Jason's first morning back to training wasn't kind. The muscles in his arms and legs screamed in protest when he rolled out of bed, reminding him that yesterday's grind wasn't some cruel joke. He barely had time to drink down lukewarm water before he was back on the floor, focusing CE Reinforcement. The idea was simple: infuse every fiber of his body with cursed energy to boost his physical strength, durability, and stamina. The catch? The energy had to flow perfectly, every microsecond precisely controlled by his Six Eyes.
The first few sessions were sloppy. His cursed energy sputtered, flickering like a weak flame, leaving his body stiff and exhausted rather than empowered. He could feel the difference between raw strength and refined reinforcement—his muscles burning not just from physical exertion but from the cursed energy struggling to sync. It was like trying to drive a Ferrari on an empty tank: power waiting to be unleashed but no fuel management system to sustain it.
He moved onto breath control exercises—deep, measured inhales and exhales designed to steady his cursed energy flow. His chest rose and fell like a metronome, blue light barely flickering from his skin's surface as he concentrated on expanding the cursed energy within without overloading his system. It was grueling, exhausting, and far from glamorous, but it was necessary.
By day three, his arms weren't shaking as much during reinforced push-ups. The faint blue shimmer along his skin lasted longer, and his strength felt less like a borrowed power and more like an extension of himself. He began pairing the reinforcement with his physical training—weightlifting, sprints, and explosive jumps. Each movement was a conversation between body and cursed energy, a fragile dance that occasionally stumbled but slowly found rhythm.
Blue came next. Mastery over this attack technique was vital—he needed that sharp, concentrated cursed energy blast to defend himself and strike effectively. Initially, his attempts were messy, the blue glow sputtering and cutting out mid-charge like a failing neon sign. He found himself gritting his teeth as he repeated the same drills over and over: channel cursed energy from core to fingers, maintain stable flow, release in a controlled burst.
The breakthrough was subtle but undeniable. On day seven, a steady, clear blue glow pulsed from his palm, slicing a chunk out of a discarded wooden plank without hesitation. The mastery was still far from perfect—his control hovered around sixty percent—but it was progress. Progress that tasted like cold steel and sweat.
Limitless was the hardest. The spatial barrier took everything he had and then some. Holding it for even twenty seconds left his body trembling, heart pounding like a jackhammer. With his Six Eyes granting perfect cursed energy control, the problem wasn't leaking energy—it was stamina. The cursed energy reserves were massive, but sustaining the barrier was like holding the city's weight on his shoulders. Every second felt like a battle.
Day ten saw him push to fifty seconds. Every muscle in his body screamed for relief, but he held fast. The barrier shimmered, warping the space around him with subtle ripples. His lungs burned, sweat poured down his temples, but the shield stayed intact—until the last second, when exhaustion forced it down. He collapsed afterward, gasping for air, the room spinning.
Reverse Cursed Technique, however, remained a mystery locked tight. Every attempt to summon healing energy failed. His cursed energy was raw and untrained in that art, and his impatience only made it worse. He'd let it simmer for now, focusing on what he could improve.
Throughout those two weeks, Jason kept meticulous notes—observing how his body responded, how the cursed energy pulsed and ebbed with his will. He tweaked his routine, balancing physical exhaustion against energy control drills, always pushing just beyond his limits without snapping. He'd grow stronger, yes, but only so far.
By the end of the fortnight, his strength had tripled from where he started, close to six times a normal human's capability. Blue glowed strong enough for steady attacks with sixty-five percent mastery, sharp and reliable though not razor-perfect. Limitless could hold steady for a minute before fatigue claimed him, a crushing but manageable threshold. The dream of effortless control and near-invincibility still felt distant, like a mountain peak just out of sight.
Jason sat cross-legged on the floor, muscles sore but spirit unbroken. The ache was a steady reminder of progress, not failure. He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar hum of cursed energy coursing through reinforced limbs. The moment was bittersweet—he'd reached his current ceiling, but the real journey was just beginning.
He swallowed hard, heart pounding. Too much energy, and nowhere near the control to handle it. Jason cracked a crooked smile, the tiniest edge of sarcasm breaking through the shock. "Well, at least I've got one thing going for me."
He thought about what came next. To break through, to surpass these limits, he'd need time, patience, and maybe a new perspective. For now, though, he had the tools to survive—and that was enough to keep going.
The day's training complete, he stretched out his stiff limbs and felt the familiar gnaw of hunger. Time to scavenge for food, then back to the grind tomorrow. No rest for the cursed, no peace for the determined.