Training

Sol stood up, stretching out the stiffness from sitting too long. He had read enough—it was time to act. Knowing about his affinities was one thing, but experiencing them firsthand was the only way to truly understand them. He needed to train, to experiment, and to push himself past whatever limits he had.

Sol knew he needed privacy and space to properly test his Plant and Time affinities, but his Illusion Affinity needed no such thing. It was subtle, quiet, and didn't require a large area. 

He sat down in the middle of his small room, closing his eyes and following the techniques he had read about online. He focused, trying to reach for something inside himself, something different from his usual thoughts and sensations. A strange feeling stirred within him, an unfamiliar energy pulsing through his mind rather than his body. 

Curious, he opened his eyes and waved a hand in front of him. The air rippled, bending like a distorted reflection in water. His breath caught in his throat. It worked. 

Excitement surged through him as he stared at the wavy distortion in front of him, his mind racing with possibilities. If he could manipulate light, then what else could he do? Could he make himself invisible? Could he disguise objects, shift colors, or even create something completely unreal? This was only the beginning, and already, his curiosity was overflowing.

Sol continued experimenting with his illusions, pushing the boundaries of what he could manipulate. He tested distortions, bending light to change colors, shifting the air to make objects appear different, and even attempting to mask his own presence. Every success sent a thrill through him, and every failure only made him more determined. The potential of this affinity was staggering, and the deeper he explored it, the more ideas flooded his mind.

Then, out of nowhere, the system spoke, its voice cutting through his concentration. "Would you like assistance in acclimating to your new abilities?"

Sol froze, blinking at the empty space in front of him. He hadn't expected the system to actively offer guidance. It had remained mostly passive so far, only reacting when he sought information. He hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of assistance?"

Then, out of nowhere, the system spoke, its voice cutting through his concentration. "I can run simulations and provide structured training programs to accelerate your understanding. Additionally, I can analyze and suggest techniques suited for various situations. Would you like to enable guided development?"

Sol's eyes widened at the offer. The system had been invaluable so far, but he hadn't considered it could actively help him train. If it could generate specialized techniques based on his progress, then he'd be an idiot to turn that down. He grinned, his excitement growing. "Hell yeah. Let's do it."

"Acknowledged. Initializing customized training protocols. Beginning with foundational exercises."

As the words settled, the air around Sol subtly shimmered. A faintly glowing interface appeared before him, filled with structured exercises, scenario-based training modules, and efficiency tracking. The system was generating real-time guidance, adjusting based on his understanding and progress. His heart pounded in anticipation—this was more than he had hoped for.

He wasted no time diving into the first simulation. His illusion experiments had been unstructured until now, but with the system actively guiding him, he could test precise manipulations. His first task: sustaining an illusion for a longer duration while keeping the distortion minimal. He waved his hand, focusing on bending the light smoothly rather than causing ripples.

The air shimmered, but this time, the distortion was cleaner, more controlled. A notification appeared in his interface, showing real-time analysis of his energy expenditure and stability percentage. He grinned—this was going to be fun.

The system wasted no time in escalating the difficulty. As Sol adjusted to simple distortions, it introduced progressive challenges. First, he was tasked with layering multiple illusions at once—shifting the air while altering color perception, bending light while masking sound. Each attempt forced him to stretch his concentration, to refine his control. The system provided real-time feedback, pinpointing weaknesses in his technique, highlighting inefficiencies in energy use, and suggesting refinements to improve precision.

Then came tactile and sensory illusions. At first, they were subtle—simulating a faint breeze against his skin, making the temperature in the room feel slightly warmer. But as he progressed, he quickly realized this was far more difficult than simple light distortions. His first attempts at making himself silent resulted in nothing but frustration—his footsteps still echoed, his breath still audible in the quiet of the room. The system continued analyzing his performance, pointing out inconsistencies, but even with its guidance, mastering the new layers of illusion was proving far more complex.

Hours passed as he struggled to fine-tune his control. Every time he thought he had it, the system would reveal an imperfection—his illusionary silence still allowed the faintest shuffle of movement, his attempt at creating the illusion of texture faded too quickly. The mental strain was intense, far more than he had expected, and with each failure, the dull pressure behind his eyes grew stronger. His head throbbed, his focus slipping, but he refused to stop. He had mastered the first exercise in minutes—why was this so much harder?

Still, he kept pushing, refining, failing, adjusting, failing again. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his breathing uneven as exhaustion gnawed at his concentration. He lost track of how many times he tried, how many times the system dissected his attempts, forcing him to restart. But then, finally, something clicked.

He moved his hand, willing the illusion to weave through not just sight but touch. The cool sensation of nonexistent air brushed against his fingertips. The faintest shift in heat made his skin prickle as though he had truly altered the temperature of the room. And then, at last, his footsteps disappeared, swallowed by the nothingness he had created. It wasn't perfect—not yet—but it was progress.

His lips curled into a tired smirk. The system had forced him to struggle, but that struggle had carved out something real. He wasn't just playing with illusions anymore.

He was learning how to make them indistinguishable from reality.

As his progress accelerated, the system introduced combat scenarios. Phantom opponents appeared before him, shifting and flickering as he struggled to deceive them with illusions. One moment, he tried to create multiple copies of himself, the next, he attempted to mask his movements entirely. The hardest test yet was the endurance challenge—maintaining an illusion while simultaneously performing evasive maneuvers. It tested his mental fortitude, forcing him to acknowledge that prolonged illusion use carried real strain. His mind ached, a dull pressure building behind his eyes the longer he held his illusions.

The system adapted. "Fatigue detected. Introducing cognitive reinforcement exercises to extend stamina. Suggesting controlled breathing patterns to maintain focus."

Sol exhaled sharply, following the new instructions. His heart pounded, sweat beading at his brow. But he pushed forward. The deeper he went, the clearer one truth became—this wasn't just an ability for deception or tricks.

Illusions could change how reality was perceived. And if they were crafted well enough, if they were layered and intricate to the point where the five senses couldn't tell the difference—then what separated illusion from reality?

That thought lingered in his mind, a dangerous and exhilarating possibility. He had started this training thinking of ways to toy with perception, to trick and deceive. But now? Now he saw something much larger.

He wasn't just learning how to make illusions.

He was learning how to rewrite reality.

And this was just the beginning.