The moment the transformation settled, the truth of the technique became viscerally clear. It was as he suspected: becoming Piccolo wasn't just a skin-deep illusion. He could feel it—the subtle, fibrous elasticity of Namekian muscle tissue, the unique, decentralized organ structure, the faint, latent potential for regeneration. He had gained a whisper, a mere hint, of the Namekian racial template.
This was the source of his earlier excitement upon seeing Oolong and Puar. The technique's potential was staggering.
Yet, it was not omnipotent. The racial attributes he gained were infinitesimally faint. As Piccolo, his raw power remained his own. He was essentially Rhode in a Namekian-shaped shell, overlaid with the faintest ghost-print of their biology. To anyone else, it would be undetectable. Only his hyper-refined senses could pick up the trace.
But a trace was enough. For a researcher, a single cell could unlock a genome. This technique was a master key to the biological library of the universe.
Bang!
Another puff of smoke. The green skin and antennae melted away, replaced by pale, elegant features, snow-white hair, and light blue skin—Whis, the Angel attendant of Universe 7's Destroyer.
Rhode's triumphant expression faltered. He concentrated, searching within... and found nothing. No whisper of angelic essence, no trace of their boundless, tranquil power. He was a perfect visual replica, but internally, he was unchanged. A hollow shell.
Is the Angel race too profound? Does their existence operate on a plane this technique cannot access? Or is my mastery still lacking?
He began a rapid series of transformations, a flickering gallery of cosmic power: Beerus, Champa, the Grand Priest, even the small, child-like forms of the Zen-Oh attendants. Each time, the result was the same—perfect appearance, zero internal data.
He tried Shin, the East Supreme Kai, then a generic Kai. Again, nothing.
A limitation of the technique, then. Or a fundamental block. Gods and Angels seemed... insulated.
Undeterred, he shifted targets. Bang! Frieza, in his final form. This time, a flicker—a faint, cold echo of the Frost Demon's unique cellular structure and energy pathways. Bang! Cell. A more complex, chaotic swirl of Saiyan, Namekian, Frost Demon, and Earthling biology, all faintly perceptible. Bang! Majin Buu. A strange, rubbery, magical essence, alien and potent.
He had success! So it wasn't a universal block.
Finally, Bang! Dabura, the Demon King. And there it was—another faint trace, the dark, fiery signature of demonic ki, distinct from the divine emptiness of the Kais.
Interesting. So divine beings—Angels, Destroyers (who were elevated mortals, but their godhood seemed to create a barrier), and the Omni-King's order—were off-limits. But powerful mortal or demonic races were within the technique's scope, albeit yielding only the barest biological blueprint.
It was a limitation, but not a deal-breaker. Even these faint blueprints were priceless. They were starting points. With enough study, he could theoretically isolate beneficial traits, mitigate Saiyan weaknesses, or even attempt to synthesize abilities unique to other races. It would be the work of lifetimes, but he had time. And he had Dr. Gero—a genius who could turn a single cell into an army. Providing him with these faint genetic echoes could yield unimaginable results.
Satisfied with the exploration, Rhode ceased his transformations. The knowledge was acquired. The final task awaited.
Buzz~
He raised a hand, opening a spatial gate back into the Time Chamber. "Goku! Time's up!"
Whoosh!
A figure shot out of the portal, landing lightly before him. It was Goku, but changed. His eyes held a new depth, his aura was denser, more controlled, simmering with barely-contained power far beyond what he'd possessed a day (and subjective years) before. The seeds of knowledge had taken root and flourished in the accelerated time.
Goku stood before him, his gi torn and frayed from subjective years of relentless training, but his eyes blazed with a newly-forged intensity. His spirit was a honed blade, and his power had solidified, taking a significant leap forward from the raw talent he'd possessed before.
"Very good," Rhode acknowledged with an approving nod. "Keep training like that. My time here is done."
"Rhode, thank you! I've improved so much because of you!" Goku's gratitude was heartfelt and uncomplicated.
"It was nothing. A small favor. This world's safety is in your hands now. Farewell."
With that, Rhode didn't linger for sentimental goodbyes. He simply vanished, the space where he'd stood empty before Goku could even blink.
"Ah, man..." Goku scratched his head, a little exasperated. He'd had so many questions! And what about helping with problems? But the object of his questions was gone. He let out a sigh, a rare moment of wistfulness crossing his face. "I wonder if I'll ever get to see him again..."
Shaking off the thought, his simple nature reasserted itself. Well, no use worrying about it! Time to eat, rest, and then train even harder! The looming shadow of the Galactic Emperor Frieza was motivation enough.
Meanwhile, Rhode had already collected the supplies from Bulma into his portable Time Chamber. Then, he focused. His senses, now exquisitely attuned to the fabric of reality after his temporal baptism, combined with the node-finding methodology from Shenron's data, swept through the local spacetime. It wasn't a long search.
Finding a promising, stable-looking node, he fortified his ki defenses, took a steadying breath, and reached out with his will.
Touch.
Boom!
The world dissolved into a riot of nonsensical color and soundless pressure. When it reassembled, he was... elsewhere.
The first thing that registered was the sound: a deafening BOOM that shook the ground. The air was thick, choked with dust and the ozone-smell of discharged energy. An oppressive, gloomy darkness blanketed the sky, pierced only by the occasional flash of violent light.
Bang!
A figure smashed into the cratered earth just meters from him, sending up a plume of dirt and rock. Rhode's eyes narrowed.
It was Goku. But not his Goku. This one was battered, his orange gi stained with blood and grime, his aura flickering weakly. He was on the verge of collapse.
Boom!
Another impact, as a massive, powerfully-built figure landed with earth-shattering force in front of the fallen Saiyan. The newcomer had wild, spiky hair, wore distinct shoulder armor and wrist guards, and radiated a cruel, overwhelming malice.
"I thought a Saiyan would put up more of a fight," the giant sneered, his voice a grating rumble. "Seems I overestimated you." He reached a massive hand down to finish the job.
Then he paused. His head slowly turned. His cold eyes locked onto Rhode, who stood observing calmly from the sidelines. The intruder's aura was... minuscule. Insignificant.
"Where did this fly come from?!" the giant growled, annoyance overriding his bloodlust. Without a second thought, he flicked his wrist in Rhode's direction. A searing beam of destructive energy, enough to vaporize a mountain, lanced out, aimed to erase the annoyance from existence.