Here I am again—in the simulation room. My sanctuary, my battlefield, my measuring stick.
This time, I know I'm stronger. If I had to guess, my power level is somewhere around 10,000. It's not exact, of course. There aren't any scouters here, and I doubt the Hero Association tracks power the way the Saiyans did. But I can feel it in my bones—how my punches hit harder, how I can move faster under pressure, how my ki surges with more ease. I judge my strength by comparing myself to how I used to be when I was Nappa. So while it's not perfectly accurate, it's close enough.
But this session isn't about brute strength.
No, this is about efficiency. Precision. Control.
I pull up the AI menu and load a low-level simulation—forest terrain, multiple mid-tier opponents with different fighting styles. My goal isn't to overwhelm them with power but to defeat them using the minimum amount of energy necessary. I need to master how to fight smart, not just hard. I can't afford another moment like what happened when I used Kaioken. I won the fight, sure—but I nearly tore my body apart in the process.
The simulation starts, and I immediately feel the shift in gravity. I've cranked it up to twenty times Earth's gravity this time. Not the max, but enough to slow me down, force me to adapt. The first opponent charges—a speed type with claws—but I sidestep and counter with a single, focused palm strike to the chest. No wasted movement. No unnecessary flaring of ki. Just clean, effective combat.
One down.
Two more come at me. I drop into a lower stance, exhaling slowly. My ki flows with my breath. Every time I move, I try to feel how much energy I'm using. Can I do the same move for less cost? Can I redirect their momentum instead of stopping it outright?
These are the questions that matter now.
I finish the simulation in five minutes flat—no flashy moves, no wide-scale destruction. Just clean takedowns. The AI deactivates the environment, and the forest fades back into sterile metal. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and take a deep breath.
It's working. I'm getting better.
Afterward, I make a stop by the control panel to review my performance data. The AI assistant—cheerful and robotic—greets me as always.
"Simulation complete. Energy expenditure: 17% less than previous average. Power output: stable. Vital signs: nominal."
"Still not enough," I mutter. "I need to be sharper."
"Progress is commendable, Nathan. At your current rate, a power level of 20,000 is achievable within two months."
I smirk. "Let's aim for one."
Later that day, back at home, I'm icing my shoulders when my brother knocks on the door.
"You overdid it again, didn't you?" he asks, grinning like he already knows the answer.
"Just optimizing my form."
He chuckles and tosses me a protein bar. "You're turning into a real hard-ass. That's good. You'll need it next year."
"About that…" I look up at him. "How's the martial arts school here?"
He leans against the doorframe. "Tough. Strict. Brutal. You'll fit right in."
I smile. I don't say anything else, but inside, I'm more determined than ever.
I'm going to walk into that school with my head held high. I don't want to just match my old strength. I want to surpass it. Not as Nappa, the Saiyan brute.
But as Nathan—who chooses who he wants to be.