The artificial moon hung high above the clearing, casting its silver light across the still forest. Nero sat cross-legged on the flat stone, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deliberate. The warmth of the onsen had faded, replaced by the cool night air that brushed against his skin. He had rested long enough. It was time to push further.
He reached deep within himself, drawing upon the abundant prana that saturated the pocket world. The energy flowed into his cores, rich and potent, filling him with a familiar warmth. He directed it outward, channeling it through his body, and summoned his Law of Lightning. But this time, he did not wield it as a weapon. He turned it inward.
Golden sparks danced across his skin, illuminating the clearing with brief flashes of light. The lightning was not meant to strike outward—it was meant to refine, to purify, to strengthen. He focused his will, and the electricity seeped into his flesh, penetrating his muscles, his bones, his very cells.
