The silence of deep space was heavy, but my body felt sickeningly light.
I stood in the center of the cargo hold, staring at the steel plating beneath my boots. I had cleared a space, pushing the crates of supplies to the walls, creating a makeshift dojo. I was ready to grind. I was ready to push my remaining 11,000 power level to its absolute limit before I touched down on Earth.
I dropped into a handstand.
"One," I grunted.
I pushed up.
My body launched into the air.
I didn't just lift; I flew. My feet slammed into the ceiling of the cargo hold with a resounding CLANG, denting the metal plating. I floated there, upside down, drifting like a balloon in a drafty room.
"Dammit," I hissed, flipping over and landing softly on the floor.
I had made a critical miscalculation.
I had bought a ship with shielding. I had bought a ship with speed. But I had forgotten that standard galactic ships were built for species that evolved in 1G environments.
Planet Vegeta had ten times the gravity of Earth. My bones, my muscles, my entire biological structure was evolved to fight against a crushing weight every second of every day.
Here? In this standard artificial gravity? I felt weightless.
I grabbed a heavy crate, one marked 'Engine Parts.' On Vegeta, this would weigh a hundred kilos. Here, I tossed it up with one hand like it was made of styrofoam. It spun in the air, hit the wall, and cracked.
"Useless," I muttered, kicking the crate. It skidded across the room and smashed into the bulkhead. "If I train physically in here, I'll tear the hull apart before I break a sweat."
I sat down in the center of the room, frustration gnawing at me.
I couldn't build muscle. I couldn't practice heavy impacts. If I fired a Ki blast larger than a candle flame, I'd blow out the life support.
I was trapped in a cardboard box for four months.
"Mental training it is," I whispered, closing my eyes.
But even that felt hollow. My body was itching to move, to strain, to break. But I had to sit still.
--
The Garl Estate – Clone Body Planet Vegeta
The office of Commander Garl smelled of polished wood and cold ambition.
I stood at attention in the center of the room. My body felt heavy, grounded by the 10G environment, but my spirit felt thin. The split had left me with a power level of 9,000. Compared to what I was yesterday, I felt naked.
Commander Garl sat behind his desk, scrolling through a datapad. He didn't look up.
"Two days," Garl said, his voice grating like stone on stone. "You requested two days of solo isolation in the outer asteroid belt. Your pod telemetry confirms you went there. It confirms you stayed there."
He finally looked up. His eyes were hard, searching for a lie.
"And yet, you return looking... the same."
I didn't flinch. I kept my face a mask of bored discipline.
"The training was internal, Commander," I said smoothly.
"Internal," Garl scoffed. He stood up, walking around the desk. He circled me like a shark. "You play a dangerous game, Cress. The King favors you because you are a mutant. Because you brought him the bug. But do not mistake his utility for affection."
He stopped in front of me, leaning in close.
"You are a tool. A wrench he found in the dirt."
I stared straight ahead. I didn't like it. I could crush this guy if i wanted to, but I didn't.
"I know my place, Commander," I said.
"Good," Garl sneered. "Because if you ever forget it... if you ever think you are one of us..."
He gestured to Ruca, who was standing by the door, silent and rigid.
"My daughter tolerates you because you are a novelty. But to the House of Garl, you will always be a useful mutt."
The silence that followed was heavy.
I prepared to give the standard response. 'Understood, Sir.'
But the words never left my throat.
"Don't call him that."
The voice cut through the room like a whip.
Garl froze. He turned slowly to look at his daughter.
Ruca had stepped away from the wall. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her knuckles white. Her tail was lashing violently behind her.
"Excuse me?" Garl asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I said don't call him that," Ruca said. Her voice shook, not with fear, but with a suppressed rage I had never seen in her.
I looked at her sideways. She was contradicting a Commander, her father, in his own office. It was a breach of protocol that could get her striped of rank, or worse.
"Ruca," Garl warned, his eyes narrowing. "You forget yourself."
"No," Ruca stepped forward, closing the distance. "You forget who won the battle on Planet Meat. You forget who saved the King from Frieza's surveillance. He has earned his armor, Father."
She looked Garl in the eye, a challenge burning in her gaze that mirrored the madness of the Oozaru.
"If you insult him again... If you disrespect the man who has saved my life twice..."
She let her Ki flare. Just for a second. It was a threat. A direct, physical threat to her superior officer.
"...then we are going to have a problem."
Garl stared at her. For a long, agonizing moment, I thought he was going to execute her, not that he could beat her though, his power level was at 6000.
But then, he laughed.
It was a cold, humorless sound.
"Sentiment," Garl spat. "Disgusting. But... perhaps it has given you a spine."
He sat back down at his desk, dismissing us with a wave of his hand.
"Get out of my sight. Both of you. Prepare for the next rotation."
Ruca didn't wait. She grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the office.
We walked down the corridor in silence. Her grip on my arm was tight, bruising. She didn't let go until we reached the private courtyard.
She released me and spun around, her chest heaving.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she hissed. "He called you a dog!"
"He's a Commander," I said, rubbing my arm. My voice was calm, but inside, I was reeling. 'Why did she do that?' "He can call me whatever he wants."
"Not while I'm here," Ruca muttered, looking away. "Not anymore."
She walked to the center of the grass. She took a deep breath, centering herself.
"Spar," she ordered. "Now."
"Ruca, I'm tired from the—"
"I don't care! Fight me!"
She didn't wait for me to get into a stance. She lunged.
It was fast. Faster than she had been a week ago. Her anger was fueling her speed.
I reacted.
I saw the punch coming. My mind, sharp as ever, calculated the trajectory. Duck left. Counter to the ribs.
I moved.
But my body... my body dragged.
The speed I had possessed two days ago, the explosive power, was gone. I was driving a car with half the engine missing.
I ducked, but not fast enough.
Her fist grazed my cheek.
I threw the counter. It landed on her ribs.
Thud.
It was a solid hit. But Ruca didn't buckle. She didn't gasp. She barely flinched.
She froze.
She looked down at my fist pressed against her armor. Then she looked up at my face.
She stepped back, confusion washing over her anger.
"Hit me again," she said quietly.
"Ruca, let's just—"
"Hit me!"
I gritted my teeth. I flared my aura, pushing the 9,000 to its limit. I launched a high kick at her head.
She caught it.
With one hand.
She didn't struggle. She didn't slide back. She just stopped it.
She held my leg for a second, feeling the resistance, feeling the lack of power. Then she gently pushed me back.
I stumbled, regaining my footing.
Ruca stared at me. Her eyes were wide, horrified.
"You're weak," she whispered.
It was a fact.
"Two days ago, you were toying with me," she said, her voice trembling. "Your power was overflowing. Now? You feel... empty. Like half of you is missing."
She stepped closer, reaching out as if to touch me, then pulling back.
"What happened? Did you get hurt? Did the training backfire?"
"It's nothing," I said, turning away. "Just exhaustion. It will pass."
"Don't lie to me!" Ruca shouted. She ran around to face me, grabbing my shoulders. "I know you, Cress! It's gone! Half of it is just gone!"
She was shaking me. There was panic in her eyes. Genuine, terrified panic.
"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you weaker? Did you sacrifice it? Was it the King? Did he do something to you?"
"Ruca, stop."
"Tell me!" she screamed.
I looked at her.
I saw the guilt. She thought this was karma. She thought that after years of her treating me like a toy, now that she finally respected me, I had lost the very thing that made me her equal.
"I can't tell you," I said softly.
Ruca searched my face. "You can't? Or you won't?"
"I won't."
She let go of my shoulders. She stepped back, looking defeated.
"Fine," she whispered.
I was 9,000 now. I was weaker than her. I was beneath her again. Even though we had been together for the past years, I had never fully changed my perception of her, I taught her how to suppress her energy for convenience, not because I saw her as my friend.
Ruca looked at me.
Then, she did something I didn't predict.
She dropped into a fighting stance.
But it wasn't an aggressive stance. It was defensive. It was the stance of a guardian.
She looked me in the eye, and the fire was back. But it wasn't the fire of a bored Elite. It was the fire of a wall that refused to move.
"You said I used you," Ruca said, her voice steady. "You said I only cared because you were entertaining."
She shifted her weight, readying herself.
"Prove me wrong, Cress. You're not strong anymore? Fine. Then I'll be the strong one. I'll cover your blind spots until you get it back."
She beckoned me with one hand.
"Come on. We're not done training. I'm going to beat you until you remember how to be a monster."
I stared at her. She stayed. She was changing, or maybe she had already.
"You're going to regret that," I said, raising my fists. "I fight dirty."
Ruca grinned. It was fierce and beautiful.
"I'm counting on it."
--
4 months later,
The stars blurred from streaks of white fire back into pinpoints of light as the hyperdrive disengaged. The Starlin-Class courier shuddered, dropping out of the tunnel of faster-than-light travel and hanging silently in the void.
I unbuckled my harness and floated toward the viewport.
There it was.
Earth.
It hung in the darkness like a sapphire marble swirled with white clouds. It was vibrant, impossibly blue, and agonizingly familiar.
I placed my hand on the cold glass.
For fourteen years, I had lived under red skies. I had walked on metal grates and volcanic glass. I had almost forgotten what a world was supposed to look like when it wasn't being murdered.
A wave of nostalgia hit me so hard it felt like a physical weight.
This wasn't my Earth. My Earth didn't have dinosaurs, or capsules, or a Dog King. My Earth was boring. My Earth was exams I hadn't studied for, cold coffee, and traffic jams. It was a life of quiet desperation, devoid of Ki blasts and galactic tyrants.
But looking at the color of it through the atmosphere... it hurt. It was a phantom limb ache for a life that felt like a dream I had woken up from too early.
"I made it," I whispered.
I checked my internal energy.
My power level sat at 11,500. The four months of mental training had yielded modest gains. Without gravity, without physical resistance, I couldn't push the ceiling. I had refined my control, sharpened my focus, but the raw number hadn't spiked.
Still, 11,500 on Earth? I was a god.
I closed my eyes and extended my senses.
The planet was loud.
Billions of tiny, flickering lights. Power levels of 2, 3, 5. They buzzed like a hive of fireflies.
I filtered them out. I searched for the spikes.
There were a few. 50... 80... maybe a 100 somewhere in the mountains. Martial artists.
And then, high above the clouds, a solitary, stationary light. It wasn't powerful compared to me, barely scratching 300, but it felt... different. It felt ancient. Calm.
Kami.
"Objective confirmed," I muttered.
I sat back in the pilot's seat.
If I entered the atmosphere with my aura flaring, I would terrify the Guardian before I even landed.
"Suppress," I ordered myself.
I visualized the lead blanket. I pulled the ocean of 11,500 into a tight, dense drop.
10,000... 5,000... 1,000... 500.
I held it. Then I pushed further. 150
It felt comfortable.
"Let's go say hello."
I engaged the sub-light thrusters.
The ship descended.
--
I didn't aim for a city. I didn't want to explain why a grey brick was parking in West City.
I aimed for the Wastelands, a rugged expanse of mushroom-shaped mesas and deep ravines similar to where Piccolo would one day train Gohan. It was desolate, rocky, and perfect for hiding.
The Starlin handled the atmosphere beautifully. No shaking, no red warning lights. Just a smooth glide.
I spotted a deep, shadowed canyon with an overhang.
"Perfect garage."
I brought the ship down. The landing gear touched the rocky floor with a soft thud. The engines whined down and died.
I punched the lockdown sequence on the console.
"System Lock. Voice Authorization: Cress-Alpha-One. Anyone else tries to open the hatch, electrify the hull."
"Acknowledged," the computer chirped.
I grabbed my bag and walked to the airlock.
The ramp hissed open.
The air hit me first.
It was sweet. It smelled of dry grass, and dusty earth. It was rich with oxygen.
I stepped out onto the dirt.
I felt... light.
The gravity was a joke. I weighed nothing. I felt like I could jump into orbit without trying.
I walked a few paces, my boots crunching on the gravel. I gathered some large boulders, stacking them in front of the ravine entrance. To a human, lifting these rocks would require a crane. To me, it was like stacking pillows.
Within ten minutes, the ship was invisible, hidden behind a natural-looking rockfall.
I dusted off my hands.
I was wearing my black and gold Elite armor. It stood out like a sore thumb. I pulled the heavy, travel-worn cloak from my bag and threw it over my shoulders, pulling the hood up. Now, I looked like a wandering nomad. Or a cosplayer.
"Time to fly," I whispered.
I pushed off the ground.
I didn't blast off. I drifted up.
I kept my speed sub-sonic. I wanted to see it.
I flew over forests that stretched for miles, vibrant greens that hurt my eyes after years of red and grey. I flew over oceans that sparkled under a yellow sun.
I watched a herd of dinosaurs grazing on a plain.
"Real dinosaurs," I laughed, the sound snatched away by the wind. "This planet is ridiculous."
But as I flew, the joy was tinged with a heavy sadness.
I thought of my first parents. Not Karr and Sela, who looked at me like a stock portfolio. But the blurry faces from my memories. A mother who hugged me when I scraped my knee. A father who taught me to ride a bike.
They were gone. Dust in another universe.
But this world... this world was still here. I felt safe.
I looked up.
The white tower pierced the clouds like a needle. Korin Tower.
I sensed the cat hermit inside. He was awake, watching me. He felt curious, but not alarmed.
I didn't stop. I had bigger fish to fry.
I ascended past the tower. The air grew thin, cold.
And then, above the storm clouds, the red temple appeared.
The Lookout.
It floated in the sky, defying gravity, serene and silent. It was exactly as I remembered it from the anime. The tiles, the trees, the rounded dome.
It was beautiful. It felt divine in a way that the cold, technological power of the Frieza Force never could.
I slowed my ascent, drifting over the edge of the tiles.
I landed softly.
My boots made a quiet click on the white stone.
The air here was thin, pure. It hummed with a subtle, magical energy.
I looked across the plaza.
A dark-skinned man in a vest and turban was watering a bed of flowers with a watering can. He moved with a slow, deliberate grace. Mr. Popo.
(Ps: sorry to break your immersion, but there is something I would like to address, many people seem to confuse Mr pope for being a human, a black face, it is not the case, mr popo is a genie, he was never considered human by Toriyama, RIP)
And standing near the edge of the sanctuary, leaning on a wooden staff, was an old Namekian.
Kami.
He didn't look surprised. He was watching me with calm, ancient eyes.
I stood there for a moment, struck by the surreal nature of it. I was standing in front of God. Well, Earth's God.
I lowered my hood.
I didn't flare my Ki. I didn't posture.
I bowed. A deep, respectful bow from the waist.
"Greetings," I said, my voice carrying clearly in the thin air. "I come in peace."
Kami stepped forward. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was kind.
"I have felt you approaching," Kami said. "A star falling from the sky. Yet you do not carry the malice of an invader."
He stopped a few feet away, leaning on his staff.
"Welcome to the Lookout, traveler. You are far from home."
I straightened up, meeting his gaze.
--
Wooow I just saw it, number 1, seems like you enjoy this, thanks guys, I know im gonna get passed pretty soon tho.