The air in the medical bay was cold, sterile, and thick with tension. Astra lay on an examination table, subjected to a battery of scans far more intensive than the nursery's simple power-level checks. Borg stood rigidly by the door, his arms crossed, his face an unreadable mask. The two technicians operating the machinery wore expressions of deep confusion.
"The readings make no sense," one muttered, tapping the display. "Power Level is stable at 25. A slight increase, consistent with minor growth. But the cellular density... it's off the charts. It's like his entire body has been compressed. And the energy signature... there's a background resonance we don't have on file for any Saiyan lineage."
The other technician shook his head. "The debris field was consistent with a localized, high-yield gravitational event. But there's no energy source in the nursery capable of that. And an infant couldn't possibly survive it."
Astra remained perfectly still, his mind a fortress. He had used the [Stellar Forge]'s new understanding of his own biology to enact a final, crucial deception. He had manually forced his energy signature to mimic a standard, low-class Saiyan's, creating a perfect facade. The advanced scans could see the effects of his transformation—the Dense-Body Constitution—but they could not pinpoint the cause or sense the true depth of his power. He was a perfect paradox: a physically dense, energetically unremarkable child.
The door hissed open. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees. The technicians immediately snapped to attention, bowing deeply. Borg stiffened, his eyes widening a fraction before he too offered a stiff, respectful nod.
King Vegeta stood in the doorway.
He was shorter than Astra had imagined, but his presence filled the room, a crushing aura of absolute authority and immense power. His sharp eyes scanned the room, dismissing the technicians and Borg before landing on Astra. It was a gaze that weighed, measured, and found wanting.
[Appraising: King Vegeta]
[Race: Saiyan (Elite)]
[Power Level: 10,850]
[Status: Wary, Calculating, Enraged]
"Explain this... disturbance," the King's voice was a low, dangerous rumble, devoid of the bombastic tone he used for public speeches.
The lead technician stammered, presenting a data pad. "Your Majesty! The infant, designation Kairo, was at the epicenter of an unexplained gravitational anomaly. The nursery sector is heavily damaged. His physiology shows... anomalous density, but his power level is nominal. We have no explanation."
King Vegeta's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to the table, looking down at Astra. The pressure of his gaze was a physical force. Astra met it, not with defiance, but with a blank, infantile neutrality. To show fear would be suspicious. To show intelligence would be a death sentence.
"The Ghost," the King stated, the words dripping with cold disdain. "I have heard the whispers. The infant who sees the breaks in things." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant only for Astra. "What are you?"
Astra knew this was the most critical moment of his life. A single misstep meant execution. He had to project just enough to satisfy the King's curiosity without revealing his true nature. He formed a simple, fearful thought and let it leak out, a child's terrified whisper.
"Loud... noise. Then... heavy. Everything... broke."
It was the perfect, simplistic account of a victim. He presented himself not as the cause, but as a survivor of an unexplained event.
King Vegeta stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. His [Appraisal] of the King's emotional state showed a shift from rage to intense, cold calculation.
"Anomalous density... surviving an impossible event..." the King mused aloud, straightening up. He looked at Borg. "This one. He is assigned to you, Borg. You will be responsible for him. I want him observed. Tested. If this density is a new mutation, it could be of use. If he is a freak of nature, then he will be disposed of when he ceases to be amusing. Do you understand?"
Borg slammed a fist to his chest in a sharp salute. "Yes, my King!"
With a final, lingering look of contemptuous curiosity at Astra, King Vegeta turned and swept from the room, his aura vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
The technicians hurriedly finished their scans and fled. Borg walked over to the table, his expression grim. He looked down at Astra, a complex mix of resentment, fear, and a sliver of morbid fascination in his eyes.
"Well, Ghost," Borg grunted, his voice low. "You heard the King. You're my problem now. No more nursery. You're coming with me to the low-class barracks. You will be tested. And if you so much as flicker in a way the King doesn't like, we're both space dust."
He roughly bundled Astra in a cloth and slung him over his shoulder. As they moved through the stark, metallic corridors, Astra's mind was already analyzing this new development.
This was both a catastrophe and an opportunity.
The catastrophe was obvious: he was now under the direct scrutiny of the Saiyan monarchy. His margin for error had vanished. The King saw him as a potentially useful mutation, a tool. The moment he ceased to be useful, he would be broken and discarded.
The opportunity, however, was profound. The barracks meant closer proximity to warriors, to technology, to information. It meant he was out of the controlled environment of the nursery. Under Borg's "supervision," he might have more freedom to train, to acquire materials, to learn. He was a specimen in a lab, but labs had resources.
He was in the lion's den. The gaze of a king was upon him. The path of the shadow was closed. Now, he would have to walk the razor's edge in plain sight, performing a constant, delicate dance—showing just enough promise to remain valuable, but never enough power to be perceived as a threat.
The game had changed entirely. The stakes were now the highest they could be: the attention of a king on a doomed world. Astra, the reforged Saiyan, would have to learn to survive not in the wilderness, but in the heart of the very empire he sought to defy.