"Oh?" Rhode's eyebrows lifted, genuine surprise coloring his expression. He knew of Bulma's future legend—the architect of time machines and gravity chambers—but faced with the physical proof clutched in the hands of this knee-high prodigy, the abstract concept of 'genius' crystallized into something staggering. She built this. At this age. A rueful thought followed: when he'd been searching for the Dragon Balls before, he probably could have just asked her to whip up a Radar. It would have saved a lot of trouble.
"How powerful is it?" he asked, curiosity piqued. "Have you tested it?"
"Of course it's powerful! I made it!" Bulma declared, hefting the weapon with both small hands. She squinted one eye, scanning the skyline before pointing at a distant, multi-story commercial building. "Theoretically, one shot could take that whole thing down."
Rhode followed her gaze to the sizable structure, skepticism warring with intrigue. The gun looked advanced, but that level of destruction seemed... excessive for a handheld device made in a backyard lab.
Click.
With a thought, Rhode raised his hand. The air in front of them shimmered and parted, forming a stable, silvery portal. "Show me," he said, gesturing inside. "We can test it freely in here."
Bulma scurried forward, peering through the gateway into the stark, endless white of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Her nose wrinkled. "What is this? There's nothing in there!"
"It's a special space. Very large, very empty. Perfect for a demonstration." He stepped through, beckoning her to follow.
Once inside, she finally noticed the distinct, solitary structure of the Chamber's living quarters on the horizon. "What is this place?"
"It's a time-dilated dimension," Rhode explained, pointing back at the open portal that framed a slice of her sunny backyard. "When that door is closed, one year passes in here for every day outside. I use it for training."
Bulma's eyes went wide, then sharpened with sudden, brilliant understanding. She looked from the portal to Rhode's adult form. So that's your secret, her gaze seemed to say. The mystery of his rapid maturation was solved.
"Alright," Rhode said, redirecting her focus. "Let's see what your invention can do. Take a shot."
"No way!" Bulma immediately hugged the gun closer, shaking her head vehemently. "This is too powerful! You'd get hurt!"
As its creator, she had a healthy—and in this case, justified—fear of her own product's yield. No living thing, in her estimation, could survive a direct hit.
Refusing to aim at him, she instead turned, planted her feet in a wide stance, and aimed the barrel toward a vast expanse of empty whiteness. A low hum filled the air as energy gathered at the muzzle, coalescing into a sphere of brilliant, crackling light that grew brighter and more volatile by the second.
Bang!
The report was surprisingly crisp. A searing orb of plasma, indistinguishable from a potent ki blast, streaked across the void and slammed into the 'ground' miles away.
**BOOM!**
The explosion that followed was not just loud; it was a concussive wave of heat and light that rolled outward, momentarily painting the sterile white world in oranges and reds. When the glare faded, a sizable, smoldering crater marked the point of impact.
Tsk.
Rhode let out a soft, impressed whistle. The blast's potency was undeniable—easily on par with a mid-level mountain-busting attack. And this was the work of a child who had yet to lose her baby teeth.
A sobering thought followed his awe: it was a profound good fortune for the universe that Bulma's brilliant mind was inclined toward exploration and invention, not conquest and weaponization. The potential contained in that small, blue-haired package was, in its own way, as terrifying as any Super Saiyan's rage.
The sheer scale of the blast left a lasting impression. If this was a child's casual project, Rhode could scarcely imagine the world-ending arsenals a weapons-focused Bulma could design. A direct hit from one of her ultimate creations might indeed stagger even Frieza. Dr. Gero's androids were proof that Earth's genius could forge power capable of challenging the cosmos; Bulma's intellect was a match for his, if not greater.
"So powerful!" Rhode praised, injecting a note of theatrical awe into his voice.
The little genius puffed out her chest, trying and failing to look nonchalant. "Hmph! It's nothing special. Just something I threw together." The triumphant gleam in her big blue eyes gave her away completely.
"Oh, right!" she exclaimed, remembering. "Dad finally finished the anti-gravity flying device based on your ship's tech! He's been wanting to thank you."
"Thank me?" Rhode was genuinely baffled. He'd let Brief study the ship on a whim; a spacecraft was a common enough commodity in the galaxy.
"Yeah," Bulma nodded, adopting a more serious, business-like tone that was comically adult on her small face. "Dad says anti-gravity tech could change everything, but he needs patents and authorization to actually produce and sell it. He can't just use alien tech without permission."
Patent? Authorization? Rhode nearly laughed. He was a Saiyan traveler, not a corporate lawyer. The concept of intellectual property in a universe of scavenged technology had never crossed his mind. He had just assumed...
A sudden realization hit him. Wait. The flying cars and anti-gravity vehicles that become commonplace on Earth... did my ship's tech accidentally kickstart that whole industry? He'd always assumed it was due to Jaco, the Galactic Patrolman, who arrived later and provided the authorization. Speaking of Jaco...
His gaze snapped back to the energy gun in Bulma's tiny hands. In the original flow of events, she built this very weapon because her sister, Tights, had encountered an alien and called for help. That alien was Jaco.
"Bulma," he asked, his tone casual but his attention sharp. "Have you heard from your sister Tights lately?"
"Of course! She called a little while ago," Bulma chirped, hoisting her gun again. "She said she met an alien and needed Dad's help. She wasn't sure if he was friendly, so I made this, just in case!" She patted the weapon's casing proudly.
So it has already begun. Rhode's perception instantly expanded, sweeping across the planet with a fine, spiritual comb. There—in the eastern region, a life force signature burned brighter than any human's, yet felt pitifully dim against the vast ocean of his own power. Jaco. He'd been so focused on grander threats he'd completely overlooked the Patrolman's arrival.
Just then, a new, familiar voice, tinged with shock and scientific curiosity, echoed from the backyard beyond the still-open Space Gate.
"What in the world... is that?"
Dr. Brief, drawn by the spatial anomaly glowing in his garden, stood gaping at the silvery portal, his glasses slightly askew.
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