Master Splinter had grown stronger again, and the difference was impossible to ignore now. Everyone present knew exactly where that growth had come from, because every bit of it had been taught, guided, and refined by Locke. The more they saw, the harder it became to understand just how terrifying Locke really was, because if even a disciple could reach this level, then the person standing at the source of it all had to be on a completely different plane.
Leo couldn't hide the envy in his eyes as he watched. It wasn't that he lacked confidence in himself, because he had already mastered the power of fire and grown far stronger than he used to be, but he also knew better than anyone that he still hadn't reached the limit of his potential. As the leader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he understood his own weaknesses clearly, and because of that, he had never stopped training with purpose. He was improving every day, yet even so, when he looked at Splinter now, he still felt like he was staring up at a mountain that only kept getting taller.
How had Splinter trained himself this far? How powerful had he become after all this time? A wild thought even crossed Leo's mind, absurd but impossible to suppress. Could Splinter already be one-tenth as strong as Locke?
Raphael tightened his grip on the steel sai in his hand, his first instinct pushing him forward. For a moment, he looked ready to test that question personally, but then an ugly memory surfaced in his mind and killed the idea before it could fully form. He had no interest in getting beaten again, especially not by Splinter's staff, a weapon so brutally effective it could probably make even a billionaire like Tony Stark cry for his mother. Who could actually withstand something like that unless they were unbelievably hardheaded?
Naturally, Michelangelo was the one who stepped forward first. With his huge frame and fearless attitude, he looked more curious than cautious, and he bluntly asked the rat master just how strong he had become. There was no hesitation in Splinter's response at all. He simply lifted the staff in his hand, his calm face making the answer feel even more dangerous.
"Would you like to find out?" he asked.
Donatello sucked in a sharp breath at that. He had already started imagining the next few seconds, and none of those possibilities ended well for Mikey. But just as the atmosphere tightened and everyone thought someone was about to get smacked into the dirt, something changed in the distance.
A strange sound rolled through the air.
Beneath the colossal golden tree, the aura radiating from the godlike figure suddenly contracted inward, as if all that overwhelming power had collapsed into a single point. It looked less like suppression and more like a final gathering, the kind of silent compression that came right before a volcano erupted. Power was condensing, sharpening, transforming.
It was no longer just energy. It was evolution.
Among everyone standing there, only Splinter immediately grasped what was happening. His expression shifted at once, and for the first time, his eyes revealed a complicated mixture of fascination, envy, and something else that caught the others completely off guard.
Fear.
Raphael froze where he stood, staring at Splinter in disbelief. His first thought was so ridiculous he nearly laughed at it. There was no way Splinter, of all people, could be afraid of Michelangelo. That made no sense at all, and yet the look on Splinter's face was right there in front of him.
Had Mikey's question actually made their master nervous? Had Splinter just been bluffing this whole time? Raphael's heartbeat sped up as a dangerous kind of hope took root inside him. Maybe the old rat wasn't invincible after all. Maybe this was the moment everything changed.
A grin began to spread across his face.
This was it. This was the moment to turn the tables.
"I'll test the master's technique myself!" Raphael roared.
The moment he charged, his body exploded with momentum. Frosty power surged outward as he unleashed the ice element Locke had taught him to control, and bitter cold spiraled around him until he looked like a killer walking straight out of winter. His sai came down in a vicious thrust aimed directly at Splinter, and the sheer confidence in his attack made it obvious that he believed, deep in his heart, that he was finally about to win.
There was a reason that hope moved him so deeply. The fear the turtles held toward their master had been built up over more than ten years, layer by layer, discipline by discipline, lesson by painful lesson. Splinter had never been shy about enforcing obedience the hard way, and they all knew what happened when one of them tried to get rebellious.
But when Raphael thought victory was within reach, Splinter simply reached out.
That was all.
He extended one hand and closed his fingers lightly, almost casually, and in the next instant Raphael was caught. The turtle's body locked up on the spot as if some invisible force had seized every nerve and muscle at once.
"Why can't I move?" Raphael blurted out, panic rushing into his voice.
His whole body tingled violently, not from pain at first, but from a complete loss of control. The strength in his limbs vanished, and the ice power swirling around him fell apart almost instantly. He felt numb from head to toe, and the confidence that had carried him into the attack disappeared so fast it was almost embarrassing.
Did I guess wrong?
"Master Splinter, I think there may have been a misunderstanding between us," he said, suddenly stammering.
He didn't even finish the plea before Splinter moved again. Raphael's vision spun, and his body slammed hard into the ground with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. The impact shattered what remained of the frost around him, dispersing the ice element completely as if it had been suppressed on contact.
Leo's eyes widened.
He knew Raphael's strength better than anyone. Raphael had already stepped beyond the level of ordinary fighters a long time ago and was at least no weaker than most of the so-called human heroes. Yet now, under his own watchful gaze, Raphael hadn't even managed to force Splinter to use a second real move.
The difference was absurd.
Then Splinter raised the staff.
He brought it down lightly, almost gently, but the result was immediate.
Raphael let out a howl so sharp and pitiful that it sounded like an abused husky. The pain hit him so hard he nearly came apart on the spot, and his eyes turned wet with grief so quickly it was almost comical. He had clearly been taught by the same man, learned under the same roof, and followed the same path, so why was the gap between them still this wide?
It was enough to make him feel personally betrayed by the universe.
Meanwhile, Splinter remained as calm as ever. In the most humble voice imaginable, he said, "Compared to the master, I am only a flicker of light. I am as insignificant as a distant moon."
That statement wasn't false modesty. Splinter had already reached the point where he could sense nature itself and draw on the power of heaven and earth with growing skill. But the stronger he became, the more clearly he understood the gap between himself and Locke. Strength had not made him arrogant. It had made him aware.
There were levels between people.
Between Splinter and Locke, there wasn't just a gap in power. There was an entire road to godhood.
That difference was so vast it almost felt impossible to measure, and once Splinter understood that truth, his loyalty became unshakable. Following Locke to the end was no burden to him. It was the smartest investment he could ever make. If Locke truly walked all the way to the highest peak, then everyone who followed behind him might be lifted by that same ascent.
At that very moment, the radiance pouring from the divine tree began to dim again, sinking from blazing brilliance into a deep and heavy dark gold. The reduction in light didn't make it seem weaker. If anything, it felt even more dangerous, because all that power seemed to be drawing inward and compressing into an even purer form.
Beneath the tree, the man who looked like both a god and a demon stood wrapped in divine radiance. Silver lightning intertwined with the sacred golden glow, and the image they formed around Locke made him look like a celestial ruler descending into the mortal world. It was the visible result of the bloodline transformation taking place inside his body, a brutal, overwhelming leap that resembled ascension in a single step.
For ordinary people, growth was slow.
For those with talent, it was faster.
But for someone like Locke, talent itself had become a weapon.
It was like comparing an ant that struggled and cultivated all its life to an elephant or a whale that had been born above it from the start. There were ceilings determined by bloodline and genetics, and now Locke had the capital to crush others with that truth alone. Anyone who couldn't accept it would simply be beaten until they did.
Locke flexed his fingers lightly, and a muffled peal of thunder exploded out of nowhere. Behind him, the projection of the divine tree swayed with majestic force, as if a god-king were declaring dominion over everything in his domain. The sight made his eyes brighten with real interest, because if the divine body alone could produce such absurd effects, then combining it with the Xuanwu True Skill he already possessed would push his martial cultivation to an even more terrifying level.
The idea took hold immediately.
He activated the technique without hesitation.
Inside his body, the golden martial core began absorbing energy with frantic hunger, entering a violent cycle of expansion and growth. Power flowed into it in dense waves, and the changes outside reflected what was happening within. Little by little, the towering projection of the divine tree behind him began to shrink back, its massive form fading as though it were being reabsorbed into something deeper and more ancient.
Gradually, the sacred tree disappeared completely.
And when the image behind Locke emerged again, it was no longer a tree.
It was a terrifying shape out of myth itself, vast and solemn, carrying the crushing aura of an ancient divine beast. The form looming behind him was unmistakable now, a black tortoise whose presence felt older than mountains and heavier than the sea.
Was that the manifestation of martial will?
It was indeed the true form of Xuanwu!
.....
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