Dragon Ball Roshi-Chapter 155 - : The Other World Tournament (Conclusion)

As the two stepped onto the stage, countless murmurs arose from the onlookers.

Without a doubt, Taro — the only living participant in this tournament — was the biggest dark horse of the competition. Even before him, Bam was considered a dark horse due to his remarkable performance. Yet, Bam's feats paled in comparison to the shockwaves Taro had caused.

From the round of 128 to 64, 64 to 32, 32 to 16, 16 to 8, and finally 8 to 4, Taro's battles had been overwhelmingly simple. No complex exchanges, no prolonged duels—every match concluded with a single move.

A punch.

Or a palm strike.

And the fight was over.

No matter the opponent, no matter their strategy, the result was invariably the same: after a brief standoff, the opponent would launch an attack. Regardless of how grand or intimidating their attack seemed, Taro would deliver a calm strike before it landed. The opponent would spit blood and be sent flying, and the match would end.

Clean, efficient, and definitive — Taro's approach was unmatched in this tournament.

If Taro had a more flamboyant personality, he might have taunted his opponents with comments like, "Hurry up, will you?" But that wasn't his style. From his first match to this moment, his demeanor and strategy remained unchanged. He stepped onto the stage with calm confidence, waited silently for the Grand Kai to announce the start of the match, allowed his opponents to make the first move, then responded with a single decisive blow.

This consistency in style and poise reminded many of last tournament's champion — Duan.

In his most recent match, Taro had defeated last year's fourth-place fighter — a feat that left the audience stunned. Those who had witnessed the previous tournament vividly remembered the fourth-place fighter's strength. Yet, this time, he was so effortlessly overpowered that it seemed he wasn't even a martial artist.

In the face of Taro, this once-celebrated fighter seemed as helpless as a novice, defeated as decisively as the first-round losers.

"He's... terrifying," the fourth-place fighter muttered, clutching his chest as he stood below the square stage, blood still staining his lips.

Taro wasn't the type to offer healing to just anyone. This was a competition, after all — injuries were to be expected. Besides, Taro's precision ensured his strikes were enough to win without causing irreparable harm. Additionally, the deceased bodies of the Otherworld fighters boasted extraordinary regenerative abilities. Though the fourth-place fighter had been gravely injured earlier, he now stood, merely massaging his chest.

It was worth noting that this regenerative ability only activated in non-combat situations, meaning it could not aid them during a fight.

"Yeah... he's something else," murmured another eliminated fighter standing nearby, nodding in agreement. Many others silently thanked their luck; though they had lost, at least they hadn't faced Taro. To be taken down in a single strike would have been humiliating.

"But comparing him to Jiam is a stretch, isn't it?" someone speculated.

Many agreed. Jiam and Duan had dominated previous tournaments, claiming the champion and runner-up titles for years. For others, these two were in a league of their own. Simply reaching their level seemed impossible, let alone surpassing them.

Still, some couldn't help but wonder: could Taro be the third?

The fourth-place fighter, clutching his chest, was among the skeptics. He struggled to reconcile his rational belief that Jiam and Duqn were superior with the overwhelming power he had felt from Taro's punch.

What level of mastery would one need to deliver such an extraordinary strike?

The answers, however, were about to unfold.

---

On stage, Jiam stood across from Taro, his demeanor serious.

He wasn't ignorant. Taro's rise had been unstoppable, almost arrogant in its efficiency. His status as the only living participant added another layer of intrigue. For Jiam, this fight wasn't to be taken lightly.

Even though he couldn't detect any changes in Taro's energy, he treated him as an equal opponent. Perhaps, like Jiam's previous opponent, Taro also possessed hidden techniques to amplify his strength.

This time, Jiam was determined to give his all.

---

"Jiam will be using out all his strength Your guy's in for it now!" West Kai gloated, floating beside the North Kai's stand.

The North Kai crossed his arms and huffed, ignoring him. Deep down, even he wasn't sure of the outcome.

On his other side sat Hathaway, watching from afar. As a human, her eyesight was too limited to make out the details of the battle. Allowing her closer wasn't an option. The immense power of these fighters could kill her instantly, even from residual shockwaves. Hathaway, sipping her coffee, merely closed her laptop and watched quietly, a hint of worry in her eyes.

---

"I acknowledge your strength," Jiam said coldly as he faced Taro.

"Mm," Taro replied evenly.

Jiam stiffened, feeling a vein twitch. This guy was impossible to read. Holding his composure, Jiam declared, "But I'm stronger! You'll see what true power is!"

Taro didn't respond. It wasn't a question, so there was no need to answer.

Jiam narrowed his eyes. Taro's nonchalance infuriated him. Taking a deep breath, Jiam's energy began to surge. The crowd watched in awe as his power skyrocketed—two million, four million, five million, ten million!

White flames ignited around Jiam's chiseled body, his aura forming a physical presence. He exuded an overwhelming intensity, a deep, oceanic power that silenced the spectators. His stance shifted as he prepared for combat.

Across from him, Taro remained motionless.

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Would he dare repeat the same pattern against Jiam? Would he wait for his opponent to strike first, then retaliate with a single blow?

The crowd buzzed with uncertainty. But this time, the opponent was Jiam — the terrifying Jiam!

Jiam seemed to be taking this incredibly seriously! Don't you think you should... be more serious about this? If you stay this casual, you might end up getting taken out in a single move!

"Master..." Bam muttered from the audience. He recalled that palm strike from years ago, etched deep into his memory—a colossal white palm descending as if to overturn the heavens and block out the sun. He whispered, "There's no way he'll lose..."

Finally.

"The match begins," announced the Grand Kai in a casual tone.

Jiam's eyes grew cold. This guy on the other side really didn't know his place! His energy surged naturally, his body moved with the flow of his ki, and with a single thought, his entire figure vanished from the ring.

The massive arena, spanning ten thousand square meters, was suddenly filled with an oppressive heat. As Jiam disappeared, the sound of his steps departing echoed faintly where he had been standing moments before. The force of his movements sent a violent storm across the arena — a hurricane might be a more fitting description.

"What terrifying power. Jiam's getting serious!" someone in the audience exclaimed, shielding their face with their arms to resist the overwhelming pressure emanating from the stage. The suffocating intensity was palpable.

"Can you still remain so calm?" Fourth-place and another powerful fighter, both of whom had surpassed the million-level mark, managed to hold their ground against the pressure storm, but their eyes never left the stage. The air on the platform had started to distort, and the scorching winds blowing down carried an oppressive heat.

Taro's figure had also vanished.

For the first time in the tournament, he moved his feet in combat. But like Jiam, the vast majority of onlookers and competitors couldn't catch even a glimpse of his movements.

The two fighters' speed was simply too fast, far beyond the comprehension of most present.

Only Duan, watching from the opposite side of the stage, kept his eyes darting rapidly to follow the fight. With his level of power, he could clearly perceive what was happening, but even he was deeply shocked. The usually aloof, white-haired master, who often stood with his arms crossed, had lowered them. His gaze tracked the two combatants, his expression unusually grave.

Jiam couldn't touch Taro at all.

The square arena, over a hundred meters on each side with a total area of more than ten thousand square meters, was clearly far too small for these two warriors.

Two white figures intertwined like meteors streaking across the sky, leaving behind hundreds, even thousands, of overlapping trails in an instant. Yet one figure always remained just out of reach of the other — like a child chasing a shooting star, never able to grasp it.

"Damn it!" Jiam was both shocked and furious. Any thought of holding back to save energy for Duan was long gone. He had unleashed his full strength and then some, pushing beyond his limits. Yet his opponent moved like an untouchable ghost.

In battles of this caliber, eyesight became secondary. What truly mattered was the ability to sense one another's ki.

Even while moving at extreme speed, Jiam locked onto the faint trace of Taro's elusive ki. Yet no matter how he pursued it, Taro always stayed one step ahead—calm, composed, and seemingly waiting for him to catch up. Despite pouring his all into the chase, Jiam couldn't even catch a glimpse of Taro's robe.

For ten full breaths, no figure appeared on the stage.

Instead, the aftermath of their high-speed movements — violent hurricanes and searing winds — made it almost unbearable for the spectators below. Even the three million-level fighters among them felt uncomfortable. Fortunately, the Grand Kai intervened, creating a barrier to protect the audience. Without it, many of the weaker spectators would have suffered serious harm.

"What incredible power... Even without seeing it directly, just feeling the energy is suffocating," someone whispered in awe.

In the King Kai's section, the West Kai's expression turned grim. "This can't be... This just can't be..."

The North Kai, unsurprised, smirked but refrained from taunting his rival.

Hathaway remained composed. Though she had never seen Taro fight before, she wasn't entirely calm either. The spectacle before her transcended anything explainable by natural science. It was raw, unbridled power — an individual's ability to exceed all natural limits.

"Amazing..." she murmured, her purple hair tousled by the wind.

At that moment, amidst the scorching whirlwinds on the stage, a figure finally appeared — Jiam!

Having failed to catch his opponent, he changed tactics, stopping his high-speed chase entirely.

Time seemed to slow.

Jiam, dragging afterimages, came to a halt. With one step, he stomped down, creating spiderweb-like cracks across the arena floor. As the fissures spread from beneath his feet, he raised his right fist, now engulfed in an intense aura of ki. Eyes wide with fury, he bellowed as his fist descended toward the ground below.

"Get out here!!!"

His punch, like a dragon's roar, struck with overwhelming force, generating a shockwave that seemed to split the arena in two. For a moment, the spectators believed they saw a brilliant meteor crashing down from Jiam's fist.

Crack.

Before his punch connected, Jiam was sent flying, his arm bent at an unnatural angle — completely broken. The ki surrounding his fist dissipated as his trembling fingers loosened.

"What!?" Jiam's heart raced. He sprang to his feet immediately, panicked. When had his opponent attacked? How had he done it? He hadn't sensed anything. The realization chilled him to his core.

Then, a hand rested on Jiam's shoulder.

Turning his head slowly, he saw Taro's fist.

The punch came crashing toward him like a mountain collapsing. Time slowed as the fist grew impossibly large in his vision, filling his entire world. Jiam felt as if the heavens themselves were crumbling.

Boom!

The sheer force of the punch blasted the arena's floor apart, scattering debris and creating a hurricane-like gust. Despite the destruction, not a single fragment or gust touched Jiam, as if the attack had precisely avoided him. The Grand Kai's protective barrier shielded the audience from the storm of stone and wind.

Jiam stared blankly at Taro's fist, his face pale.

"You've lost," Taro said, pulling back his hand.

"The winner of the first match: Contestant #1," the Grand Kai announced—#1 being Taro.

Taro stepped off the stage, the crowd parting in stunned silence to let him pass.

On the other side of the arena, Duan's eyes widened in disbelief. Even at full strength, he couldn't imagine defeating Jiam so thoroughly. The sheer disparity left him shaken.

The Grand Kai and King Kai showed no surprise, having expected this result. In contrast, the East and South Kais were dumbfounded. The West Kai, meanwhile, looked as though he had swallowed something bitter, muttering incoherently.

Hathaway, observing the reactions of those around her, turned her gaze to the stage. Her husband, this incredible being, this legend, was the man she had chosen. A faint smile graced her lips.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Duan won his match.

Sixteen minutes later, Taro claimed the championship.