Pan’s voice sliced through the silence, her tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "Lord Beerus... and the other one," she said, her gaze flicking dismissively from Beerus to Champa. "I don't suppose you'll allow me the honor of fighting this sad excuse of a man?"

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, a spark of anger flaring at the challenge embedded in her words. The arena was silent, every gaze shifting from Pan to Vegeta and back, the tension mounting with every heartbeat. Pan’s posture was deceptively relaxed, arms at her sides, but her energy thrummed just beneath the surface, coiled tight like a serpent ready to strike. It was a direct insult, calculated and cutting, aimed squarely at his pride.

Beerus’s eyes narrowed as he studied Pan, the barest hint of intrigue sparking in his gaze. He tilted his head, weighing her request, while Champa bristled at being casually dismissed as “the other one,” though he held his tongue, sensing the volatility in the air.

“Do you really think yourself capable, Pan?” Beerus’s voice was measured, his words slow and deliberate. “Vegeta is no ordinary opponent. He may be… proud,” he said, casting a brief, wry glance at Vegeta, “but his strength has been earned. What makes you think this is your right?”

Pan’s lips curved into a faint, almost mocking smile, her gaze never leaving Vegeta. “Right?” she repeated softly, her voice laced with dark amusement. “It’s less about rights and more about closure. Some things need to be faced.”

Vegeta felt his blood burn with anticipation. This woman—this so-called Pan Son of Universe Zero—had insulted him directly, her words striking at the heart of everything he stood for. There was something maddeningly familiar in her presence, an echo of battles fought and lost, pride shattered and rebuilt. But he couldn’t place it, and that only fueled his determination to make her regret every word she’d said.

“Closure?” he retorted, his voice a low growl. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you believe you’re walking out of this arena with anything less than complete humiliation, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Pan’s eyes sparkled with a dangerous light, her amusement deepening. “We’ll see,” she said, her tone icy. She turned to Beerus, her voice respectful but firm. “So, Lord Beerus—will you grant me the honor, or are you afraid your Saiyan prince will crumble?”

Beerus glanced at Vegeta, his eyes sharp and knowing, as if assessing whether the challenge would serve more as a test of pride or of power. Vegeta caught his gaze and nodded, his expression resolute, almost eager. This fight was inevitable, an answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask. Pan was an enigma, yes, but she had also insulted his very lineage. There was no walking away from this.

“Very well,” Beerus said, his voice carrying through the arena. “The arena is yours.”

A collective murmur rose from the crowd as Vegeta stepped forward, meeting Pan at the center. She stood as still as stone, her gaze unwavering, her calmness both maddening and unsettling. He could feel her power—raw, restrained, and unfathomably deep—and it only stoked his Saiyan instincts further.

“You’ve made a grave mistake today, Pan Son,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “I’ll make you regret every word you’ve spoken.”

Pan tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “I look forward to it, Prince Vegeta.” She raised one hand, and with the smallest shift, her energy flared, dark and overwhelming, flooding the arena with a cold, ancient pressure.

Vegeta didn’t waste another second. In a flash, he powered up, his energy igniting around him in a brilliant blue aura that crackled and pulsed, his stance wide and ready. Pan’s expression remained calm, almost bored, as if she were evaluating him. And then, with a whisper of movement, she released her own energy—a torrent of power that clashed with his, the sheer force of it nearly staggering him.

The arena trembled, the air crackling with tension as the two fighters locked eyes, both aware that this was a battle that would transcend pride and power. For Vegeta, it was about proving himself, about confronting the challenge Pan represented. But for Pan, the stakes seemed higher, darker, as though defeating him would give her something more than just a victory—it would give her a reckoning.

The atmosphere around Pan shifted palpably as she settled into a fighting stance, her hands relaxed at her sides but radiating a tension that suggested she was ready to spring into action at any moment. Slowly, her armor began to transform, shimmering in an eerie light before melting away. The metallic Saiyan armor that had once adorned her body morphed into a sleeveless, form-fitting shirt, revealing the jagged markings etched down her arms. Each line pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light, almost as if they were alive, thrumming with hidden energy that beckoned to be unleashed.

Her lower armor transitioned seamlessly into loose, dark pants that bore a striking resemblance to Goku’s training gi, accented with pitch-black fabric and subtle gold trimmings that lent her an air of regal strength. The transformation wasn’t just physical; it felt like a metamorphosis of power, her very essence changing as she readied herself for battle.

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Vegeta watched, a mix of intrigue and concern coursing through him. Her hair darkened, shifting from iridescent white to an inky black that seemed to absorb the light around her, while her eyes turned colder, more calculating. He sensed the shift in her energy, her tail unfurling and snapping to attention behind her like a coiled serpent, poised to strike at any moment.

As the sigils on her body ignited to life, their golden sheen transitioned into a deep, dark blue. The density of her power surged, shattering the floor beneath her feet, sending cracks spider-webbing outwards as though reality itself trembled in her presence.

Vegeta instinctively stepped back, feeling the ground shift beneath him as if the very arena were alive, responding to her burgeoning might. His heart raced with anticipation, a familiar thrill mingling with the cold realization that he was about to face a force unlike anything he had encountered before. The air thickened, charged with her energy as if the atmosphere itself held its breath.

Then, in a blur of motion, Pan moved. A fissure of pressure sliced through the stadium, an invisible wave that seemed to rip the air apart and effectively split the crowd’s focus as they collectively gasped. Stardust lingered in her wake, glimmering like the remnants of shattered dreams.

Vegeta instinctively looked up, sensing the transformation reaching a fever pitch. Above him, Pan’s hands collided softly together, violet energy crackling and dancing along her fingers. The air shimmered around her as she separated her hands, one forming into a fist while the other opened palm-upward. The realization hit him with the force of a blow.

“Galick Gun… FIRE!” she shouted, her voice echoing like a battle cry.

That was his move.

Vegeta’s eyes widened as her power erupted. The violet energy swirled and coalesced into a massive orb, more potent than any Galick Gun he had ever unleashed. He felt the gravitational pull of her energy, a sinister weight that pushed against him, a reminder of his own pride and legacy.

“Damn it!” he growled under his breath, channeling his energy as he prepared to respond. This was no ordinary attack; she was not merely mimicking his technique—she was amplifying it, twisting it into something raw and terrifying. The familiar energy felt tainted, infused with a darkness that seemed to resonate with the very essence of her being.

Vegeta’s gaze sharpened as he turned his attention back to Pan, the swirling violet orb growing larger, pulsating with energy that threatened to consume everything in its path. This was a challenge he couldn’t afford to take lightly, not if he was to uphold the honor of his title and defend against the darkness that lurked within her.

With a roar, he gathered his own energy, igniting his aura around him in a blinding flash of blue. He would meet her power head-on.

“Galick Gun!” he shouted back, unleashing his own energy beam with all the strength he could muster.

The two beams collided in a clash that lit up the arena, a dazzling explosion of light and sound that momentarily blinded the spectators. The arena shook violently, the sheer force of the impact sending shockwaves that rippled outward, rattling the very foundations of the tournament stage.

As the dust settled, Vegeta strained to push back against the intensity of her attack. He could feel her power pressing against him, testing his limits, and he refused to yield. He would not let her claim victory over him, nor would he allow her darkness to overshadow the pride of the Saiyan legacy he fought to protect.

In this clash of titans, both warriors stood at the brink, each determined to prove their strength, but more importantly, their will. The battle was far from over, and Vegeta knew he needed to dig deeper, to channel everything he had learned, everything he had become, to counter this formidable force before him. The tournament would witness a fight that transcended mere rivalry—it was a confrontation of destinies, a clash that could reshape their understanding of strength, honor, and the very nature of being a Saiyan.

In a blink, Pan phase-stepped in front of Vegeta, her movement fluid and almost ethereal, as if she were a shadow manifesting into reality. He barely had time to react before her fist came crashing toward him, enveloped in a surge of dark violet energy.

“Deadly Scream!” she cried, her voice ringing out like a death knell.

Vegeta braced himself, the familiarity of her energy—her technique—cutting through the chaos of the arena. He could feel the pressure of her power swelling as her fist rocketed toward him, and instinct kicked in. He raised his arm just in time to absorb the impact, the force rattling through him, reverberating against his bones like thunder.

“Do me a favor, Vegeta,” she continued, her tone icy and devoid of any compassion. “Drop the honor. There is no place for that here. Unless you want to die. Because, at the end, one of us is going to die—and it will not be me.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling within him. Honor was woven into the very fabric of his being; it was what drove him, what defined him as a warrior and a prince. But there was something unnerving in Pan's demeanor, a certainty in her words that hinted at the depths of her resolve.

“Perhaps,” she added, her voice dripping with a dark allure, “if you find yourself whittling down, thinking of your wife and children, I'll let you taste Super Saiyan Five.”

The mention of his family sent a surge of anger through him, an instinctive protective instinct rising to the forefront. He would not allow anyone to use his loved ones against him, not even this powerful, taunting warrior from another universe. Her threat was met with a growl of defiance.

“You think that will scare me?” Vegeta shot back, his voice low and fierce. “I’ll never let myself fall to the likes of you.”

In an instant, Pan launched herself at him again, her movements precise and lethal. With a fluid motion, she swung her tail, the iridescent appendage slicing through the air with incredible speed. Vegeta barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side as the tail narrowly missed him, but he quickly regained his footing, his eyes locked on her.