Potential

Sol exhaled slowly, leaning back against his seat as the weight of everything settled in. He had the knowledge, the theories, the data—now he needed a plan. Understanding his affinities was the key to increasing his strength, but theory alone wouldn't be enough. He had to test them, push their limits, and find what worked for him.

His mind raced through possibilities. His Plant Affinity, while unusual in a world dominated by technology, could be incredibly versatile. As he scrolled through various case studies and records of plant users, he realized just how diverse the applications could be. Some wielders specialized purely in healing, using their affinity to accelerate cell regeneration and mend wounds. Others took a more offensive approach, creating towering treants—massive tree golems imbued with strength and resilience. Some preferred battlefield control, manifesting roots and vines to trap and immobilize enemies, turning the terrain into a living weapon.

Sol learned something crucial—most plant affinity users focused on a singular aspect and rarely branched out into other possibilities. His mind, however, ached with the sheer number of things he could attempt. Could he integrate multiple approaches? Could he combine growth acceleration with manipulation of plant structures to craft adaptable weapons? What about biological enhancement—could he push his own body to the limits using controlled plant properties? The more he thought, the more he realized that most had only scratched the surface of what this affinity could do. And he was determined to go deeper.

Then there was his Illusion Affinity, the one that confused him the most—but also excited him more than anything else.

Sol had always been mischievous, his mind working differently than most, as anyone who had encountered Peach could attest. As he considered the potential of illusions, he turned to the net for research, scouring every available source. But to his disappointment, unlike Plant Affinity, Illusion Affinity seemed far rarer, despite both having the same rating. What little he could find was mostly tied to entertainment—shows, festivals, and visual displays. It seemed that the world saw illusions as a tool for spectacle rather than something with practical or combative applications.

Sol disagreed.

His mind raced with possibilities. A well-crafted illusion could be more than just deception; it could manipulate perception at the most fundamental level. The more he thought about it, the more the implications became clear. If an illusion was so real that all five senses were convinced, then what separated illusion from reality? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. At first, he had been drawn to this affinity because of all the fun he could have with it—pranks, mischief, confusion—but as he kept thinking, something else settled in his mind.

This was an insidious power. A terrifying one. And in the right hands—or the wrong ones—it could be unstoppable.

His mind began forming strategies. Illusions were more than just visual tricks; they could be layered, complex, and multi-dimensional. He thought about everything he had found online—stage tricks, festival displays, basic misdirection—but that was surface-level. If he truly wanted to master this power, he needed to push beyond the conventional uses. Could he weave illusions so intricate that even machines couldn't detect the difference? Could he manipulate sound, distort touch, make someone taste or smell something that wasn't there? Could he create illusions so deep that the mind itself filled in the gaps, making them indistinguishable from reality?

Then he considered combat applications. If an enemy thought they were walking on solid ground but stepped into an abyss, would their body react as if it were real? Could he make someone feel pain from an attack that never happened? Could he craft phantoms, mirages, or even entire false battlefields to control the flow of a fight? What about stealth—could he cloak himself, make himself appear as someone else, or even erase his presence entirely?

And then came the truly unsettling thought—if illusions could perfectly replicate reality, did that mean he could create entire false memories? If someone lived through an event that never happened, how would they ever know it wasn't real? Could he rewrite someone's past, alter their perception of time itself?

His breath hitched as he realized the terrifying scope of what he was dealing with. He had started with innocent ideas—harmless fun, clever distractions—but now he saw the truth. Illusions weren't just tricks.

They were control.

And in the hands of someone who fully mastered them, they could rewrite the world itself.

Mythic affinities were so rare that data on them was scarce. There were theories, but no concrete examples of anyone with a Time Affinity. Sol secretly dreaded this one the most. The idea of controlling something as fundamental as time felt like it shouldn't even be possible. It was as if he had been given a power that defied the natural order itself.

He scoured the net, searching for anything he could find on Time Affinity. Yet, unlike his other affinities, there were no recorded cases of humans ever possessing it. But just because there was no record didn't mean it had never existed. He read through scattered theories and fan discussions, and while most of them were absurd—talking about infinite loops, paradoxes, and rewriting history—some were disturbingly well thought out. A few were so intricate, so detailed in their descriptions, that he began to suspect whether they were just speculation or if someone out there had actually seen something real.

The most logical theories suggested that time manipulation wouldn't function as absolute control but rather as an influence over time's flow. Some speculated that a Time Affinity user might be able to accelerate or slow their own perception, effectively increasing reaction speed beyond natural limits. Others believed that, under extreme conditions, a person could momentarily step outside of time itself, acting while everything else remained frozen. Then there were the more terrifying concepts—ones that suggested time could be rewound, events undone, or even that reality itself could be rewritten based on an individual's will.

The more he read, the more unnerved he became. Unlike his other affinities, where he saw potential paths to mastery, Time Affinity felt like staring into an abyss. No records, no guidelines, no examples—just terrifying theories and the lingering question that sent a chill down his spine.

If no one had ever truly wielded Time Affinity before, then what happened to those who tried?

With a deep breath, Sol reached for his holograph again and began compiling everything he needed to start. Training regimens, theories, meditation techniques—anything that could help him connect deeper with his abilities. The process wouldn't be quick, and he had no guide.

But that had never stopped him before.

He pushed away from his seat and stretched, cracking his neck. Sitting around reading wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to move, to test himself, to see where his current limits were.

It was time to take the first step.