threads of infinity the still point 26
The cavernous training ground was silent, save for the faint hum of cursed energy that rippled through the air. Tsukasa stood at the center of the space, his posture rigid, his icy blue eyes fixed on the void before him. He had been here for hours—days, perhaps. Time had become irrelevant. Only the goal mattered.
Amber.
A technique so intricate, so demanding, that even the slightest mistake could result in catastrophic failure. The idea of stabilizing all energy—cursed, physical, and natural—within a defined space was one thing. Achieving it was another.
Tsukasa closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. His hands moved in a deliberate pattern, shaping the cursed energy that swirled around him. He visualized the field, a perfect sphere of equilibrium, where all forces would be brought to a halt. No motion, no chaos—only stillness.
The first attempt was crude. The cursed energy surged outward in jagged waves, destabilizing before it could take form. Tsukasa's breath hitched as the backlash struck him, sending a sharp pain through his chest. He staggered but did not fall.
"Too unstable," he muttered, his voice devoid of frustration. There was no room for emotion here. Only precision.
He tried again. This time, the energy formed a faint outline of the field, a shimmering golden aura that flickered like a dying flame. It collapsed almost immediately, sending another jolt of feedback through his body. Tsukasa clenched his fists, ignoring the pain.
"You will bend to me," he said, his voice low but resolute.
Hours passed. Each failure brought him closer, the field becoming more defined, more stable. But with every attempt, the strain on his body and cursed energy reserves grew. Sweat dripped down his face, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. His vision blurred, but he refused to stop.
Finally, on the brink of exhaustion, he felt it—the still point.
The air around him shifted, growing heavy and dense. The energy coalesced into a perfect sphere, its boundaries shimmering with a faint amber glow. Within the field, all movement ceased. A small pebble that had been falling through the air froze mid-drop, suspended in perfect equilibrium. The hum of cursed energy, so constant before, faded into silence.
Tsukasa opened his eyes, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He raised his hand, testing the field's properties. A tiny spark of cursed energy leapt from his fingertips, only to be neutralized the instant it entered the field. The balance was absolute.
But the effort was not without cost. Maintaining the field required immense precision, every fiber of his being focused on keeping the energy stable. His cursed energy reserves drained rapidly, a sharp reminder of the technique's drawback.
Still, he allowed himself a brief moment of pride. Amber was his now—a tool of unparalleled control, a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection.
As the field dissipated, the equilibrium unraveling like golden threads, Tsukasa staggered. His body ached, his energy nearly depleted. But his resolve remained unbroken.
"This is only the beginning," he whispered, a cold determination gleaming in his eyes. "I'll refine it. Make it stronger. Unstoppable."
With that, he turned and left the training ground, the faint glow of Amber still lingering in the air, a promise of the power yet to come.
The weight of the training hung on Tsukasa like a chain, dragging against his already strained body. His mind, however, was relentless—a sharp, calculating machine that refused to accept anything short of perfection. He sat cross-legged on the cold floor, staring at his hands as cursed energy flowed through his fingertips like liquid gold.
Amber was a tool, yes, but it was also a weapon—one that demanded mastery. Anything less would turn it from an asset into a liability. The sheer precision required for its stability meant that Tsukasa couldn't afford even the smallest error. His enemies would exploit it in an instant.
He recalled the sensation of equilibrium from his earlier attempt: the perfect balance of energy, the stillness of the field. It had taken everything he had to maintain it for just a few moments. But now, he needed to push further. He needed to wield Amber as an extension of himself, instinctual and unshakable.
Tsukasa inhaled deeply, his cursed energy coiling within him like a serpent ready to strike. He stretched out his hand, focusing on the invisible threads of power that connected him to the field around him. Slowly, deliberately, he began to weave those threads into the familiar structure of Amber.
The sphere began to form, its edges shimmering faintly as the equilibrium took hold. Tsukasa felt the weight of it pressing against him, the delicate balance threatening to collapse at any moment. But he didn't falter. His focus was absolute, his mind razor-sharp.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a distant rumble. Tsukasa's eyes flicked toward the source of the noise, his concentration wavering for the briefest of moments. The sphere of Amber flickered, its boundaries rippling as the balance destabilized.
"No," he hissed, his teeth gritted as he poured more energy into the technique, trying to salvage it. The effort was immense, his body trembling under the strain. But the equilibrium had been broken. The sphere collapsed in a burst of golden light, the backlash sending a shockwave through the room.
Tsukasa was thrown backward, his body slamming against the wall with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He slumped to the ground, his vision swimming as pain radiated through him. But even as he gasped for air, his mind was already analyzing the failure.
Distraction. Instability. Error.
He pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking beneath him. The thought of resting, of taking a moment to recover, never crossed his mind. Weakness was unacceptable. He had to try again.
The dim light of the training hall felt oppressive, casting elongated shadows that stretched and twisted with Tsukasa's every movement. His hands trembled slightly, the aftershock of the failed attempt at Amber still rippling through his cursed energy channels. The sting of the backlash pulsed in his chest, a dull ache that he stubbornly ignored.
He crouched low, his fingers brushing against the cold floor as he gathered himself. Focus. The word echoed in his mind like a mantra, cutting through the haze of exhaustion. For someone like him—perfectionist to his core—failure wasn't just a setback; it was a personal insult.
Tsukasa extended his arm again, his cursed energy flickering to life in golden tendrils that spiraled around his fingertips. This time, he wouldn't let external factors interfere. This time, he would master it. He'd force himself to.
"Equilibrium," he muttered under his breath, as though speaking it aloud would solidify his intent. "Control."
The cursed energy began to condense, the threads weaving into the familiar structure of Amber. Slowly, carefully, he molded it, his mind finely tuned to every subtle fluctuation in the energy field. It wasn't just about power—it was about precision, about maintaining the delicate balance that gave Amber its unique stability.
The sphere took form once again, shimmering faintly as the forces within it stabilized. The air around him grew unnaturally still, the oppressive silence a stark contrast to the chaos of moments before. Tsukasa could feel the strain building, the pull of energy demanding more from him than he was willing to give.
"Not yet," he whispered, his jaw tightening as he pushed further. His cursed energy thrummed, the threads holding Amber together vibrating under the pressure. The sphere expanded slightly, its radius widening as he tested its limits.
But then, a crack. A single, imperceptible fissure in the equilibrium.
Tsukasa's eyes narrowed, his cursed energy surging to compensate. He refused to let it fail—not this time. The fissure widened, the field destabilizing as the forces within it began to clash.
"Hold." His voice was sharp, commanding, as though he could will the technique to obey him. His cursed energy flared brighter, the golden light of Amber intensifying as he poured more of himself into it.
The sphere began to stabilize once more, the equilibrium returning as the crack sealed itself. Tsukasa's breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling from the effort. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. This was his moment to prove his mastery—to prove to himself that he was worthy of the power he sought.