The World Martial Arts Tournament was tomorrow, and Bulma had already left early so she could sightsee before the event began. As for me, I stayed behind at Capsule Corp. My first battle-robot prototype was finally ready. I didn't build it entirely alone — Dr. Brief helped fix the software issues after I managed to cause a few dozen error messages.
We powered the robot on together. Dr. Brief held the controller while the machine hummed to life.
"Go ahead and switch it to battle mode," I said. "Make it target me."
He pressed a few buttons, and the robot's eyes lit up red as it locked onto me. I couldn't sense its ki — robots don't have any — but judging from its strength and speed, I estimated its power to be somewhere around 150. Rough guess, but close enough.
It wasn't much of a challenge. Still, I could see potential.
"If we adjust the balance algorithms and lighten the internal frame, we could make the movements more efficient," I said after dismantling part of the armor plating.
Dr. Brief nodded thoughtfully. "You could, yes. You've got talent for this."
"Do you think we could program it to move autonomously? At least partly. Something with restrictions — enough to sell or rent these things out for protection."
He scratched his cheek. "I'm not personally interested in mass-marketing weapons, but I can build you a small factory and a handful of workers if that's what you want. You can handle the production."
That was fair enough. Strength-wise, the robot wasn't impressive yet, but I had plans — big ones. Eventually, I wanted a robot strong enough to fight me seriously. Someone — something — who could corner me, push me, force improvement. And one day? Maybe even surpass me.
The thought made my chest tighten in a strange way.
Me — Raditz — the strongest fighter on Earth.
Not bad for someone who used to be the weakest Saiyan of my age.
Weaker than a Saibaman.
But not anymore.
After recalibrating the robot with Dr. Brief, his wife insisted I stay the night and eat dinner with them. Once I finally settled into the guest room bed, my mind drifted.
Should I go to the tournament?
Support Goku?
Calling him "Goku" still felt weird sometimes. I had known him as Kakarot his entire life — even before he could walk.
If my training pace continued, I figured I'd reach Nappa's current level within six months. Eight at worst. Faster, if I could build a robot strong enough to push me beyond my limits.
My train of thought snapped when I felt a sudden spike of ki… followed by a massive explosion shaking the night.
Before I could even get out of bed, Dr. Brief's voice crackled through the small intercom on the nightstand.
"Raditz! The moon — someone destroyed the moon! Completely gone! Not even debris!"
I sat up, stunned.
Only one person on Earth could fire a blast that powerful.
Roshi.
But why? He wasn't even participating in the tournament.
As the shock faded, logic kicked in.
If the moon is gone, then Goku won't transform into an Oozaru tomorrow. He's already trained with me and learned to control that form, so normally it wouldn't be a problem. He might lose control someday — anything is possible — but the chances are low now that he understands how to stay focused.
Still… destroying the moon out of nowhere?
I'll ask tomorrow. I'm too tired tonight to chase answers.
I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, letting the quiet hum of Capsule Corp surround me. Tomorrow would be interesting — with or without the moon.