PART THIRTY FIVE: RETURN MATCH FOR SUPER VEGETA

Chapter 174

Translated by npberryhill, edited by Guilarai

Cell stared down at the arm buried in his chest, inches from where a human heart would normally sit. Vegeta—back in Super Saiyan 3, golden mane whipping in the wind—looked down at him with a mocking, triumphant smile. His fist clenched around the pulsing green core.

“I see you’re as careless as ever, Cell,” Vegeta said, voice low and venomous. “Letting your guard down like that... precisely the opening I was waiting for.”

He yanked his arm free in one brutal motion. Cell collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth and the gaping hole in his torso. He tried to regenerate—nothing. His body trembled too violently to focus. The Senzu he’d dropped lay useless, meters away.

“Wha... how...” Cell stammered, spitting more green blood.

Vegeta loomed over him, eyes cold.

“You underestimated me at every turn, Cell—still sure I was that same arrogant prince,” he said with disdain. “Wrong. Now I fight for my family, for the ones I love. Did you really think yourself so important, that you could make me fall back into my old ways so easily?”

He tightened his fist around the core, causing Cell’s pain to intensify in spite of it being detached from him.

“Maybe in raw strength you still held the advantage, but it was you who was blinded by pride.”

Around the arena, reactions poured in—mostly admiration, though some were heartbroken.

“Dad! No!” the Cell Juniors shouted in unison.

“Incredible... he did it!” Trunks from Universe 12 managed, voice shaking with awe.

“Remarkable, in spite of being significantly weaker than Cell, even with his level 3,” Android 16 added. “He should not have been able to injure Cell so severely. The element of surprise was the determining factor.”

Over on the Universe 7 balcony, Gast Carcolh watched in deep thought.

The power gap had been obvious. Cell could’ve ended it much sooner. But he’d held back, obsessed with the spectacle, taunting Vegeta and trying to force him to relive their old fight. But Vegeta had been the one manipulating him from beginning to end—no, long before the fight even started.

“You were so certain I was the same as before,” Vegeta continued. “It is true, there’s one thing that a Saiyan always keeps... my pride has evolved. You seemed to think that this fight meant a great deal to me, that I was burning with anticipation to prove myself in a rematch, that I wanted revenge.” The Saiyan paused with a smile. “I won’t lie, I enjoy seeing you grovel, but I get no real satisfaction from it. You’re the one who hasn’t changed. It was your own pride that blinded you, your own designs for revenge.”

Cell snarled, struggling to rise. “You... bastard... don’t lecture me...”

“Perhaps Gohan and his father have rubbed off on me. I love planet Earth. But even if I’ve changed, I haven’t lost my true nature. That’s where you always failed to understand me, Cell. You’ve confused my pride with my honor.”

“W... what?” Cell grunted, voice cracking.

“I was patient, searching for your core. I determined exactly where you were protecting. You lost your temper, goaded by our exchanges. You should’ve known I was counting on that, you’re just like Frieza, like a Saiyan. Then the moment that sealed it all... when I repeated the same familiar mistake of giving you a Senzu Bean. It all made perfect sense to you, didn’t it Cell? Hah. Only I had actually just created the perfect opening for a fatal blow.”

Cell roared and spat. He still couldn’t regain control, without his core his body trembled in a state of flux. Not once had he ever taken out his core, even out of curiosity. And to his horror, he was indeed powerless.

“Ahh,” Piccolo from the 18th observed. “So Vegeta planned everything from the start. Hard to believe he framed everything so well, he perfectly matched Cell’s expectations, giving him false confidence at every turn. Risky, since Cell could’ve crushed him at any time had he wanted.”

“Yeah but Vegeta was betting on Cell being the same as always,” Gohan replied. “All that Frost Demon DNA, not to mention genes from Vegeta himself... he’d never have imagined Vegeta would set such a blatant trap—feigning weakness the whole time. But he completely fell for it. We all remember: Cell can’t control his anger. It’s always been his weakness.”

“Well said, son,” Goku added. “Vegeta definitely put some thought into this. While our anger can give us strength—like it did for you back then—in Cell’s case it only made him blind.”

Vegeta stepped forward, barely a meter away, looking down with pure contempt on the writhing bio-android.

“One final going-away thought for you, Cell... you... are nothing to me. You didn’t deserve to see my true power.”

Cell tried to spit one final insult.

“You... you still used it, though...”

“Oh?” Vegeta laughed. “Level three? Pff. Flawed, wonderful if you need it for only a few seconds... as you can see. But the truth is, I can do better, I just didn’t need to. You might say I tricked you to win, but when have I ever been afraid to do that? You of all people should know better. At no point did I expect to lose this fight, and I feel no shame in deceiving you. You know why? Because I’m still Vegeta.”

A cold jolt suddenly came over Vegeta’s eyes.

“...And you should’ve never. Fucking. Threatened. My. DAUGHTER!”

Cell’s eyes widened in panic, mouth opening for one last desperate insult.

Vegeta didn’t give him the chance. He pulverized his core with a sickening crunch, unleashing a massive tidal wave of golden ki that exploded from his palm. Cell’s body was obliterated down to the last atom in a blinding roaring flash.

The arena fell silent.

Vegeta powered down, long golden hair shortening back to black. He cast a final disdainful glance at the smoking crater where his old enemy had stood. Then, he turned and walked away, head high.

Cell had never been more than a stepping stone in this tournament. And Vegeta had long since left him behind.

“And the winner of this, the second quarter-final bout, is Vegeta of Universe 18!” declared the Varga announcer.

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the grandstands. Though this fight hadn’t matched the raw passion of Goku vs Uub, the spectators had still witnessed something spectacular—a masterclass in strategy, pride, and ruthless precision.

On the Universe 18 patio, Pan was bouncing up and down with joy, screaming her great-uncle’s name. Bra stood beside her, tears streaming down her face. Her father had just killed the monster who’d haunted her nightmares and proven—once again—that his family came before everything, even his Saiyan pride.

Before Vegeta could reach his balcony, the Cell Juniors swarmed him—regular sized and miniature alike—blocking his path with furious tiny faces.

“You killed Dad when he couldn’t even move! And you made him suffer—you didn’t have to do that!”

Vegeta paused, looking down at the small creatures with indifference.

“Well your father threatened my daughter,” he replied flatly. “He didn’t have to do that...”

Vegeta huffed.

“Besides, he’ll be resurrected at the end of the tournament. You’ll be fine without him until then.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “And don’t bother me again, understood runt?”

He stepped past them without another word, leaving the Juniors frozen in stunned silence. Bra rushed forward; he scooped her up in a quick, firm hug. Trunks met him with an enthusiastic high-five, grinning ear to ear.

“Way to go, Dad!”

Vegeta gave a small nod to him, then quickly headed into the hallway, smelling the grime of battle. He needed a shower.

As he passed Piccolo, their eyes met also. The Namekian offered an ever so subtle nod, his own way of acknowledgment, which Vegeta returned in kind.

“So... you had Senzu Beans from the start then...” Piccolo said quietly.

Vegeta paused, smirking. “Not at all. Inspect these if you want. Regular green beans from the kitchen.”

Piccolo’s eyes sprang wide a split second before he gave a silent amused huff.

Before he reached the hallway, Gohan met him also.

“Thanks, Vegeta,” he said, voice steady. “You really came through for me. I got a little nervous at the end, but I trusted you.”

Vegeta turned to him. “I played with fire, I admit. But I did make you a promise. That’s all that matters.”

Gohan chuckled, pulling Videl and Pan in close. The little family all turned to Vegeta with smiles.

The Saiyan returned them a brief but genuine grin.

Lastly, Goku greeted him, sporting his usual grin.

“Looks like we both won our matches, I guess it’s official then. Next round we’re up.”

Vegeta nodded and kept walking. As he disappeared into the corridor, Goku called out after him.

“That was preeeeetty impressive, Vegeta. But you’re still holding something special back, right?”

Vegeta didn’t turn.

“Of course.”

Goku turned back to the empty arena, still grinning. His heart pounded, blood singing with anticipation.

He’d waited years for this.

Training over the past decade, he’d always held the edge with Super Saiyan 3, but he’d never truly beaten Vegeta. Their first real clash had been interrupted by friends stepping in. Their second had been cut short by Majin Buu’s resurrection.

Now, finally, there would be no interruptions.

No excuses.

Just the two of them.

Soon, they’d find out who was truly the best.

“What an interesting conclusion!” Buu mused from his prison in the Grand Kaioshin’s palm. “The gap was enormous, yet Vegeta won without ever showing more than he wanted to.”

Everyone else in the arena was still reeling, but Buu—trapped in his gumball form—had already pieced it together.

In his mind, Cell had been far superior. Even at Super Saiyan 3, Vegeta shouldn’t have lasted long, let alone win.

But it seemed Vegeta had known that all along.

He’s sold Cell a dream: I’ll get my revenge. I owe you my evolution. You don’t know what I have in store...

All while staying at a laughably low level compared to the bio-android, refusing to escalate, treating Cell’s obsession with a grand fight like the joke it was.

Then he let Cell believe he was just the same boastful fool—blinded by pride—reinforced by the reactions from his counterpart in Universe 13.

Next, he drove Cell to the edge of madness by unveiling Super Saiyan 3 at the perfect moment, forcing the bio-android to burn energy in a desperate bid to prove his superiority.

Finally, he dangled the illusion of a personality shift—the Senzu Bean, the “fair fight” bait—and struck when Cell’s guard was down.

Cell had thought Vegeta was still the arrogant little imp from twenty-seven years ago, always overestimating himself. On Namek, he’d thought he was stronger than Frieza after nearly dying .

Against Cell, it had been even worse.

But Cell was the one who hadn’t changed. He only had eyes for Gohan, maybe Goku. Super Saiyan 3 wasn’t too much for him to handle—and he wanted to humiliate both Saiyans at their peak.

And that arrogance had blinded him.

So now Goku and Vegeta would meet in the first semi-final—what would undoubtedly be one of the most highly anticipated bouts of the tournament. Buu could hardly wait. But before that, there was still XXI to deal with.

He and the Grand Kaioshin now possessed shared memories of the universes. Now, they finally had a theory about the true identity of this mysterious sorcerer. All that remained was confirmation.

If they were right... Buu would have to face a very particular kind of opponent. One he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

In the dimly lit apartments of Universe 5, a thick swirly smoke filled the room.

A sudden bright light pierced the darkness and a deep resonant voice echoed through the haze.

“At last, the time has finally come!”

It uttered a series of guttural words in an ancient, forgotten tongue.

Seven dragonballs—neither the familiar orange nor the namekian large ones, began to glow in unison. From their combined light rose a colossal dragon, its form coiling to fit the confines of the apartment without shattering the walls. This was no Shenron, no Porunga. Its scales shimmered with an otherworldly almost mocking iridescence, and its eyes carried the bored indifference of a being that had seen every wish mortals could dream of.

The dragon regarded its summoner with a faint, blase sigh.

“Let me guess...” it rumbled, a voice like distant thunder wrapped in velvet. “You wish to know how to defeat Buu now, is that correct?”

“Why bother asking when you already know the answer?” the entity growled.

The dragon offered no reply. It simply waited, patient as stone.

XXI exhaled sharply and pressed on.

“My next opponent is light-years beyond me in raw power. He’s probably the single greatest threat left in this tournament. You’d better give me a foolproof way to neutralize him.”

The dragon tilted its massive head slightly, eyes half-lidded.

“Then phrase your request carefully.”

The air in the apartment grew heavier, the dragonballs pulsing in slow ominous rhythm.

“I’ve heard about his weakness, but he may have developed a way to defend himself against it. Give me a guaranteed method of victory.”

“Is that a wish?” the dragon asked.

“Yes,” XXI replied, voice hard.