"This moment marks the first great highlight of Kahn's life," Macarita mused, her golden gaze locked onto Kahn's broad back. Her voice, soft yet deliberate, carried an undercurrent of fascination. A glimmer of intrigue lit up her sharp eyes as she tilted her head, analyzing the man who now stood at the center of the universe's attention.
Had it been any other God of Destruction emerging victorious, she might have felt indifferent. But Kahn—a candidate, not yet an official God of Destruction—had rewritten the narrative of the summit in a way no one could have anticipated. Against all odds, the underdog had become the champion, shattering traditions that had stood for eons.
Never before had a candidate—an outsider—claimed victory in the Gods of Destruction Summit. For nearly two million iterations of this celestial contest, only those officially sanctioned by the Dragon God Zalama had the honor of seizing the championship. Now, Kahn, the ultimate dark horse, had accomplished the unthinkable.
As Zalama's ethereal voice resounded across the vast arena, the ground seemed to tremble under the weight of his words:
"The 1,999,999th Gods of Destruction Summit has concluded. Kahn, candidate for God of Destruction from the Seventh Universe, is the champion."
A wave of awe swept through the gods and angels gathered on the floating platforms. One by one, they lowered their heads—not in submission to Kahn but in acknowledgment of his feat. Reverence filled the air as whispers spread like wildfire.
Kahn, standing tall amidst this divine assembly, allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Turning his head slightly, he cast a glance toward Whis, who stood calmly on the platform representing the Seventh Universe. Kahn's lips curled into a confident smile.
"Looks like we've saved the Seventh Universe from embarrassment," he said, his tone light but firm.
Whis, always composed, offered a rare smile in return. "More than that, Kahn. You've given us something to be proud of."
The voice of the Dragon God Zalama broke through the murmurs. "The champion of the summit has earned the right to approach the Great Staff of the Gods of Destruction."
Every god present stiffened at the announcement. The Great Staff—an artifact of unparalleled power—was not just a symbol but the very essence of destruction itself. To approach it was to risk everything. To be recognized by it was to transcend limitations.
Before the crowd, a staircase of shimmering purple-gold light materialized, leading upward toward the Great Altar. This altar, a structure carved from celestial stone and adorned with radiant energy, seemed to hum with divine authority.
Kahn's gaze followed the steps upward, his usual calm flickering for a moment. But his determination burned fiercely in his midnight-black eyes.
"This is it," he muttered under his breath. "The Great Staff of the Gods of Destruction… I'm coming for you."
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the glowing staircase.
Every step Kahn took seemed to amplify the tension among the audience. Gods and angels whispered amongst themselves, their words a blend of doubt and cautious hope.
"Do you think the Great Staff will even acknowledge a candidate?" one god murmured skeptically.
"He's defied every expectation so far," another replied. "If anyone can do it, it's him."
Not everyone shared the optimism. Quitela, the God of Destruction from the Fourth Universe, leaned against the railing of his platform, his yellow fur bristling with disdain.
"Hah! If that yellow-haired brat somehow manages to make the Great Staff bow to him, I'll change my name to 'Rat Tail Juice!' Mark my words—it's impossible!" he sneered.
His disdain wasn't baseless. Quitela, like many others, had faced the Great Staff in his youth. Despite over 300,000 attempts, he had failed to earn its recognition, each failure a humbling reminder of its unyielding standards.
As Kahn reached the summit of the glowing staircase, the air around him shifted. A crushing divine pressure descended upon him, so intense it seemed to distort the very fabric of space.
Kahn staggered slightly, his muscles tightening as if resisting an invisible force. He gritted his teeth, his sharp gaze locking onto the Great Staff.
"This pressure... It's like the universe itself is testing me," he muttered, steadying his footing.
The Great Staff stood embedded in a pedestal of pure gold, its radiant aura pulsating with life. Waves of purple-gold energy rippled outward, demanding submission from all who dared approach.
From his distant palace, the Grand Priest observed the scene through his own staff, his expression unreadable. "The Great Staff does not yield to strength alone," he murmured, his voice carrying to the other angels. "It seeks a heart unshaken by fear, a will that burns brighter than the stars. Only such resolve can earn its recognition."
For centuries, champions had climbed this altar only to falter under the staff's judgment. Could Kahn, an unorthodox candidate, succeed where gods had failed?
Kahn clenched his fists, summoning every ounce of his willpower. His aura, a fierce storm of violet and gold energy, flared around him as he took slow, deliberate steps toward the staff.
"Is this all you've got?" he growled, his defiance cutting through the suffocating energy.
The divine pressure intensified, each step forward feeling like an eternity. The gods and angels watched in tense silence, their gazes fixed on the lone figure challenging the impossible.
Quitela smirked, folding his arms. "Watch him crumble. He's no different from the rest of us. He'll—"
Before Quitela could finish, Kahn reached out.
The Staff's Submission
Kahn's right hand gripped the Great Staff firmly, his fiery eyes unyielding. In that instant, the staff's radiant aura exploded outward, releasing a surge of divine energy that shook the entire arena.
The pressure doubled, then tripled, threatening to crush him. But Kahn held his ground, his voice steady and commanding.
"You think I've come this far to be stopped here?" he snarled. "I don't bow to anyone. You will yield to me."
His aura surged brighter, clashing with the staff's radiance in a storm of power. The arena trembled under the force of their battle, leaving the gods speechless.
Then, it happened.
The Great Staff's glow flickered, dimming for a brief moment before flaring brighter than ever. Its oppressive energy began to recede, as if acknowledging Kahn's indomitable will.
A single, resonating chime echoed across the cosmos. The sound, pure and clear, signified one thing: submission.
Kahn, now standing tall with the Great Staff in his hand, turned to face the stunned assembly. His voice rang out, confident and unwavering:
"This summit belongs to the Seventh Universe."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a wave of cheers erupted from the Seventh Universe's platform, led by Whis. Even the gods who had doubted Kahn found themselves nodding in reluctant admiration.
Kahn had done the impossible.