Chapter 3: The Weight of a Feather
The transition at midnight had been different this time. Before the "Iron Internalization" reward, the doubling of his power had felt like a violent surge, a frantic expansion of heat that threatened to split his skin. But now, as the clock struck twelve and his Combat Power jumped from 128 to 256, the sensation was unnervingly quiet.
It felt like a soft, heavy blanket settling over his soul.
Kaito sat in the mouth of his mountain cave, watching the moon hang high over the jagged peaks of the Diablo Desert range. He didn't feel "stronger" in the way a bodybuilder feels after a heavy set of squats. He felt denser. It was as if every atom in his body had been reinforced with an invisible, unbreakable lattice.
He looked down at his hands in the pale moonlight. They were still the hands of a young man, somewhat calloused from a week of mountain living, but otherwise unremarkable. Yet, he knew that if he were to strike the granite floor beneath him with even a fraction of his intent, the mountain would groan.
[Current Combat Power: 256]
[Status: Superhuman Athlete / Martial Arts Master Level]
"Two hundred and fifty-six," he whispered. The sound of his own voice seemed to carry further than it should, vibrating against the canyon walls. "I've officially surpassed the man who blew up the moon. I'm stronger than the turtle hermit. And it's only been eight days."
The realization brought a cold shiver that had nothing to do with the mountain wind. In the original Dragon Ball, it took Goku years of grueling training, climbing Korin Tower, and dodging lightning to reach this level of power. Kaito had achieved it by sleeping and eating wild berries.
The "Iron Internalization" was working perfectly—almost too perfectly. He could feel his Ki now; it wasn't a leaking gas anymore, but a pressurized liquid flowing through his veins. It obeyed him. When he wanted to pick up his plastic water bottle, he had to consciously "tell" his muscles to exert the force of a normal human. If he stopped paying attention for even a second, his grip would default to his new "base" strength, and the bottle would be erased from existence.
He stood up, his movements fluid and ghostly. He decided to test his coordination. He picked up a small, jagged pebble—no larger than a marble—and tossed it into the air.
As it reached its apex, Kaito moved.
To a normal observer, he would have simply vanished. To Kaito, the world had merely shifted into a lower gear. He reached out, plucking the pebble from the air, then spun it between his thumb and forefinger with the speed of a high-power drill. He could see the microscopic grains of quartz in the stone. He could feel the air resistance pushing against his skin, a friction that would have blistered a normal person's hand but felt like a light breeze to him.
He dropped the pebble. It didn't bounce; it hit the dirt with a dull thud, driven an inch deep into the soil by the sheer residual momentum he had imparted to it.
"I need to eat," he muttered, his stomach growling with a ferocity that surprised him.
This was the hidden cost of the System. Doubling his power didn't just happen out of thin air; his body was a furnace, and it needed fuel. In the first few days, a few protein bars and some scavenged fruit had been enough. Now, his metabolism was starting to ramp up. His cells were demanding calories to support the sheer density of his muscular and energetic structure.
He stepped out of the cave, his eyes scanning the treeline below. His vision was no longer human. He could see the heat signatures of small animals moving in the brush half a mile away. He could hear the rhythmic thrum of a hawk's wings high above, a sound like a slow, beating drum.
He began to descend the mountain, not by walking, but by taking long, rhythmic leaps. Each jump carried him thirty feet down the slope. He landed silently, his knees absorbing the impact with the grace of a predatory cat.
As he reached a lower plateau, he spotted a mountain goat perched on a rocky outcropping. Normally, he would have felt a pang of guilt, but the hunger was becoming an ache. He needed protein, and he needed it in massive quantities.
He didn't use a Ki blast. He didn't even use a named technique. He simply blurred forward.
The goat didn't even have time to turn its head. Kaito was there, then he wasn't. He carried the carcass back toward his cave, realizing halfway through that the weight—easily over a hundred pounds—felt like he was carrying a literal feather.
He spent the next hour preparing a fire. He had to be careful; rubbing two sticks together at his current speed caused them to ignite instantly, nearly scorching his eyebrows. He sat by the flames, roasting the meat and thinking about the timeline.
"Eighty-two days left," he calculated.
If he continued at this rate, the numbers would soon become incomprehensible. He took a bite of the meat, his mind wandering back to Satan City. He thought about Krillin and the others. They were likely training at the Orange Star High gym or sparing at Roshi's island, pushing their limits for a 1% gain in strength.
He felt a strange sense of isolation creeping in. He was their friend, but he was becoming something else. He was becoming a biological anomaly.
What happens when I hit ten thousand? he wondered, staring into the orange heart of the fire. What happens when I hit a million? Will I still be able to sit at a table with them? Will I still be able to laugh at Yamcha's jokes without sensing the fragility of his skull?
The System screen flickered in his mind, as if sensing his doubt.
[Note: Social integration is recommended to maintain psychological stability. Total isolation may lead to 'God-Complex' degradation.]
Kaito sighed, leaning back against the cool stone of the cave. "Easy for you to say. You're the one making me a monster."
He spent the rest of the night practicing "Micro-Control." He placed a single leaf on the palm of his hand and tried to channel just enough Ki to make it hover without burning it. It was grueling work—not physically, but mentally. It was like trying to perform brain surgery with a sledgehammer.
Every time he failed, the leaf disintegrated into ash. He went through a pile of fifty leaves before he finally managed to make one twitch without destroying it.
By the time the sky began to turn a bruised purple with the coming dawn, Kaito was exhausted. Not because of the physical exertion, but because of the sheer mental strain of holding himself back.
He lay down on the hard stone, closing his eyes. He didn't need a blanket; his body heat was perfectly regulated now. As he drifted off, he felt the familiar, low-frequency hum beginning deep in his marrow.
Tomorrow, he would be a 512. He would be stronger than King Piccolo. He would be the strongest "villain" Earth had ever known before the arrival of the Saiyans.
And he was still just a guy who wanted to go to a birthday party.
Progress Report:
• Current Day: 8
• Current CP: 256
• Next Milestone: 1,000 CP (Day 10)