The crowd roared as the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, his words cutting through the pandemonium of cheers, jeers, and the pounding bass of music that reverberated through the arena. The tournament was in full swing, and the energy in the air was electric—thick with excitement, sweat, and the tension of high stakes. Spectators of every shape, size, and species packed the stands, their faces lit by the neon glow of pulsating lights that danced across the room.

Vendors weaved through the rows, shouting over the din as they hawked glowing drinks, exotic snacks, and other questionable substances to the rowdy crowd. A pair of alien gamblers argued loudly, exchanging insults as one tossed a handful of credits at the other in frustration. Near the front rows, a group of heavily armed mercenaries clinked their glasses together, hollering at the fighters in the pit below.

Fighters had been battling fiercely in the sunken arena—a metallic pit surrounded by a reinforced energy cage designed to keep stray blasts contained. The scent of scorched metal lingered in the air from the last match, where a fiery alien had left deep gouges in the floor. The audience buzzed with anticipation, still on edge from the explosive finale of the previous bout.

Above the arena, a massive screen displayed slow-motion replays of the most brutal hits, accompanied by flashes of commentary in various alien languages. The announcer’s voice, amplified by the state-of-the-art sound system, kept the crowd engaged, hyping up the next round with practiced bravado.

In the stands, Vegeta, Tarble, and Broly found seats near the middle rows, positioned close enough to get a clear view of the action without drawing too much attention. Vegeta crossed his arms, his expression sour as he scanned the chaotic scene below.

Tarble leaned forward, his wide-eyed expression betraying a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “This place is... intense,” he muttered, glancing at the eclectic mix of spectators.

Broly remained silent, his large frame making him stand out even in the crowded arena. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail with quiet intensity. Though he said nothing, the way his muscles tensed suggested he was ready for any sudden trouble.

A pair of insectoid aliens in the row behind them began loudly debating the odds of the upcoming fighters, their rapid chittering punctuated by occasional slaps on the back as they placed their bets.

“It’s more than just intense,” Vegeta said, his voice low but cutting through the noise. “This place reeks of desperation. Look around—most of these people aren’t here for the sport. They’re here for the blood, the violence. For many of them, this is survival.”

Tarble nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. The flashing lights, the shouts of the audience, the muffled sounds of punches and energy blasts from the arena—it all blended together into a chaotic symphony of raw energy.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and a single spotlight illuminated the arena. The crowd hushed, leaning forward as the announcer’s voice rang out again. “Ladies and gentlemen, creatures of all kinds! Prepare yourselves for the next match in tonight’s ultimate showdown! This tournament waits for no one, and the stakes only get higher as we move closer to the finals!”

The crowd erupted into cheers again, and the tension in the room spiked. For all the chaos, there was a strange unity in their shared anticipation—everyone was here for the fight, for the thrill of watching strength tested and bones broken.

Vegeta glanced toward the arena, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s see what kind of fighters they have in this cesspool,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat as the next fighter prepared to enter.

The announcer’s voice cut through the noise. “And now, we have a late entry!” he shouted. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for…The Great Saiyaman!”

Vegeta groaned audibly as Gohan stepped into the arena, clad in his classic Great Saiyaman outfit—complete with a flowing cape, gloves, and his signature visor. He struck a dramatic pose, pointing to the crowd.

“Fear not, evildoers! For justice has arrived!” Gohan announced, his voice carrying over the crowd. He followed it up with a series of exaggerated poses, each more ridiculous than the last.

A stunned silence hung over the audience before someone shouted, “What is this nonsense?!” followed by a wave of laughter and boos.

Vegeta’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “What the hell is he doing? This is an underground tournament, not a stage for his ridiculous antics!”

Tarble, sitting next to him, tilted his head curiously. “The Great Saiyaman?”

Vegeta sighed, clearly frustrated. “It’s Gohan’s idiotic attempt at being a superhero back on Earth. A pathetic gimmick if you ask me.”

It’s kind of…cool?” Tarble ventured cautiously, only to be met with a sharp glare from Vegeta.

Broly, sitting quietly, glanced at Gohan in the arena, his expression neutral but intrigued.

As the crowd continued to boo and jeer, the announcer regained control of the situation. “Alright, alright, settle down! Let’s see if this Great Saiyaman can actually fight! His opponent—straight from the shadows of planet Nyris—Nihru, the Phantom Blade!”

A sleek, ninja-like alien stepped into the ring. Nihru’s skin was a deep blue, and his movements were so fluid and quiet he seemed to glide across the arena. Dual blades were strapped to his back, and his piercing red eyes never left Gohan.

Gohan remained in character, striking another exaggerated pose. “Prepare yourself, villain! Justice will always prevail!”

The crowd groaned and booed louder, with a few voices shouting insults about his "ridiculous act." Gohan ignored them, staying focused on the mission.

Nihru, however, didn’t respond. His crimson eyes locked onto Gohan, his body unnervingly still. The lack of reaction threw Gohan off for a split second, but he quickly realized this wasn’t an opponent to take lightly.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the arena, interrupting the tense silence. “Alright, fighters! Just a reminder—this is a no-holds-barred match! Anything goes, and it doesn’t end until one of you is on the ground and unable to get up! Make it entertaining!”

Gohan blinked, caught off guard. He glanced toward the announcer’s hovering hologram. “Wait, isn’t that a bit…much?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

The announcer laughed loudly, a mocking edge in his voice. “Too much? Kid, you clearly don’t know where you are! This is The Last Round! Now—fight!”

With that, the hologram vanished, and the fight officially began.

Nihru wasted no time. In an instant, he blurred out of sight, his speed almost imperceptible. Before Gohan could fully process, Nihru reappeared behind him with a swift, spinning kick aimed at his head.

Gohan barely managed to duck in time, the wind from the strike brushing past his helmet. He quickly dropped his superhero theatrics, his stance shifting into something more practical. This was no time for flair—this was serious.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Nihru pressed the attack, his movements sharp and calculated. Gohan could feel the intensity radiating off his opponent. This was going to be tougher than he thought.