Sister Called

The sky was just beginning to brighten, and while West City remained fast asleep, the open-air launch pad at Capsule Corporation had been completely cleared.

A water drop-shaped ship with a matte, silver-gray metallic finish stood silently on the launch rack. Lacking bulky thrusters and devoid of any visible seams, it looked like a piece of art that had transcended its era.

Below the ship, Dr. Gero stood in his lab coat, clutching a data terminal tightly in his hand. His gaunt cheeks twitched slightly from excessive excitement, and his eyes, hidden behind thick lenses, remained locked onto his labor of love.

"Master Goku, the core is completely stable, and all redundant data has been purged," Dr. Gero said, stepping forward with a raspy voice.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Son Goku nodded slightly, turned, and stepped into the hatch.

The airlock sealed, completely isolating the sound of the wind outside. Inside the cockpit, Bulma was already seated at the main console. She had changed into a sleek, light-blue spacesuit that accentuated her graceful curves, and her slender fingers danced rapidly across the holographic keyboard.

"Anti-gravity engines are preheated, and the coordinate system is disengaged from Earth's gravitational pull." Bulma glanced over, flashed a gesture at Son Goku, and then pressed a red start button.

"Hold on tight, I'm taking you on an elopement!"

There was no deafening roar, nor any tail flame tearing through the air.

Powered by the core designed by Dr. Gero, the water drop ship rose silently from the ground like a faint blue afterimage.

A dozen seconds later, the ship smoothly broke through the atmosphere. On the screen, the azure Earth was rapidly shrinking. Bulma unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned against the screen, a wild look in her eyes. "I've been cooped up for so long, I'm finally out! My dad keeps nagging me to take over the business, but I'm not doing it!"

Son Goku leaned back in the co-pilot's seat, watching the home planet gradually turn into a sapphire, and smiled. "Is this really an elopement? I can't afford the ransom for the daughter of the world's richest man."

"Stop with the nonsense!" Bulma shot him a glare.

"Navigation is locked, and autopilot is engaged. You can go report to your Gravity Chamber now!"

In the gravity chamber on the bottom level of the ship, red warning lights flashed to a dull, rhythmic beat.

The numbers on the control panel were locked at a staggering [300G]!

What was the concept of 300 times gravity? If a heavy tank were placed here, it would be crushed into an iron pancake by its own weight in an instant. For blood to circulate normally, the heart would have to erupt with the power of a nuclear reactor. If an ordinary person were to stand here, a single breath would cause their alveoli to burst and their skeleton to collapse.

Bang!

A teeth-grinding thud exploded in the center of the gravity chamber.

Son Goku was shirtless, his muscular torso glistening. Sweat had barely seeped from his forehead before the terrifying gravity slammed it down toward the floor. Directly in front of him, three first-generation SP Series sparring machines, covered in bionic muscle and built with memory alloy, were executing a tactical formation to crush him without reservation.

"That's the stuff!"

Feeling the tearing sensation brought on by 300G, Son Goku grinned. A hint of excitement flashed in his eyes; the Saiyan's innate love for battle was fully ignited.

Facing a whip kick from SP-01 that could have sliced an aircraft carrier in half, Son Goku didn't even dodge, instead raising his left arm to take the blow head-on.

Boom!

The massive recoil nearly cracked the special alloy floor beneath his feet. His thick arm muscles trembled violently from the impact, and the solid, bone-jarring pain felt incredibly exhilarating.

But these machines felt no pain. The moment Son Goku blocked the whip kick, SP-03 silently slipped behind him, its hand-blade glowing with a cold blue light as it thrust toward his heart. At the same time, SP-02 suddenly lunged from the floor, locking onto his legs with a death grip.

"They've even integrated such advanced combo tactics? Dr. Gero really put in the work!"

Facing the coordinated assault, Son Goku moved forward instead of retreating. He chose not to explode with energy to crush them, but instead greedily savored the pure physical combat. He twisted his waist against the terrifying 300G pressure.

His right fist, like a heavy cannon fired from its chamber, slammed unreasonably into the attacker behind him.

Accompanied by a shrill metallic groan, the armor on SP-03's chest caved in terrifyingly. The entire machine flew backward, slammed into the metal wall, and slid slowly to the floor. With a burst of electrical sparks, the red light in its eyes extinguished completely.

Immediately after, the muscles in Son Goku's legs surged, and he forcefully broke the lock on his lower body. He followed up with a powerful knee strike that slammed into SP-02's chin. The massive impact bent its bionic cervical spine, causing SP-02 to freeze. Its system flashed an overload red light, and it slumped to the ground.

Hoo...

Son Goku let out a long breath and pressed the stop button on the wall.

The gravity field dissipated, and the suffocating pressure of Mount Tai receded like a tide. He twisted his neck, listening to his cervical vertebrae pop crisply, and felt the increasingly refined power in his limbs with a satisfied nod.

"This is the only intensity that counts as real training." Son Goku glanced at the nearly ruined sparring partners.

Thanks to Dr. Gero adding self-repairing memory metal to their materials, even though they were currently powered down and paralyzed, they would grow back and return to being tireless sandbags after a few days in the repair bay.

Tossing a towel over his shoulder, Son Goku flexed his slightly sore shoulders and walked out of the gravity chamber. "Time for a shower, then I need to join Bulma for dinner."

Half an hour later.

Son Goku, now wearing loose black loungewear and slippers, walked into the landscape dining room on the middle level of the ship. As soon as he entered, the rich aroma of seared meat wafted toward him.

On the large dining table, over a dozen plates of top-tier Wagyu beef, sizzling and steaming, were arranged neatly. Bulma was wearing an oversized white shirt, her damp hair piled casually behind her head, as she walked over carrying two glasses of fresh juice.

"Perfect timing. Eat up; if you don't replenish your energy after high-intensity training, you'll lose muscle mass." Bulma smiled, pushed the juice toward him, and sat down across from him, resting her chin on her hands.

Son Goku didn't waste words, picking up his knife and fork to sweep through the food like a whirlwind.

Just as he finished the fifth plate, the holographic communicator on the dining room wall suddenly began to flash red with a "beep-beep-beep."

Bulma paused, then tapped the answer button.

The screen lit up, and a burst of static came through the channel, followed by a crisp, somewhat carefree female voice:

"Hey—hey? Bulma? Can you hear me?"

"God, who wrote the firewall for your piece-of-junk ship? It's like a hedgehog! I had to pull strings with that octopus-looking guy from the patrol squad, and it nearly fried a supercomputer just to hack in!"

Bulma covered her forehead in exasperation upon hearing the voice.

"Sis, what are you up to now? I'm currently navigating deep space; why are you hacking into my encrypted channel?"

Son Goku swallowed the beef in his mouth, his movements pausing.

Sis?

The image of Tights—the science fiction novelist who spent her life wandering alien worlds and hanging out with the Galactic Patrol—flashed through his mind.

"Don't you try that tone with me!" Tights blustered from the other end, her voice brimming with gossipy excitement and the authority of an older sister.

"Mom and Dad said you've grown quite bold, running off on an interstellar trip with some wild boy! No matter how much trouble you caused before, at least you were still on Earth. But now? You've gone and eloped into space?!"

"Sis! He's not a wild boy, his name is Son Goku! And when it comes to causing trouble, I can't even compare to you..." Bulma's face flushed red as she rushed to defend him.

"I do that for research for my novels! And here you are, already protecting him after I say a few words!" Tights interrupted her like a machine gun.

"Bulma, send me your coordinates immediately! I'm bringing some friends from the Galactic Patrol to meet you two; as your sister, I have to vet him! Beep—beep—"

Before she could finish, Tights had already decisively cut the connection.

Bulma stared at the darkened screen, scratched her cheek in embarrassment, and looked at Son Goku. "Um... my sister is just naturally boisterous like that. She's used to hanging out with those alien patrolmen, so she doesn't have a filter. Please don't take it to heart."

"Why would I mind?" Son Goku set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and smiled. "It's only natural for a sister to be worried when you leave behind a billionaire's fortune to follow me into deep space. Besides, now that my sister-in-law has come knocking, there's no reason to avoid her, is there?"

He stood up, walked to the main console, and pulled up the nearby star map. The screen quickly displayed an artificial celestial body in the sector ahead, converted from a cluster of abandoned meteorites and densely packed with spaceship signal anchors.

"Then let's agree to meet at the Wanderer Space Station up ahead!" Son Goku turned back and raised an eyebrow at Bulma.

"Oh, Goku, stop calling her sister-in-law!" Bulma's face turned even redder as she grabbed a cushion from the table and threw it at him, though her eyes were overflowing with sweetness.

"But I'm warning you, my sister is incredibly curious. Try to keep your abilities under wraps—don't scare her."

Son Goku caught the cushion, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry, my best skill right now is acting like an ordinary person."