The Grantham Orphanage success earned Leo a measure of wary acceptance, but no rest. Valerius was a relentless taskmaster, and Leo's new "training" was a brutal regimen of controlled exposure.
He was placed in a sealed chamber with a contained, low-level Echo—a simple, repeating sound of a slamming door. Valerius's command was simple: "Dispel it. Not with force. With understanding. Use your talent."
For hours, Leo tried. He multiplied his hearing, only to be driven to his knees by the amplified, mind-numbing *thud*. He tried to multiply a theoretical "psychic resistance," but it was too abstract, the cost crippling. He failed, repeatedly.
"You're thinking like a hammer," Valerius's voice came through the intercom, cool and analytical. "Your power is a scalpel. Find the right skill to apply it to."
Frustrated and exhausted, Leo stopped trying to fight the sound. He just listened. He let the rhythm of the slam, the subtle variations in its resonance, wash over him. He was a data clerk at his core. He found patterns.
*[Skill Recognized: Pattern Recognition - Basic Lv. 3]*
*[Intent: Sustained Application. Multiplier: x25.]*
His mind, already adept at finding order, became a supreme analytical engine. The slam wasn't just a sound; it was a data stream. He saw the tiny flaw in its loop, the millisecond of instability where the psychic energy wavered before resetting.
He didn't need to break the door. He just needed to gently push it off its hinges at the right moment. He focused all his will, not on a powerful action, but on a tiny, precise one: a single, focused mental *push*, synchronized with that moment of instability.
*[Skill Recognized: Focused Intent - Basic Lv. 1]*
*[Hundredfold Application Activated.]*
The *push* was multiplied a hundredfold. It wasn't a blast; it was a key turning in a lock.
The slamming sound stopped. The chamber was silent. The Echo was gone, not unraveled, but gently deactivated.
Valerius was silent for a long moment. "Fascinating," he finally said, his voice holding a hint of something akin to awe. "You didn't overwhelm it. You… persuaded it."
This was the breakthrough. The Hundredfold Application wasn't just for physical or mental skills. It could be applied to esoteric, psychic actions. He could multiply his *understanding*.
That night, alone in his new, slightly more secure quarters provided by the Corps, Leo pushed further. He looked into a small mirror, thinking of his reflection. What if he applied the talent to *that*? To the act of perception itself?
It was a foolish, dangerous idea, but his curiosity was a fever. He focused on the skill of "Self-Perception."
*[Skill Recognized: Self-Awareness - Basic Lv. 2]*
*[Intent: Experimental Application. Multiplier: x50.]*
The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic.
The Leo in the mirror didn't just look back. It *shifted*. For a horrifying second, he saw a hundred different versions of himself flicker across the glass—a Leo who was a confident Sweeper captain, a Leo who was a twisted monster consumed by the Gloaming, a Leo who was old and wise, a Leo who was dead and broken.
The mirror shattered, not from physical force, but from psychic feedback.
Leo was thrown back against the wall, his nose bleeding profusely, a screaming headache clawing at his brain. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the psychic shockwave.
Across the city, in a derelict subway tunnel deep in a Weeping Land, a shapeless pool of darkness stirred. It was a Manifestation that fed on paradox and fractured identity. It had felt a ripple, a tear in the fabric of selfhood, a unique and delicious anomaly.
It had tasted Leo. And it began to move, slithering through the cracks in reality, drawn towards the source of the beautifully broken reflection. The hunter had just become the hunted in a game he didn't even know he was playing.