The Scenery at 1.8 Meters

The campfire had dwindled to nothing but a pile of dark red embers.

Deep in the forest, the chirping of insects rose and fell in waves, occasionally punctuated by the low, muffled roars of ancient beasts.

Bulma curled up in the back of the off-road vehicle, covered by Krillin's spare Martial Arts Uniform, her breathing slow and steady.

Krillin sat cross-legged on the roof of the car, wide awake.

The system countdown hit zero.

[Day 7 training complete.]

[Saitama template basic adaptation period finished.]

[Current fusion rate: 10%.]

There were no dazzling light effects, no golden glow of leveling up.

An indescribable ache and itch crawled out from the marrow of his bones.

Unlike the searing pain of the past few days.

This time, it felt like every bone in his body had been shattered and then reassembled by an invisible giant hand.

Krillin bit down on his collar, veins bulging across his forehead.

His spine let out a continuous series of cracking pops, like beans roasting in a pan.

The pant legs of his once perfectly fitted Martial Arts Uniform were visibly creeping upward.

The muscle fibers in his thighs tore apart wildly, thickened, then compressed again.

It wasn't just getting taller.

This was a leap in Life Level.

The price Saitama paid to break his limiter was his hair, but the system seemed to have converted that cost into an extreme transformation of this body through some means.

Though his hair still hadn't grown back.

This inhuman torment lasted a full two hours.

Only when the eastern sky began to pale with the first light of dawn did the ache and itch recede like a retreating tide.

Krillin stood up.

He noticed his perspective had changed.

Before, he always had to look up slightly to see the world. Now, everything lay open before him.

He looked down at his own palm.

His fingers were long and powerful, knuckles thick, skin a healthy bronze—no longer that comical, pudgy look from before.

[Congratulations, host. Body reconstruction complete.]

[Height: 1.80 meters.]

[Physique correction: Perfect streamlined musculature (no longer the bloated bodybuilder type).]

[Acquired trait: Bald Head Force Field (the shinier the head, the stronger the charm).]

Krillin touched his forehead.

Still smooth as ever.

"One point eight meters..."

He flexed his limbs, and his joints cracked like thunder.

Now this was a man's perspective.

The car door swung open.

Bulma stumbled out, rubbing her sleepy eyes, her hair a tangled mess like a bird's nest.

"Morning... Krillin, got anything to eat? Last night's dinosaur meat was too..."

Bulma's voice cut off abruptly.

She stood frozen, staring at the man sitting on the roof with his back to her.

In the faint morning light, his silhouette was broad and straight.

The orange Martial Arts Uniform stretched taut across his frame, the inverted triangle of his back muscles casting a breathtaking shadow under the sun.

"You..."

Krillin slowly turned around.

His bald head caught the rising sun, reflecting a blinding flash of light.

He jumped down from the roof and walked up to Bulma.

A shadow fell over her, engulfing her completely.

Bulma had to tilt her head back until her neck ached just to see his face.

This pressure...

"K-Krillin?"

"Morning!"

Krillin greeted with a smile.

"What, don't recognize me after just one night?"

"You..."

Bulma circled him three times, reached out and squeezed his arm, then stood on tiptoe, trying to gauge the height difference between them.

"This isn't scientific!"

Bulma grabbed her hair in exasperation.

"How did you grow this much taller overnight!"

"I don't know either."

Krillin rolled his neck. "Maybe that Tyrannosaurus Rex from last night was just too nutritious."

"Yeah, right!"

Bulma griped out loud, but her body honestly didn't back away.

Instead, she moved closer.

That body, bursting with explosive power, radiated a lethal dose of masculine pheromones.

For Bulma, who was in a romantic dry spell (unilaterally suffering cold shoulder), it was practically poison.

"Hey."

Bulma suddenly poked Krillin's pectoral, her cheeks flushing.

"How tall are you... now?"

"One meter eighty."

"Tch, even a little taller than Yamcha..."

Bulma muttered under her breath, then a bit flustered, she looked away.

"Well, since you're this big now, you're carrying all the luggage today! I'm going to wash up!"

With that, she bolted toward the nearby stream.

Krillin watched her back, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

[Detected Bulma's emotional fluctuations: awe, curiosity, shyness.]

[Affection assessment: Ambiguous (78/100).]

[Evaluation: Height is a man's second face. You now have the ticket into her heart.]

The system talked a lot, but the logic was sound.

In this world that judged by looks, strength mattered, but appearance was definitely a bonus.

Krillin opened his Status Panel.

[Host: Lin Fei (Krillin)]

[Current Template: Saitama (Fusion Rate 10%)]

[Battle Power: 450 (Normal State)]

[Skill Update:]

[Normal Punch (Advanced): A plain, unadorned punch, but enough to blow up a tank.]

[Consecutive Normal Punches (Unlocked): Unleash one hundred punches per second, dealing area-of-effect devastating damage.]

450 Battle Power.

Already surpassed Goku without his weighted clothes.

And this was just the normal state.

If he activated the "Serious" series, his Battle Power would probably spike to a terrifying number in an instant.

"About time to head back."

Krillin clenched his fist. The air in his palm was crushed, popping with a sharp crack.