The warm glow of the rising sun filtered through the dense forest, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. I stood in the clearing outside the cave, my breathing steady, fists clenched.
Training wasn't just about raw power anymore. If there was one thing Goku's victories had proven, it was that skill often trumped strength.
Martial arts were the key, techniques that allowed fighters to outthink and outmaneuver their opponents. Even Frieza, with all his overwhelming power, had been caught off-guard by strategies he didn't anticipate.
---
Rediscovering Boxing
I closed my eyes, memories of my past life flooding back.
Before, I'd been just a man—ordinary, weak by Saiyan standards. But I'd learned boxing, not as a passion but as a necessity. Life had thrown its punches, and I'd learned to throw them back.
The techniques came back slowly at first: the jab, the cross, the hook, the uppercut. Footwork, balance, timing—these weren't things Saiyans typically cared about. Saiyan battles were about overwhelming the opponent, relying on brute force and instinct.
But I wasn't just a Saiyan anymore. I was something new, someone who could blend the savagery of my race with the precision of human combat.
---
Incorporating Martial Arts
I spent hours shadowboxing, my fists cutting through the air as I refined my movements.
Boxing was only the beginning. The holographic simulations provided by the ship offered glimpses of other fighting styles—kicks, grapples, throws. I studied each one, adapting what I could to my own growing repertoire.
The real breakthrough came when I combined these techniques with ki.
A simple jab, infused with just a sliver of energy, became a devastating blow capable of splitting stone. A hook, timed with a burst of ki, created shockwaves that rippled through the forest.
For the first time, I felt like I was truly controlling my power, channeling it with precision instead of unleashing it recklessly.
---
Strategic Considerations
As night fell, I sat by the campfire, the flickering flames illuminating the scouter's star map.
Namek's coordinates glowed brightly, a constant reminder of what was at stake.
If I left now, I could reach Namek before Frieza. There was no guarantee I'd find the dragon balls, but if I did…
Immortality. Unlimited power. A chance to rewrite my destiny.
But the risks were enormous. Even if Frieza wasn't there yet, Vegeta might already be en route. Namek wasn't a safe haven—it was a battleground waiting to happen.
And then there was Earth. Staying here meant more time to train, to refine my techniques and grow stronger. But it also meant risking discovery by the Z Fighters, who might not be so forgiving if they found me.
I clenched my fists, frustration boiling inside me.
"Dammit," I muttered. "Every path leads to danger."
But wasn't that the Saiyan way?
---
Preparing for the Unknown
The scouter buzzed faintly, pulling me from my thoughts. A distant power level flickered on the display, too weak to be a Z Fighter but significant enough to warrant caution.
I grabbed my makeshift cloak, covering my armor as I moved to investigate.
The source of the power was a small crater, where a piece of alien technology lay smoldering. It was a damaged communication beacon, likely a remnant of an old scouting mission.
I salvaged what I could, my mind already racing with possibilities. If I could repair the beacon, I might be able to intercept more transmissions—perhaps even eavesdrop on Frieza's forces directly.
---
Training and Reflection
Over the next few days, my routine became relentless.
Mornings were spent refining my martial arts, blending boxing with other techniques I'd observed. Afternoons were dedicated to ki control, focusing on suppression and precision.
The evenings were for strategy.
I mapped out potential scenarios: confronting the Z Fighters, battling Vegeta and Nappa, facing Frieza. Each plan relied on my ability to outthink my enemies, to exploit their weaknesses instead of relying on brute force.
And yet, Namek lingered in the back of my mind.
I stared at the star map each night, weighing the risks and rewards. If I went to Namek and succeeded, I could return to Earth stronger than ever. But if I failed…
---
The Promise of Power
One evening, as I stood in the clearing, I unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, my movements sharp and controlled.
The forest shook with the force of my blows, trees splintering as I channeled my ki into each strike.
When I finally stopped, panting and drenched in sweat, I looked down at my hands.
These hands, once weak and fragile, were now capable of reshaping worlds. But power alone wasn't enough.
I needed more. More strength, more knowledge, more time.
"I'll make my choice soon," I said aloud, my voice firm. "But when I do, it'll be on my terms. Not Frieza's. Not Vegeta's. Not anyone's."
The wind carried my words into the night, a vow to myself and the universe.
The numbers blinked on the scouter's display, a cold and unfeeling testament to my progress.
3,200.
It wasn't insignificant. When I first arrived on Earth, my power level had been barely above 1,500. Now, after weeks of relentless training and surviving battles, I had more than doubled my strength.
But it still wasn't enough.
---
The Reality of Power Levels
A power level of 3,200 meant little in the grand scheme of things. Vegeta's power had been over 18,000 when he fought Goku. Frieza, in his final form, was rumored to have a power level in the millions.
These weren't just numbers—they were walls, insurmountable barriers that separated the strong from the truly invincible.
Attaining higher power wasn't just about effort. It was about pushing past limits, breaking through the barriers of the body and mind. And for a Saiyan, it often meant surviving battles that left you on the brink of death.
The Zenkai boost, I thought, the Saiyan trait that allowed us to grow stronger after near-fatal injuries. I'd experienced it after the fight with the bio enemy. My power had surged, but it was far from the exponential growth I needed.
---
The Challenge of Growth
I stood in the clearing, my fists wrapped in makeshift tape, my body drenched in sweat. The sun was high in the sky, casting harsh shadows across the forest floor.
Each punch, each kick, carried the weight of my frustration.
How did Goku do it?
Goku wasn't just strong—he was a master of his craft. His ability to combine techniques, strategy, and raw power made him nearly unstoppable. And yet, he hadn't started with strength. He'd earned it, piece by piece.
I thought back to my old life, to the grueling hours spent perfecting my boxing. Every jab, every hook, had been the result of endless repetition.
Perhaps power levels weren't so different.
---
A New Approach
I adjusted my training routine, focusing not just on increasing my power but on refining my control.
In one exercise, I created tiny orbs of ki, forcing myself to keep them stable as I moved. If I lost focus, they exploded, sending shockwaves through the forest.
In another, I practiced ki-infused strikes, channeling energy into specific points of impact. A single finger jab, infused with precise ki, could crack boulders.
These exercises weren't about raw strength—they were about efficiency. If I couldn't match Vegeta's power, I'd outthink him.
---
The Namekian Dilemma
At night, the stars called to me, Namek's coordinates glowing like a beacon on the scouter.
What would I even wish for?
Immortality was tempting, but it came with its own risks. Power, on the other hand, could be fleeting.
And then there was the third option: time.
If I wished for the ability to train without limits, to master my techniques without the looming threat of Vegeta or Frieza, I might stand a chance.
But going to Namek meant risking everything. I could arrive before Vegeta and Frieza, but I'd still have to contend with the Namekians. And if Frieza got there first…
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling within me.
It's too soon to decide.
---
The Drive to Survive
The next morning, I stood before the ship's training module. I'd programmed a new simulation, one designed to push me to my limits.
As the holographic enemies materialized, I took a deep breath, centering myself.
Each opponent was stronger than the last, their attacks faster, their strategies more complex. I dodged, countered, and struck with precision, my movements a blend of Saiyan ferocity and human technique.
By the time the simulation ended, I was on my knees, gasping for air. My body ached, my muscles screaming in protest. But I felt alive.
This was what it meant to grow stronger—not just in power but in spirit.
---
A Plan in Motion
After the session, I examined the salvaged communication beacon. With some modifications, I could use it to intercept Frieza's transmissions—or even send a false signal to misdirect him.
If I stayed on Earth, this could buy me more time. If I went to Namek, it could give me an edge.
The options swirled in my mind, each one fraught with risks and rewards.
For now, I would focus on the present. The ship's training module held more challenges, and my body still had room to grow.
But the clock was ticking. Vegeta and Nappa were coming, and Frieza wouldn't be far behind.
I stared at my reflection in the ship's monitor, my face hardened with resolve.
"I'll surpass them all," I muttered. "No matter what it takes."
The universe didn't care about my struggles, my plans, or my dreams. But I would force it to notice me.