The days turned into weeks as I settled into a routine. Training, strategizing, repairing the ship, and reflecting on what lay ahead. The clarity brought by my time alone was refreshing, but the pressure of the future was never far behind. Every decision I made now would either solidify my survival or doom me in the battles to come.
My power level had increased, reaching 5,000 after rigorous effort. It felt significant compared to where I'd started, but I knew better than to let that number breed complacency. Power levels weren't just numerical—they were mountains of effort condensed into raw strength, technique, and willpower.
Vegeta's 18,000 still loomed over me like an unscalable cliff. And then there was Frieza. I couldn't even fathom his power yet.
I realized my power growth was slowing despite the hard work. Simply throwing punches or blasting ki into the air wasn't enough anymore. I needed a breakthrough.
One evening, I remembered something that stuck with me from my past life: boxing footwork. It was all about precision, about moving efficiently to conserve energy while staying just out of reach.
I started incorporating this into my sparring drills, shadowboxing against holographic projections from the scout ship. My body moved with an intensity I hadn't felt before—sharp, controlled, and fast.
And then it clicked. Why not develop techniques based on this principle?
Rather than rely solely on brute force, I focused on creating deceptive movements, unpredictable strikes, and seamless transitions between attacks and defense. The Saiyan instincts I had inherited loved this. My body adapted quickly, blending my old world's boxing with the overwhelming power of ki manipulation.
I practiced launching feints that concealed devastating counters, weaving in close to maximize the force of my punches, and harnessing ki to enhance every strike.
These new techniques felt alien yet familiar. They were mine—not Raditz's, not Goku's, not anyone else's.
Ki suppression wasn't just about hiding anymore—it became a tool.
By controlling how much energy I emitted during combat, I could bait an enemy into underestimating me, thinking I was weaker than I truly was. I practiced suppressing my power mid-fight, flaring it only in key moments to deliver overwhelming blows.
I imagined facing Vegeta with this strategy. Could I throw him off balance? Could I outthink him, even if I couldn't overpower him?
The more I trained, the more I realized that victory in the future wouldn't just come from raw strength. It would come from outsmarting my opponents.
The ship was now fully operational for short-range travel. Its hyperdrive was still irreparable, but I had salvaged enough tools and systems to make it useful in other ways.
Using the ship's scanners, I began mapping nearby areas for resources, hidden ki signatures, or anything else that could aid my training. The results were promising—several high-energy readings in remote parts of the planet caught my attention.
One particular signal was faint but steady, coming from deep within a mountain range. It was unlike anything I'd felt before.
Perhaps a natural energy source? Or a dormant power waiting to be awakened?
The thought intrigued me. If I could harness or study this energy, it might give me an edge.
As I prepared for my next move, I kept revisiting the idea of Namek.
Frieza's forces were undoubtedly monitoring the planet, but if I reached it before them, I could have a critical advantage. The Dragon Balls were there, waiting to be used. I could wish for strength, knowledge, or even immortality.
But rushing in unprepared felt reckless. I wasn't Goku—I couldn't rely on plot armor or last-minute transformations to save me.
Instead, I considered a new approach. If I stayed on Earth long enough to become stronger and more skilled, I could still make my move later. Perhaps even use the repaired ship to intercept weaker enemies and gather more resources before committing to Namek.
Standing in the shadow of the scout ship, I stared at the glowing star charts on its display. My reflection stared back at me, a mixture of determination and doubt.
I've come far, but I can't let this progress go to my head.
Namek would remain a possibility, but for now, Earth still had much to offer. The faint energy signal in the mountains was the perfect next step. It could lead to new strength, new challenges, or even new allies.
One step at a time, I reminded myself.
With my newfound resolve, I powered down the ship's systems, ready to face whatever came next.
The signal had been faint but persistent, a rhythmic pulse emanating from the distant mountain range. The ship's scanners couldn't identify it, but my Saiyan instincts told me it was worth investigating. If nothing else, the journey itself would serve as more training—physical endurance, ki control, and perhaps even combat.
I set off before dawn, my movements swift but deliberate. I kept my ki suppressed to avoid detection, even by any lingering wildlife with heightened senses.
The landscape shifted from rolling plains to rocky outcrops, the air growing thinner as I climbed higher. By the time I reached the base of the mountain emitting the strange energy, the signal felt stronger, more distinct.
Whatever's up there… it's alive.
As I approached the cave where the energy seemed to originate, the air grew heavy, saturated with an almost electric tension. I stepped inside, the dim light revealing ancient carvings along the walls—symbols I didn't recognize but that spoke of a long-forgotten civilization.
Deeper in, I felt it: a massive surge of ki, far beyond anything I'd expected.
And then, it moved.
From the shadows emerged a hulking figure—a creature forged of stone and energy, its eyes glowing with a fiery brilliance. It resembled a statue brought to life, every step causing the ground to quake.
It didn't speak. It simply roared, and the force of its voice sent shockwaves through the cave.
So much for this being easy.
The creature attacked with the ferocity of a raging storm, its movements surprisingly fast for its size. Its energy felt raw, unrefined, but powerful enough to rival mine.
I dodged its first strike, the sheer force of its fist shattering the cave wall behind me. My new fighting style came into play, my footwork keeping me one step ahead as I weaved through its attacks.
But dodging wasn't enough. I needed to strike back.
Focusing my ki into my fists, I launched a series of rapid punches at the creature's torso. The blows connected, sending cracks spiderwebbing across its stone skin, but it didn't falter. If anything, it seemed to grow stronger.
Realizing brute force wouldn't work, I shifted my strategy. Suppressing my ki, I baited the creature into overextending itself, dodging its strikes with minimal effort.
The longer the fight went on, the more I noticed its movements becoming sluggish. Its energy, though immense, was burning out faster than mine.
This was my chance.
Using my newfound precision, I unleashed a concentrated ki blast directly at the cracks I'd created earlier. The blast hit its mark, and the creature let out a deafening roar as its body crumbled into pieces, its energy dissipating into the air.
As the dust settled, I noticed a faint glow among the rubble—a crystalline shard, pulsating with the same energy I had sensed earlier.
Holding the shard, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me. It wasn't just raw power; it was something more profound, more focused.
The shard seemed to resonate with my ki, amplifying it in subtle but meaningful ways. It wasn't enough to push me to the next level, but it was a start.
Perhaps there are more like this, I thought, pocketing the shard.
It was a reminder that power could be found in unexpected places, and that even the most dangerous challenges could yield valuable rewards.
---
Refocusing on Strategy
As I made my way back to the scout ship, I couldn't help but revisit the idea of Namek.
The shard had shown me that the universe was filled with untapped potential, but it also reinforced the importance of preparation. If I went to Namek too soon, I risked being outmatched. But if I stayed here too long, I might miss my window of opportunity.
I decided to create a new plan—a hybrid approach that would allow me to balance my training with my exploration of the galaxy.
---
The New Plan
1. Earth Exploration: Seek out more energy sources like the shard. Each one could provide an edge in combat or unlock new abilities.
2. Training Regimen: Continue refining my hybrid fighting style, combining boxing precision with Saiyan ferocity. Perfect ki suppression and counter techniques.
3. Namek Prep: Study the ship's star charts and monitor galactic communications for signs of Frieza's forces. Only move to Namek when I'm confident I can handle what's there.
One step at a time.
As much as I hated to admit it, raw power alone wouldn't be enough to survive what was coming. Goku didn't succeed because he was the strongest from the start—he won because he mastered martial arts, techniques, and strategies.
With this in mind, I decided to expand my horizons. I began searching for martial artists on Earth who weren't tied to Goku's group. The Z Fighters would be too risky to approach—someone like Piccolo or Tien could see through my ki suppression and recognize me instantly.
Instead, I focused on isolated individuals, hoping to find someone who could teach me without realizing who—or what—I was.
The shard had revealed a world of hidden energies, and the ship's scanner became my best ally. It picked up faint ki readings from all over the planet, most of them small and unremarkable. But one stood out—a subtle yet steady energy signature deep within another mountain range, far from any known cities or Z Fighter activity.
Intrigued, I set off toward the source.
The journey was grueling, but it was good training. I focused on maintaining perfect ki suppression while navigating treacherous terrain. By the time I reached the source of the signal, my body was aching, but my mind was sharp.
At the heart of the mountain range, I found a small, weathered cabin. It looked abandoned at first, but the ki signature was unmistakable—someone powerful lived here, though they seemed to keep their energy tightly suppressed, almost like I did.
Before I could approach, a voice called out.
"You've been stomping around here for hours. Either come closer or leave. I don't like being spied on."
A man stepped out of the cabin, his appearance as rugged as the landscape. He was older, with gray streaks in his hair and a lean but muscular build. His eyes, sharp and calculating, studied me carefully.
"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, keeping my power level as low as possible.
"The name's Kohra. And you?"
I hesitated. My name was a dead giveaway. "Just… Radin. A wandering warrior."
Kohra snorted. "Wandering, huh? You're carrying a lot of ki for someone pretending to be ordinary."
Without warning, Kohra launched an attack—a quick, controlled punch aimed at my chest. I barely dodged, the force of the strike enough to stir the dust around us.
"You're slow," he remarked, his tone calm but cutting. "Powerful, but sloppy. No discipline."
Anger flared in me, but I bit it back. This was what I'd come for—a chance to learn.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"I want to improve," I admitted. "I've been training on my own, but I need better technique. More precision."
Kohra's eyes narrowed. "And why should I help you?"
"Because you're the best option I've got," I said bluntly. "And because I can offer something in return."
Kohra agreed to teach me, but on one condition: I had to prove I was willing to listen.
"Strength without control is just chaos," he said during our first lesson. "If you can't control your power, you're no different than a rampaging beast."
His training was unlike anything I'd experienced. He focused on the smallest details—breathing, stance, and movement. He taught me to feel the flow of energy within my body, to direct it with purpose rather than brute force.
At first, it was frustrating. I was used to overpowering my way through obstacles, but Kohra's methods required patience and discipline.
"You're too rigid," he said one day, striking my shoulder with a stick. "Loosen up. Stop trying to force every movement."
Gradually, I began to see results. My punches became faster, my dodges more fluid. Even my ki attacks felt sharper, more controlled.
During one of our breaks, Kohra shared his philosophy.
"True strength isn't about how much power you have—it's about how you use it. A well-placed strike can topple a mountain, but a thousand wild punches won't even scratch it."
His words stayed with me. They reminded me of why so many of Goku's enemies had failed. They relied on overwhelming power, but Goku's mastery of martial arts gave him the edge.
I resolved to apply this lesson to my training. It wasn't enough to just increase my power level—I needed to refine every aspect of my combat style.
After weeks of training with Kohra, I felt like a new fighter. My movements were smoother, my energy more focused. Even my ki suppression had improved, allowing me to hide my power more effectively.
But there was still so much to do.
As I prepared to leave, Kohra offered me a final piece of advice.
"Strength is just a tool. What matters is how you use it—and why. Remember that, Radin."
I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in.
With my training complete, I set my sights on the future. The energy signatures I had detected earlier still called to me, and Namek remained a tantalizing possibility.
But for now, my focus was on becoming the best version of myself—one step at a time.