"Afraid?"
Aira's taunt hung in the air. Rhode's eyes narrowed, a predatory smirk curling his lips. He looked down at her, his gaze dripping with condescension. "You think a few days of brute-force training makes you my match? Hmph. I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back."
It was true her ki had swelled to rival his own, a testament to her savage dedication and the Senzu Beans' forced recovery. But raw power was a blunt instrument. Without the finesse to wield it, without the ingrained combat sense to channel it efficiently, it was just noise. She was a novice who had won the lottery, trying to fight like a grandmaster.
"Stop boasting! We'll see!" Enraged, Aira exploded from her stance, a blur of motion aimed straight for him.
**Whoosh!**
Rhode didn't move to meet her. He simply vanished. When he reappeared, it was on the manicured lawn outside the Gravity Chamber, the setting sun casting long shadows. He turned, his calm eyes finding her as she burst out after him. "Now. Try."
"Here?" Aira skidded to a halt, her gaze sweeping over the pristine Capsule Corp buildings. A flicker of hesitation—concern for the property—crossed her face.
Oh? Rhode's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. The impulsive brawler was considering collateral damage? An interesting, subtle shift.
"If you're worried about the scenery, don't be." He stated her unspoken thought aloud, cutting off her protest before it formed. Then, he raised a single finger, his voice dropping to a calm, deadly serious tone. "One second. Aira. That's all I'll need to end this."
The provocation was perfect. Her aura erupted in a volcanic burst of fury. "YOU'RE TOO ARROGANT, RHODE!" In the space of a breath, she was before him, her leg a scythe aimed at his head.
**Heh.**
A soft chuckle. His hand came up, not with speed, but with impossible, preternatural timing, catching her ankle with a casual grip that felt like steel. "To show you respect," he said, his voice still infuriatingly calm, "I'll use my full power next. Are you ready, Aira?"
The smile on his face, the utter composure, sent a primal shiver of alarm down her spine. Her newfound power suddenly felt clumsy, unrooted.
"Aira," his voice came again, a gentle warning. "I'm attacking."
Panic, pure and instinctive, spiked in her heart.
But where was he?
He had vanished from her sight, from her senses, completely.
**Thud!**
A precise, compact force impacted the side of her neck—not bone-breaking, but perfectly calculated. The world erupted into blinding stars, then collapsed into silent, velvet black.
**Thump.**
Her limp body began its fall, only to be caught effortlessly by Rhode, who now stood behind where she had been.
He looked down at the unconscious Saiyan girl in his arms, a strange, almost rueful expression on his face. "Did I hit her too hard?" he muttered to himself. "She's definitely going to train even more obsessively after this..."
His original plan had been to let her save face, to engineer a hard-fought draw. But the moment the fight moved to open ground, that plan had evaporated. The instinct to assess, counter, and dominate—to end a threat with maximum efficiency—had taken over completely. Their previous drawn-out battle in the wastes had served a purpose: testing his own new limits and gauging the scale of her near-death boost. He hadn't been holding back then. If she hadn't had that last-second spark of tactical genius to detonate his Kamehameha prematurely, she would have been gravely wounded, likely tasting death's edge once more.
This, however, was different. This was a statement. A lesson in the gulf between possessing power and truly mastering it. He hefted her lightly, turning back toward the mansion. The peaceful evening of West City remained undisturbed, holding no witness to the swift, brutal lesson that had just transpired on its perfect lawn.
"Aira's ki control is still too imprecise, and her application of it is downright crude," Rhode mused, carrying her limp form back toward the mansion. In terms of raw power, they were nearly neck-and-neck—both hovering between six and seven thousand. But where Rhode had painstakingly refined and mastered every ounce of his strength, Aira's power had bloated from frantic, desperate training. Instead of consolidating her gains, she had chased more, faster, worsening her already shaky control. Against Rhode's surgical precision, her chaotic, brute-force energy was hopelessly outmatched. The only reason she could still fight at all was the foundational control she'd recently learned; without it, her power would have spiraled into unusable chaos.
"Ah, well. If I hit her hard, so be it," he decided with a shrug. "If I'd held back, she'd only see it as an insult. This way, with a one-second knockout, she probably won't challenge me again for a good while."
Besides, having a clear, burning goal to chase was good for her. It would focus that wild energy.
Having settled the matter in his mind, Rhode deposited the still-unconscious Aira on a couch in a quiet lounge. Then, he went to find Dr. Brief.
In the cluttered laboratory, the scientist's eyes went wide with guilty surprise at the mention of the Dragon Ball Radar. "Ah! The, uh, the radar!" He'd been utterly consumed by the alien technology from Rhode's ship, and the simple locator device had slipped his mind entirely. Flustered, he pushed his goggles up his forehead. "Right, of course! Don't worry, Rhode. I'll prioritize it immediately. I'll have a prototype for you in no time!"
"No rush, Doctor. Your expertise is appreciated," Rhode replied smoothly. There was no point in pressing the matter. The dragon balls would have to wait.
With that path temporarily closed, only training remained. The Gravity Chamber was ready. Perfect.
He peeked back into the lounge. Aira was still out cold, her breathing deep and even. Good. Let her sleep it off. Proper rest is part of proper training.
Stepping into the pristine white chamber, the door hissed shut behind him. He approached the control panel and set the multiplier to *10x*—the standard gravity of Planet Vegeta.
**Hummm…**
A deep, resonant thrum filled the space as invisible pressure settled over him, a familiar, almost nostalgic weight pushing down on every cell. For a moment, his mind felt slightly heavy, his limbs denser. But within minutes, his body remembered. This was the gravity of his birthplace; a pressure he had adapted to as an infant. It was like slipping on a well-worn glove—uncomfortable at first touch, then perfectly fitted.
He rolled his shoulders, stretched his legs, and performed a series of fluid warm-up movements, his body moving with assured grace under the increased load. The strain was present, a constant, grounding resistance, but it was nothing his Saiyan physiology couldn't handle with ease.
A focused gleam entered his eyes. Warm-up complete.
His finger moved to the control panel, hovering over the increase button. The real test was about to begin. He started dialing the gravity up, notch by notch, seeking the precise edge where growth demanded effort, and effort promised power.
Patreon Seasay