The moment you step into the ruined battlefield, the air thickens like suffocating fog. Energy radiates unnaturally: cold, heavy, and oppressive. Shattered terrain and twisted time fragments surround you like the aftermath of a cosmic collision.
Then you see him.
A towering figure stands still in the midst of the chaos, motionless as stone, his armor blackened with the colors of the Time Breakers, the cracked remnants of a mask covering half his face. The red glow behind the mask pulses with an eerie rhythm, and though he says nothing, his presence alone is suffocating. His head slowly tilts in your direction.
He stares.
Not with curiosity. Not with confusion. But with raw, merciless intent.
The Masked Saiyan’s glare cuts through you like a blade, as if silently judging whether you should be crushed or enslaved. His aura hums with restrained violence, the very space around him vibrating from the sheer pressure of his power. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. You can’t even tell if he’s alive beneath the armor and the mask. But something in his stance makes your instincts scream.
"..."
He takes one step forward, just one, but the sound of his boot striking the ground cracks the stone beneath him.
He still says nothing.
But everything about him screams a single message, loud and clear: