The materials Borg provided were a quantum leap in quality. The liquid duranium shimmered with a malevolent, oily sheen in its containment vial. The Class-2 energy core hummed with a deep, resonant power that made the air around it vibrate. The neutron-star alloy shavings, barely a handful, felt impossibly heavy, their density warping space itself in a minute, localized field. This was not scrap; this was contraband. Possessing it was a statement of intent, a silent rebellion against the very empire that loomed over them.
Astra wasted no time. Under the cover of the rest cycle, he began his most ambitious forging yet. He activated the 25x gravity field, using the immense pressure not just to train his body, but to aid in the forging process itself, compressing the materials as he worked. He placed his hands on the upgraded regulator and the new components, diving deep into the [Stellar Forge].
His consciousness was a crucible of stars. He guided the liquid duranium, weaving it into a lattice that could withstand forces that would vaporize standard metals. He integrated the Class-2 energy core, creating a power source of terrifying stability and output. But the neutron-star alloy was the true challenge. Its atomic structure was a brutalist masterpiece of collapsed matter, resisting his will with a gravitational defiance of its own.
This was not simple repair or modification. This was alchemy. This was pushing the [Stellar Forge] to its absolute limit, forcing a synthesis of technology and cosmic principle. He poured every ounce of his mana, his will, his desperation into the process. The glow from the device intensified, the etched lines on its surface burning with the light of a newborn sun. The crib around him began to melt, the metal slagging away from the sheer radiative energy.
He was remaking reality on a miniature scale.
When the process completed, the device was no longer a mere regulator. It was a smooth, obsidian obelisk the size of his fist, with a single, pulsating core of captured starlight at its center. It was beautiful and terrifying. He deactivated the old field and, with a trembling hand, triggered the new one.
There was no sound. There was only an instantaneous, absolute condensation of reality.
The remains of his crib vanished, flattened into a subatomic smear on the floor. Astra was driven into the reinforced metal plating of the nursery deck, his body screaming in a symphony of pain so profound it transcended sensation and became a state of being. His vision went black, his bones feeling like glass under a hydraulic press. This was not 50x gravity. This was far, far beyond.
[CRITICAL WARNING!]
[Ambient Gravity: 85x Standard.]
[Host Physiology at 230% of Structural Integrity Limit.]
[Catastrophic System Failure Imminent.]
He had overshot. Dramatically. In his ambition, he had created a monster. He tried to deactivate it, but his neural commands were too slow, crushed by the overwhelming pressure. He was being killed by his own creation. This was the ultimate irony—to survive Frieza's wrath only to be erased by his own hubris.
[Limit-Breaker Trait at Maximum Load.]
[Zenkai Boost Calculated... Insufficient. Host will expire before process completes.]
Despair, cold and absolute, gripped him. This was the end.
Then, another voice cut through the System's cold alerts and his own fading consciousness. It was the voice of the [Stellar Forge], but it was different. Not a tool, but a partner. A repository of all the knowledge it had absorbed.
[Analysis: Gravitational Collapse Imminent.]
[Solution: Cannot reduce field. Must evolve host to withstand it.]
[Initiating Emergency Physiological Reforge.]
Before Astra could even process what that meant, the [Stellar Forge] turned its power inward. The cosmic workshop that had been focused on the device was now focused on him. He felt his own cells being taken apart. His Saiyan biology, his nascent magicule breed organ, his mana circuits—all of it was disassembled under the relentless pressure of 85x gravity.
It was a pain beyond anything he had ever known or conceived. It was the pain of un-creation.
But the Forge was not destroying him. It was rebuilding him. Using the blueprint of his own [Limit-Breaker] trait and the immense environmental pressure as a hammer, it reforged him. It fortified his cell walls with traces of the neutron-star alloy's structural principle. It wove his Ki and Mana channels together into a unified, hyper-resilient network. It compressed his bones, his muscles, his very essence, making them denser, stronger, more efficient.
It was an evolution forced in a single, agonizing moment.
The blackness receded. The crushing pressure was still there, an unimaginable weight, but it was no longer immediately fatal. It was… tolerable. An excruciating, hellish tolerance, but tolerance nonetheless. He gasped a ragged breath, the air like molten lead in his lungs.
[Emergency Reforge Complete.]
[Host Physiology Upgraded: Dense-Body Constitution (Lv. 1).]
[Power Level: 115 -> 255]
[Magicule Capacity: 600 -> 1500]
He had more than doubled his power in a single, near-death instant. But the cost was written in the melted, ruined floor around him and the terrifying new device pulsing in the center of the destruction.
The nursery alarms began to blare. Red lights strobed. He had seconds before someone arrived.
With a monumental effort of will, he deactivated the gravity field. The release was so violent he shot upwards, slamming into the ceiling before crumpling back to the floor. He scrambled, grabbing the obsidian obelisk—the Gravity Forge—and hiding it in the only secure place he had: his personal inventory, a basic function of the System he had barely used until now.
The door to the nursery hissed open. Borg and two other warriors stood there, their faces a mixture of shock and fury as they took in the scene: the destroyed crib, the smoldering, flattened deck, and the single infant lying in the center of the devastation.
"What in the name of Vegeta happened here?!" one of them roared.
Borg's eyes locked with Astra's. In them, Astra saw not just anger, but a dawning, terrifying understanding. This was no accident. This was the power he had helped unleash.
The Ghost was out of the shadows. The devil's bargain had been struck, and the first payment had nearly consumed them all. Astra had his power, but he had also drawn the gaze of the very world he was trying to hide from. The delicate game was over. A new, far more dangerous one had just begun.