Inside the Gravity Chamber, Rhode had steadily increased the multiplier to 20x. Unlike weighted clothing, this was a pervasive, inescapable force—it pressed down on every cell, every drop of blood, every strand of muscle fiber. Even with a battle power exceeding six thousand, simple movement became laborious. Walking felt like wading through cement, and the idea of high-intensity combat was a distant prospect. Full adaptation would take time.
If this is difficult for me, he thought, a flicker of retrospective concern crossing his mind, then what Aira was doing in 30x gravity was sheer madness. It was a miracle she hadn't crushed her own organs.
Twenty times wasn't his absolute limit, but it was the perfect training threshold—demanding yet sustainable. He would increase it only once he could move and fight with his full capability under this load. Dr. Brief's chamber, built from limited materials, capped at 100x gravity. For now, that was more than enough.
Time passed in a haze of focused strain. A sudden, sharp rapping on the chamber's window broke his concentration. He reduced the gravity and opened the door to find Aira, awake and bristling with indignation.
"You were training without me!" she accused, her eyes narrowed.
"Not at all. Care to join?" Rhode replied, sidestepping the accusation with an inviting gesture.
"Of course!" She stormed past him into the chamber, then spun to face him, a competitive fire blazing. "Let's see who can last longer!"
"Heh." Rhode couldn't help a small, exasperated smile. "Aira, the reason you lost wasn't a lack of power. It was control. You have a hundred units of force but can only wield fifty. I can wield ninety. That, plus a bit of technique, is why you couldn't fight back."
Seeing her stubborn focus on nothing but raw power, he felt compelled to offer genuine advice. "Strength grows through training, yes. But it also requires understanding. Without it, you could train yourself to dust and see little gain." He thought of Vegeta, who needed the secret of the Super Saiyan unveiled before he could transform, despite his immense power. "My advice: master your ki control first. Learn to release and retract it freely, instantly. Then chase more power."
He finished speaking, expecting a fiery rebuttal. Instead, Aira fell silent, her brow furrowed in deep, uncharacteristic thought. The humiliating speed of her defeat was a fact she couldn't argue with, and it finally forced her to consider his words.
Leaving her to her contemplation, Rhode returned to his own regimen. Under 20x gravity, even basic calisthenics became a profound workout. He followed this with focused meditation, structuring his training with systematic precision.
Aira watched from the side, her competitive spirit undimmed but now tempered by strategy. She wouldn't challenge him again until she was ready. And to be ready, she first had to solve the puzzle of her own unruly power.
In the days that followed, a new rhythm settled over the Gravity Chamber. By day, they trained in tandem—grueling physical drills, deep meditation, and controlled, instructive sparring sessions. By night, they pursued their own paths, their separate disciplines echoing in the quiet of the compound. The reckless race for power had, for now, evolved into a disciplined march. The foundation was being laid, brick by heavy brick, under the relentless pressure of artificial gravity.
And so, time flowed on, marked by the hum of the Gravity Chamber and the silent, steady accumulation of power within them. Their strength grew not in explosive leaps, but in subtle, hard-won increments.
Bang!
Late one night, after a hasty dinner and a brief rest, Aira slapped the button to open the Gravity Chamber door and stepped inside. Her logic was simple and relentless: to defeat Rhode, she needed more than just control. She needed to out-work him, out-suffer him. Thus, her routine extended long after the sun set—hours of additional, solitary training before she allowed herself to sleep.
Hummm…
The chamber activated. With a determined press, she set the multiplier to 30x, then began a series of deliberate warm-up stretches.
Half a month had passed since Rhode's one-second humiliation. In that time, they had progressed methodically. Their daytime training gravity had climbed to a demanding 27x. But at night, Aira always pushed further.
Now, under thirty times Earth's gravity, the pressure was immense, a constant, grinding weight, but it no longer immobilized her. She could move, could even execute moderately intense exercises. She hadn't used a scouter, but she estimated her battle power was now brushing against 8,000. The gains were slower than the initial, explosive surges, but the power was more solid, more truly hers. Her control, while still trailing Rhode's, had improved markedly; she could now suppress her outward battle power to under a hundred.
Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead under the chamber's sterile light. The frustration of being bested still smoldered, but it was now tempered by a genuine, fierce joy in her own progress. Though she'd never voice it, a deep, quiet gratitude had taken root. Had she stayed under Frieza's thumb, climbing from 2,600 to 8,000 might have taken a lifetime, with 10,000 as a distant, unlikely ceiling. Rhode had blasted that ceiling away. Frieza with his 530,000 power? she thought, a savage grin touching her lips amid the strain. He'll be a stepping stone. Sooner or later.
BOOM!
The thought was shattered by an intrusion—not physical, but spiritual. A violent, ferocious, and immense aura exploded into her senses, crashing through the walls of the Gravity Chamber as if they were paper.
It was alien. It was terrifying. And it was close.
Every muscle in Aira's body tensed. Her training focus evaporated, replaced by instant, battle-honed alertness. Her expression hardened into a mask of grim focus. With a swift, decisive motion, she slammed the chamber's shutdown control. The heavy hum ceased, the oppressive weight lifting instantly. She didn't waste a second. The door hissed open, and she burst out into the cool night air, her eyes already scanning the darkness for the source of the overwhelming, threatening power. The peaceful rhythm of their training was over.
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