a long time. Now, regarding the rules of the Tournament of Power," the Grand Priest said. His voice was not loud, yet every syllable entered the depths of everyone's consciousness clearly, requiring no translation. "First, the tournament will be divided into three stages—preliminaries, elimination rounds, and finals. The preliminaries will be a free-for-all. Contestants from all twelve universes will battle simultaneously on the stage for forty minutes. Anyone knocked out of the stage boundary will be eliminated. Anyone knocked down and unable to continue fighting will also be eliminated. The four universes with the highest number of eliminated contestants will be erased directly after the preliminaries. In the second-stage elimination rounds, matches will be determined by preliminary point rankings, and opponents may be freely selected. In the third-stage finals, the remaining universes will compete for final victory. Second, the use of any restorative items, including Senzu Beans, is forbidden. Third, the match will not pause. There will be no intermission. Death and injury will be handled by each universe's own medical team, and no appeals will be accepted. Fourth—and most importantly—the defeated universes will be erased directly by Zeno, including all life, all planets, and all souls within them."

For dozens of seconds, silence hung above the arena. Then Zeno raised his chopsticks and cheered, "Let's begin!" The two Zenos clapped at the same time, and a ring-shaped explosion of light burst across the sky of the World of Void, dyeing the void above the arena in flowing gold. The contestants from every team flew toward the stage like points of light.

Universe 7's ten fighters landed on a high area at the northwestern edge of the stage. Ji Ming did not speak. He merely raised one hand, and all ten spread out at once, rapidly taking their positions according to the initial formation they had practiced over and over during preparation—Vegeta at the front right, Android 17 and Android 18 on either flank, Buu directly behind him as the shield, and Frieza one step away, ready to counterattack. Son Goku held the center in support. Gotenks remained airborne, ready to provide high-mobility assistance at any moment. Piccolo and Nail were positioned side by side at the rear, their antennae synchronizing as they entered formation detection. Tien Shinhan stood at the back, slightly to the left, while Chiaotzu hovered at the altitude he provided for psychic targeting.

The formations of the other eleven universes were also completed within seconds. The Pride Troopers of Universe 11 stood directly east of the stage, the destruction energy leaking from beneath their feet pressing fine cracks into the arena floor. Within Universe 6's Saiyan formation, Ji Ming caught sight of several slender figures wreathed in faint red auras. When Universe 3's all-mechanical team entered the field, there were no footsteps—only the crisp clicks of metal joints locking together in unison. Universe 4's God of Destruction, Quitela, chuckled twice.

Ji Ming withdrew his gaze from the opposing side and turned to his own team. In a low voice, he said, "Take your positions—defensive formation, according to the preparation plan." His voice was not loud, but it carried through the entire Universe 7 tactical channel.

Deep-blue lightning flashed once around Vegeta at the front right. Android 17 and Android 18 slid into place in low stances at the same time, while the golden energy at Frieza's fingertips traced a fleeting streak of light across the ground.

Ji Ming remained standing at the center of the formation, his aura slowly shifting from calm white to burning crimson. The two Zenos raised their hands together, ready to clap them down. The forces of all twelve universes tightened every muscle and bone upon the arena. Every Angel's staff lit up at once, engraving the first instant of this battle into the luminous script of the multiverse.