Dragon Ball Super Ultra Vegito: Chapter 3 | Fanfiction

Dragon Ball Super | Fanfiction

The story continues in the smoking aftermath of Vegito’s final, earth-shaking Kamehameha. The blast had torn across the battlefield like a wave of pure judgment. Slowly, the dense smoke begins to thin out, curling upward into the sky like rising spirits. Within that haze, a single figure stands at the center—still and breathing hard.

Vegito.

His chest rises and falls with sharp, desperate rhythm, each breath more like a gasp. Sweat drips from his brow, trailing down his jaw. His fusion form trembles faintly, not from fear—but from exhaustion. And maybe… a touch of unease.

Then, through the quiet, Vegito lets out a low breath, steadying himself. A small, sharp smirk breaks across his lips.

“He’s not here anymore,” Vegito mutters, still catching his breath. “Looks like he got away somehow… I can’t sense him. Not even a trace.”

His voice is casual, but there’s tension beneath it—uncertainty flickering in his narrowed eyes.

“I should’ve known. So typical of Beerus…”

Even as he speaks, Vegito’s eyes dart left, then right, scanning every corner of the scorched battlefield. There’s no sound. No movement. No presence. It’s as if Beerus had simply… vanished. Erased. Wiped clean from existence.

But that shouldn’t be possible.

Not from him.

Not in this form.

Vegito’s brows knit together. Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

He sharpens his senses—every ounce of energy tuned to find even the faintest signal of the God of Destruction. But the universe feels… quiet. Empty. There’s nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

A chill rises in Vegito’s spine, quickly turning into anger.

His lips curl back, voice rising with fury.

“So this… this is the great Beerus?” Vegito shouts into the open air. “They didn’t tell me you liked to run away from fights you can’t win!”

His voice echoes through the silence like a thunderclap. Still, no answer.

“Show yourself! Now! Let your fate be assured! Do you hear me? Come out, coward! Are you going to fight me, or not?!”

Silence.

Then, Vegito spots a figure hovering below. Calm. Watching.

Whees.

Vegito’s glare sharpens as he turns his voice toward him.

“Whees! What kind of joke is this?” he calls out, frustration boiling over. “Since when do so-called gods run and hide from a fight?!”

He scoffs bitterly.

“And to think of all the remarkable things I’ve heard about Beerus’s power…”

His voice drips with sarcasm now.

“Tell me—where is that kitty cat, hmm? Gone off to drink some milk? Take a nap in the sun? Maybe he’s picked a fight with some mice instead of the great Saiynn race standing before him.”

Vegito’s laughter is dry and biting.

“This is disgraceful—unbefitting of a god!”

But Whees remains quiet. His face unreadable, his silver staff still in hand. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. His silence is deliberate, heavy with thought.

Finally, he looks up at Vegito—his expression calm but troubled.

“I don’t know how else to tell you this…” Whees begins, slowly.

“He’s not hiding, Vegito. He’s gone.”

Vegito stares down, confused. His body freezes for a split second.

“What did you say?”

Whees doesn’t repeat himself.

Vegito’s face twists in shock.

“I… I killed him?” His voice falters. “That’s what you’re saying? He’s… no more?”

The words don’t even sound real to him. Like a bad joke, or some kind of illusion. His brow creases, a nervous chuckle slipping out.

“You must be kidding,” Vegito says, half-laughing. “There’s no way I’ve killed him. If I had, you wouldn’t be this calm. You wouldn’t be standing there without any… any emotion.”

He throws a hand out in disbelief.

“Please—spare me this nonsense, Whees! Stop playing these games. I don’t enjoy childish fantasies.”

But Whees doesn’t change his expression. He speaks with the same calm, measured tone.

“How else should I react, Vegito?” he asks. “What did you expect of me?”

His voice is eerily steady.

“I am an Angel Attendant. I exist only to serve the wants and needs of the God of Destruction in this universe.”

He pauses.

“Does it disturb you to learn that I hold no feelings—neither positive nor negative—toward my assigned god? That is our way, Vegito. That is how it has always been.”

There’s a silence. No wind. No birds. Nothing but the quiet hum of fading energy.

“No childish games,” Whees adds. “Only duty.”

Then, slowly, he raises a hand and points across the battlefield.

“If you don’t believe me,” he says, “look over there. The answer you seek is waiting.”

Vegito’s eyes flick to where Whees is pointing.

His breath catches.

Lying still, half-buried in the shattered stone, is an arm.

Purple fur. A golden band around the wrist.

The only remaining piece… of Beerus.

Vegito’s entire body stiffens. His mouth goes dry. The energy around him flickers uncertainly.

No words come out.

He floats downward, slowly, numbly—drawn toward the scene like a moth to flame.

“No… there’s no way…” he whispers. “I don’t understand… this… this isn’t what I wanted.”

His boots touch the ground.

Silence wraps around him like a shroud.

Vegito’s eyes close tight, his fists clenched, his jaw trembling.

A storm brews in his chest—sadness, guilt, confusion, and something heavier. Regret.

His voice cracks.

“How powerful are we… in this form?” he mutters. “I didn’t know we could do this…”

His head lowers. Shoulders slump.

“I would’ve held back… If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve stopped myself. I should’ve… Damn it.”

He grits his teeth, swallowing down a growing lump in his throat.

“The Vegeta in me got carried away. I lost control… I let this happen.”

Vegito kneels down beside what remains of the God of Destruction. Gently—almost tenderly—he lifts the arm, staring at it. His fingers wrap around the cold hand.

For a long moment, he just stares. His face is distant. Heavy. Ashamed.

“What… what have we done?”

No answer.

Only the wind, low and hollow, blowing across the battlefield.

Then, slowly, Vegito turns his eyes to Whees again. He stands, fusion still intact, but his thoughts racing. Calculating.

Somehow… there has to be a way to undo this.

Vegito’s voice was low, filled with unease as he looked at Whees, the question trembling in his throat.

“So… what happens now?”

There was something cold building in his chest. A feeling he didn’t usually experience—dread.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I know the Dragon Balls are powerful, but… I don’t think even they can bring back a god. Not someone like Beerus.”

He paused, then clenched his fists.

“But this was my mistake. And I have to fix it.”

His tone grew firmer with each word, the pain in his chest now mixed with determination.

“Whees… I’ll give my life if that’s what it takes to bring him back.”

But Whees didn’t react. He simply looked at Vegito again, face blank—no sorrow, no anger, just that emotionless calm that never wavered.

“I’m sorry, Vegito,” he said quietly. “But there is nothing you can do now. What’s done is done. We cannot turn back time here.”

Then, without warning, he raised his staff—and vanished.

“Wait—what?!” Vegito blinked, stunned. “Whees?!”

But he was gone.

Gone like a whisper on the wind.

Vegito stood frozen, trying to make sense of it—until he felt something behind him.

The air shifted.

The ground vibrated slightly beneath his boots.

Another presence had arrived—no, not just one.

Multiple.

Powerful.

Vegito slowly turned, his instincts telling him what his mind was trying to deny.

And then he saw them.

All eleven Gods of Destruction.

They weren’t walking. They weren’t hovering casually. They appeared, all at once, surrounding him in a tight circle—boxing him in.

No escape.

His mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

“What… What are you doing here?” he asked, though deep down he already knew.

Their faces were enough.

Cold. Furious. Their eyes sharp like daggers, jaws tight, teeth gritted.

They weren’t here to talk.

They were here to judge.

At the front of the group, two gods radiated a hatred so thick it seemed to fill the air around them—Champa, the twin brother of Beerus, and Belmod, his closest friend.

Vegito didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe for a second.

This isn’t good.

He stared around him at the divine circle, heart pounding.

“The Gods of Destruction…? What is this?” he said, trying to stay calm. “I don’t understand. What are you all doing here? This… this isn’t another tournament, is it? It’s not the right time for games.”

But no one answered.

Then, Belmod’s eyes dropped to Vegito’s hand.

His gaze locked onto the severed arm of Beerus, still clenched in Vegito’s grip.

His expression twisted—first in shock, then in a slow, cruel smirk.

“You… Saiynn scum,” Belmod snarled. “The truth is out now.”

He raised his hand, fury crackling off him like sparks from lightning.

“So you were the one who killed our fellow god.”

His voice rose into a shout, sharp and wild with rage.

“I bet you thought you’d get away with this, didn’t you, mortal?! Well, we will not stand for this! You will pay, you treacherous worm! Do you hear me? You will pay!”

Around him, the other gods nodded, fists clenched, eyes dark with hatred. There was no more doubt. No more hesitation.

The hunger in their eyes wasn’t just for justice—it was for vengeance.

They didn’t see a warrior standing before them.

They saw a criminal. A killer.

And they were here for punishment.

Even Vegito, powerful as he was, couldn’t deny the truth.

He was in trouble.

Big trouble.

These weren’t just strong fighters. These were the eleven strongest destroyers in the multiverse.

And he stood alone.

Champa stepped forward, his aura rising like fire.

“Gods of Destruction—hear me!” he bellowed, voice ringing with pure fury. “We do this for Beerus! We must avenge him! No Saiynn trash kills a God of Destruction and walks away.”

He raised his arm.

“Together!”

The others followed without question.

Eleven hands rose as one—glowing with the dark, terrifying power of Hakai.

Vegito’s eyes widened.

“No… Wait—!”

But it was too late.

Panic surged through him.

He looked around, desperately trying to find an escape, a plan, anything—but there was nothing.

No way out.

They had already decided his fate.

And then—

“Hakai.”

The word struck like a bell of doom.

Vegito barely had time to scream before a colossal sphere of dark energy engulfed him. The Hakai wasn’t a blast. It wasn’t an explosion.

It was erasure.

Pure destruction.

His voice echoed out in agony, torn from his throat as if the very essence of his being was unraveling. The pain was like nothing he’d ever felt—like his soul was being burned away one layer at a time.

And then…

Silence.

Everything vanished.

Vegito.

The gods.

Gone.

As if they had never been there.

A gust of wind blew through the now-empty battlefield.

And then, from the shadows, Whees reappeared.

His face, for once, was not unreadable.

There was something there.

Something that almost looked like sadness.

He watched the space where they had all stood moments before, then softly spoke.

“Only Zeno knows what fate awaits those foolish enough to kill a god—accident or not.”

He looked up, raising his staff.

“I leave this to you now, Father. Vegito’s destiny… is in your hands.”

Everything went dark.

Then—light.

Pain.

Vegito gasped as his knees hit the cold ground, coughing hard.

He was somewhere else.

Somewhere strange.

The space around him was eerily quiet, floating islands suspended in an endless sky.

It was the same place where Goku had once met the Grand Priest.

Vegito clutched his side, his whole body aching.

His breathing was ragged, each inhale like knives in his chest.

“What… What happened…?”

He looked around slowly, blinking away the blur in his vision.

But there was nothing.

No gods. No Whees.

He was completely alone.

Vegito’s breaths were shallow. His body still trembled from the pain. He looked around the empty, silent place where he had just been dumped and whispered to himself, voice low and hoarse.

“Where did those gods go…? Did they… spare me?”

He wanted to believe it.

“Maybe they saw what happened with Beerus was just an accident,” he said, his words hopeful but uncertain. “Surely they know I didn’t mean to kill him. That… that isn’t me.”

His voice trailed off, but his thoughts didn’t stop. The guilt still weighed heavily in his chest. His body ached, but his heart ached more.

He clenched his fists.

“I didn’t want this.”

But before he could sink deeper into reflection, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be so foolish, Saiynn.”

Vegito’s head snapped up.

The voice had come from the distance—but it hit him like it was right beside his ear.

“No. Of course they did not spare you,” the voice continued. “Why would they? In fact, they brought you here… for a fate far worse.”

Vegito turned quickly, his senses flaring to life.

And then he saw them.

Standing ahead of him, surrounded by a heavy, suffocating pressure—was Zeno.

Beside him were his two silent guards, and in between them floated the Grand Priest.

They were all staring straight at Vegito.

And not with the calm, playful expressions they were usually known for.

No, this was different.

The cheerfulness Zeno once carried in his tiny voice and eyes was completely gone. Now, his presence was cold and unreadable.

And the Grand Priest—always polite, always graceful—now looked like a completely different being. Dark. Judging. Grim.

Vegito’s heart skipped.

“Z-Zeno-chan?” he said slowly, voice shaking. “Is that… really you?”

He blinked, as if trying to wake up from some horrible vision.

“So… it was you behind all this?”

His eyes flicked between the guards, the Grand Priest, and the little god who once smiled at him.

“What’s going on here?” Vegito asked, confused and desperate. “This is all just… it’s all one big misunderstanding. I hope you realize that.”

Despite the agony still coursing through his limbs, Vegito began walking forward—his steps slow and weak, but determined.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “You know me. I didn’t mean to do any of this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

He winced and pressed a hand to his side.

“If there’s a way to bring Beerus back… I’ll do it. Anything. I—”

But he was cut off by a sudden blow.

Before he even knew what was happening, one of Zeno’s guards appeared directly in front of him and slammed a rock-solid fist into his gut.

The impact was brutal.

“URGH!”

Vegito’s mouth flew open, blood spurting as he crumpled down onto one knee.

The pain hit like a hammer through his body, already broken and battered from the punishment by the eleven gods. He couldn’t move. He hadn’t even seen the guard move.

“Stand back,” the guard said coolly. “Move only when told to move.”

Vegito clutched his stomach, eyes wide from the shock. His head lowered, coughing violently.

“They’re so fast… and strong,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I… I didn’t even see him.”

But he knew.

He knew that fighting wasn’t the answer.

He looked up again, blood on his lips, pain in his eyes.

“Zeno-chan… please,” he said quietly. “Stop this madness.”

His voice broke a little as he spoke louder.

“Just listen to me. For a moment. Please.”

He gritted his teeth and forced out the words.

“It’s me. Goku—well, actually Goku and Vegeta combined, but you know me! You know this isn’t right. Just give me a second to explain myself, damn it!”

But there was no response.

No change in Zeno’s face.

No flicker of mercy.

The silence was colder than any shout.

Then, without a sound, the Grand Priest vanished.

A blur.

In less than a blink, he appeared behind Vegito—completely evading his senses.

Vegito didn’t have time to react.

He felt a hand touch the back of his neck, then everything went dark.

CRACK.

With just one blow, the Grand Priest—one of the four most powerful beings in the multiverse—knocked Vegito out cold. His body hit the ground like a lifeless weight, his fusion instantly breaking as he dropped to base form.

He didn’t even make a sound.

The Grand Priest looked down at him with zero emotion, his face stern and final.

“That will be enough talking,” he said.

His voice was quiet, but carried with terrifying weight.

“Do you not see? We have no need for your explanations. Your judgment is coming… and it will come from Zeno himself, in the next few days.”

He stared at Vegito like he was nothing more than a bug beneath his heel.

“God killer.”

Then, turning his back, he added coldly—

“Until then… you have our permission to rot here in silence.”

The world faded.

Everything went black.

And then—

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

A scream tore through the darkness.

Vegito’s voice echoed through the void—but it was useless.

When light returned, the sight was chilling.

There he was.

Vegito, beaten and bruised beyond recognition. Blood covered his face and chest. Cuts ran down his arms. His body was suspended in midair—held up by thick, jagged chains that coiled around him like snakes.

They wrapped around his ankles, his legs, his arms, and even his neck.

He was completely trapped.

There was no escape.

His clothes were ripped, his body stripped down to nothing but pain. His energy was gone. His strength, crushed.

This was the punishment he had earned.

This was the price of slaying a god.

And now…

He was left with nothing but silence.

Suspended between fate and judgment.

Alone.

That’s it For Chapter 3. To Read More of This Story. Move Own to Chapter 4 Below.

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