CHAPTER 17: A TASTE OF POWER

The underground arena was electric with anticipation, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the tournament reached its final round. Gohan, barely able to keep his balance after a series of brutal matches, stood in the center of the arena, his chest rising and falling with every strained breath. His once-pristine battle gear was now tattered and worn, a testament to the grueling fights that had led him here. 

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, turning the atmosphere electric.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice crackled, his holographic projection appearing beside Gohan in the center of the arena. The crowd roared, eagerly awaiting the final showdown. “It’s time for the final match—the moment we’ve all been waiting for! The fight of a lifetime, and you won’t want to miss it! Place your bets now, folks, because this one’s about to get interesting.”

The hologram of the announcer turned to Gohan with a mischievous grin. “And this fighter here, the unexpected crowd pleaser, the Great Saiyaman—he’s already proven himself an underdog tonight. But what happens next? Let’s see if he can hold his ground against an opponent like no other…”

The announcer paused, letting the tension build as the crowd murmured in excitement. “This fighter comes from a race long thought to have been wiped out by a meteor! Known for their fierce fighting spirit and unmatched strength, this warrior has come to prove that extinction is just a word.”

A hush fell over the crowd as the announcer’s voice dropped, building suspense. “Noppal!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the noise deafening as Noppal entered the arena. His scouter beeped softly as he surveyed the room, his no-nonsense demeanor sending a chill through the air. His black and gray battle suit, scuffed from countless battles, clung tightly to his muscular frame. Close-cropped dark hair framed his face, and his bulkier physique spoke of raw power and endurance—this was a fighter built for destruction. The audience locked their eyes on him, the tension thickening in the air.

The announcer’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise. “Folks, you’ve never seen a fight like this. Prepare yourselves, because it’s about to get intense.”

Vegeta and Broly exchanged looks, their instincts alert as they watched Noppal with calculated precision. Both were focused, sensing the danger this fighter presented.

The announcer’s voice broke the tension. “This is the fight of the century, folks! We’ve got the underdog of the hour, the mysterious fighter known as Great Saiyaman, and he’s about to face a real challenge! Can he survive the might of Noppal?”

Gohan’s heart raced as the spotlight shifted to him. The crowd cheered, their support unwavering despite the odds stacked against him. But Gohan was far from confident; he was exhausted, his energy reserves nearly depleted. Noppal towered over him, his aura crackling with power.

“Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.” Noppal’s voice echoed across the arena, a smirk spreading across his face. 

As the fight began, Noppal wasted no time, charging forward with blinding speed. His fists slammed into Gohan with brutal force, each blow landing with a bone-shaking impact.

Gohan struggled to keep up, his body aching from the previous rounds. Despite his exhaustion, he knew he couldn’t afford to back down—not now, not with so much at stake.

“You’re not even close to being my match, kid,” Noppal taunted, his voice laced with mocking amusement. “You really think you can stand up to me?”

Gohan gritted his teeth, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “I’m not here to win for the crowd. I’m here to find out the truth. Where’s my father?”

Noppal’s brow furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “Your father? What are you talking about?”

Gohan didn’t back down, charging forward and forcing Noppal into an exchange of blows. Between strikes, Gohan’s words cut through the noise. “Several days ago, your King fought two Saiyans—and took one of them.”

Noppal’s expression shifted as realization dawned. His movements slowed just enough to betray the connection forming in his mind. “So that’s who you mean...” He suddenly slammed his fist into Gohan’s helmet, shattering it.

The pieces clattered to the ground, revealing Gohan’s face. Noppal froze for a split second, his sharp eyes narrowing. Recognition burned in his gaze, and his lips curled into a contemptuous smirk. “You...you kinda look just like him. You’re his son, aren’t you? That explains the power. But it won’t matter. You’re just another piece on the board, a tool for King Turles’s plan. Nothing more.”

Gohan clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. “We’ll see about that.”

As the battle raged on, Noppal’s overwhelming strength, amplified by the fruit of the Tree of Might, made each strike devastating. Every punch and kick carried a force that pushed Gohan to his limits. Yet Gohan refused to falter. He wasn’t just fighting for survival—he was fighting for answers. He couldn’t let Noppal escape with the truth he sought.

***

Back in the VIP booth, Truffle, disguised and keeping a low profile, watched the fight unfold. Her eyes weren’t on the battle itself, but on Dakon, who was holding the seeds of the Tree of Might close. Truffle knew those seeds could provide the key to understanding Turles’s plans, and she needed to get her hands on them. She adjusted her position, inching closer under the pretense of mingling.

Borzak leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “You’re a persuasive man, Dakon. And I’m a businessman. Whatever your king needs, name it. Planets, resources, distribution networks—I’ll make it happen. I’ve got contacts across the galaxy willing to pay any price for something like this. And if this power can rival the Frieza Empire…” He let the implication hang in the air.

Dakon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “The Frieza Empire is merely one obstacle in a much larger plan. But for the right price...”

Borzak grinned. “Consider it a deal in the making. Seeing this power in action is all the proof I need.”

As the two spoke, Truffle edged closer, feigning disinterest in their conversation. Her eyes darted toward the seeds, her mind racing with plans. If she could just get close enough…

Her first attempt was cautious. Pretending to adjust her position for a better view of the fight, she moved behind Dakon, her hand inching toward the seeds. But Dakon shifted slightly, blocking her with a casual, deliberate movement that seemed almost unconscious.

Borzak, still unaware, continued. “Dakon, your king must be bold to take on the galaxy like this. I respect that. But to think he’d defy even the Frieza Empire—now that’s ambitious.”

Dakon’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Ambition without strategy is reckless. My king’s plans are calculated, and this,” he gestured subtly toward the seeds, “is only one piece of the puzzle.”

Truffle retreated momentarily, pretending to admire the arena below, but frustration burned in her chest. She needed those seeds, and Dakon wasn’t making it easy. She waited for another opening, her gaze flickering to Borzak’s goons stationed nearby.

Her second attempt was bolder. She pretended to stumble, dropping her drink near Dakon’s seat. As she crouched to retrieve it, her fingers brushed close to the seeds.

Dakon’s voice cut through the air, soft but sharp. “Careful, miss. Some things are more dangerous than they appear.”

She froze, her heart pounding as she looked up to find Dakon’s gaze locked onto her. He knew. And worse, he was baiting her.

Before she could retreat, Dakon gave a subtle nod to Borzak’s goons. They moved in, grabbing her arms with a force that left no room for resistance.

Borzak raised an eyebrow, finally noticing the commotion. “What’s this?”

Dakon’s tone was calm, almost amused. “It seems we’ve had an unexpected guest. A little too curious for her own good.”

Just as the situation seemed to spiral, the booth doors burst open with a resounding crash. Tarble strode in, his presence commanding the room as his sharp eyes scanned the scene. Dakon and Borzak exchanged confused glances, neither recognizing him at first.

“Who the hell are you?” Borzak demanded, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Before Tarble could respond, one of Borzak’s goons froze, his eyes widening in recognition. “Wait a second…Nightshade?” The goon’s tone was incredulous. “It’s you, isn’t it? Cooler’s shadow enforcer. I never thought I’d see you again!”

Tarble blinked, momentarily taken aback by the name. It had been years since anyone had called him that. A flicker of nostalgia crossed his face before he shook it off. “I did go by that once,” he admitted, his voice low. “But those days are behind me. I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Borzak leaned back in his seat, unimpressed. “I don’t care what you call yourself or who you used to work for. You’ve made a mistake walking in here.” He waved dismissively at his goons. “Take him down.”

The goons rushed forward, but Tarble was faster. In an instant, his energy flared, and with a single, fluid motion, he incapacitated the nearest attacker and freed Truffle from their grasp. She stumbled briefly before regaining her balance, her eyes lighting up with relief.

“About time,” Truffle muttered, brushing herself off.

Tarble turned to her with a sharp look. “Stay close. I’ll handle this.”

But Truffle didn’t back down. As another goon lunged toward her, she spun gracefully, delivering a swift kick to his chest that sent him crashing into the wall. Tarble raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by her skill.

“You’ve got some moves,” he remarked, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“Thanks,” Truffle shot back, dodging another attack and countering with a precise strike. “But we don’t have time to mess around. We need those seeds, and Dakon’s not getting away.”

The two of them moved in perfect synchronization, fighting off the goons with a combination of martial prowess and raw power. Tarble’s energy blasts lit up the room, while Truffle’s speed and precision kept the enemies off balance.

Dakon, meanwhile, watched the chaos unfold with a calm exterior, his hand still resting on the seeds. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes darted between Truffle and Tarble, calculating his next move.

Borzak, still seated, shouted over the commotion. “Don’t let them get the seeds! Do you have any idea what those are worth?!”

Tarble and Truffle exchanged a quick glance, their mutual understanding clear. They weren’t leaving without those seeds—or without apprehending Dakon.

***

Meanwhile, Gohan’s battle with Noppal raged on, the clash between them reaching a fever pitch. The arena was an inferno of raw energy, every blow reverberating through the structure. Gohan was battered, his body pushed to its limits, but his determination never wavered. He gritted his teeth, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he locked eyes with Noppal, who smirked with the confidence of a predator closing in on its prey.

“You’re slowing down,” Noppal taunted, his voice carrying over the deafening cheers of the crowd. “I thought you’d at least be a challenge.”

Gohan tightened his fists, refusing to falter. Just as he was about to launch another attack, a strange sensation washed over him. For a fleeting moment, he felt a presence—faint yet familiar—brushing against his mind like a whisper in the wind. His heart raced, his senses sharpening as an aura seemed to pulse within him, a strength he hadn’t fully tapped into.

The realization struck him like lightning: someone—or something—was reaching out to him, fueling his resolve.

Noppal lunged, his fist aimed straight for Gohan’s chest, but Gohan’s aura exploded around him, golden light shifting to a radiant, ethereal glow. His Ultimate Form ignited, his power surging beyond anything the audience—or even Noppal—had expected. The crowd gasped, the air thick with a mix of awe and dread as the arena trembled beneath their feet.

Gohan’s voice was firm, his energy crackling. “This ends now!”

The two clashed with renewed intensity, their blows shattering the ground and sending shockwaves through the arena. The walls began to buckle, debris falling as the structure struggled to contain the overwhelming power.

From the sidelines, Vegeta’s sharp eyes scanned the scene, his jaw tightening. “This place won’t hold much longer,” he muttered. “If they keep this up, the entire arena is coming down.” He turned to Broly, who stood nearby, watching intently. “We need to get the crowd out of here.”

The arena’s foundation groaned under the pressure, cracks spreading like spider webs across the walls and floor. In the ring, Noppal let out a roar, his power spiraling out of control. With one final surge, he smashed through the fencing, leaping into the chaos of the fleeing crowd.

“No!” Gohan shouted, his voice ringing with urgency. He glanced at Vegeta, who nodded in silent agreement. Without hesitation, the two Saiyans took off after Noppal, their ki trails streaking through the chaos.

Meanwhile, in the VIP booth, Truffle and Tarble were locked in combat with Borzak’s goons. Truffle’s sharp movements and calculated strikes kept the attackers at bay, while Tarble’s energy blasts carved a path through the chaos. Despite their skill, the sheer number of enemies threatened to overwhelm them.

Just as one of the goons aimed a strike at Tarble’s back, a massive shadow loomed over them. Broly crashed into the scene like a force of nature, his raw power sending the attackers flying.

“Need some help?” Broly asked, his voice calm but his eyes blazing with intensity.

Tarble smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. “Perfect timing.”

As the trio fought their way through the booth, Truffle kept her eyes on Dakon, who stood at the edge of the chaos, clutching the seeds of the Tree of Might in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but his stance was clear—he wasn’t going to fight.

“Stay close!” Tarble instructed, shielding Truffle from an incoming blast.

Truffle nodded but didn’t hesitate to retaliate, her movements swift and precise. As the last of Borzak’s goons fell, she turned to Dakon, who raised his hands in surrender, the seeds still clutched tightly.

“I’m not a fighter,” Dakon said evenly, his eyes flicking to Tarble. “But I can tell you’re a Saiyan. I don’t want any trouble—I’ll cooperate.”

Truffle stepped forward, her gaze hard. “Hand over the seeds, and you might get out of this unscathed.”

Dakon hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand, the seeds gleaming in the dim light. “Fine. But if you’re looking for answers, you’re not going to like what you find.”

As Truffle secured the seeds, she signaled the Galactic Patrol. Moments later, their forces swarmed the club, apprehending the remaining criminals and restoring order.

Outside, Gohan and Vegeta continued their pursuit of Noppal, their energy blazing as they closed the distance. The chase wasn’t over, and neither was the fight for answers.