Quoted By:
-Saiyan Conqueror Quest 221 Epilogue III-
AGE 780, DREADZONE CHAMPION'S PRIVATE TRAINING ROOM
“Nine eighty! Nine eight one! Nine eight two!” you call out, lifting and swinging down the massive weight, holding the bar with both arms like a sword. With all the weight at the far end in the intense gravity, the bar itself continues to bend, but you don't relent! Today's the big day, the day of the second Universe 6 tournament. Where, if King Cold fails, you're going to try and get your own one-on-one with the most dangerous being in the Sixth Universe, their assassin Hit. “Nine eight three! Come on chat! Make sure you're! Working out too! I don't want! To see any quitters! In MY chat! Nine ninety!”
With every few words you raise and swing the massive weight again and again, feeling the burn in your muscles as the light workout gets you ready for the battles to come. You are Chaya: Former and Current Dreadzone Champion, Super Saiyan daughter of the first Super Saiyan in generations Karn and your mother who has gone beyond mortal limits, you also have transcended beyond normal mortal limits, but unlike your mother with the Super Saiyan God ritual, you did it your own way. Breaking through your limits thanks to the help of your fans across the universe, their Faith in you allowing you to trespass into the domain of the gods and steal the very source of their power out from underneath them.
And with each god or their representations you fell, your strength only continues to grow. With their gods and champions falling before you, their followers' Faith in them is diminished, while increasing their Faith in you and your strength. Even if unwillingly. If one sees a being they have put their Faith in fall, that Faith instead goes to you. And thanks to Dreadzone being a damn near universe-wide broadcast, you have more people and creatures putting their Faith in you than any planetary deity you've encountered. But their Faith is conditional on you to keep winning, to keep improving yourself so that you won't fail again. Which brings you to now, working out before your more die-hard fans on a semi-private stream a couple hours before departure time.
“Nine nine one! Nine nine two! Come on chat! Keep it going! Nine nine five!” you shout, reaching the end of your set. “Almost there! Three more! Nine nine eight! Nine nine nine! One THOUSAND!”
With the final shout you raise the 'sword' up overhead, the massive weights bending the bar in the sixty times New Salda's gravity of your training room. Easy work.