The battle was slipping out of their hands.
El Sohagy had tried everything.
Yet the Fake Boss was untouchable.
Ultra Instinct let him dodge effortlessly.
Ultra Ego made his every strike hit like a planet-destroying nuke.
And then—El Sharkawy was gone.
El Sohagy was alone.
"Well, this sucks," he muttered, barely dodging a fist that shattered the space behind him.
The Fake Boss didn’t stop.
Punches. Kicks. Blasts.
Each one closer.
Each one harder.
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El Sohagy was getting pushed to his limit.
But just as his vision blurred—he grinned.
"You’re an idiot."
The Fake Boss froze.
"You’re fast. Strong. But that’s all. No strategy. No thought. Just swinging blindly."
The Fake Boss snarled and charged again.
But this time—El Sohagy was ready.
He started countering.
The Fake Boss’s attacks became predictable. Sloppy.
The battle shifted.
Then—a shockwave ripped through The Void.
A golden light.
A flaming aura.
El Sharkawy had returned.
And with him—their true forms.
But something was different.
They weren’t just back.
They were stronger.
El Sharkawy cracked his neck and smirked.
"The Yardrats taught me two important lessons."
The Fake Boss paused.
El Sharkawy raised a single finger. "One—Forced Spirit Fission."
He raised another.
"Two—always have a good sense of drip."
El Sohagy glanced at him.
Then—deadpan.
"Doc, your drip is shit."
El Sharkawy glared.
"Bro, I’m in my divine form."
"Still trash."
The Fake Boss had enough.
With a roar, he unleashed a black mist explosion.
And with it—his transformation.
Black vapor coiled around him.
His body melted into a heavy, sentient storm. His aura crushed existence itself.
He screamed—
And reality shattered.
Suddenly, they were no longer in The Void.
They were at the edge of the expanding universe.
The final battle was here.
---
