The underground laboratory of Capsule Corporation smelled of a distinctive blend of machine oil and ozone.
In the center stood the massive hemispherical gravity chamber, like a sleeping steel beast.
The heavy alloy door was open, revealing an empty, cold training space inside.
"Although it's a prototype, the core stabilizers are pretty solid."
Dr. Brief held his pipe in one hand while tapping a few keys on the complex control console with the other.
"Theoretically, it could reach three hundred times gravity, but at that point, the foundation of this mansion would probably collapse."
He turned to the bald boy standing eagerly beside him, his eyes behind his glasses betraying a hint of curiosity.
"Krillin, are you sure you don't want to wear protective gear?"
"Even astronauts wear pressure suits to protect their organs."
"No need."
Krillin stripped off his shirt, wearing only loose training pants.
Under the cold fluorescent light, his skin gleamed with a healthy bronze, and beneath the understated muscle lines lay terrifying latent power.
"The only way for the body to truly learn gravity's pressure is to feel it directly. The cells must remember this fear. Then… they evolve."
Krillin stepped through the doorway.
The heavy hydraulic door closed behind him with a slow, teeth-grinding clang.
The world went instantly silent, leaving only the faint hum of the ventilation system.
"Start with two times gravity," Dr. Brief's voice came through the speakers.
"Make it ten times," Krillin gestured at the camera without hesitation.
Dr. Brief's hand trembled on the console, and the black cat on his shoulder let out a sharp hiss.
He sighed and pushed the red lever forward.
"Vvvrrr…!!!"
The gravity chamber's red lights flared, and a low-frequency vibration surged through the entire space.
This was not just the sensation of carrying extra weight.
Gravity pressed in all directions.
In that instant, Krillin felt his blood turn like liquid mercury.
The fluid that had once flowed lightly now weighed a ton.
Every heartbeat demanded ten times the usual effort to pump this heavy blood through his limbs and organs.
"Ugh!"
Krillin grunted, his knees nearly giving out.
His eyes were pulled downward, vision blurring.
Every breath felt like inhaling knives, his diaphragm contracting violently to resist the invisible pressure.
This was ten times gravity.
It was far more than stacking ten Krillins on top of each other.
The pressure pressed against every inch of skin, every vein, every organ.
A normal human would have their insides ruptured and bleeding instantly.
But Krillin did not fall.
"Saitama template… adaptive mode activated."
He whispered it in his mind.
The power of that bald monster had not come naturally; it had been forged through breaking limits day after day.
This near-limit pressure was the perfect fuel to destroy restraining factors.
Krillin gritted his teeth. Blue veins bulged along his neck like writhing worms.
He slowly, inch by inch, straightened his spine.
Bones creaked and groaned, sounding like an old wooden ship struggling in a storm.
"Hoo… haah…"
He forced his breathing into a steady rhythm, driving the heavy oxygen deep into his lungs.
"First exercise… push-ups… one hundred."
Krillin went down onto the floor.
Even this simple exercise became like lifting a mountain under ten times gravity.
Hands pressed into the floor.
The high-strength alloy beneath his palms sank slightly.
"One."
Down and up.
Sweat emerged from his pores, only to be pulled to the ground by gravity, splattering into eight droplets.
"Two."
His triceps screamed, muscle fibers tearing and recombining at a microscopic level, growing stronger.
This was exactly what he wanted.
Delivering milk at Kame House or farming was training, yes, but far too slow for someone with the Saitama template.
He needed this brutal, unreasonable punishment.
Outside the control room, Bulma carried a tray with a towel and a specially formulated electrolyte drink.
She stopped in front of the huge one-way glass, frozen at the sight inside.
She had seen Yamcha train before.
He liked to shout and strike flashy poses, as if a camera were always rolling.
But Krillin was different.
The bald boy inside moved without flair or theatrics.
He simply lay there, mechanically, silently repeating monotonous push-ups.
Sweat pooled beneath him, forming tiny puddles, and steam rose from his bare back.
Gravity pressed the vapor downward, so it slid along the floor instead of floating up, creating a strange, almost menacing effect.
It was not a pretty sight, even slightly grotesque.
Yet Bulma could not look away.
She saw the muscles in Krillin's back rise and fall like a drawn bow.
Every single muscle trembled, radiating a rhythm that made her heart pound.
This was pure, raw masculine power, devoid of showmanship. Only an obsessive drive to grow stronger.
"Ninety-eight…"
"Ninety-nine…"
"One hundred!"
Krillin completed the last push-up, then immediately rolled over to begin sit-ups.
Every ab was sharply defined, like sculpted stone.
Bulma felt her cheeks flush.
As the daughter of the world's richest man, she had seen countless exceptional men.
Polished gentlemen, and warriors with both looks and strength.
But no one had ever given her this feeling.
This… vitality, palpable even through thick, reinforced glass.
Ten minutes later.
The gravity device powered down.
The red lights dimmed, replaced by green.
The pressure vented with a hiss, and the heavy chamber doors slid open slowly.
Krillin stood up, feeling like he had just emerged from water.
The sudden disappearance of ten times gravity made him feel weightless.
Sweat ran down his shiny bald head, across his chest, into his pants.
Bulma's gaze followed a bead of sweat until it reached a dangerous spot, jolting her to look away frantically.
"Here."
She handed him a soft white towel.
Krillin looked up at her averted eyes.
"Thanks."
He grabbed the towel and roughly wiped his face.
"This is a specially formulated sports drink, for replenishing salts."
She shoved the cup into his hands, accidentally brushing his scorching palms and recoiling like she'd touched live wires.
"This gravity chamber is impressive."
Krillin gulped down the drink, his Adam's apple moving as he let out a satisfied sigh.
"Though the floor is a bit soft. Tell the Doctor to use something harder next time."
"That is aerospace-grade titanium alloy!"
Bulma could not help but tease.
"You're just too extreme!"
She looked at Krillin, still steaming, ready to tell him to take a shower, but her words froze.
"Uh… your muscles… have they grown since yesterday?"
Krillin glanced at his chest and pinched it casually.
"Maybe a little engorged. Don't like it?"
He stepped closer, leaving less than a foot between them.
The strong scent of sweat and hormones hit her.
Not unpleasant, but raw, primal, and assertive.
Bulma's heart skipped a beat. She pressed herself against the cold control panel, with nowhere to retreat.
"W-Who said I liked it…"
She turned her head away stubbornly, her ears bright red.
"So hard… just looking at them makes me hurt."
"Really?"
Krillin smiled but didn't move closer. He knew when to stop.
"I'll take a shower. By the way, what's for dinner?"
"This kind of training burns insane calories. I feel like I could eat a whole dinosaur."
Watching Krillin walk away, his broad back forming a perfect inverted triangle under the lights, Bulma took a deep breath and patted her flushed face.
"Bulma, focus!"
"He's just a bald kid! And only in his teens!"
Her words said one thing, but her mind replayed the image of sweat sliding over his chiseled chest, refusing to let it go.