Mercy and Destruction

"You always care about that seemingly unnecessary mercy, and worry over insignificant lives..." The smile at the corner of Whis's lips deepened, carrying an indescribable meaning. "When all is said and done, that is probably the most fundamental difference between Saiyans and angels like us who serve the Gods of Destruction—even the Gods of Destruction themselves."

Quitela froze, narrowing his slender eyes.

He looked as though he had not understood, yet also as though he found Whis's words utterly absurd.

Several seconds passed before he snorted through his nose, louder than before and full of contempt.

"Mercy? Difference?" He drew out every word, each one seeming wrapped in ice. "That sort of thing only makes people hesitate, makes them weak, makes them fall with a single blow. Strength is the only truth! Look at Qi Heng now—this is what mercy gets you!"

"Is that so?" Whis did not turn around. He merely chuckled softly, his gaze drifting back toward the boundless starry sky.

His smile seemed capable of embracing the birth and death of countless stars, as well as Quitela's sharpness and Champa's agitation.

He did not argue further, as though his previous remark had merely been casual—perhaps more like a footnote left for the future.

Far away in the depths of space, Qi Heng's figure was still being hurled backward amid embers and violent purple radiance, like a kite with its string cut, trailing a long and agonizing path toward an unknown end.

That azure planet continued to turn quietly in its orbit. It had just brushed past the edge of destruction, yet remained utterly unaware.

The sea of stars was vast, darkness spread like ink, and the scattered stars flickered in and out like shattered diamonds.

Qi Heng's body finally slowed to a stop in the void, as though an invisible ripple had spread beneath his feet.

He raised a hand and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb—a streak of silver blood ran from his lips, rapidly freezing into tiny ice crystals in the absolute-zero vacuum, cold as metal and glinting faintly.

His silver eyes looked into the distance.

The blue planet hung quietly in deep space, its atmosphere like a gentle halo of light. Beneath the clouds, the outlines of continents appeared and disappeared.

An immensely complicated emotion churned in his eyes before settling into a stillness like dead water—not regret, nor hesitation, but a nearly ruthless resolve tempered by blazing fire.

He knew perfectly well that, in that instant, he had used his body to block a destructive blast powerful enough to pierce the planet's core, forcibly twisting it off course.

The aftershock had torn apart his battle suit, leaving scorched wounds across his chest. Silver veins beneath his skin glimmered faintly.

He had saved the billions of lives on that planet.

That was enough.

The thought was simple and clear, echoing through his heart.

"Do you really care about those... lives?" Beerus's voice came from the distant void.

The God of Destruction floated there, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. His purple vertical pupils narrowed slightly, and a rare trace of confusion flickered in his eyes.

The purple light coiling around him rose and dimmed, casting subtle lines across his feline face.

His tone had changed.

The lofty, faintly mocking nonchalance from before was gone, replaced by curiosity, as if he truly wanted to understand something.

As a God of Destruction, his life was measured in hundreds of millions of years. He had erased countless stars and annihilated countless lives.

To him, it had always been no more than brushing away dust or pruning excess branches. His heart had never stirred, much less known hesitation or regret.

Yet this Saiyan before him—this warrior covered in blood, his aura in disarray but his back still straight—had willingly accepted severe injury to face the power of destruction head-on, all to protect the "ants" on that planet, lives that in Beerus's eyes were worth less than dust.

The idea lay beyond his understanding.

"That isn't weakness." Qi Heng's voice rang out through the frozen vacuum, calm as a lake in winter, yet carrying an unshakable firmness.

His silver eyes met Beerus's without yielding, as though galaxies were turning within their depths.

Beerus said nothing.

The silence stretched on, and against the backdrop of the universe, time seemed almost frozen.

He tilted his head slightly, the fur around his neck swaying with the motion.

Then he smiled.

This smile was different from every one before it.

The curve of his lips still held a god's detachment, but the disdain and mockery were gone. In their place was a faint trace of appreciation.

"Is that so?" Beerus drawled, sounding interested. "Very well. Then let's see just how far your 'mercy' can carry you."

The instant his words fell, Beerus's aura erupted!

This time, the purple divine power of destruction was no longer merely light—it had nearly condensed into a flowing substance!

Centered on him, a massive energy vortex began to spin wildly.

At the vortex's edge, space twisted and tore like crumpled silk. The remains of several nearby asteroids were all sucked inside, instantly ground into dust, while even light was swallowed.

Fragmented starlight stretched into bizarre bands around the vortex's outer rim, like a final sigh.

Countless thick bolts of purple lightning raced and exploded within the vortex. Each silent detonation felt like space collapsing; black cracks spread like spiderwebs, only to be rapidly filled by even more energy.

"Final strike." Beerus's voice lowered, yet became even more imposing, like the tolling bell of judgment from the end of the universe. Each syllable struck heavily upon the fabric of law. "Let me see how much true 'resolve' there is in your actions."

He slowly lowered his arms from his chest and brought his hands together before him.

His five fingers spread, palms facing each other, separated by no more than a foot.

A wisp of purple radiance silently emerged in the space between his palms.

This time, the way the energy gathered was completely different.

There was no earth-shattering explosion, no shockwave sweeping away everything—only a slow, heart-pounding "convergence," like a black hole being born.

That purple radiance was faint at first, but it soon steadily grew brighter and fiercer, so pure that no one dared look directly at it.

Yet its volume continuously collapsed instead, shrinking smaller and smaller, as though every concept of destruction had been compressed into a finite domain.

In the end, a purple sphere of energy no more than a meter across hovered quietly in Beerus's palm.

This energy sphere was unlike any of his previous attacks.

Its entire body flowed with the deep luster of violet crystal, its surface smooth as a mirror, while liquid flames seemed to course within.

Yet at its core—the very central point—lay absolute "darkness."

It was not the black of color, but "nothingness," a singularity, the final destination where all things returned to the void, where even space and time ceased to exist.

Around that black singularity, countless hair-thin purple lightning serpents darted and coiled madly. Each streak tore a slowly healing "black wound" through the void—the structure of space itself had been erased.

Destruction Sphere.

One of Beerus's true ultimate powers, a form that compressed the very concept of "destruction" to its utmost limit, releasing fluctuations that made the entire starfield tremble.

For the first time, Whis's expression turned grave, and the elegant smile that usually rested at the corner of his lips vanished completely.

His slender fingers unconsciously tightened around his staff, his knuckles turning white.

The crystal orb atop the staff began to emit a soft pale-blue light from within. The glow was not dazzling, yet it seemed to form a stagnant force field around the staff, pushing away even the cosmic dust floating nearby.

"Lord Beerus... is getting serious." Whis's voice sank, like an echo from the depths of the universe, every word carrying an impossible-to-ignore weight.