Starfall

Every word was like a warm little star, desperately trying to burn its final light to the fullest before the cold darkness swallowed it whole.

Before his words had even settled, the boundless darkness completely engulfed him.

That last trace of silvery-white light vanished in a flash, like a spark falling into a deep abyss.

Super Saiyan 5's signature aura—violent yet sacred—struggled and flickered for one final instant at the edge of the black hole, blooming with astonishing brilliance before going out completely like spent firewood, leaving not even a trace behind.

Immediately afterward, that terrifying wound tearing through the curtain of the universe—the spacetime rift—began to slowly heal, as though there was no way back.

The black, web-like cracks seemed alive as they slowly contracted and closed.

The vortex at the center that devoured everything spun more and more slowly, emitting a low hum like the sigh of the universe.

The hollow's diameter visibly shrank, going from a giant maw capable of swallowing stars to a dim little point.

At last, with a faint tremor in space, the rift closed completely as though it had never existed, even its final wrinkle disappearing.

The void returned to dead silence.

There was no sound, no light—only utter emptiness and cold.

The brutal battle that had swept across the starfield, moving even Gods of Destruction and Angels, now seemed like nothing more than an overly realistic nightmare they had all shared.

Only the fragments of planets floating around them and slowly turning, like gravestones, reminded them that something had once happened here; along with the interstellar dust that had yet to fully disperse, like ashes from a memorial; and the faint, violent aftershocks of energy still lingering in the void, like the unwilling pulse of the dead—they coldly and tangibly proved what had once been here, and what had been lost.

Silence. A deathly silence, heavy enough to crush the stars.

Champa's knees suddenly gave way under his weight, and he dropped to his knees in the frigid void with a thud.

His broad shoulders collapsed at once, and his entire body curled up as he trembled without stop.

His lips quivered, unable to form complete syllables, producing only broken breaths.

The disbelief so thick in his eyes that it could not be dissolved was gradually swallowed by bottomless pain and emptiness.

More purple tears rolled down, stretching into long, crystalline threads in the weightless environment before shattering into even finer icy mist that lingered around him like a private, sorrowful snowfall.

"Qi... Heng... ah..." At last, he forced out that name. His voice was hoarse like sandpaper scraping together, so faint it was nearly swallowed by the void.

The God of Destruction known for his temper, his gluttony, and his pride had now completely shed the shell of his divinity, revealing an utterly hollow desolation.

He was like a giant beast that had lost its cub, and like an old cat forgotten on the street in the rain, radiating a heartbreaking grief and bewilderment.

Beerus stood silently, his purple eyes fixed on the coordinates where Qi Heng had vanished.

The battle-fueled fervor and excitement had long disappeared from his face. Even his usual laziness and impatience were gone.

Within those distinctive purple slit pupils churned exceedingly complicated emotions—the regret of an unfinished battle and the sudden departure of a worthy opponent, sorrow for the fall of a dazzling rising star, and, buried deep inside, a thread of guilt he himself was unwilling to dwell on.

His tail hung limply behind him, no longer swaying.

"Whis," Beerus spoke, breaking the suffocating silence. His voice was low and hoarse. "Is he still alive? Even the slightest possibility?"

The Angel Whis had been standing to one side all along, his expression scarcely changing. Even those eyes that always carried a smile were now dim and lifeless.

Hearing Beerus's voice, he slowly closed his eyes and tightened his long fingers around his staff.

Within the crystal ball atop the staff, dreamlike glimmers of light began to flow, as though reflecting countless fragments of time and space.

Whis pushed his perception to its limit. Like a finely woven net, it pierced the void before him and reached deep beyond the spacetime barrier that had just closed and still retained chaotic fluctuations, seeking to catch even the slightest trace of life or echo of energy Qi Heng might have left behind.

Time passed amid the silence, every second so long it drove one mad.

After a while, Whis opened his eyes and gently shook his head, the slow motion seeming to bear an immense weight.

"Unable to confirm." Whis's voice retained an Angel's characteristic calm, but beneath it lay a rare heaviness. "The spacetime rift he was drawn into had an extremely unstable structure. Its internal currents are chaotic, connecting to countless possible and unknown dimensions. He may have been cast into some distant, unknown spacetime coordinate, or he may already have been completely scattered by the rift's tearing and annihilating forces. The laws there are chaotic and block all established methods of detection. Even I cannot pierce that veil and provide a definite answer."

Beerus's jaw tightened, and the clenched fist at his side gave a faint crack of knuckles as his nails dug deeply into his palm.

Just then, a point of soft blue light stubbornly pierced the bleak aftermath of battle in the distance and entered their sight.

It was the planet Qi Heng had defended with his life—Earth.

It continued to turn safely along its original orbit.

Its azure oceans shimmered with the ripples of life beneath distant starlight, while white clouds unfurled and drifted through the atmosphere, forming peaceful patterns.

The billions of lives upon that planet—its bustling cities and tranquil countryside—knew nothing of the shocking upheaval that had just occurred in the starry sky above their heads, one that had decided their very survival.

They did not know that a silver-haired warrior had chosen an eternal fall for the sake of that blue world.

Champa's body shook violently.

As though he had exhausted every ounce of strength in his body, he pressed one hand against the invisible plane of the void and slowly, inch by inch, rose to his feet again.

His legs shook violently, barely able to support him, and every breath pulled at the pain throughout his body.

The void around him still trembled faintly. Broken fragments of stars drifted slowly like dust, while distant tears in space stretched across the silent darkness like black scars.

He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging deep into his palms, his nails nearly piercing his skin. At last, inch by inch, swaying unsteadily, he stood up.

Wind blew from the fissures of time and space, carrying bone-piercing cold and the dying embers of energy.

The grief on his face receded like a tide, replaced by an almost stubborn defiance—his expression hard as iron, while an unextinguished flame burned in the depths of his eyes.

For a moment, he seemed to overlap with that Saiyan boy from twenty years ago, kneeling amid the ruins of his homeland, covered in dust yet unwilling to bow his head.

Only now, his features were sharper, his wounds deeper, and the burden on his back heavier.

"He won't die." Champa's voice rang out, trembling slightly, yet every word was clear, as though hammered into the void.

Something seemed to ignite deep within his purple eyes. It was not anger, but the burning fire of unwavering conviction, blazing fiercely and reflected in his taut face.

He stepped forward, crushing shattered star-rock beneath his feet with a crunch.

"That kid..." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he lowered his voice, making it heavier. "He's the most gifted warrior I've ever seen. He's made it through countless desperate situations... This time, he'll definitely find a way back too."

Beerus stood some distance away, his dark purple skin appearing especially cold and stern in the fading light.

With his arms folded across his chest, he said nothing. He merely cast Champa a faint glance with his crimson eyes.

There was no mockery in that look, nor any doubt—only an unfathomably deep silence.

Perhaps at a time like this, even he would rather believe in those faint, elusive things called "miracles."

"Let's go." Champa suddenly turned around, no longer looking toward the warped void where Qi Heng had vanished.