Tenfold Gravity

Capsule Corporation's underground laboratory was filled with the distinctive scent of machine oil mixed with ozone.

The massive hemispherical Gravity Room stood at the center, like a sleeping steel beast.

Its heavy alloy hatch hung open, revealing the empty, frigid training space within.

"Even though it's a prototype, the core stabilizer is still pretty decent."

Dr. Brief held his pipe in one hand while tapping a few keys on the complex control panel with the other.

"The theoretical upper limit is three hundred times, but by then the foundation of this villa would probably collapse."

He turned his head, looking at the bald youth beside him who was practically itching to give it a try. There was a strange glint behind his glasses.

"Krillin, are you sure you don't want to wear a protective suit?"

"Even astronauts training have to wear pressure suits to protect their internal organs."

"No need."

Krillin was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose training pants.

Under the cold fluorescent light, his skin showed a healthy bronze tone, and beneath his unassuming muscle lines lurked terrifying explosive power.

"Only by letting the body directly feel the squeeze of gravity will the cells remember this fear, and then... evolve."

Krillin stepped through the hatch.

The heavy hydraulic door slowly closed behind him, letting out a teeth-grinding locking sound.

The world instantly fell silent, leaving only the faint hum of the ventilation system.

"Let's start with two times gravity first," the doctor's voice came through the speaker.

"Start with ten times directly." Krillin made a gesture at the camera.

Dr. Brief's hand trembled at the control panel, and the black cat on his shoulder let out a sharp screech.

The doctor sighed and pushed the red lever forward.

"WOOOOM--!!!"

The red light inside the Gravity Room suddenly blazed to life, and a low-frequency vibration instantly filled the entire space.

It wasn't the feeling of carrying a heavy load.

Gravity was all-encompassing.

In that instant, Krillin felt as if the blood inside him had turned into mercury.

The fluid that had once flowed lightly suddenly became unbearably heavy.

Every beat of his heart required ten times the usual effort just to pump this heavy blood to his limbs and extremities.

"Cough!"

Krillin grunted, his knees buckling, nearly dropping straight to the ground.

His eyeballs were pulled downward by the force, blurring his vision.

Every breath of air he inhaled felt like it carried blades, and his diaphragm had to contract wildly to fight this invisible pressure.

This was ten times gravity.

It was like having ten Krillins stacked on top of him.

And it pressed on every inch of skin, every blood vessel, every organ.

If he were an ordinary Earthling, his internal organs would have already ruptured and hemorrhaged.

But Krillin didn't fall.

"Saitama template... adaptation, activate."

He chanted silently in his mind.

That bald Demon King's power wasn't born with him; it was gained by breaking his limiter day after day.

This sensation of being pushed to the brink was the best fuel for breaking the limiter.

Krillin gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his neck like winding earthworms. Slowly, inch by inch, he straightened his back.

His bones let out a series of creaking, cracking pops, like an old wooden ship groaning in a storm.

"Inhale... exhale..."

He forcibly adjusted his breathing rhythm, pressing that heavy oxygen deep into his lungs.

"First exercise... push-ups... one hundred."

Krillin dropped to the ground.

Even this simple movement, under gravity magnified ten times, felt like lifting a mountain.

He pressed his hands against the floor.

The floor was made of high-strength alloy, but under his palms, it slightly dented.

"One."

Down. Up.

Sweat had barely squeezed out of his pores before gravity ripped it away, smashing it against the floor in eight fragments.

"Two."

His triceps screamed. Muscle fibers tore at the microscopic level, rebuilt themselves, and came back tougher.

That was exactly what he wanted.

Delivering milk and plowing fields at Kame House could build strength, but for someone who already had Saitama's physique, the efficiency was far too low.

He needed this kind of violent, unreasonable abuse.

Outside the control room.

Bulma stood holding a tray with a towel and a special electrolyte drink.

She stopped in her tracks in front of the massive one-way glass, staring at the scene inside.

She had seen Yamcha train before.

Yamcha liked to shout and roar when he practiced. His moves were flashy. Every punch came with a cool pose, as if a camera were filming him at all times.

But Krillin was different.

The bald young man inside had no wasted motion whatsoever.

He just lay there, mechanically and silently repeating the same monotonous push-ups.

A small puddle of sweat had pooled beneath him. Steam rose from his bare back.

Because of the gravity's pull, those white wisps didn't drift upward—they slithered eerily along the ground.

The image wasn't beautiful. It was almost savage.

But Bulma couldn't look away.

She saw the muscles in Krillin's back ripple with every movement, like a fully drawn war bow.

Every fiber trembled, yet carried a rhythm that made her heart clench.