novelraw Chapter 138 - 138
Chapter 138 - 138
Having applied for a "quasi–God of Destruction" slot, Yunling had long believed that, for a human, she already stood among the one-in-ten-thousand elites.
She hadn't expected… someone even more outrageous to exist.
That truly surprised her.
She glanced at Aishi.
When there's time, I must befriend this person.
If possible… spar with him.
As for the people trailing behind Aishi—
she didn't underestimate them either. They were all strong.
Beerus looked at Yunling.
"No need to rush. Show me your true power."
"Mm." Yunling answered softly and closed her eyes.
A steady, rhythmic thump—thump—thump sounded like a heart drum echoing through the void.
In an instant, her aura erupted like a blooming supernova—
—and in a single breath, it climbed to the early 11-dimensional band.
A pale, pristine radiance rolled off her body, braided together with a measured trace of Hakai—
not rough, not violent, but exquisitely controlled.
"Migatte no Gokui (Ultra Instinct)?" someone muttered.
Whis shook his head.
"No. That's her own technique."
Her own…
Aishi said nothing, but his eyes brightened.
Beerus's expression grew solemn.
"Good."
Jiren fixed on Yunling.
Among all the human warriors he had seen across realities, he felt in her something pure—
a sensation like meeting a kindred spirit.
Yunling opened her eyes.
Beerus nodded.
"Excellent. You're in."
"Understood," Yunling said with a nod. With a short step, she moved over to Beerus's side and stood with Universe 7's group.
Arack blinked.
"Yunling, where are you going?"
"To team up with them," Yunling said simply.
Arack hesitated, then nodded.
"…Fine."
Still, he had a bad feeling—
Don't let my quasi–God of Destruction get poached away…
Up close, Yunling stole a longer look at Aishi, her eyes quietly lighting up.
She could barely contain the urge to ask for a passionate, no-holding-back duel.
On the side, Goku and the others were equally intrigued.
Beerus looked back at the remaining Gods of Destruction.
"And you all? Do you have anyone?"
Silence.
Beerus chuckled.
"Clearly… no."
"In that case, I'll proceed with our picks. If there's a real issue, raise it properly."
The gods nodded one after another.
They also wanted to see whom Beerus would choose.
"Eight fighters," Beerus said after two slow breaths. "They are—
Goku, Vegeta…"
He rattled off names one by one.
When he reached the last slot, complaints immediately erupted.
Quitela glared.
"Hey, why do you get so many?"
Champa rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, Beerus, aren't you hogging five spots already?"
More grumbles followed, discontent stacking up.
Beerus only smiled faintly.
"I said it already—we're choosing by strength, not by banner."
The gods fell quiet, unhappy but unable to refute him.
After all, none of those names sat below the 10-dimensional threshold.
How did Universe 7 raise monsters like this so fast?
What did they feed them?
Beerus turned to Aishi.
"Aishi, who should take the final slot?"
Aishi paused to think.
There were candidates—quite a few, actually.
Jiren's gaze stayed tight; he knew his power hadn't fully reached the God of Destruction tier yet, so he likely wouldn't be selected this round.
A hint of frustration crossed his face—
this was such a rare opportunity to cling to a mighty thigh.
After a moment of silence, Jiren still accepted it without complaint.
Beerus's mind wandered briefly to Frieza—
that lunatic who still believes he can beat me…
Just as the selection continued—
—Meanwhile—
A different sequence of timelines, Heart-Tree Void.
Age 790.
Almost ten years had passed since the Tournament of Power.
The "regulars" of that era had gradually stepped off center stage.
This timeline's Goku, relying on relentless self-training and countless life-or-death battles, had grown tremendously.
His face held an unprecedented calm; his ki was vast beyond measure—
change on the dimensional level.
He had seen far, far too much.
Now, almost nothing could ruffle his surface.
Goku wore a cobalt training gi and grinned, as sunny as ever.
"Vegeta."
Vegeta's features had shed the youthful sharpness; a confident smile sat easily on his face.
"Kakarot," Vegeta said, "if I'm counting right… we've gone six years without a real enemy, haven't we?"
Goku laughed.
"Yeah. Ever since our last hyperbolic regimen, time's just flown by—almost six years! Not a single opponent worth the trouble!"
Vegeta lifted his hand, smirk deepening.
"Then how about—"
Goku chuckled.
"—a good fight?"
Their eyes met; in the same heartbeat, both began to raise their ki.
The world stirred. The battlefield's air tightened.
In one breath, base-state Migatte no Gokui (Ultra Instinct) and base-state Hakai (Destruction) pressed against each other,
rippling space-time like a lake under a sudden gale.
They read the same thing in each other's eyes—
Finally.
But just then—
The sky of this timeline split open, riven by a colossal seam.
Both froze, dropping their stances and looking up.
A familiar figure stepped out of the rift.
Goku blinked in surprise.
"Grand Priest-sama?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed.
"High-tier god, huh?"
The Grand Priest scanned the area, then smiled gently at the two of them.
"Gents, I have something to discuss."
Goku and Vegeta exchanged a glance—both grew serious.
If the Grand Priest came knocking, it was never a small matter.
"What is it, Grand Priest-sama?" Goku asked calmly.
"A cross-timeline matter."
"Cross… timeline?" they echoed.
The Grand Priest offered a concise explanation; only then did the two fully grasp it.
Goku's eyes lit up.
"So… a real fight at last?"
He looked up at the Grand Priest and nodded hard.
"We'll join!"
"Heh. Very good," the Grand Priest said, faint amusement in his eyes.
He didn't return at once.
Instead, he moved on to the next timeline.
This time's recruitment would cover ten timelines in total.
To keep things exciting, the Grand Priest had decided to go big.
By now he had already visited:
the Super timeline, the GT timeline, the Fused Warrior timeline, the Vegito timeline, the Heroines timeline, the Numbered timeline, the Saiyan Conquest timeline, the Species War timeline…
Next were the final two.
Light flickered in his eyes.
This tournament will spare no expense.
Demon Realm—Zero Universe.
Mechikabura was in the middle of laying out the next phase of Demon Realm reconstruction, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
"Assign granaries per legion… hmm?" He rubbed his eyes and recalculated.
"Each race under its own quotas?" he muttered, then called out a string of orders.
Just as he was about to continue—
The space beside him folded, the warding sigils blossoming open.
A figure stepped slowly out.
Mechikabura and Demigra, along with their elites, all stiffened.
"Grand Priest."
Demigra's eyes narrowed.
He had only just regained his peak not long ago—
so why did the Grand Priest come now?
Mechikabura stared coldly.
"What do you want, Grand Priest-dono?"
The Grand Priest glanced around, then smiled.
"To discuss something."
"Take your brightness and shine it elsewhere," Mechikabura snapped. "You're not welcome here."
Ever since the dark dragon ritual debacle, his wariness had skyrocketed.
And the Grand Priest—wasn't he still an angel?
But the Grand Priest didn't grow angry.
He simply kept smiling.
"Zeno-sama is hosting a tournament—the Dimensional Tournament. We are—"
"Dimensional Tournament?" Mechikabura frowned.
The Grand Priest nodded.
"Yes."
Demigra snorted.
"Why should we be included? On whose authority?"
"Still like this, I see," the Grand Priest murmured.
His smile faded. His gaze cooled a fraction.
Mechikabura and Demigra's faces changed at once.
Mechikabura ground out,
"Drop the act. I know exactly how much stronger I am now!"
He hurled a sphere of abyssal magic—its dark light dripping a sense of doom—straight at the Grand Priest.
The Grand Priest didn't so much as blink.
He raised a hand and tapped.
Clink—
The spell shattered like glass.
Demigra tried the same; the result was identical.
Both stared, stunned.
"Impossible!"
Mechikabura tried to mobilize everything inside him—
and in the very next instant, all of it froze.
"What—?!"
That… far exceeded his expectations.
He hadn't thought the Grand Priest was this terrifying.
His face twisted.
"Grand Priest-sama, I understand!!!"
The Grand Priest's voice carried no emotion.
A second later, he shook his head lightly.
Forget it—Zeno-sama's viewing experience came first.
He looked at Mechikabura.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Mechikabura bobbed his head like a pecking chick.
"Understood! Understood!"
The Grand Priest nodded faintly.
"One week from today. I'll see you there."
He set down a scroll—the tournament rules and selection criteria.
Then he stepped back into folded space and vanished.
Mechikabura exhaled a long breath, legs a little weak.
For a split second, he saw Great-Great-Grandma waving him over from the far shore—
Death had never felt so close.
Demigra glanced at him.
"What now?"
"We participate," Mechikabura said in a low voice.
"When the Grand Priest personally invites you and you refuse… you die."
Demigra muttered,
"Don't know what scheme they're brewing, gathering this many powers…"
"Who cares," Mechikabura sneered.
"The final divine prize—that's our chance to carve the Demon Realm's name across the worlds."
"And if they break their word?" Demigra asked.
Mechikabura snorted.
"Then we break them."
Demigra was silent a moment, then nodded.
"Got it."
Neither spoke again.
The Demon Realm selection began.
(End of Chapter)
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