Power does not arrive all at once.
It settles in layers, seeps into the cracks of the soul, and waits to be understood.
The years that followed my ascension as a half-Oni were not marked by conquest or spectacle, but by mastery. I withdrew deeper into my domain, into the heart of the Lava Lands, where molten rivers glowed like veins beneath the earth and the air itself bowed to my presence. There, surrounded by fire and stone, I learned what it truly meant to carry Oni blood.
The first thing I noticed was how easily my magic obeyed.
Spells that once required focus, incantation, and precision now answered my will almost before the thought was complete. Dark magic—already my greatest strength—had been fundamentally enhanced. It flowed faster, struck harder, and resisted countermeasures that once might have slowed it. Even neutral spells were affected; barriers were denser, illusions more convincing, summoning circles more stable.
It was as if the Oni essence had removed a limiter I never knew existed.
Then came shapeshifting.
Before, my transformations had relied on layered illusion, body alteration through magic, and careful maintenance. Now? I could become whatever I wished. Flesh, bone, presence—everything shifted perfectly, down to heartbeat and breath. No magical residue. No detectable flaw. Even the most experienced sorcerer or elemental master would see nothing but truth.
This was not disguise.
This was identity manipulation.
I tested it relentlessly—beast, human, Oni, shadow, stone. Each form held. Each felt natural. Eventually, I stopped thinking of it as a spell at all. It was simply another way of existing.
But the most important mastery—the one that defined what I had become—was the Oni Form.
The first time I attempted it, the result was… catastrophic.
The transformation amplified everything: strength, speed, magic, destructive intent. Purple flames erupted from my body, not burning the stone beneath my feet but erasing it, reducing enchanted basalt to glass and ash. My aura alone cracked obsidian pillars and bent magical wards inward like paper exposed to heat.
I ended that first attempt quickly.
It took years—years of discipline, restraint, and experimentation—to bring the Oni Form under control. To make it something I could wear, not something that consumed the battlefield indiscriminately.
Now, I could sustain it.
I stood alone on the highest balcony of my castle, overlooking the ever-expanding Lava Lands. A single purple flame burned calmly in my open palm, silent and contained, its light reflecting in the molten rivers below. That flame was destruction refined—Oni power no longer raging, but obedient.
I smiled faintly.
At this point, there was no doubt left in my mind.
If the First Spinjitzu Master still lived—at his absolute peak—I could defeat him.
If the Overlord somehow returned to full power, unweakened, unfragmented—I could defeat him.
Time. Oni. Wizardry. Spinjitzu. Sword mastery.
Individually, each was dangerous.
Together, they made me something Ninjago had never faced.
And yet… I felt no urgency to prove it.
Power without patience is wasteful.
I was content to rule the Lava Lands—for now. My borders expanded slowly but inevitably, stone fortresses rising where magma cooled, my armies enforcing order with mechanical precision. Krakenskull ensured discipline. Clay oversaw elite forces. Ruina's magic reinforced my domain in ways even the Elemental Masters would struggle to unravel.
Beyond my borders, the world was… quiet.
Wu and the surviving Elemental Masters had scattered, their alliance fractured by time and peace. They settled down, raised children, passed on their powers like fading embers rather than blazing fires. No unified force watched me. No coalition prepared against me.
This was not stagnation.
This was opportunity.
I did not need to rush to rule all of Ninjago. Doing so now would mean contending with future threats before they fully revealed themselves—villains, prophecies, disruptions I already knew were coming.
Let them emerge first.
Let them weaken each other.
I would expand when the moment was perfect.
I closed my hand, extinguishing the purple flame, and turned back toward my throne room. Shadows followed me like loyal hounds, the castle itself responding subtly to my presence.
I had become something greater than fear.
Something patient.
Something inevitable.
And when I finally chose to take all of Ninjago…
There would be nothing left that could stop me.