[FOR EVERY 100 POWERSTONES = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER]
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Six months. For six months, John Ashborn Pendragon had lived in a state of profound frustration. He, the man who had mastered the Six Eyes, the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, and Sage Mode, found himself utterly stymied by a simple wooden wand.
He sat in Merlin's vast library, surrounded by towering shelves of ancient, leather-bound grimoires. He had devoured the theory. He understood the intricate wand movements, the precise pronunciation of the incantations, the mental focus required. He could recite the properties of Dragon Heartstring, Phoenix Feather, and Unicorn Hair with the detached expertise of a master wandmaker. But when he raised his wand and spoke the words, "Lumos," nothing happened. Not a flicker. It was as if the magic of this world saw the churning cosmos within him and simply… turned away in confusion.
Meanwhile, Sharon flourished. Her power, a harmonious blend of Senju vitality, High Elf affinity, and a soul tempered across lifetimes, synced with the local magic as if they were long-lost siblings. He watched her one afternoon in the courtyard, a serene smile on her face as she effortlessly conjured a flock of shimmering, songbird-like lights that danced around her head—a complex charm performed without a wand or a word. The founders looked on in awe. John felt a spike of something that was not jealousy, but a deep, gnawing inadequacy.
The problem was his energy. He wasn't just trying to add magic to his repertoire; he was trying to invite a new guest into a house already bursting with volatile, god-level tenants. His body was a battleground for five distinct, supreme energies:
Chakra: The spiritual-physical blend native to his shinobi world, the foundation of his Uchiha and Senju heritage.
Cursed Energy: The negative, inverted power he had learned to wield, a cold, destructive force.
Natural Energy: The wild, sentient power of the world, which he mastered for Sage Mode.
Cosmic Energy: The primordial substance of creation itself, which he had first touched in the Celestial Plane.
Solar Energy: The pure, life-giving radiation he metabolized for vitality and power.
Each was a sovereign power in its own right. Magic, the sixth, was trying to enter this chaotic parliament and was being unanimously vetoed. They couldn't coexist; they warred, canceling each other out within his meridians.
One evening, the frustration became unbearable. He retreated to the most isolated, magically reinforced chamber deep beneath the castle—a room Merlin used for the most dangerous alchemical experiments. The stone walls were scarred from past mishaps.
"I will not be defeated by this," John vowed to the silent, empty room. "If they will not coexist, then they will become one."
He sat in the center of the room, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. His Six Eyes turned inward, becoming a microscope focused on the subatomic chaos within. He started with the most compatible pair: Chakra and Natural Energy. This was the foundation of Sage Mode, a fusion he knew intimately. The two energies swirled together, a green-gold vortex of power that settled with a familiar, potent hum. Step one.
Next, he introduced the third element: Cursed Energy. This was the poison, the antithesis. The moment the inky, negative power touched the harmonious Sage chakra, his body screamed. It was like pouring acid into a living wound. Every nerve ending caught fire. His muscles seized. Blood trickled from his nose. His vision swam, but his will was iron. He visualized the Cursed Energy not as an invader, but as a necessary shadow, the destructive potential that gave creation its meaning. For three agonizing hours, he endured, forcing the three energies to merge through sheer, stubborn force of will. When it was done, he was drenched in sweat, trembling, but a new, volatile, and immensely powerful tri-colored energy pulsed within him.
He didn't stop. He knew pausing now would mean losing his nerve. He reached for the fourth energy: Cosmic Energy. This was the fabric of reality. He didn't try to force it in bulk. Instead, he drew a single, hair-thin strand of the primordial power and gently guided it into the churning pool of the combined three.
The effect was instantaneous and miraculous. The searing pain vanished, replaced by a profound, invigorating warmth. It was like pouring the ultimate solvent into a volatile mixture. The Cosmic Energy didn't just join; it began to act as a universal binder, soothing the conflicts between the other three. His body, moments ago on the verge of tearing itself apart, felt stronger, more real. The process took six hours, but it was six hours of ecstatic reinforcement. The quad-energy amalgam was stable, a swirling nebula of immense potential.
Now came the fifth element: Magic. He drew upon the ambient magical energy of the world, the very force that had rejected him. Again, he used a thin strand, guiding it into the nebula.
The reaction was violent. The stable quad-energy boiled like lava, rejecting this foreign, structured power. The pressure inside him built to apocalyptic levels. He felt his bones creak, his organs strain. He knew with absolute certainty that if he lost focus for even a second, he would not just die; he would unmade, his existence erased in a flash of contradictory energies. Veins bulged on his forehead and neck, scorched black from the internal inferno. For another six grueling hours, he held the line, forcing the magical strand to be subsumed, broken down, and rewoven into the very fabric of his new energy. When it finally integrated, he had merged five universal forces.
But John Ashborn Pendragon was not a man of half-measures. He looked inward at the pentagonal power, a creation that would have made any god tremble, and saw it was incomplete. There was one more.
Solar Energy.
He opened his body to the sun, drawing its pure, radiant power. At first, it was a welcome warmth, a familiar comfort. But as he fed it into the pentagonal matrix, the true crucible began.
Outside, the world reacted. In the courtyard, Merlin, who was demonstrating a complex transfiguration to the founders and Sharon, suddenly froze. The air grew thick and heavy. A oppressive heat radiated from the ground, and a pressure descended that made it hard to breathe.
"What's happening?" Godric gasped, his hand going to his sword.
"Look!" Helga pointed towards the castle's foundation. The stone itself was beginning to glow a dull, angry red.
Sharon's elf-enhanced senses shrieked in alarm. "It's John!" She turned and ran towards the underground chamber, her heart pounding with a terror she hadn't felt since his sealing.
They reached the reinforced door to find it radiating blistering heat. Sharon tried to rush in, but Merlin's hand shot out, grabbing her arm with surprising strength.
"No, child! Do not!" His ancient eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and awe. "He is attempting the impossible! He is not just combining energies; he is performing an act of cosmic alchemy! He is trying to reverse-engineer the primordial energy of creation itself! It is like trying to birth a new universe inside an already existing one without causing a collapse. The forces at play are beyond comprehension. A single misstep, a single fluctuation in his will, and he will be annihilated from the inside out. If you interfere, you will destabilize the delicate balance and kill him."
Inside the chamber, John was living that annihilation, again and again. The introduction of Solar Energy was the final, critical mass. His new hexagonal energy matrix became a singularity. His body could not contain it. Atoms were torn apart, cells vaporized, only to be violently reconstructed by the very same energy a nanosecond later, forged anew and stronger. The pain was beyond description. It was the pain of the universe being born and dying in an endless loop within the confines of his flesh. He was a star going supernova, held together only by the indomitable will of a man who had already cheated death across two lifetimes.
He endured. For a month, he remained in that chamber, a barely-conscious god trapped in his own forge. The founders took shifts watching the door, feeling the waves of cataclysmic power ebb and flow. Some days, the heat was so intense they had to evacuate the entire wing of the castle. Other days, a profound, silent cold would emanate, freezing the very moisture in the air.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the volatility began to subside. The cycles of destruction and reconstruction grew further apart. The energy within him was no longer warring; it was settling, cooling into a stable, unified whole.
On the thirtieth day, the heat and pressure vanished completely. The door to the chamber swung open.
John stood there. He looked the same, yet utterly different. His skin seemed to hold a faint, internal luminescence. His eyes, when he opened them, were not the Ethereal Blue of the Six Eyes or the crimson of the Sharingan, but a deep, calm Milky way that held the light of a Lot of newborn star. He took a step forward, and the world seemed to hold its breath around him.
He felt… invulnerable. Not just physically, but metaphysically. He knew, with absolute certainty, that no magical curse, no physical blow, no soul-based attack could so much as scratch the surface of his being. The unified energy—he thought of it simply as Source Energy—was the fundamental substance of all things. It could become chakra for a Susanoo, cursed energy for a Domain Expansion, magic for an Unforgivable Curse, or cosmic power to rewrite local reality. The distinctions were meaningless now. They were all expressions of the one, true power he now wielded.
He had passed through the crucible. He had endured a pain that would have unmade galaxies. And he had emerged not just a master of multiple powers, but the master of the power from which they all sprang. The man who could not cast "Lumos" had, instead, learned to command the light of creation itself.
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