Weighted clothing and gravity rooms both had the same flaw.
They were inconvenient.
Heavy clothing couldn't be removed in the middle of a fight. A gravity room, even in capsule form, still needed space to deploy. In real combat, neither option was reliable.
So I built something new.
Eight spherical drones, each no larger than a volleyball, designed to work together.
Their purpose was simple:
First—create a stable gravity field.
Second—generate a barrier strong enough to contain both the gravity distortion and the user's ki output.
In theory, the barrier could withstand the force of a small nuclear explosion. That was more than enough. Goku might one day reach a level where he could shatter planets with casual attacks, but right now, this system could safely handle his training.
I gave one set to Goku.
Another to Krillin.
"These will transmit all your training data to me," I explained. "So don't slack off."
Krillin laughed nervously.
"Y-Yeah… no pressure, right?"
I also invited Chi-Chi to use them if she wanted. She didn't train as intensely as Goku or Krillin, but she was stronger than she realized—and I wanted her safe.
With them occupied, I finally allowed myself to rest.
For the first time in months, I took several days off.
No blueprints.
No simulations.
No prototypes.
Just sleep, meditation, and silence.
If I broke my mind, none of this would matter.
When I returned to work, I started on my next project.
Combat utilities.
I created a set of small devices—each no bigger than a baseball.
Gravity distortion bombs.
When activated, they produced brief gravity fluctuations—high or low—for only a few seconds.
+5x
+15x
+25x
Or their negative equivalents.
A trained fighter could adapt.
But a sudden shift?
Even for someone like Goku or Vegeta, it would disrupt their rhythm.
Two seconds of imbalance was enough.
Enough to dodge.
Enough to counter.
Enough to survive.
"Fighting isn't just about strength," I muttered while testing the prototypes.
"It's about timing."
Like the drones, these devices ran on ki. Training automatically recharged them. No external batteries. No downtime.
Efficiency mattered.
Everything had to work together.
Progress never happened overnight.
Not for humans.
Not even for Saiyans.
Every improvement needed testing. Every breakthrough needed refinement. Even their legendary bodies required time to adapt.
There were no shortcuts.
And I wasn't trying to create miracles.
I was trying to build stability.
I thought of Gohan.
Of his small hands clutching his books. Of his shy smile. Of how easily he laughed.
He had incredible potential. I knew that better than anyone.
But sending him into hell before he was ready… like Namek…
No.
Not in this timeline.
He would grow stronger.
At his own pace.
In a controlled environment.
Not through trauma.
Not through loss.
For now, my focus was clear.
Raditz.
His arrival was approaching.
I needed to be ready.
I needed to study him. Understand Saiyan biology more precisely. Gather data for my next phase.
Not to become like them.
To survive alongside them.
I clenched my fists.
"I'm done watching from the sidelines," I whispered.
The future wasn't fixed.
It never was.
But changing it wasn't a sprint.
It was a marathon.
If I ran at full speed from the start, I'd collapse halfway.
So I would pace myself.
Push when necessary.
Rest when needed.
Adapt when things went wrong.
Because if I lost my sanity…
Then everything I'd built would be meaningless.
And I refused to let that happen.