The Four Finalists

The lackeys in the ring had nearly all been cleared out. The few remaining fighters each occupied a corner.

Son Gohan stood in the center of the ring, looking at Trunks across from him.

His purple hair swayed slightly. The fear from having a punch stop just short of his nose still lingered on his face, but the fighting spirit in his eyes was already beginning to burn. He spoke plainly, without beating around the bush.

"Trunks, give it everything you've got."

Trunks froze for a moment, then grinned. He'd never really gone all out against Gohan before. Since Gohan was asking him to fight at full power—!

"Okay!"

He planted his feet and clenched his fists. A roar rose from deep in his throat as golden flames of energy burst from his body. His hair stood on end and turned gold, and his pupils became emerald green.

The stone tiles beneath his feet cracked under the force of the shock wave, sending fragments flying in every direction.

Super Saiyan! His muscles began to swell, bulging around his shoulders and arms as though they were being inflated. His Battle Suit stretched tight against his body.

His power surged, but the dramatic increase came at the cost of his agility.

Son Gohan took one look and recognized the Super Saiyan Second Grade, a form that enhanced strength.

It was the same move Vegeta had used during the Cell Games. The swelling muscles brought a tremendous increase in strength, but at the cost of speed.

It seemed Trunks still hadn't fully grasped the essence of the Super Saiyan form's full power. The moment he got fired up, he'd fallen back into his old habits.

He didn't transform.

With black hair and eyes in his base form, he simply assumed a fighting stance against Trunks, whose golden aura blazed into the sky.

Trunks moved. He kicked off the ground, shattering the stone tiles beneath his feet, and shot toward him like a streak of golden light.

His right fist, wrapped in golden flames, drove straight at Son Gohan's face. It wasn't fast, but it packed tremendous force.

Son Gohan turned aside, letting the punch pass. The force grazed his ear, its whistle sharp and piercing.

Trunks immediately swept in with his left fist. Son Gohan leaned back to dodge, then tapped the ground and drifted several meters away.

"Hyahhyahhyah—!"

Trunks chased after him, unleashing a flurry of heavy punches, each carrying enough force to shatter a mountain peak.

Son Gohan stopped retreating and met his punches with his own. Their fists collided wildly in midair—thud, thud, thud, thud—the muffled impacts joined into a deafening roar.

The sonic booms echoed over the sea, and the water below churned under the shock waves.

The two fought from the ring into the air.

Their figures darted back and forth above the sea at incredible speed, each collision bursting with visible shock waves.

The waves were driven outward, splashing white spray against the stone pillars.

Trunks brought a punch crashing down. Son Gohan raised an arm to block it, then used the force to flip around and lash a kick toward Trunks's side.

Trunks sucked in his stomach and dodged. He retaliated with an elbow aimed at Son Gohan's shoulder, but Son Gohan turned aside and drove a knee toward him.

They fought at close quarters, every punch and kick landing solidly.

No one in the stands remained seated.

Everyone was on their feet, mouths agape as they watched the two figures collide furiously above the sea.

Some people couldn't follow the action with their eyes. They could only make out flashes of gold and black in the air, each collision accompanied by a deafening boom.

Mr. Satan sat in the VIP seats, his face ashen. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes fixed on the two fighters above the sea—no, there was no way ordinary people could make that kind of racket.

Suddenly, he clutched his stomach and stood up.

"I, I have a stomachache—just going to the bathroom—"

His four disciples exchanged bewildered looks, but before they could say a word, Mr. Satan had already dashed into the restroom and slammed the door shut.

Above the sea, the fight continued.

Son Gohan and Trunks's fists collided once more. Their two forces held in a deadlock for half a second as their auras roiled violently.

Trunks gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging. He poured every ounce of strength into his arm, but Son Gohan's expression remained calm, and his breathing hadn't even changed.

He was controlling his strength, keeping it around Trunks's level and feeding him moves, match after match.

They both eased off at once, sliding dozens of meters apart to create some distance.

Trunks brought both hands to his waist, gathering golden light in his palms.

Son Gohan mirrored him, a blue sphere of energy spinning in his palms. Their two blasts shot out at the same time and collided head-on over the middle of the sea.

BOOM!!

The explosion lit up half the sky. Its shock wave pressed a vast hollow into the sea as walls of water rolled outward.

A large area of seawater vaporized, and white steam rose to engulf the two fighters.

As the steam cleared, Trunks was panting heavily. His golden aura had dimmed considerably, and his chest heaved harder and harder.

He had spent too much energy. The strain of the Super Saiyan Second Grade, combined with the high-intensity exchange of blows, had nearly drained him.

Son Gohan hovered across from him, breathing evenly. He'd fought a Super Saiyan in his base form the entire time, and he was recovering energy faster than he was spending it.

The two returned to the ring.

Trunks braced his hands on his knees and panted hard. He looked up at Son Gohan, a new layer of awe in his eyes.

He could fight like this in his base form. If he transformed—Trunks didn't dare finish the thought.

Nearby, Piccolo stood with his arms crossed, his eyebrows raised slightly.

The Son Gohan from this timeline stood on another ring, his mouth slightly open, his eyes filled with shock.

He'd watched the entire match, and wave after wave of disbelief had washed over him. This sudden appearance of himself could fight a Super Saiyan to a standstill in his base form alone.

"He's so strong. Really strong."

Piccolo looked away and turned toward the stands. He wasn't interested in the prize money; he'd entered the World Martial Arts Tournament purely to stretch his limbs.

Now that the four finalists had been decided, he couldn't be bothered with the rest.

He walked over to the edge of the stands and told the referee, "I forfeit." The referee froze for a moment, then announced that Krillin would advance to the final four in his place.

The four finalists were decided: Son Gohan, Trunks, Son Gohan—The referee looked at the two Gohans, coughed, and announced the rules.

"The four competitors will draw lots at random, then travel by vehicle to four islands in the north, south, east, and west to challenge Mr. Satan's four disciples.

"After defeating a disciple, return to the central ring. The first to return will be declared the winner and earn the right to challenge the world's strongest, Mr. Satan!"

Four race cars waited at the starting line. Their engines growled softly, and their tires trembled slightly.

Son Gohan climbed into the driver's seat and rested his fingers on the steering wheel.

The countdown began—three, two, one. The red light turned green.

The cars shot forward like arrows loosed from their bows, speeding into the tunnel.

The engines roared through the tunnel as the lights on either side flashed past.

Son Gohan gripped the steering wheel, his gaze calm as he watched the road ahead.