By now, the Turles had left the gravitational range of Frieza's headquarters and slipped silently into deep space, like a speck of dust settling onto black velvet.
In the main control room, the ship cruised automatically along its preset course, while the sea of stars drifted slowly past the windows.
Turles stood before the console, looking at the remote star region on the galactic fringe that he had selected on the star chart.
The door slid open behind him, and the brothers Reiz and Lakasei walked in.
Together, they carried a neatly folded set of combat clothes, a darker shade of gray than the Frieza Force's standard uniform.
"Lord Turles." Reiz held out the clothes. "We've made the weighted suit you asked for."
Lakasei added, "As you requested, we simplified the structure and modified it using the Frieza Force's materials technology. The results are more stable and easier to control than we imagined."
Turles took the clothes. They were far heavier than ordinary garments.
At first, he had actually wanted Reiz and the others to build a gravity chamber.
In his memories of his previous life, it was clearly something Dr. Brief had tinkered together on Earth.
Yet here he was in the Frieza Force, with technology ahead of the vast majority of civilizations in the universe, and they couldn't make a simple gravity chamber.
It was downright bizarre.
Had Earth's technology somehow reached the forefront of the universe in certain fields without anyone noticing?
He couldn't make sense of it.
Since they couldn't make a gravity chamber, he could only settle for the next best thing: a weighted suit.
After all, in his memories, this was also an effective training method tested by Son Goku, the outstanding Earth martial artist from the original story, whose original name was Kakarot.
Carrying the clothes, Turles turned and walked toward the training room inside the ship.
The training room was small, its four walls lined with reinforced plates of a special alloy.
Turles took off his Battle Suit and changed into the dark gray weighted suit.
The suit fit snugly against his body, and its flexible joints moved without the slightest stiffness.
He flexed his arms and legs, then raised his wrist and pressed the control panel on the inside of the wrist guard.
Hum-
An indescribable heaviness instantly spread through every part of his body.
It was as though an invisible mountain had descended on his shoulders without warning.
Every bone in his body groaned under the strain in that instant, and his muscle fibers began to tremble violently beyond his control.
Turles's legs buckled, and he nearly fell to his knees.
Amond and the others watching from outside couldn't help stepping forward.
They looked worried.
"Wh-what's going on? Reiz? Did you make it too heavy?"
The brothers Reiz and Lakasei looked helpless too. At first, they had also wondered if it would be too heavy.
But Lord Turles had insisted that they make it heavy.
Inside the training room, Turles gritted his teeth, the muscles in his legs bulging as he forced himself to withstand the terrifying pressure.
Almost the instant the pressure descended, sweat seeped from his pores and trickled down his temples.
Slowly, inch by inch, he straightened his back.
Every cell in his body was screaming in protest.
But whether it was because of his Saiyan genes and their refusal to admit defeat or something else, he actually began to enjoy the sensation.
The sensation of relying purely on his own will to fight against his physical limits.
External aids were shortcuts, after all.
Besides, he had no shortcuts available to him now.
Only strength forged through sweat and willpower truly belonged to him.
He began trying to move.
Just lifting one leg took tremendous effort, and the muscles in his thigh felt as though they were about to tear apart.
He began throwing punches.
His arms moved slowly and heavily, and with every punch, he could hear the dull sound of air being compressed.
Sweat poured down like rain.
Before long, it had soaked through his weighted suit and formed a small puddle on the floor.
His breathing grew heavy, his chest heaving as a beastlike growl rumbled in his throat.
Under the terrifying pressure, the muscles all over his body trembled, tore, and then rebuilt themselves.
The pain of pushing past his limits gave him a perverse pleasure.
Meanwhile.
In another passageway aboard the ship.
Tights was holding on to the wall as she carefully made her way out of her room.
Her stomach rumbled at an inopportune moment.
It seemed she had come out in search of food.
She didn't know where the kitchen was, and she didn't dare wander around at random, so she could only feel her way toward the main control room from memory.
So far, because of Turles, the others hadn't shown her much hostility.
Without quite realizing it, she had even started talking to the others when she felt bold enough.
She was creeping along when, as she passed a branching passage, a strange sound came from deep within it.
It was a dull, rhythmic thumping.
Driven by curiosity, Tights followed it.
She inched toward the sound, one step at a time.
It was coming from behind a tightly shut metal door.
She rose onto her tiptoes and crept silently up to the metal door like a cat sneaking a taste of fish.
There was a small observation window in the door.
She leaned closer, pressing her eye against the cold glass.
It was Turles!
He was wearing an unusual-looking outfit.
Sweat mingled with rising steam, leaving his face somewhat blurred.
But from the right angle, Tights could still vaguely make out his bright, piercing eyes.
The sight even made Tights shudder and take a step back.
Those were the eyes of a primordial beast!
Good heavens, Saiyans really were too frightening.
She had almost been taken in by his politeness over the past few days.
"Hey, new girl, what are you looking at?"
A gruff voice sounded behind her.
Tights jolted all over and sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, turning straight into a solid chest.
"Ow!"
Tights landed on her backside and looked up at Amond, her mind blank.
Amond scratched his head, glanced toward the training room, then looked down at Tights.
Tights took a moment to compose herself.
After standing up, she pointed into the training room and asked quietly, "What's wrong with him?"
Amond calmly returned to his original spot. Tights hesitated for a moment, then followed.
"Isn't it obvious? Lord Turles is training."
"Training? Does he have to do it like that? I thought he'd gone mad and lost control."
At her words, Amond and even Daiz and the others all glared at her.
"Watch what you say, new girl. We're only being polite to you because Lord Turles said you were useful to us. Don't push your luck!"
Realizing she had said the wrong thing, Tights quickly mimed zipping her mouth shut.
She indicated that she would be quiet.
Before she knew it, she too was watching Turles intently, just like Amond and the others, as he gradually adapted inside the training room after struggling to take even a step at first.
His movements grew smoother and smoother.
Time flowed on.
After an unknown amount of time, Turles opened the training room door, drenched in sweat and somewhat exhausted.
As soon as he stepped out, he dropped onto his backside, breathing heavily.
"Lord Turles!"
Amond and the others hurried over to help him.