3 years later
Training hall
The flame crystals overhead glowed softly as I adjusted the threads between my fingers.
Fine lines of Nen—barely visible in standard vision—stretched between my thumb and forefinger. My pulse slowed as I pulled one taut, maintaining tension with my aura, not my muscles.
"It's not sewing," I whispered to myself. "It's projection fused with manipulation—pure will given thread."
The Nen Stitches held steady now, vibrating faintly with my heartbeat. And they weren't just staying formed.
They were alive—responding to tension, pressure, and intent.
I smiled.
Sensory Enhancement: Seeing More Than Sight
Before I mastered the threadwork, I had to see them.
And that meant training my senses.
I started with Gyo, focusing aura into my eyes—sharpening my perception, tracking the invisible threads of life energy in a training dummy.
But then I took it further.
I layered Enhancement into my optic nerves. Not just pushing more aura, but amplifying the data my senses received.
Suddenly, I could hear the difference between two aura pulses in the room.
I could smell ozone where demonic residue lingered. And I could see the way the dummy's joints shifted as I approached.
Everything was slower. Clearer.
"Enhance the body… amplify the awareness," I muttered. "Now I know how Wing sensed Hisoka's intent through air pressure alone."
It took about 4 months to figure out how to use my aura to enhance my senses.After that, I started working on recreating Nen Stitches since I think it could be useful for healing without the need of magic. So I turned back to the training construct on the table—a mock arm made of scaled, aura-treated leather with hidden "wounds."
I coated my fingers in soft Nen, mixing Manipulation and Transmutation, twisting the aura into thread but since I was an enhancer it is not easy.
I pierced the mock flesh with a needle. Then I linked one point to another with a thread made of aura.
Thread locked.
I activated a flicker of aura tension between the two ends—watching the material pull together with real, force-held integrity.
No magic. No surgery. Just Nen.
"Machi Komacine…" I muttered. "You stitched muscle with this. Tendon. Bone. I could—"
I looked at my own hand, imagining battlefield trauma. Real wounds.
"If I master this… I could heal others without holy magic. I could stitch dragons , devils, humans and other beings alike."
And perhaps even myself, if the time came.
Hours later, I cleaned the threads gently with aura and dismissed them with a soft pull. They unraveled into the air like fireflies fading into mist.
I stood still, letting my enhanced senses relax, retracting the extra output. I felt the fatigue wash over me—but also the certainty.
Nen wasn't just a combat tool. It was a system for bridging power and finesse. And I'd just added a vital piece.
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6 months later
The training room was shielded in six layers of magical containment. Mother watched from behind a projection screen, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
In front of me hovered a suspended orb of aura-infused glass.
I cracked my knuckles.
"Today," I whispered, "I'll try something ridiculous, recreating Hisokas [Bungee Gum]."
First step 1: Texture and Elasticity
I activated Ren, then focused on reshaping my aura through Transmutation. My goal wasn't to change its element—but its feel.
"Elastic," I muttered. "Sticky. Light pressure. Semi-visible."
I imagined gum. Not the scent or taste—just the texture. The strange balance of stretch and snap.
My aura flickered, wavered—
Then smoothed into a shimmering thread between my fingers. I stretched it—just a few centimeters—and watched it snap back.
The elasticity held. So did the recoil.
"So far, so good."
Now step 2: Stickiness – Manipulation Layer
Now came the hard part: Controlling the stickiness.
Not just attaching aura, but making it respond to will—like a remote extension of my thoughts.
I focused on a single thread of aura and touched it to the glass orb.
"Stick."
It held.Then I started to back away. First ten meters. Then twenty.
The strand extended.
I raised my hand—and the orb followed, pulled through the air like it was on an invisible tether.
I flung it sideways, then caught it with a rebound line between my thumb and elbow.
"It works," I breathed. "It's not magic—it's Nen muscle memory."
Lastly step 3: Field Test
I summoned a weighted dummy into the ring—fast-moving, equipped with Aura Slicer blades.
The moment it charged, I lashed out with two strands of elastic aura—one attached to its wrist, the other to its chest.
"[Bungee Gum]."
I yanked both lines simultaneously—twisting my arm in a spiral.
The dummy rotated mid-lunge, slammed into the side wall, and stuck like a bug caught in resin.
I flicked my finger once.
The lines retracted and vanished. After the field test Mother stepped into the ring, slow and composed. She walked up to the cracked wall, inspected the residual aura streak, and turned back to me.
"That wasn't just mimicry," she said. "You gave it your will."
I nodded.
"Hisoka used emotion and sleight-of-hand. I used memory and aura theory."
She smiled faintly.
"It's messier than your other nen techniques."
"Yeah," I said. "But sometimes, you need chaos. since you can't have order without chaos."
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1 year later
The vault hissed open on ancient hinges, revealing a circular chamber lined with obsidian stone and enchanted cold.
Mother stood beside me, her expression unreadable. In her hands, a black cloth unwrapped to reveal five swords, each resting in its own crystal slot—sealed, dormant, and deadly.
"You've bonded with Nothung," she said softly. "Now we test the rest."
I stepped forward slowly. Each blade radiated differently.
Their auras weren't loud. They were deep—like ancient oceans, coiled in silence.
Mother handed me Gram first. The blade pulsed warm in my palm—an eerie crimson hue rippling across its edge like living flame.
"It doesn't obey devils easily," she warned. "It obeys dominance."
I raised it high, and the room's gravity felt heavier. My aura reacted defensively.
I grit my teeth, channeled Touki, and layered it with demonic aura.
Gram shimmered—responding.
I took one step and slashed the air. A scarlet wave erupted from the tip, carving a deep line into the vault wall.
"You met its edge," Mother said. "Not bad. Let's keep going."
I hesitated only a second before grasping the next sword, Tyrfing.
It thrummed with pure, unfiltered destructive energy—like holding a cracking faultline. The moment I activated my aura, black-red fissures laced up my arm.
"Tyrfing doesn't cut," Mother said. "It erases."
I focused, forming a layer of Nen-hardened Touki between my skin and the blade. The destructive aura stabilized—barely.
Then I swung. The space ahead of me didn't burn. It vanished—a crescent arc of pure erasure.
Tyrfing returned to stillness in my hand.
"If you ever lose control," Mother said, "drop it. Or you won't stop."
Next was Balmung, which was different from Gram and Tyrfing—lighter, faster, buzzing like a whisper in my hand.
The moment I drew it, a vortex spun around me—small, focused, but rising fast.
"Wind. Motion. Rhythm," Mother said. "Balmung demands fluidity, not force."
I pivoted, allowed my footwork to flow. One strike downward. One arc to the side.
A coiled spiral of wind detonated, throwing dust and broken tiles through the air.
I laughed despite myself. "She dances."
"She duels," Mother corrected. "And she's merciless if mishandled."
Then we moved to Dáinsleif, this blade felt cold before I touched it.
When I did, my fingers burned with frost. Dáinsleif didn't resist—it tested.
I exhaled, aligned my breath with my aura, and slowly unsheathed the sword. The air crystallized.
"Now place it," Mother said. "Point down."
I obeyed.
When the tip touched the stone—ice exploded upward in massive spires, spiraling like thorns.
Mother watched me carefully. "It responds to stillness. If your emotions spike, it'll turn on you."
I nodded and sheathed it with care.
Last, she handed me Nothung, again—but now, I understood why. Its edge didn't blaze, or tremble, or howl. It simply cut. Cleanly. Truly.
I raised it, then brought it down across an enchanted steel rod Astra placed before me.
No resistance.
The rod slid apart before I even felt the impact.
"This one," Mother said, "is the blade you'll call on when your heart is clear."
She turned away then, the final test complete. But just before leaving the vault, Mother paused in the doorway.
"You've touched them all," she said without looking back. "You didn't tame them. You earned their respect."
She disappeared into the corridor, her silhouette vanishing into shadow.
I stood in silence. Surrounded by blades. And bound to them—not by blood or destiny— But by will.
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1 year later
The chamber in the Celestial Forge Vault was silent, save for the low pulse of the Boosted Gear on my left arm.
Its green orb in the gauntlet shimmered faintly, even in the low forge-light, and its eye blinked as I knelt within the glowing circle carved into the floor—a [soul-link array] mother had prepared.
Before me sat all [five Sigurd Swords], their auras dormant, but waiting.
Gram. Tyrfing. Balmung. Dáinsleif. Nothung.
[You've synced your aura with each,] Ddraig rumbled from the gear.
[Now, you want to go further?]
I nodded.
"I want to use the [Transfer] function. To empower my allies in important moments."
I looked toward the swords.
"Let me store them inside the Boosted Gear. Bind them to it—not just in space, but in soul."
Ddraig was silent for a long moment.
Then: [Show me you can control the flow.]
I stood, exhaled, and activated the Boost Gear at once.
[Boost!] The sacred gear glowed brighter, demonic aura surging into my bloodstream, filling my limbs with controlled power.
I focused that output into my right hand.
Not into a person. But into a flame sigil carved on the wall—Astra's aura-forging node.
It pulsed. Then ignited with red-gold fire.
Next, I took a training sword and began pouring boosted aura into its blade. Slowly. Evenly. The metal hummed. Then glowed.
[Transfer!]
The energy shifted into the weapon—no feedback, no explosion. Controlled. Precise.
"It's not about dumping power," I muttered. "It's about guiding it. Shaping it into [will]."
After I succeeded in using [transfer], I hear Ddraig's voice.
[Then you may attempt to store the swords.]
I stepped forward and extended my left arm, placing the Boosted Gear directly in front of Gram.
Its aura flared slightly—testing me.
I pressed my palm against the hilt and channeled aura—not domination, not suppression—but "synchronization".
The Boosted Gear began to absorb.
Red lines of light spiraled around the blade, wrapping it in a cocoon of energy before drawing it inside with a *crackling shimmer*.
"One down."
I repeated the process with Tyrfing. Then Balmung. Dáinsleif. and Nothung.
Each one reacted differently—resistance, cold, wind pressure—but all submitted after brief aura communion.
The gear now pulsed with five elemental glows, each linked to a seal embedded along the gauntlet.
[You have done what no Red Dragon Emperor before you has attempted,] Ddraig said slowly. [You are not just a warrior. You are a **keeper." "Of flame." "Of steel." "Of legacy."]
I raised the gear, now warm with power.
"Then let these swords burn for more than blood," I whispered. "Let them burn for purpose."
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6 months later
I am currently in the Vault beneath the Buné estate, sealed under Mother's direct supervision.
The Vault hummed with layered magic. Six Archive rings floated around me, displaying runic code, magical theory, and battle analysis from across multiple worlds. The glowing panels fed into my mind—fast, seamless, crystal clear.
"This is it," I murmured. "No more theories. No more trial spells. I will perfect it now."
First I start with [Archive Magic].
I exhaled, raised my hand, and activated the **main Archive console**—a hard-light panel hovering just inches from my palm. Dozens of smaller panels bloomed outward like flower petals, rotating around me.
I tapped my index finger into the console.
"Access categories: Nen types, demonic aura flow, elemental resonance, foreign magic structure."
Information streamed through the panels.
Names. Glyphs. Soul resonance frequencies. Ancient spells stored from Sigurd archives.
Then—I spoke a command I'd been preparing for months.
"Bind Archive Index to subconscious recall."
A tone echoed through the Vault.
The panels shimmered—and then disappeared. Only one remained—resting over my left eye like a magic-laced HUD.
Now, I didn't have to ask Archive for data. It would give me what I needed when I needed it.
"[Archive Magic]—mastered."
Next is [Jutsu Shiki].
I stepped onto the dueling ring in the center of the Vault—etched with dormant glyphs from Astra's earliest rune training sessions.
In my right hand, I held a glowing brush made of compressed aura threads and demonic ink.
I didn't speak. I wrote.
[North Sigil – Rule Anchor]
[East Sigil – Enemy Detection]
[South Sigil – Rule: Movement restriction within glyphs]
[West Sigil – Time condition: 60 seconds, no exit allowed]
The moment I finished, the glyphs snapped into place—linked and complete.
I pulled up a summoned training construct, and let it cross the boundary.
"Activate enchantment: Confinement of Flame."
The training dummy froze mid-step—held in place by golden-red chains of light.
It couldn't move. Couldn't use aura. Couldn't retreat. I snapped my fingers, and the field deactivated.
"[Jutsu Shiki] perfected."
Now came the final test, [Fire Dragon Slayer Magic].
I centered my stance. Closed my eyes. And summoned the flame from within.
It wasn't just magic. It was "instinct". Soul. Bloodline. Rage and protection woven into one.
My back burned as crimson scales rippled across my arms and chest. My eyes slit, golden-red. My mouth filled with fire.
I inhaled—and roared.
"[Fire Dragon's Roar!]"
The flame erupted—not as a wave, but a beam, red and gold, compressed and laced with [Ren] to increase its strength.
The Vault trembled. Stone cracked. The training platform melted.
I dropped to my knees—smoke rising from my shoulders—but I smiled.
I had done it.
[fire dragon slayer magic],[jutsu shiki], and [archive magic] are in my arsenal.
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Third POV
From the observation window above, Astra lowered the recording crystal.
Lucerius stood behind her, arms crossed.
Neither said a word. But for the first time, they didn't need to.
Next time: Chapter 2 – When Worlds Begin to Shift