I Have An Infinite Number Of Abilities.

A red aura flared violently around Goku as his power level skyrocketed—his strength multiplied by forty times in an instant. The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer pressure, but it didn't last long. The strain on his body was clear; veins bulged along his arms as the technique weighed heavily on both his muscles and energy reserves.

Just as quickly as he activated it, Goku stopped using the Kaio-Ken, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. His body trembled slightly from the immense toll.

The Saiyan body, by all conventional wisdom, should've capped at Kaio-Ken times twenty. But now, that limit had doubled. And based on this performance, there was a real chance the limit could stretch even further—possibly up to fifty—if Goku pushed himself just a bit more. And of course… Goku would do just that.

"Impressive. There's no limit, right? As long as you have enough Ki and your body can handle it, one should be able to use Kaio-Ken times a million, correct?" Sinbad asked with a faint smile, genuinely intrigued by the technique's potential.

"Pretty much," Goku replied with a spark of excitement in his eyes. The thought alone had him practically buzzing with energy. He couldn't wait to start training again, even though he had just returned from a long absence.

Sure, he hadn't seen his family in four years, and most people would want to reunite properly, but Goku wouldn't be Goku if he didn't have training on the brain.

"Well, I'll be back when you guys start training. In the meantime, I need to take care of a few things." With those words, Sinbad vanished, teleporting away in an instant.

He reappeared on a distant world—one that belonged to a God of Destruction. It was said that God Ki couldn't be sensed, hidden even from the most skilled warriors. But Sinbad was different. With the fusion of Ki, Six Paths Chakra, and Haki flowing through him, his senses had evolved past the norm. He could perceive what others couldn't.

And with that heightened awareness, he located Whis.

"Who might you be?" Whis asked with a light frown, his gaze narrowing as he studied the unexpected arrival. Visitors were rare on this planet, especially uninvited ones. After all, not many dared to risk the wrath of a God of Destruction.

"I'm Sinbad, and I came to ask for a spar. In return, I brought noodles for you," Sinbad said with a relaxed smile.

Whis's brow arched curiously, the tension briefly easing from his face. Then, Sinbad casually unsealed a scroll, and from it, a fragrant steam poured out as a mountain of freshly prepared noodles was released. The aroma hit Whis instantly—his nose twitched, his eyes widening ever so slightly as the savory scent filled the air.

But Whis had to act quickly before someone else woke up from the enticing aroma of the food. With a flick of his staff, he created a shimmering barrier, sealing off the space to contain the scent. Only then did he let out a soft breath of relief.

"Deal," Whis said quickly.

Sinbad nodded and set the food to the side, stepping forward with calm purpose. Whis's eyes narrowed the moment he saw Sinbad's stance—it was flawless. Not a single opening, not even the slightest misstep. It was beyond perfect. It wasn't just mastery; it was evolution. Sinbad had clearly taken the foundation of martial arts, fully mastered it, and then shaped it into a new form. A style born from perfection, but crafted into something greater—refined, fluid, and uniquely his own.

Sinbad wasted no time and shot forward with a punch, his speed immense, but Whis effortlessly avoided the blow without even needing to think. His body moved on its own, flowing with instinctual grace as if every fiber already knew what to do. Sinbad's eyes flashed—he had seen it. Ultra Instinct.

But before he could pursue it further, his body suddenly came to a halt. A pulse ran through him. Then came the change.

His muscles surged, growing denser and far more powerful, tearing past every known limitation. It wasn't just his muscles—it was as if every single cell in his body awakened, communicating in perfect harmony to unlock his full potential. His black hair began to shift, strands turning snow-white as divine energy surged through him. In that moment, Sinbad transcended. He had undergone a true transformation—becoming a god, in mortal form.

"What did you do?" Whis asked, his voice tinged with shock. The sight before him—someone instantly mastering Ultra Instinct—was beyond anything he had expected. No one, not even a god, should have been able to reach that level so suddenly. And yet, here was Sinbad.

Whis moved in a blur, his speed so great that even the legendary cosmic cameraman—who had tracked battles faster than light—would've struggled to keep up. But it didn't matter.

Both he and Sinbad flashed across the battlefield, trading blows that bent space with each movement. Yet Whis found himself steadily outpaced, his movements being read, countered, and forced into retreat. Sinbad had reached a higher mastery of Ultra Instinct, and it showed with every step, every strike.

Whis couldn't even begin to understand how a mortal body was withstanding such a state. And yet, at this moment, Sinbad rivaled Jiren—if not surpassed him. Of course, Whis was holding back… but still, to compare this to the strength Sinbad had shown just moments ago—this sudden leap, this billion-fold surge in power—was that not a bit much? Sinbad just went from Star-level of power to multiversal level of power in an instant. 

"Well… that's enough for now. Thanks for the spar," Sinbad said casually, lowering his fist the moment he sensed Whis beginning to get serious. He knew better than to push his luck any further.

Just because he had achieved a higher mastery of Ultra Instinct didn't mean Whis was weaker overall. Far from it. The difference in raw stats between them—speed, durability, sheer divine power—was still far too great. 

Whis hovered in place, his usual cheerful expression replaced by something colder, more focused.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone carrying the weight of real curiosity—and warning.

"I'm a traveler. I mean you no harm, I promise," Sinbad said with a smile, calm and collected despite the weight behind Whis's gaze.

Yes, Whis was stronger—Sinbad knew that much. But with Kaio-Ken, the Eight Gates, Haki, and the vast arsenal of jutsu he had learned and created, he felt confident. Confident enough to believe that, even if Whis went all out, he could stand his ground and maybe even win.

"Let's sit, eat, and talk," Sinbad added, his tone light as he motioned toward the food. A genuine smile formed on his lips. How could he not be happy?

As of now, he would be receiving a million skills every day. A million. With that kind of volume, at least a handful were bound to be overpowered.

***

So, they talked. Truth be told, not much came of it. Whis, ever cautious, attempted to turn back time—his way of preventing Sinbad from learning Ultra Instinct in the first place. But all that did was hand Sinbad the power to control time and confirm something even more startling: Sinbad could see the future.

Concerned, Whis attempted to report him. After all, someone who came from beyond the Zeno domain? That wasn't something he could ignore.

But before he could act, Sinbad quietly placed Whis under a genjutsu. It was seamless, undetectable—even for an angel. In a blink, the memory of their entire encounter was gone. Just like that, Sinbad erased his presence from Whis's mind, and without another word, he returned to Earth.

From there, Sinbad followed through on his end of the deal and trained alongside Goku, Piccolo, and Gohan. With Goku having already shared his chakra with the others, they were now more than prepared for the android threat looming ahead. Their bodies adapted quickly, and their growth was nothing short of explosive under Sinbad's guidance.

So, a week of intense training flew by for Sinbad. And once it was done, he said his goodbyes to everyone, then calmly stepped through the portal, returning to his original world.

Over the past six days, as expected, he had obtained many powerful skills—some interesting, others borderline useless—but one, in particular, stood above the rest: a skill called [10x Experience].

What did it do? Simple—everything he gained was multiplied by ten. Knowledge, strength, comprehension, even physical growth. Unfortunately, it applied to the bad as well. Mistakes, injuries, and backlash were all intensified by the same factor.

So now, he could instantly master any skill and elevate it to a level ten times greater than its original form. But the downside was just as extreme—any drawback tied to the skill also became ten times worse. He had, of course, already re-copied every ability he possessed by having a clone go through the motions again. That way, his Ultra Instinct, Kaio-Ken, the Eight Gates, and countless other techniques were all upgraded versions—far superior in every measurable way.

The learning curve and the penalties had all increased as well, but Sinbad didn't care. His regeneration was instant, nullifying every consequence like it was nothing.

Thanks to the boost in overall strength from the [10x Experience] skill, his power had risen so drastically that he now earned 100 million new abilities every single day. Of course, the skill didn't increase the number of abilities he gained daily—only the quality of what he could do with them. And that was more than enough.

***

"It seems like it wasn't a demon. A demon couldn't go an entire 2 weeks without stirring up trouble… it must've been another sect," the young man muttered to himself, still deep in thought as he sifted through the facts.

Over the past two weeks, he had pieced together nearly everything there was to know about Cale—from the way his ex-wife ruined his life with carefully crafted lies, down to his favorite meal and daily habits. He had waited patiently, expecting that if a demon really was behind the disappearance, it would have surfaced by now, most likely to torment Cale's family out of spite or revenge.

For Cale to have died with such intense hatred—enough to give rise to a demon—then that demon would've been drawn to the very root of Cale's rage, whether it wanted to be or not. No demon could resist the pull of a former host's dying obsession. And none could go more than a week without acting on the body's lingering desires.

The young man stood, ready to pursue a new line of inquiry into Cale's strange disappearance. But he froze mid-step, eyes narrowing, when he caught sight of someone unexpected.

Perched atop a nearby roof was a godly-looking young man, his posture relaxed, his eyes locked on Cale's children below. There was no malice in his gaze—only a quiet, unreadable weight that made the air feel just a little heavier.

It only took a second, but then the realization struck him—this was Cale. He looked different now, almost divine, like a god cloaked in mortal flesh. But despite the transformation, there were still pieces of his old self visible—subtle facial features that hadn't changed, enough to give him away.

His gaze drifted to the jewelry that adorned Cale's body. It wasn't ordinary gold. No, these pieces radiated an aura of destruction, forged from a level of refinement far beyond anything mortal. The metal shimmered with a brilliance he couldn't see through, not even with his trained senses.

And that could only mean one thing. Cale's body hadn't been taken by just any demon—it had to be something far stronger. A demon of immense power… or worse, a fallen angel.

"Demon, speak—why do you want the boy's body?" he called out, summoning the full weight of his magical power, preparing himself for the brutal battle he believed was about to unfold.

But all that resolve vanished the instant Cale turned to look at him. In that moment, he felt it—an overwhelming pressure that crushed his will. He was small, like an insect trembling before a god. That single glance was suffocating, as if it alone could end his life hundreds of times over without effort.

How was he supposed to stand against that? How could he fight something so far beyond him? He wasn't a warrior. He wasn't even a man at that moment. He was an ant staring up at a being that could erase the entire planet without lifting a finger. And what was an ant before a god? Nothing.

Sinbad waved his hand, and instantly, the young man was yanked through the air toward him. There was no resistance—he couldn't even muster the strength to struggle. Before Sinbad's overwhelming might, he was utterly powerless, his limbs limp as he hovered in front of the godlike figure.

Sinbad looked down at him with a cold, indifferent gaze, his expression void of emotion, as if weighing the life before him like a speck of dust.

"Lead me to the people worldwide who hold true power," Sinbad said calmly, his voice carrying a weight that bent the air around them.

The young man nodded without hesitation. There was no room for defiance—Sinbad's Conqueror's Haki had seeped into his soul, suppressing any flicker of resistance that might have remained.