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I loved hiking. It was liberating.

Up here, the air was just better, cool enough to keep the sweat on my brow from sticking, fresh enough to make me feel alive. My boots crunched over the rocky trail, dodging roots and loose stones. I always liked these hikes: nothing but the open sky, leaves rustling, and the steady rhythm of my dog's paws beside me.

Max—or Sir Max the Third, as I liked to call him—trotted along, his golden fur catching the sunlight as we wound up the mountain path. His tongue hung out in that blissful way dogs do, convinced they're on some magical quest. He'd dart ahead, nose twitching at every corner, then glance back at me as if to say, "What's taking so long you two legged dog?"

"All right, all right," I muttered, grinning as I pushed a branch aside. "I'm coming."

We'd been out here for hours. Normally, this solitude cleared my head, but today... Everything felt wrong. There was a heaviness in the air I couldn't shake, a fog that clung no matter how high we climbed. Maybe that's why I pushed us further than usual, up into the rugged trails where even seasoned hikers were rare.

The sun dipped low, splashing the sky with orange and red. We were close to the summit now—a few more turns, and we'd have the view. Instagram-worthy, as Aunt Mary would say.

I wonder what Aunt Mary's up to... Probably posting her lunch on Instagram.

Max barked, yanking my attention back. Tail wagging as he waited for me to catch up. He really liked these little adventures we had every now and then.

"Almost there, buddy."

Then as pretty much anything in life… It happened. As we rounded a narrow bend, something shifted under my boot—a sudden, sharp lurch. Gravel scattered, my foot slid, and before I could react, the ground vanished beneath me.

My hands shot out, grabbing at nothing. The world tilted, and in a heartbeat, I was falling. Above, Max barked—a frantic sound that faded as the distance between us grew. His golden blur shrank as I tumbled through open air.

'This isn't real. This can't be happening.'

But it was.

The mountainside blurred—a chaotic mess of sky and rock. My body spun, weightless. Memories hit in a rush, snapshots of late-night gaming, walking Max, the warmth of sunlight on my face. Too fast to make sense of. Too fleeting to hold onto.

'I'm going to die.'

There was no time to scream, no time to fight it. Just the quiet, awful realization: this was it.

And then, with a final, violent jolt—nothing.

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I don't know how long I was out... but by the time I came around... a single thought echoed in my mind.

I... was alive?

Everything felt heavy, like my mind was trapped in wet cement. My body floated, weightless yet burdened by some kind of resistance, as if submerged in thick liquid. The only sound was a muffled drumbeat, a dull, rhythmic pulse that was almost soothing.

I felt alive, but... different. Wrong, somehow. Not in a painful way, just... off.

I forced my eyes open, struggling to do so. Light seared my vision, a pale green glow blurring into focus. Slowly, the shapes around me sharpened, taking form and it was here when I realized. I wasn't anywhere familiar. I was… floating in thick, clear fluid, drifting like a fish in a tank.

'What the hell...?'

I looked at my hands—small, pudgy fingers, clumsy and unfamiliar. Panic welled up as I flexed them, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Beyond my hands, rows of pods lined the walls, each one holding... babies? Yes… babies. Newborns, their eyes closed, most of them floating peacefully, while some squirmed around.

'What is this?'

I didn't know what to think of this, the entire thing felt… surreal, like a Sci-Fi setting or something similar.

Unsure about what to do, I pressed a hand against the glass encasing me, feeling the liquid resist, it felt like jelly but softer. Beyond the glass, figures moved among the pods, people in dark clothes, wearing something that I assumed was some kind of armor. As they moved around the pods, I managed to catch a glimpse of their faces, seeing a weird device over their face, a familiar device.

'I'd seen that thing before…on a Dragon Ball. It was a scouter… What in the Sci-Fi hell is going on?'

My heart pounded as I looked at my tiny reflection, barely visible in the green glow, a baby's face stared back, wide-eyed and terrified. 'Is… that me?'

I… died in that fall, didn't I?

The realization hit just as two figures stopped near my pod, speaking in a language I couldn't understand at all. They looked human enough, but not quite— there was something savage about them, they were muscular, with dark wild hair, armor and... tails wrapped around their waists.

Pods. Scouters. Saiyans.

My eyes darted to the other babies, for the first time seeing something, the fact that all of them had tails too, short and downy. I tried to move, but my neck was too weak. Then, I felt it—a tickling sensation at the base of my spine as a fuzzy appendage drifted into view.

A tail. Mine.

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[Cado - Saiyan Scientist - POV]

I walked along the rows of pods, scanning each one. The data looked good—every infant was progressing as expected. Their power levels fluctuated, absorbing the data, adapting to the pod's simulated environment. My fingers tapped along the console, checking the readings reflected on my scouter. Behind me, Rado was busy logging power levels.

Then, one pod caught my attention. The readings were... off the charts. The scouter numbers jumped wildly, spiking to heights I'd never seen in a newborn.

"Rado," I called, keeping my voice steady despite my surprise.

"Yes, sir?" Rado joined me, adjusting his scouter as his eyes widened. "No way... This has to be a mistake. He's just a newborn."

"Check it again," I ordered, folding my arms.

Rado fiddled with his scouter, recalibrating. A tense silence settled over us, broken only by the hum of machinery.

"Well?" I pressed.

"Power level... 1,275," he said, voice trembling.

I couldn't blame my assistant for his shock, the fact a newborn was stronger than him was a hard pill to swallow. Even among our warrior race, such a figure was unprecedented in newborns. That number was usually the peak of what most low class warriors could ever hope to achieve, and yet, a newborn was already outclassing them.

"Who are his parents?" I asked, unable to mask my curiosity.

Rado skimmed the data. "His father is... Paragus."

"Paragus?" I echoed, surprised. He wasn't anyone special—just a cunning warrior known more for strategy than strength. "And the mother?"

"Tomat, a low-class warrior," Rado replied, paling.

"Impossible," I muttered. "A mid class warrior and a low class warrior shouldn't produce this kind of power on their off-spring."

The baby in the pod twitched, tiny fists curling with a strange sense of awareness, as if he sensed us watching.

"Could it be... the legend?" Rado whispered.

"I doubt it," I almost snorted at the thought. This power level, while high, was nowhere near mythical proportions. "That being said, he will be a strong warrior. Based on projections alone, he could reach around 10000 to 13000 units of power as an adult."

"That's… close to the elite class," Rado said, awe creeping into his voice.

"It is, but still keep in mind that these estimates are mostly wishful thinking, there's a lot of variables we can't account for," I replied, my eyes never leaving the infant Saiyan. "Many of our warriors die young on dangerous missions. Others have their growth stunted due to injuries or lack of training."

"Still, this is... a new record," Rado stuttered, his gaze still fixed on the scouter's fluctuating figures. "Before today… The highest recorded power level at birth was 712."

"712…" I frowned, wracking my memory. "That was Onio, the son of Sallot, wasn't it?"

Rado nodded.

"He's a child prodigy, that one..." I mused aloud. "Contact his father."

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[Paragus - POV.]

The message from the nursing hall had come as a surprise. They rarely contacted parents directly, especially if the child had one low-class warrior parent in the mix. But the words were clear: -Paragus, report to the nursing room, immediately.-

I made my way quickly, my mind running through the usual concerns. An injury, an illness, a genetic mutation perhaps… These things happen every now and then, and to infants especially, they could be dangerous. But when I entered, none of the staff looked like they had news of an emergency.

Instead, the head of the nursery staff, Cado, gestured me further inside with a nod. No pleasantries, he just led me down one of the main rows and stopped in front of a particular pod.

My son's pod.

"Here we are," Cado said simply. He kept his tone neutral, but I noticed a spark in his eye. Perhaps my son had been lucky to inherit my strength, being born as a Mid Class Warrior instead of a Low Class Warrior like his mother.

As I looked at Escarot, I couldn't help but feel a jolt of pride. He was small, Saiyan cubs always were, but there was a solidness to him. His tiny fists were clenched, and his face was set in a scowl. Even asleep, he looked fierce. A warrior just like his old man.

Eager to see how strong my cub was, I tapped the scouter to measure his power level. And almost immediately, the numbers on the screen hummed to life, whirring softly as it read the energy radiating from my cub. Then, with a soft beep, a number flashed across the lens: 1279.

My heart stopped.

That couldn't be right. I checked it again, but the scouter gave the same reading. 1279.

This was… unheard of. A power level this high in a newborn? I had expected strength from my bloodline, I mean, sure my mate, Tomat, was a low class warrior, but still she was no weakling. But this? His power far exceeded my wildest dreams for him.

A laugh rose in my throat, low and disbelieving. My cub was a warrior, born strong. Stronger than most. In one day, my son had surpassed even some veterans. It was a clear sign that he was meant for greatness.

"He's… strong," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Cado nodded, his expression unreadable. "He's stronger than every other newborn that has come before him by a large margin at that, Paragus. You're looking at the highest recorded birth power since Onio, the son of Sallot. Needless to say, we've moved him to the high-class wing."

"The high-class wing," I repeated, glancing around. The newborns here were one in a million, destined for royal service, specialized missions, and positions of command. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my son would be among them.

"This level of power isn't typical," Cado continued. "Especially considering his parentage." His words were measured, careful. The underlying message was clear: a low- and mid-class pairing didn't typically produce anything close to this level of potential.

"I… I am aware," I admitted, unable to move my eyes away from my cub, Escarot. He twitched in his pod, his fist clenching tighter.

"His body's already adapting to the atmosphere in the pod, and learning his programming at an amazing rate," Cado replied. "Most infants spend weeks if not months getting used to it all, but your cub is learning quite fast."

"I expected no less for my child," I replied, a smile on my face.

Cado watched me for a moment, the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You should be proud. But understand, Paragus, that with this strength, he'll be expected to do more than most. His training will start early, and it will be intense. That kind of talent… it has to be honed."

"I understand." My hand rested on the cool glass of Escarot's pod, tracing the outline of his tiny, sleeping form. This was a son worth fighting for, worth risking everything for. "Whatever it takes to make him stronger, I'll do it."

Cado's smile faded, replaced with the hard expression of a man who had seen generations of Saiyan infants rise and fall. "Just remember, Paragus—expectations are a double-edged sword. The king himself will likely take an interest in Escarot's progress. He has no tolerance for weakness, especially considering your cub will be expected to serve the royal family directly."

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. There was nothing to worry about, I knew our King would see the potential of my cub.