High above a valley of glowing crystal spires and strange alien flora, Goten sits cross-legged atop a weathered stone pillar, silent and still. He wears a new gi, the same Yardrat uniform once worn by Goku: white with purple accents, a dark sash around his waist. His eyes are closed, and his aura is calm — faint, but precise. Not a flicker of wasted energy.
Around him, the wind moves gently, yet the air is filled with subtle power. Goten breathes slowly, focusing.
Suddenly—ZIP—he disappears, vanishing in an instant… only to reappear a second later a few meters to the left, still seated, never breaking his meditation.
Watching from below is the Yardrat Elder, a small, wizened alien with pale skin and long robes. He smiles proudly.
Elder: (softly)He's already surpassed what most offworlders accomplish in years… Incredible.
Goten opens his eyes, standing up with a relaxed expression.
Goten: (grinning)I think I've got Instant Transmission down. And that Forced Spirit Fission thing? Still tricky… but it's making more sense now.
Elder: Indeed. Your control over your ki and spirit has grown swiftly. But raw technique… is only the beginning.
The elder gestures for Goten to follow. Curious, Goten hops down and walks beside him as they head toward an ancient stone temple glowing with faint blue runes.
Goten: So, what's next? More energy control? Spirit clones? Maybe that weird mind-sync thing?
Elder:(chuckling)No, child. Something much more fundamental. You will enter the Chamber of Ancestral Reflection.
Goten:(tilts head)Wait… a time chamber? Like Earth's? With crazy gravity and stuff?
Elder: (smiling mysteriously)Not quite. This chamber has normal gravity. It is not meant to push your limits through strain… but through understanding.
They reach the large circular door of the chamber. Symbols along the edge begin to glow as it opens slowly, revealing a tranquil, empty white void within.
Elder: This space reveals the truth of your race—its strengths, weaknesses, its deepest instincts. Here, you will train not your muscle, but your origin.
Goten: (blinking)My… race?
Elder: Yes. The Saiyan body is powerful, yes… but also reactive, wild, driven by battle. In this place, you will learn to command it, not just use it. You will grow beyond your blood.
Goten stares into the chamber, intrigued. The idea of learning more about himself — of growing in a way even Goku and Vegeta might not have — burns in his chest.
Goten: (smiling, determined)Alright then… let's see what it can teach me.
Elder: Time flows differently inside. One year within equals two months outside. Use it wisely.
As Goten steps into the chamber, the door closes behind him with a soft hum. The light swallows him.
The First Year
The door closes behind him with a hum like a sigh.
Then—nothing.
White silence. Not just around him, but inside him. A clean, empty space, too large to measure and too quiet to ignore. It feels like walking into the back of his own mind.
Goten stands still for a moment, staring at the horizonless expanse. He breathes in.
His ki flares—briefly.
Then collapses like ash in water.
Goten: (frowning)"…Alright. So that's how it is."
He tries again, summoning power. But nothing comes. Not even a flicker of Super Saiyan.
Here, his usual tools are stripped away. No transformations. No ki blasts. No Instant Transmission. Just him—bare and base.
The first days are frustration. He trains as he always does—punches, kicks, routines drilled into his bones. But each move feels dull, disconnected. His body is here, but the fire is missing.
Until the figure appears.
A silhouette of a Saiyan—not Goku, not Vegeta, not anyone he knows. But something old. A warrior clothed in battle scars and instinct. Broad. Primal. With a look in his eyes that Goten has never worn.
The battles begin.
The figure doesn't speak. It fights. Hard. Brutally. Not with refined technique, but with something deeper—animal intelligence. Goten keeps pace at first, but slowly, painfully, he's overwhelmed. Knocked down. Again. And again.
He tries transforming. Nothing.
He tries forcing power. Still nothing.
By the end of that first year, Goten lies breathless on the white floor. His fists bloody. His mind racing.
Goten: (panting)"...Why can't I win? Why can't I change?"
The figure stands over him—not taunting, not cruel. Just watching.
Waiting.
The Second Year
Goten stops trying to win.
He stops resisting.
Instead of powering up, he powers down. Listens. Follows. He watches the figure move—not just as an enemy, but as a mirror. He copies its stance. Its balance. Its breathing.
He notices that every move the figure makes comes from the spine. From the tail—though his is long gone. But sometimes, in moments of silence, he feels it. Twitching. Coiling. Waiting.
He meditates longer now. Not for control. For understanding.
Memories begin to surface.
Not his own.
Ancient ones. In dreams and flashes. Battles beneath alien moons. Hunt-cries in red jungles. The surge of oozaru rage. And deeper still—a kind of calm. A moment of clarity between violence. A knowing that power is not just strength… but purpose.
He opens his eyes one morning.
And the figure is gone.
He stands. Moves.
His energy doesn't spark—it resonates. Subtle. Heavy. Like stone before it rolls.
He lifts his hand.
Instant Transmission works.
Not fast. Not flashy. But with precision.
Goten: (softly)"…I'm not forcing it anymore."
The ThirdYear
The chamber changes.
It was white before. Now it begins to shift. Not physically—but perceptually. When Goten walks, he sees fragments of visions flicker like reflections in water. Earth. His mother. Gohan. Trunks. Then flashes of planets he's never seen, stars he's never visited.
Sometimes, the white fades into deep red twilight. He hears distant howling. Sees shadows of enormous, ape-like beasts moving through the fog.
In one vision, he stands alone in a field of stone pillars—black fur covering his arms, his eyes shining with heat—but he doesn't rage. He breathes. In. Out.
The vision fades.
He never mentions it aloud.
By now, he has stopped counting time. But the silence breaks again.
The figure returns—one last time.
This time, it doesn't attack. It bows.
And for the first time, Goten sees its face clearly.
It's his.
Older. Sharper. Wiser.
The figure smiles.
And walks away, vanishing into mist.
The Final Step
Goten opens his eyes.
He stands in the same place where he began, but he is not the same.
His gi is worn and faded now, his boots scuffed from years of walking a world with no walls. His hair is the same—yet his presence has changed. His ki no longer screams. It waits.
There is power in his bones now. But not the kind that explodes in golden fire.
This is quieter. Deeper. Rooted.
He lifts his hand.
The air folds—ZIP—and he's across the chamber in a blink. Not by effort. By instinct.
Behind him, the door hums.
Symbols flare to life as the seal slowly dissolves. Cool light spills in from outside.
Three years inside.
Six months outside.
Goten doesn't hesitate.
He walks toward the threshold, boots echoing softly in the chamber that shaped him.
He pauses just before stepping through.
Looks down at his hand. Flexes it once.
And smiles.
Then, with calm steps, he crosses the threshold and disappears into the light.
(Goten Base PL 500 Million)
(Goten Super Saiyan PL 25 Billion)
(Goten Super Saiyan 2 PL 50 Billion)
(Goten Super Saiyan 3 Full Power 250 Billion)