Narasha tried to pull her wrists free from his grip, twisting slightly and putting strength into her arms, but the difference between them was absolute. No matter how she strained, she couldn't overcome Ashan's physical power.
"Alright, alright," she muttered quickly, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm sorry. I won't tease you like that again."
Ashan held her gaze for a moment longer, making sure she understood that he wasn't actually angry. Then, slowly, he loosened his grip and released her wrists.
He shifted slightly, guiding her to sit beside him instead of hovering over him.
"If you tease me like that again," he said calmly, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips, "prepare for the outcome."
His tone dropped just enough to make it dangerous.
"I'll gladly punish you."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"Because teasing you like that… is actually quite fun."
Narasha's cheeks flushed, half from irritation and half from something she didn't want to admit. She retaliated instantly, pinching his side harder than before.
"How dare you touch my body like that?" she snapped. "You grab me, pin me down, and then claim you're not a pervert?"
Her eyes flashed playfully.
"Next time you do something like that again, I'll suck all your blood out."
Ashan only chuckled softly.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead.
"Well," he said lightly, "if it's you, I'll gladly turn into a pervert."
His voice softened.
"Only to feel your warmth."
Narasha tried to maintain her mocking smile, but her heartbeat betrayed her. It began pounding hard against her ribs, warmth spreading across her face.
"You think those tricky, sweet words can win me over?" she scoffed, though her voice had softened slightly. "Go out of my room."
She tried to stand and slide off the bed.
Ashan caught her wrist before she could move far.
"How cold," he sighed dramatically. "Trying to throw me out when I came here asking for help."
Narasha stared at him.
"Help? From me?"
She blinked. "I'm amazed to hear you asking for help. What is it?"
Ashan's expression turned serious.
"It's nothing complicated."
He paused. "Just poison me."
She stared.
"…What?"
"Poison me."
Narasha's brows knitted together.
"Have you completely lost your mind? Why are you suddenly asking to get killed?"
He shook his head.
"No, it's not like that."
His eyes sharpened.
"I want to test a new ability."
Her arms crossed instinctively.
"A new ability? And that has something to do with my poison?"
Ashan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood up from the bed.
With a subtle shift of cursed energy, the wheel manifested above his head.
It appeared silently, hovering horizontally like a divine halo. Eight curved handles extended outward, engraved with symbols.
Narasha's breath caught.
"What… is that?"
Her eyes widened.
"Why is that floating above your head?"
Ashan reached for her hand.
"I'll explain. But not here."
His Mangekyou Sharingan ignited.
Space twisted around them. The air distorted like liquid being stirred, and in the next instant, both vanished.
They reappeared in an isolated section of the academy grounds, a quiet training field surrounded by trees, far from wandering students.
Narasha looked around, impressed despite herself.
"Your teleportation ability is absurd," she said. "How far can you travel with it?"
"It has no strict range," Ashan replied calmly. "As long as I know the location clearly, I can reach it."
She let out a slow breath.
"If other humans knew that, they'd die of envy."
Her gaze returned to him.
"You're clearly not normal."
Ashan grinned and pointed a thumb at himself.
"Of course."
He smirked. "I'm a hacker."
She blinked.
"…A what?"
He waved it off.
"Forget that."
He turned his attention to the wheel.
"This is called the Dharmachakra Wheel. You can just call it the wheel."
His voice became steady, measured.
"It represents the law of adaptation."
Narasha listened carefully.
"It's a divine artifact," he continued. "Its function is simple in concept, terrifying in execution."
He glanced at her.
"When I'm struck by something unfamiliar, an attack, a skill, technique, or phenomenon, my body takes damage because it doesn't understand it."
He tapped lightly at his chest.
"But when the wheel turns… it learns."
Narasha frowned slightly. "Learns?"
"Yes."
He explained patiently.
"The first hit hurts. The wheel rotates."
"My body and cursed energy analyze what harmed me."
He paused.
"The second time, it hurts less. After a few rotations… it stops hurting entirely."
Narasha's expression shifted from confusion to stunned realization.
"It rewrites you," she murmured.
Ashan nodded.
"It studies what damages me and adapts me to it."
His eyes sharpened.
"Elements. Poison. Spatial distortion. Even powerful skills."
"Once the wheel completes its rotation cycle, that exact method can no longer harm me."
Narasha stared at him in disbelief.
"That's… terrifying."
Her voice dropped.
"How did you even obtain something like that? I've never heard of such an artifact."
Ashan gave her a soft but knowing smile.
"I understand it sounds absurd. For now, don't ask how I acquired it."
His tone carried quiet certainty.
"In the future, you'll see even more unbelievable things from me."
Narasha studied him, then exhaled slowly.
"…Alright."
She nodded once.
"What do you need me to do?"
Ashan extended his arm toward her.
"Inject me with your poison."
"That's how I'll test it."
She hesitated only briefly before stepping closer.
Her fingertip pressed gently against his skin. A transparent, nearly invisible liquid seeped from her nail and spread over his arm.
Then she scratched lightly, opening a thin cut.
The toxin entered.
"It's done," she said calmly. "You'll feel it soon."
Ashan's body stiffened almost instantly.
A sharp, burning sensation erupted from the wound and spread rapidly through his bloodstream. The veins around the cut darkened faintly, tinged with violet as the poison circulated.
Narasha stepped back, her expression serious now.
"Be careful," she warned. "That dose is stronger than last time."
Ashan didn't respond.
The poison intensified.
His muscles tightened involuntarily. His vision blurred for half a second. His heartbeat spiked unnaturally.
Then,
Click.
A low metallic sound echoed behind his head.
The wheel began to rotate.
Slowly at first. Then gradually faster.
The engravings glowed brighter, oscillating between gold and shadowed black.
The burning dulled. His pulse stabilized. The purple tint in his veins began to fade.
Narasha's eyes widened.
"It's counteracting it?"
Ashan inhaled slowly.
"No," he said quietly. "It's adapting."
The wheel spun again.
Cursed energy around him rippled violently, forming patterns that mirrored the poison's structure. It was as though his body was dissecting the toxin at a conceptual level, breaking it down, understanding its composition, rewriting his own internal response.
The pain vanished completely.
The glow dimmed.
The wheel slowed.
Then stopped.
Ashan flexed his fingers. The wound had sealed without a trace.
No discoloration.
No lingering venom.
"…It's done," he said calmly. "Your poison won't affect me anymore."
Narasha stared at him in disbelief.
"That's impossible," she muttered. "That dose should've liquefied your flesh."
Ashan looked at her, steady and composed.
"That's the law of adaptation. Once the wheel learns, it doesn't forget."
Silence settled between them.
Narasha glanced again at the floating artifact behind him.
"If that's true," she said softly, "then there's no limit to what you can become."
Ashan nodded slightly.
"It's powerful.. But it isn't absolute."
Her eyes flicked back to him.
"It doesn't protect me from being killed outright."
He folded his arms.
"If an opponent discovers its mechanism and exploits its blind spots, attacking in ways that bypass its rotation cycle or overwhelming me before adaptation completes, I'll still be in danger."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"That's why I must treat it as a tool."
"A weapon to refine myself further."