The Ouroboros was a specter. Its hull, plated with the matte, light-absorbing Arcosian Bio-Steel, seemed to drink the light from the hangar bay. It was smaller than Borg's scout ship, but every line of its design spoke of a singular, brutal purpose: survival. Astra had stripped it of weapons, shields, and crew quarters, turning the entire interior into a reinforced training chamber wired directly to the Gravity Forge's core. This was not a warship; it was a cocoon.
King Vegeta stood at the edge of the hangar, a solitary, brooding figure. There was no ceremony, no fanfare. This launch was a state secret, a treasonous hope hidden from their galactic overlords. His gaze was unreadable as he watched Astra, now clad in a simple, dark flight suit, walk up the ramp.
"Remember our agreement, Technologist," the King's voice echoed in the vast, empty space, the title now a hollow formality.
Astra paused at the top of the ramp but did not turn. "The survival of the Saiyan race is the only agreement that matters now."
The ramp hissed shut, sealing him in the ship's stark interior. The only features were the pilot's chair, a bank of life-support monitors, and the central, obsidian disc of the Gravity Forge, fused to the deck. He settled into the chair, his mind interfacing directly with the ship's systems through the command wristband.
[Ouroboros systems: Nominal.]
[Gravity Forge integration: Stable.]
[Course plotted for The Cradle's Veil.]
With a thought, he engaged the engines. The Ouroboros lifted silently on its anti-grav drives, slid through the magnetic containment field of the hangar, and emerged into the void above Planet Vegeta. The blood-red world hung below him, a jewel of brutality and doomed ambition. He felt no nostalgia, only a cold sense of necessity. He was leaving the cradle of his second life to seek another.
He input the final jump coordinates and engaged the hyperdrive. The tear into the Veil was just as violent as the first time, the ship groaning in protest as it was forced through a reality not meant for transit. Then, the sudden, deafening silence of the formless grey.
He guided the Ouroboros through the nothingness, the ship's sensors useless, relying entirely on the [Stellar Forge]'s attunement to the beacon. Time lost meaning. There was only the grey and the slow, steady pulse of the Forge, a lighthouse in a sea of non-existence.
And then, there it was. The hexagonal platform, the silver runes, the shimmering archway. The Cradle's Threshold. It looked exactly the same, a timeless, silent sentinel.
He brought the Ouroboros to a halt before the archway. The vortex of opalescent energy swirled within, beautiful and terrifying. The energy barrier hummed with a power that made his new level of 2,150 feel insignificant.
It was time.
He didn't approach the gate. He stood before the Gravity Forge in the center of his ship. He had gambled his life to reach this point. Now, he would gamble it again to cross the threshold.
He activated the Forge.
He started at 50x gravity, a field that would have killed his former self instantly. His [Dense-Body Constitution] held, but the strain was immense. He began his Void Fist katas, his movements precise and agonizingly slow. He pushed his Ki and Mana through the [Energy Harmonization] pattern, the flow becoming a torrent under the pressure.
[Power Level: 2,150 -> 2,190]
A small gain. Not enough. He increased the field. 75x.
The metal of the ship groaned. Astra's bones creaked. He pushed through the pain, his [Mind's Eye] turned inward, analyzing every micro-tear, every straining fiber. He was a blacksmith hammering his own soul.
[Power Level: 2,190 -> 2,250]
Closer. But he could feel it—the Key required not just raw power, but refined power. A specific frequency of control. He was a sledgehammer trying to mimic a laser cutter.
He took a deep breath, centering himself amidst the crushing pressure. He remembered the feeling of the gateway, its perfect, geometric stability. He let that memory guide him. He didn't just push his energy out; he shaped it. He wove his Ki and Mana into a complex, resonant pattern, mimicking the harmony of the runes on the platform outside.
He focused this refined energy into his hand, letting it build, a sphere of perfectly controlled, immense power. It was a miniature star, contained not by force, but by understanding.
He increased the gravity one last time. 100x.
The world dissolved into pure, white agony. But within the agony, his hold on the energy sphere did not falter. It grew brighter, more stable. He was not just withstanding the pressure; he was using it to sharpen his control to a razor's edge.
[Power Level: 2,250 -> 2,900]
He held the sphere, his body screaming, his will a diamond. He looked through the viewport at the shimmering archway. He extended his hand, not physically, but with his energy, projecting the perfectly harmonized sphere towards the gate.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the vortex within the archway stilled. The opalescent energy solidified, forming a stable, mirror-like surface. The barrier was gone.
The Key had been accepted.
Exhausted, drenched in sweat and his own blood, Astra deactivated the Gravity Forge. The release was so profound he nearly blacked out. He staggered to the pilot's chair and guided the Ouroboros forward.
The ship passed through the archway.
There was no transition, no tear. It was like passing through a curtain of light. One moment, the grey void. The next...
He was inside The Cradle.
He looked out the viewport, and his breath caught in his throat. The System's notification appeared, its text stark against the impossible vista.
[Destination Reached: The Cradle.]
[A/N: Congratulations, Technologist. You've passed the first true test. Now, the real work begins. Welcome to your new workshop.]