Strain

The air inside the abandoned hotel was thick with the scent of damp earth and sweat. Sol lay on the cold floor, chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. His muscles ached, every fiber of his being demanding rest, but his mind buzzed with something else—exhilaration.

He had done it. He had pushed past the barriers of his own abilities, evolving in ways he hadn't expected. The training had been grueling, relentless, but worth it. His control over time was sharper now, more instinctual. What once required deep focus now happened in a fraction of a thought. He could slow time, manipulate its flow, and now, even move faster while everything around him lagged.

That was new.

He groaned, sitting up against the base of the massive azure tree, its leaves shifting gently in the artificial breeze filtering through the cracks in the walls. Peach, his ever-loyal companion, padded over to him, sniffing at his exhausted form before plopping down beside him with a huff.

Sol chuckled, rubbing the tiny bear's head. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I overdid it again."

Peach let out a disgruntled noise, as if scolding him.

For the first time in weeks, Sol allowed himself to breathe—*really* breathe. He had been so caught up in pushing himself that he had barely thought about what came next. But he knew he wasn't done yet.

"System, initiate dual-affinity training sequence," he commanded, flexing his fingers.

**Acknowledged. Commencing integrated ability synchronization training.**

The air around him shifted as the room recalibrated. He had spent weeks honing each of his abilities separately, but now it was time to make them work together seamlessly. The challenge was control—balancing the unpredictable growth of his plant affinity with the refined precision of time manipulation.

The first trial was simple in concept but brutal in execution: defend against incoming projectiles while slowing time and using his vines to react. The moment the training sequence activated, a barrage of metallic spheres shot towards him. He flicked his focus, slowing the world just enough to process their trajectory while commanding his vines to intercept them.

At first, it was chaotic. His perception of time slowed, but his vines lagged behind, reacting too late. The mental strain of processing both abilities simultaneously nearly caused him to stumble. The system detected the lapse.

**Synchronization failure. Adjusting difficulty to maintain learning threshold.**

Gritting his teeth, Sol pushed forward. Again and again, he failed. His vines weren't fast enough, or his time dilation fluctuated too erratically, throwing off his coordination. But failure didn't mean stopping. He adjusted, refined, adapted. The more he failed, the more he learned.

Days passed. The difficulty increased. The system introduced moving terrain, environmental hazards, and unpredictable acceleration shifts to disrupt his rhythm. He barely stopped to eat, only taking breaks to rest, refuel, and play with Peach, whose presence was the only thing keeping him sane in the relentless grind.

Then, one day, something clicked.

The moment the projectiles launched, he reacted without hesitation. Time slowed as his vines shot out like whips, intercepting them in perfect synchronization. Each movement was effortless, precise. His two abilities were no longer separate forces—they were one.

The system chimed.

**Synchronization achieved. Efficiency rating: 87%. Recommendation: Further refinement to improve endurance.**

Sol exhaled, rolling his shoulders. A grin formed on his lips. "Not bad. But we're not done yet."

He moved on to the next level of training, pushing himself even harder. The system adapted, increasing the difficulty to match his progress. The projectiles moved faster, their patterns more erratic, forcing Sol to refine his coordination. He barely noticed the days passing, his routine reduced to training, eating, sleeping, and occasional moments of play with Peach.

Weeks of relentless practice paid off. His vines no longer lagged behind his slowed perception of time. They reacted instantly, moving like blurs, barely noticeable with their uncanny speed. They wove through the air like living whips, striking down projectiles before they could even reach him. Each motion was seamless, as if his abilities were finally working in perfect harmony. He wasn't just keeping up with the system—he was outpacing it.

The system chimed again.

**Dual-affinity synchronization achieved. Efficiency rating: 95%. Training difficulty maxed out.**

Sol smirked, wiping the sweat from his brow before bursting into laughter, a raw, exhilarated sound that echoed through the abandoned hotel. He scooped up Peach, spinning the tiny bear around as he grinned. "We did it, Peach! We actually did it!"

Peach let out a small, triumphant growl in response, swiping playfully at Sol's face. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to bask in the moment. The relentless grind had paid off, and it felt good.

After a long, well-earned rest, Sol turned his gaze toward the next step. Mastering his plant and time affinities was one thing, but there was still one piece missing—his illusion affinity. If he could integrate it with the others, he would become something entirely untouchable.

"System, initiate triple-affinity integration training. Let's see if I can break my own limits."

**Acknowledged. Commencing complex synchronization training.**

The air around him flickered as the training simulation adjusted, the lighting shifting to create a more surreal environment. Unlike before, this wasn't just about defense or reaction time—this was about deception, layering his abilities in ways that made him unpredictable.

His first task: maintain a continuous illusion while using his vines to deflect attacks and slowing time to anticipate enemy movement. The moment the training began, holographic adversaries flickered into existence, their forms shifting as they darted toward him.

Sol inhaled deeply, his mind splitting into three layers of focus. His vines shot outward, striking down incoming threats while his time perception elongated, allowing him to track movement with near-perfect precision. Simultaneously, he projected illusions—shifting his image to make himself appear a step behind where he actually was, causing the enemies to miscalculate their strikes.

At first, the strain was overwhelming. His mind burned from the effort of maintaining three separate processes, his vision wavered, and the vines began missing their marks. The illusions flickered, unstable, betraying their false nature. The system detected his instability.

**Synchronization failure. Adjusting parameters. Neural strain detected—warning.**

Sol grit his teeth, forcing himself to push through, but the strain was unbearable. His vision blurred, his head pounded like a drum, and a sharp, stabbing pain ran through his skull. His limbs trembled, his control slipping with every passing second. He couldn't hold it. Not yet.

With a frustrated grunt, he released his hold over his abilities, the illusions flickering out, time snapping back to normal, and his vines retreating limply to the ground. His entire body ached as he staggered back, sucking in heavy breaths.

**Warning: Neural strain at critical levels. Immediate rest recommended.**

Sol scoffed, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. "Yeah, no kidding."

This wasn't going to work. Using all three affinities together right now was impossible. His body, his mind—none of it was ready to handle that kind of complexity. If he kept pushing, he risked breaking himself before he even got the chance to master it.

He exhaled sharply. "Alright, new plan. System, adjust training. Focus on plant and illusion affinities for now. Time manipulation can wait."

**Acknowledged. Recalibrating training parameters.**

Sol rolled his shoulders, shaking out the lingering exhaustion. If he couldn't merge all three yet, he'd build up the foundation first. One step at a time.

He started with illusions, weaving them into his plant affinity. The system recalibrated, throwing him into a simulation where his vines had to blend seamlessly with the environment, appearing invisible while striking with precision. His goal was to create illusions that disguised his attacks, making them unpredictable.

At first, it was a disaster. His vines flickered in and out of visibility, their forms unstable, betraying their presence just before impact. He had to force his mind into two separate modes—one focusing on the movement of his plants, the other on ensuring they remained visually cloaked. The strain was immense, the disconnect frustrating.

The system ramped up the difficulty, sending projectiles at him from unseen directions. Sol had to rely on his illusions not only to hide his attacks but to mislead the incoming threats. He wove false vines in the air, distractions that lured attacks away while his real ones struck from unseen angles.

Hours turned into days. He refined his illusions, ensuring they no longer flickered or distorted. His vines became like ghosts—striking from nowhere, unseen until it was far too late. The first time he successfully tricked every single projectile in a round, a grin stretched across his face.

Then the real challenge began.

The system introduced moving targets. Fast, unpredictable enemies that adapted to his illusions and tried to anticipate his real attacks. He had to think faster, react sharper. His illusions had to be layered—misleading multiple opponents at once, shifting perspectives so they saw not just what he wanted them to, but less than what was truly there.

The training pushed him to his limits. He barely took breaks, only stopping to eat, sleep, and play with Peach. His exhaustion was constant, but so was his improvement. His illusions grew more refined, his control tighter. His vines were no longer just weapons—they were unseen, silent executioners. He was building something deadly, something truly untouchable.

The system chimed.

**Illusion-Plant Synchronization Achieved. Efficiency rating: 92%. Combat deception threshold reached.**

Sol exhaled, rolling his shoulders. A smirk curled at his lips. "Now we're getting somewhere."