By the time I turned ten, my foundation had become stone.
Fist of Flowing Water was no longer just motion—it was harmony. Rhythm. Breath. My fists moved like rivers, but with the weight of mountains behind them.
Because now, they carried Armament Haki.
Not just the basic form, but the advanced levels: Emission, Deflection, Internal Destruction—what Wano called Ryuo.
Through years of relentless refinement, I'd learned to strike without contact, to flow around force and redirect it. My movements became an extension of intent. And when that intent turned lethal, I could collapse metal from the inside with a single touch.
To train my Transparent World and Selfless State, I stepped beyond the estate.
I walked among the unaware through West City plazas, medical wings, and university libraries. Not as Lyraen Nox, heir to a medical dynasty, but as a silent observer.
I watched emotions flicker, blood vessels shift beneath skin, and breath catch in throats when lies formed.
Transparent World peeled back their masks. Selfless State let me disappear from their senses.
Even the teachers in my private tutoring forgot I was in the room unless I spoke. Which wasn't often.
I had long requested to avoid standard schooling—too loud, too inefficient. I only appeared during exams, my answers flawless, memory crystalline.
And my parents allowed it.
Because they had learned not to question too deeply.
It began six months after I turned ten.
Gravity, I understood, was pressure on both the body and mind. And it was the purest force to forge growth.
So, I asked for a basement extension.
My mother, Elira, raised an eyebrow.
"A basement?"
"A training space," I clarified. "One with manipulated gravity."
She folded her arms. "That's not something a normal ten-year-old builds."
"I'm not normal," I said quietly.
Her expression didn't shift.
"Where did you even get the idea?"
I hesitated, then answered truthfully but carefully.
"I've read… ancient martial doctrines. Pressure training through gravitational force. It helps push past human limits. And I want to understand those limits."
She studied me for a long time, then slowly nodded. "Alright. You can build it. But I want regular reports. And if you pass out, I'm shutting it down."
I gave a faint smile. "Deal."
Seris leaned in from the kitchen doorway, sipping her tea. "You two are seriously having a parent-child chat about gravity chambers?"
I didn't answer. Elira smiled and walked off, already dialing up contractors.
Lucien helped with installation—not with the tech, but with physical parameters: oxygen regulation, biological stress limits. He wasn't a builder.
But he was a doctor.
They let me design it. They just watched. And helped.
Ten times Earth's gravity. Then twenty. Eventually? More.
I'd begun theoretical trials for Conqueror's Haki.
I wouldn't train it—not yet. Its effects on others were too volatile. It could rupture minds. Crack the wills of weaker beings.
I had no interest in harming my family.
So I studied its nature. And waited.
The gravity chamber was complete. The circuits are sealed. The AI system is calibrated. Every setting is customizable to decimal points.
I stood on the balcony that night, the air cool, the sky vast. Six years had passed since my last reward.
And I was ready.
<< Accumulated 6-Year Sign-In Activated >>
Reward: Kyōka Suigetsu – Origin: Bleach
Acquired.
I closed my eyes.
The moonlight reflected in them.
And the next chapter… began in silence.