Learning the Kaio-ken had been straightforward. But the Spirit Bomb... that was a different story. Rhode grasped every nuance of the theory, watched Goku's flawless demonstration, and could intellectually trace every step. Yet, when he tried to perform it himself, the energy refused to coalesce.
At best, he could muster a faint, flickering wisp of genki—not gathered through resonance, but wrenched forth by his sheer, overwhelming power and a brute-force misapplication of the technique's principles. He could not invite the energy; he could only demand a pittance. Using it in battle like Goku was, for now, an impossibility.
A flicker of frustration was quickly quelled by his analytical mind. A limitation is a puzzle. And a puzzle has a solution.
He couldn't use the Spirit Bomb as intended. But its theory was now etched into his consciousness. What if he... modified it? The technique relied on voluntary contribution. What if the framework was altered to allow for coercive extraction? He wouldn't use it on innocents, of course, but against a true enemy... the ethical lines blurred.
This line of thought connected to another technique in his arsenal: Forced Spirit Fission from Yardrat. One technique forcefully separated an opponent's ki; the other gathered benevolent energy. Both were supreme manipulations of life force. Could they be synthesized? Could he create a hybrid technique that forcibly gathered an enemy's ki and vitality, turning their own power against them in a perverse, dark-mirror version of the Spirit Bomb?
And then there was the Tree of Might's biology—a natural, planetary-scale life-force siphon. Another data point on forced energy transfer.
Suddenly, the "failure" with the pure Spirit Bomb felt insignificant. It had given him the seed for a dozen new, potentially devastating avenues of research. A trump card, indeed. Especially against beings who relied on fusion, absorption, or had unique biological energy sources.
A slow, thoughtful smile replaced his earlier frown. The inability to use one technique had just opened the door to creating his own.
"You don't carry much evil in your spirit," King Kai offered, misreading his thoughtful silence for disappointment. "With time and purification of intent, wielding the Spirit Bomb is not out of the question."
"King Kai is right," Rhode agreed smoothly, his mind already leagues away from the original technique.
Goku, who had been vibrating with barely-contained excitement through the entire theoretical discussion, practically bounced in place. "Rhode! Now can you show me? Your real power?"
"I'm really not that strong," Rhode demurred, a habit of understatement. "There are plenty in the universe who dwarf me." Then, without further preamble, he relaxed the stringent control he perpetually maintained over his aura.
**BANG!**
A cataclysmic wind erupted from him, a physical manifestation of raw power. King Kai, Gregory, and Bubbles were sent tumbling head over heels. Even Goku, braced as he was, was blown backward like a leaf in a hurricane. But the outburst lasted less than a second. Rhode's will reasserted itself, the tempest dying instantly to a gentle breeze, allowing everyone to scramble back, wide-eyed.
"So... strong..." Goku breathed, his voice hushed with awe. Standing this close to Rhode's fully unveiled power was like standing at the foot of a mountain that pierced the clouds. He felt infinitesimally small, yet instead of fear, a blazing, competitive fire was ignited. If he can be this strong, so can I!
"This is my base power," Rhode stated matter-of-factly. "Next, the Oozaru amplification."
His energy signature didn't just increase; it transmuted. A deeper, more primal ferocity layered over the immense control, and his power level skyrocketed by a factor of ten.
"So... so STRONG!" Goku's eyes were dinner plates. The concept of such magnitude was world-shattering.
King Kai, meanwhile, was mopping his brow with a trembling hand, muttering to himself. He'd prepared for a powerhouse, but this was a cataclysm wearing a Saiyan's skin.
"Now," Rhode said, his focus turning inward, "Kaio-ken. Twenty times."
**BOOM!**
A crimson aura, crackling with impossible intensity, exploded around him. The sheer, violent pressure of it warped the very light around King Kai's tiny planet. But in that same instant, the deeper, steadier hum of the Oozaru power vanished. It was snuffed out, unable to coexist with the precise, self-destructive strain of the Kaio-ken.
What a pity, Rhode thought, a flicker of genuine regret passing through him. He had hoped to stack the multipliers. A 10x Oozaru boost combined with a 20x Kaio-ken would have been a 200x total amplification—a theoretical power surge that dwarfed even a Super Saiyan 2's transformation. But the techniques were incompatible, their demands on the body fundamentally at odds.
He let the Kaio-ken fade, the oppressive crimson light dissipating. The lesson was clear: raw multiplicative math had its limits. True power wasn't just about stacking boosts; it was about harmony, efficiency, and techniques born from unique understanding. His path forward, he realized, wasn't in simply copying or combining existing powers, but in forging something entirely new from their principles. The spark of that ambition, fanned by the "failure" of the Spirit Bomb and the limitation of stacked multipliers, now burned brighter than ever.
Still, it was just a thought. The Kaio-ken's strain was a roaring furnace within his cells, a power that was inherently wild and rebellious. The Great Ape Power, while refined to an instinctual trigger, was still a cultivated state, not a seamless part of his base biology. To stack them, to make them resonate rather than conflict, would require a level of integration he hadn't yet achieved—perhaps turning the Great Ape's power from a technique into a true, dormant bloodline trait that could awaken in harmony with other boosts.
He let the Kaio-ken fade, the crimson aura dissipating. He turned to Goku, whose face was a canvas of awe and burning curiosity. "Want to give it a try?" Rhode offered, a hint of a challenge in his smile.
"Uh..." Goku's eagerness warred with stark, pragmatic sense. The gulf between them wasn't a gap; it was an abyss. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "No, that's okay!"
"You... you are far stronger than the Galactic Emperor, Frieza!" King Kai blurted out, his voice a mixture of awe and dawning, ambitious hope. A plan began to form in his mind—perhaps he could ask this temporal wanderer to deal with the cosmic tyrant once and for all.
"Frieza is strong," Rhode corrected, his tone factual. "In my base form, I'm no match for him." Even with the Oozaru's tenfold boost, he could handle Frieza's untrained final form, but his raw millions were still a step below Frieza's hundred-plus million.
"How is that possible?" King Kai's brow furrowed in disbelief. The power he'd just felt was transcendent.
"King Kai," Rhode said, understanding dawning. "You haven't been... constantly observing Frieza, have you? Only after he started making waves?"
"Well, yes... Is there a problem?"
"That explains it," Rhode nodded. "The Frieza you've monitored is just a fraction. His true, full power is several times greater than my own base form. He's been holding back, even in his worst atrocities."
"Who's Frieza?" Goku interjected, his head tilting in innocent confusion. The name meant nothing to him.
Rhode turned his gaze to the young Saiyan, his expression turning serious. "If fate runs its course here as it does elsewhere... he will be your future enemy. So, Goku," he said, his voice carrying a weight of foresight, "train hard. You have a very, very long way to go."
"Ah?! An enemy that strong?!" Goku's eyes went wide, not with fear, but with the sheer scale of the challenge. A competitor who dwarfed even Rhode? The concept was staggering. A fierce, thrilling sense of crisis ignited in his chest, but it was tempered by a cold splash of reality. Someone that powerful... could I even land a punch?