The Awakening of the God of Destruction

The sight before them felt a little surreal—the ground beneath their feet was neither ordinary earth nor rock, but an entire expanse of deep-blue crystalline flooring, like jet-black jade polished to perfection.

The floor was smooth enough to serve as a mirror, reflecting the eternal sky overhead with perfect clarity.

The sky was strange. It looked like dusk, yet it was frozen in place—orange-red, dark purple, and indigo blended together in a murky swirl. There was no sun, no moon, no clouds, only a heavy twilight pressing down relentlessly over this world.

The air was filled with a weighty sense of oppression.

It was not filthy or murky, but rather an ancient aura, so old that it was impossible to tell what era it belonged to.

Breathing it into their lungs felt as though they could taste the dust of time.

This place seemed to have kneaded together the traces of countless galaxies being born, stars exploding, and civilizations rising and falling. Time itself moved especially slowly here.

Every heartbeat seemed stretched out, and even breathing carried a hint of sluggishness.

In the distance, several enormous conical stone pillars floated in midair, completely defying the laws of physics.

The pillars were dark gray, their surfaces covered in weathering and cracks.

Occasionally, fragments of stone slowly circled the pillars under some invisible force.

The only sound in the entire space was a low, ancient hum so eerie it raised goosebumps, like the heartbeat of the universe.

"Tch. This place hasn't changed at all."

Champa's small eyes darted around, his face full of disdain.

"That bastard Beerus has had hopeless taste for two hundred thousand years. Look at this color scheme—so lifeless and gloomy you could wring water out of it. Just like that perpetually half-asleep ugly mug of his!"

Vados ignored Champa's grumbling.

She merely turned slightly, her gaze settling on a black stone platform not far away.

It was not tall but very broad, standing silently at the center of this indigo land.

The stone was pitch-black and glossy, yet reflected no light. Its surface was carved with densely packed symbols, each one seeming to writhe faintly as though alive, emitting a dim violet glow.

The air around the platform was visibly distorted, showing that all the divine power was concentrated there.

That was the sacred altar where Beerus, the God of Destruction of Universe 7, slept.

"Lord Beerus," Vados stepped forward, her voice clear and calm yet carrying an indescribable penetrating quality, as though it could part the very air, "you have visitors."

The surroundings instantly fell deathly silent. Only a few specks of dust continued to drift down slowly between the distant stone pillars.

Champa frowned, the impatience on his face nearly overflowing.

"That lazy cat..."

He took a sharp breath, and his round belly visibly began to swell.

Then—

"BEERUS—!!!"

The roar shook heaven and earth, exploding from Champa's throat like a thunderclap.

The shout carried the violent divine power of a God of Destruction, turning into pale-violet sound waves that swept through the entire space with a boom.

The ground trembled faintly, while loose stones and dust showered down from the conical pillars overhead.

The thunderous echoes collided again and again between the stone pillars and the high sky, rolling in wave after wave and lingering for a long time before reluctantly fading into that eternal twilight.

The stone platform still showed no reaction. Only the dark-violet runes continued to brighten and dim, like some eternal breathing.

"He didn't sleep himself to death, did he?" Champa dug at the ear that his own shouting had made itch and muttered, "Or did he finally break down from being too lazy?"

"Lord Champa," Vados tapped the ground with her staff, producing a crisp sound. There was a hint of helplessness in her tone. "Gods of Destruction do not die from sleeping or the passage of time. Lord Beerus is merely... sleeping especially deeply."

"Deep? You call this deep?" Champa jumped in anger, yet the floor beneath his feet did not even gain a crack.

He rolled up his sleeves—though he did not actually have sleeves—and his cheeks puffed out again. Clearly, he intended to launch another, even fiercer round of "bombardment."

Just then—

"Huaaah..."

An incredibly lazy, hoarse yawn, like someone being forcibly dragged out of the deepest dream, slowly drifted out from the direction of the black stone platform—or rather, from the entirety of the frozen air.

"You're too noisy."

The voice was low and rough, like sandpaper scraping across iron, filled with the irritation of someone abruptly awakened from a thousand-year slumber.

The voice echoed through the vast temple, striking the towering dome and smooth floor, stirring ripples of pressure so distinct they were nearly visible.

Even thick with sleepiness, the majesty of a god still seeped through—enough to make mortals lose their souls and send their blood flowing backward.

At the center of the temple, on the stone platform carved from the universe's dark matter, light stardust began to stir without wind, rustling as it slid away.

A lean figure, nearly gaunt, slowly pushed himself up from a reclined position.

His movements were somewhat stiff, as though he had not moved for a very long time, yet they carried a strange rhythm.

Beerus—the God of Destruction of Universe 7, with life and death decided by a single thought of his.

Standing beside Champa, the contrast between them was immense.

Champa was round and chubby, practically a ball; Beerus, on the other hand, was lean and long-limbed, his arms and legs like bamboo poles carved from amethyst, every joint sharply defined.

Every tiny line on the purple cat's face was filled with the displeasure of having been woken up.

Those signature long ears drooped at the sides of his head, their tips still trembling slightly. Clearly, he had not been completely dead asleep.

A pair of golden vertical pupils slowly opened. They were dazed at first, but after blinking twice, they immediately cleared. His pupils narrowed into two thin lines, cold and sharp enough to seem capable of slicing through the air.

He wore a black robe with a style somewhat resembling that of an Egyptian pharaoh. The fabric looked soft, but it was so black it seemed to swallow light, rippling with dark waves as he moved.

A bright yellow halo hung around his neck, marking his identity as a God of Destruction. Its faint glow hovered there, looking utterly indifferent.

Once he had fully sat up, his gaze pierced through the dim light inside the temple and locked directly onto the massive figure at the entrance.

His golden eyes suddenly narrowed. Every trace of sleepiness vanished, leaving only a sharp, appraising gaze.

"Champa?" Beerus's voice was still hoarse, but much clearer now. Every word carried a hint of cold hardness. "What are you doing here?"

He did not stand. He merely tilted his head casually, one hand resting on his knee while his fingers tapped now and then.

"What, I'm not welcome?" Champa put his hands on his hips and thrust out his round belly, the smugness on his face practically overflowing. He deliberately took a step forward, his heavy footfall making the ground tremble faintly.

"Stop playing dumb. I'm here to fulfill our wager!"

"A wager?" Beerus frowned, his few sparse eyebrows drawing together into a tiny furrow.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as though searching the depths of his mind for memories buried beneath sleep for far too long.

The temple fell silent for a moment, leaving only Champa's heavy breathing and the distant hum of stars in motion.

About three seconds later, Beerus's frown suddenly relaxed. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smile full of mockery and disdain.

"Oh... that." He dragged out the words as if he were mentioning some trivial old matter, then cooperatively let out another exaggerated yawn, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Then, in a lazy tone, he said, "What, you fat cat finally managed to scrape together a few warriors worth looking at? I thought you'd tossed this matter into some corner of the universe and would be too embarrassed to ever enter my temple again in this lifetime."