Hundredfold Gravity Chamber

The World Martial Arts Tournament had come to an end, and the crowds dispersed.

Outside the airport, Krillin stood with an oversized travel bag nearly twice his height strapped to his back, gazing at Son Goku with longing in his eyes.

"Goku, are you really not coming back to Turtle Island to train?" Krillin rubbed his aching shoulders, his face full of reluctance. The past half-year of one-sided beatings from Son Goku during training had certainly been torturous, but the leap in strength was just as real.

Son Goku patted his shiny bald head and smiled. "The foundation's solid now. I need a different way to train. Keep practicing properly with Master Roshi. At the next tournament, I'll personally test your results."

Master Roshi adjusted his sunglasses. Looking at this disciple who had completely surpassed him in every respect in barely half a year, his gaze was calm and relieved.

"Go on. The outside world is the only place big enough for a monster like you." Master Roshi waved a hand and sighed. "With your foundation, there's really nothing more this old man can teach you. Go find your own path."

"Thank you, Master Roshi. Take care." Son Goku bowed solemnly.

When he turned around, Bulma was waiting for him beside a sports car parked by the roadside. Her neat work jacket and shorts made her look especially sharp and spirited.

"Now you've got nowhere to go, right?" she asked happily.

"How about coming back to West City with me and becoming the gravity chamber's exclusive test subject?"

"Gladly," Son Goku agreed.

With a whistle, the Flying Nimbus streaked through the air. Son Goku wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, and under Krillin's envious gaze, they turned into a streak of light and flew toward West City.

West City, Capsule Corporation headquarters. An underground top-secret research center.

With a long hiss of depressurization, the heavy alloy doors slid apart to either side. A silver-gray hemispherical structure, brimming with a futuristic feel, stood in the center of the facility.

Son Goku stepped inside, swept his gaze across the pressure-resistant walls, and fixed his eyes on the massive gravity generator in the middle.

Its rounded, weighty design, with that violent sense of beauty, was practically identical to the style he remembered.

"Identical to what?" Bulma tied up her blue hair and looked at him in confusion.

"I mean this aesthetic really carries on the Capsule Corporation family tradition. It's quite charming," Son Goku replied without changing expression.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Bulma proudly pulled him over to the main control panel. "Come here, big shot. I'll teach you how to use it. You may be strong, but if you operate it wrong, this gravity chamber can turn into a hydraulic press."

A faint fragrance drifted into his nose. Pointing at the parameters on the screen, Bulma explained patiently, "This is the adjustment dial. You can fine-tune it or input a number directly. The red button on the left is the emergency stop. If you feel like your organs are shifting or your consciousness is getting hazy, hit it no matter what, understand?"

"The chamber is fitted with a full-range vital signs monitoring system. The data will sync to my lab in real time. If you push yourself until your heart stops, the system will automatically cut the power. And I..." Bulma paused, her tone turning serious. "I'll rush in immediately and drag you out."

"Got it. Thanks." Son Goku said no more and pulled off the top of his martial arts uniform.

At the sight of those muscles, seemingly forged from steel and iron and packed with explosive power, Bulma's cheeks suddenly heated up. "Then... you get used to it first. I'll go prepare a nutritional meal." She stammered out the sentence, then slipped out through the chamber door without looking back.

The alloy door locked shut behind her.

Son Goku did not overestimate himself. He steadily pressed a number on the panel—10.

Ten times Earth's gravity, the standard gravity of the Saiyan homeworld.

Beep. Gravity field activated.

A low hum filled the chamber. It felt as though all the air had been sucked away, replaced by a leaden heaviness.

His shoulders abruptly sank, as if an invisible mountain had been placed on his back. Every bone in his body ground under the pressure with a teeth-aching creak. His blood flowed as sluggishly as mud, and breathing felt like working a bellows.

His knees bent slightly, and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. An unprepared Earthling martial artist would have had their internal organs crushed to pulp by that alone.

But Son Goku only felt his entire body heating up.

Under pressure enough to crush an ordinary person, the Ancient Saiyan Bloodline deep within his genes awakened completely like a wild wolf catching the scent of blood. His savage aura was about to burst free, but he forcibly suppressed it with his precise control over ki.

Not a trace leaked out. Instead, he dragged that violent energy back and forcefully compressed it into every muscle fiber.

Destruction, repair, compression, reinforcement.

In less than ten minutes, his slightly bent legs straightened firmly like pine trees. He tried throwing a punch forward.

Bang!

A dull sonic boom exploded inside the chamber, and the air under ten times gravity rippled visibly from the blow.

"This feeling, like every cell in my body is greedily devouring pressure... it's seriously addictive." Son Goku shook out his wrist, flames igniting in his dark eyes.

"My body's adapted now. Next, it's time to grind myself to death!"

Several months passed in the blink of an eye.

Over those months, Son Goku lived like a precision instrument, yet somehow led an outrageously comfortable life.

Locking himself in the gravity chamber and training himself half to death was not because he wanted to take some grim, masochistic path. What he sought was absolute power, enough to calmly crush every future crisis. Since he already knew how the future would unfold, naturally he had to max out his strength during this peaceful period, then steamroll his opponents without any pressure.

Besides, if he had earned the privilege of living off a rich woman through his own ability, then he could enjoy it with perfect confidence.

He set down an ironclad rule: every week, no matter how crucial his training had become, he would forcibly shut off the gravity chamber and set aside one entire day.

On that day, he was no longer a training fanatic who battled heaven and earth, but the exclusive bodyguard of Capsule Corporation's young lady.

Like one weekend afternoon.

The two of them wore loose cotton pajamas and sprawled without any dignity across the sofa, playing video games.

"KO!"

An exaggerated prompt sounded from the speakers as Bulma's cute girl character landed a Rising Dragon Punch, cleanly sending Son Goku's burly fighter flying out of the match.

"Bulma, you're first-rate when it comes to video games!" Son Goku tossed aside the controller and glanced at the girl beside him, who was grinning like a little fox. "That move's wind-up is ridiculously long. In real life, I'd have a hundred ways to take him apart with one slap."

"Games have their own rules. How could the mighty world champion be such a sore loser?" Bulma smugly swung her fair legs, casually grabbed a handful of plain potato chips, and stuffed them into his mouth. "As punishment, you're coming shopping with me tomorrow. You'll be my heartless cash machine... no, my human shopping cart!"

Son Goku chewed the chips and rested his head on Bulma's thigh. Closing his eyes contentedly, he drawled lazily, "As you wish, Miss. But we need to raise the stakes. For lunch, I want premium marbled wagyu—at least a hundred plates."

"Eat, eat, eat. You'll bankrupt me sooner or later..." Bulma complained, but her fingers slipped expertly through his black hair, massaging his tense scalp. An unfading tenderness flowed through her clear eyes.

In this companionship so full of contrast, Bulma felt an unprecedented sense of peace. These days filled with the warmth of everyday life not only soothed their taut martial nerves, but also made the thin barrier between them grow as delicate as a cicada's wing without either of them realizing it.