The moment the 10-day sign-in reward activated, the world fell still again.
<< Accumulated 10-Day Sign-In Reward Activated >>
Reward: Foundational Teachings of Ki
Compatibility: Partially Compatible (Body: Infant Stage)
Recommendation: Passive Learning Only – Physical Training Temporarily Restricted
A quiet hum pulsed in the depths of my spirit. Not loud. Not dazzling. But layered. Subtle.
Knowledge seeped into me—not like a memory, but like instinct etched into the soul.
The nature of Ki.
The breath of life.
The energy flows through all things.
Where Haki was will and spirit, Ki was vital force—the merging of body, soul, and life's
breath. It could be sensed, manipulated, even concealed… but it thrived best in bodies that
had matured and lived.
And I had not.
The system allowed passive comprehension. I could feel Ki, like a warm thread within those
around me. I could stretch my senses, align my awareness to trace its movement.
But to wield it?
Not yet.
Too early. Too risky.
Any misstep could trigger physiological changes. If I strengthened my body prematurely, my
family would notice. Questions would come. Investigations. Needles. Isolation.
So I halted.
And I waited.
Over the Next Three Years.
Time moved in pulses—sign-in to sign-in. My evolution was not loud. It was quiet. Persistent.
Each new sign-in arrived months apart. And each left behind something that shaped me
deeper than the last.
Reward 1: Transparent World (Demon Slayer Origin)
The ability to perceive the inner workings of life itself—organs, breath, tension, and flow.
Reward 2: Navy Six Style Training Manual (One Piece Origin)
The groundwork of physical mastery. Movement born from intention, not brute force. Shave.
Geppo. Tekkai.
Reward 3: Selfless State Guidance (Original Spiritual Technique)
The annihilation of ego. The stillness of mind that leaves no ripples in the world.
Reward 4: Fist of Flowing Water – Training Scroll (One Punch Man Origin)
A martial art that emphasized water-like adaptability and fluid, relentless motion.
I trained only Observation Haki and Selfless State.
By age two, I could enter the Selfless State at will.
By two and a half, I could sustain it indefinitely.
In that stillness… the world bent around me.
West City's annual martial arts exhibition wasn't meant for infants. But my father had been
invited as an honorary medical consultant, and my mother rarely declined the opportunity to
Support him.
So, we went. Our whole family.
Seris was dressed like a young heiress in a crisp blazer and skirt, sighing dramatically as we
moved through rows of screaming children and flashy shows.
I walked beside her, eyes sharp, still beneath my calm expression.
My father raised a brow as I lingered near a professional demonstration ring.
My mother followed my gaze.
"Something caught your eye?" she asked gently.
I pointed.
A punching bag the size of a man's torso.
"I want one," I said, voice steady.
Lucien blinked. Seris snorted. Elira tilted her head.
"You mean like… a toy version?"
I looked back at them. Still. Calm.
"No. That one."
They bought it, half as a joke, half as an indulgence.
That very night, I began.
Fist of Flowing Water.
Armament Haki.
One to perfect motion.
One to harden it.
My body had changed over the years. Quietly. Passively. Muscles had refined. Bones had compacted. Each motion is more precise than the last.
And now… they began to awaken.
I trained only when alone. No one watched me when the house slept. My room had reinforced padding. No cameras. No sensors.
Within two weeks, the bag that once stood tall now sagged with deep dents.
One night, as I slipped into my stance and launched a smooth cascade of flowing strikes—
The door creaked open.
A faint shuffle.
Then a whisper:
"…Lyraen?"
Seris.
She was supposed to be asleep.
I froze, hands falling to my side.
She blinked into the dim room, spotting me in training stance—barefoot, sweatless, eyes calm.
"You're… practicing?" she asked, voice unsure. "At night? What even was that movement?"
I said nothing.
She walked closer. Not angry. Just confused.
"You shouldn't even know what a proper stance is," she muttered, crouching down. "Let alone pull one off like a trained athlete."
She stared at me in silence, then poked my forehead gently.
"You're weird, you know that?"
Still, I said nothing.
She sighed, standing. "You're either an alien or a secret clone dad made during a midlife crisis."
She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.
"…Just don't get caught. I won't say anything."
And like that, she was gone.
Until one night…
One punch.
It didn't bounce.
It didn't swing.
It caved in—completely.
Seris stepped into my room to drop off some new books she'd picked out for me.
She saw the bag.
Paused.
Walked over. Pressed her hand against it.
"...It's wrecked."
She looked at me.
"Did someone hit this with a truck? Or… was it you?"
I didn't speak. Just looked at her.
Still. Silent.
She stared at me, jaw slightly open.
"You're… you're three."
I blinked.
She turned, stunned, and walked out muttering, "I need to run a DNA test on this kid…"
As my father reviewed reports and my mother checked vitals, I spoke clearly for the second time that day.
"I want a new training tool."
They both turned.
My father raised a brow. "What kind?"
I looked him in the eye.
"Steel. Or iron. Thick."
There was a pause.
Elira blinked slowly.
Lucien set down his tablet.
Seris, passing by, shouted from the hallway, "I TOLD you he's a mutant!"
I stared at the sky through the window.
Silence returned.
But inside… a storm had just begun to move.