Haki stood before his bedroom mirror, Neo-Atlantis's synthetic aurora flickering outside. His reflection—sculpted, weathered, yocto-optic eyes glowing—wasn't David's anymore. That kid, the couch-bound ghost of Lower Neo-Atlantis, was long gone. Three hundred and thirty-two years of grinding had forged Haki: polymath, survivor, a man who'd outsmart a collapsing galaxy. Or so he told himself…
'David would've sold this mirror for a sim-hit,' Haki thought, lips twitching. 'Now it's scared to show my flaws.'
"Uhh, you're so unoriginal." Acca chimed in.
His AI chip hummed, a neural lattice fused with his cortex, storing four googolbytes of data—enough to make entire civilizations blush. He'd turned it from a tool into a partner, competing with its algorithms to prove his mind was sharper… and sharper he was not. Notwithstanding, Quantum biology, Xenobiology, Cosmology—he'd mastered them all, a one-man archive in a world ruled by narraow AIs.
Acca's nerdy voice chimed in, glasses glinting in Haki's mind. "Your neural architecture surpasses 99.7% of synthetic systems. Suboptimal caffeine intake, however-"
'Glitch it, Acca,' Haki shot back. 'Coffee's my one vice. Let me live.'
His transformation hadn't just been mental. David's flabby frame was a distant memory, replaced by a physique honed in orbital dojos. Gravity chambers had pushed his muscles to alloy-tier resilience, each rep a war against entropy. His training evolved beyond push-ups—calisthenics, shadow boxing, neural exercises syncing his reflexes with the chip. By 350, he was Haki: a weapon of precision, body and soul fused into something beyond human.
Hell Dave growled, half-black aura snarling. "Hmph! You're still soft. Train harder or burn the spire down!"
'Easy, edgelord,' Haki thought. 'I'm not fist-fighting a reactor… Yet.'
Kevide's magnetic voice cut in, all velvet menace, tuxedo gleaming in Haki's mind. "You call this presence? Own the galaxy or step off. David was a nobody—you're barely a somebody."
'Yeah sure, whatever, Batman.' Haki retorted. "Your ego needs its own spire."
Heavenly Dave's soft voice countered, white aura glowing. "Balance, not bravado. You've built a foundation—now build a legacy."
Instinct stirred, silver-shrouded and silent, a flicker of Ultra Instinct's promise. It nudged Haki's breathing—five seconds in, seven out—a rhythm etched into his subconscious. 'Sneaky bastard,' Haki thought. 'Always lurking.'
These weren't fragments—they were his soul's facets, forged through centuries of struggle.
Hell Dave was raw chaos, a primal force thriving in conflict, his black aura surging with eerie white eyes that burned like dying stars. Heavenly Dave, his counterpoint, chased balance, his white aura steady, black eyes deep as voids, whispering transcendence. Initially, they appear Half-Black, Half-White, but together, they weren't halves of a fractured whole but a unified core, each amplifying Haki's will. When Hell Dave surged, Haki's form darkened to obsidian, only his white eyes glaring through emitting light like a White Hole. When Heavenly Dave took the helm, his body glowed alabaster, black eyes devouring all light like a Black Hole. One body, one soul—yet their shifts were a visual echo of Haki's inner war: destruction versus creation, rage versus calm, both driving him to outsmart the stars.
Acca, the scholar, usually rocked a labcoat and glasses, crunching quantum poetry. Basically just a nerd.
Kevide, the mask, swaggered in emperor robes, sometimes tuxedos, charming rooms with a glance. The one responsible for carrying his CAPE—Charisma, Aura, Pride and Ego.
Instinct, shrouded in silver fog—Aura, his true form lay veiled, beyond the grasp of mortal sight, guided without words, a ghost of future power. He had the most Hax of all of them—Temporal Anchor, Rapid Skill Acquisition, Fusion, Ultr-…
Neither wholly emotional nor purely analytical, Instinct was the subconscious thread tying them all together. He understood the unspoken, moved before thought could form, existed in the liminal space between decisions. He had no voice, but he was always there—watching, guiding.
Whether delusional or not, together, they were HAKI—his initials, his essence, a council in his skull.
"You're louder than a drone riot tonight," Haki muttered, acknowledging their clamor. The chip hummed, resonating with his thoughts like a second pulse.
The fractal clock ticked softly in the corner, marking the passage of time. But for Haki, time was irrelevant. He exhaled deeply, his breath slow and deliberate.
Inhale for five seconds, hold, and exhale for seven. The rhythm was hypnotic, the energy soothing. It was a breathing technique rooted in ancient martial practices but enhanced by neurological calibration protocols developed by Acca. Each breath was a code—a key unlocking deeper access to his hybrid physiology.
As his body relaxed, his mind sharpened. Clear of unnecessary thoughts.
Cloaked in silver fog, Instinct had taken over.
He moved to his training chamber.
The Temporal Hypersonic Lion Tamer— a spire annex rigged with programmable matter. Walls shifted at his neural signals, holographic targets flickering to life. He trained under Controlled Temporal Dilation (CTD) and 15 x normal Gravity, which on this planet, was the equivalent of 2x Earth 1's gravity. His routine was brutal:
100,000 Push-ups.
50,000 Ab-Crunches | 50,000 Leg Raises | 100,000 Side-Crunches
100,000 Bicep Curls | 100,000 Tricep Dips
100,000 Towel Back Extensions | 100,000 Pull-ups
100,000 Squats | 500,000 Calf Raises
'Calves are so hard to grow…'
Dance of The Shadows—a fighting technique he had developed after so many years of battle—both real and simulated. The Art was modified scientifically, brutally enhanced by Hell, inspired by Drake's Super Balls.
Instinct alone was perfect for the job, but when he fused with Hell…
Silver and Dark "Energy" spiraled around him, giving him a Dark, Metallic Look—not cosmic juice, just bioelectric feedback he'd styled after a quantum theory he'd read. Delusional? Maybe. Effective? Hell yeah. Though others would sneer, calling it delusional or metaphoric nonsense. But he knew better. The "mana" responded to his will like a loyal beast.
Now Fused, Hell Dave snarled. "Tch! Smash the limits or burn trying!"
Haki's lips twitched.
After spending countless hours training...
[You have exceeded 80,000 hours of uninterrupted training in the chamber this year alone. Your efficiency is optimal.]
The training session ended with Haki collapsing onto the chamber floor, his body drenched in sweat. Despite the exhaustion, a sense of accomplishment filled him. He was one step closer to his goal, one step closer to becoming the Paragon he envisioned himself to be. Before leaving, his organs were rearranged by tiny "hands"—nanoscopic appendages of the yocto-bots—and he applied mechanically sophisticated healing upon himself. Muscle tears were knit back together, nerves reconnected, blood replenished. Basically just… Rapid Regeneration.
He sank onto the chamber's floor, sweat dripping, "mana" fading. Today, his birthday—another year closer to the collision. David's spark had become a supernova, and HAKI wasn't letting it fizzle. The universe could lock him in its Rubik's Cube, but he'd crack it, one pulse at a time.
"Happy fucking birthday…" He chuckled.
The AI chip chimed again.
[Congratulations. You have reached 350 years of age. Your progress is remarkable. However, the timeline for the convergence is accelerating. Adjustments will be necessary.]
"Then we'll adjust," Haki said, his voice unwavering. "We always do."
The night stretched on, but for Haki, time was irrelevant. His resolve burned brighter than ever, a beacon of hope in a universe that had long since abandoned it. The journey ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was ready. He always had been.
Or so he thought...