In the courtyard behind his residence, Kevin had set up a simple table. On it, neatly arranged in a rack, stood ten vials of an orange-red, molten-looking liquid.
Strength Potion. It was his workhorse. While the materials weren't cheap, they were readily available, allowing him to brew batches in his spare time. Its effect was brutally straightforward: increase muscular power, amplify the visibility of one's aura, at the cost of accelerated stamina and aura drain. In essence, a temporary boost to offense and defense with a sharp drop in endurance.
In his current Sky Arena battles, where he restricted himself from using Nen offensively, he hadn't yet needed such a burst. Beyond that initial test sip, the potions had remained in storage. But stockpiling them was never a bad idea; they didn't expire.
Categorically, the Strength Potion was pure Enhancement. He'd felt its compatibility during brewing—the process was smoother, more natural for him than other types. It was the perfect, practical test subject for Blank Meteor.
Ten potions. Fifteen minutes each. Factoring in his current physical limits—he could likely handle the strain of four doses per day, spaced with several hours of rest—this gave him a full hour of cumulative effect time.
How much can Blank Meteor memorize in one hour? The question burned in his mind.
Let's find out.
He took a centering breath, settling his mind and aura. Then, without ceremony, he picked up the first vial and downed its contents. The liquid was warm, carrying a faint, metallic tang as it slid down his throat.
The effect was immediate. The aura around his body erupted, his visible output surging by roughly thirty percent.
Blank Meteor.
The ability operated in two states. The passive state provided a constant, low-level enhancement to muscle memory formation—about double the normal rate. It required no conscious effort.
Now, he activated the active state. His focus turned inward, and the process accelerated exponentially. The enhancement to his neural plasticity and pattern-recognition skyrocketed to nearly ten times the baseline.
For the first five minutes, he stood still, eyes closed, passively observing the sensations. It was inefficient. He shook his head.
Action was required.
He dropped into a fighting stance and began shadowboxing. His fists cut through the air, generating sharp cracks of displaced air. He wasn't just moving; he was actively channeling the potion's enhanced aura into his strikes, feeling the new thresholds of his strength and speed, weaving the sensation into the very fiber of his being.
Ten minutes flashed by. The fifteen-minute duration ended. The extra drain on his stamina and aura was negligible; he wasn't even winded.
He stood still again, focusing. The aura around him flowed like water, shifting from limb to limb with fluid precision—the application of Ryu. "A faint impression," he murmured. "But far from mastery."
A single dose wasn't enough to cement the complex, multi-faceted 'memory' of the enhanced state.
After a brief rest, he drank the second potion. The cycle repeated: activation, intense physical drilling, focused sensation. With each repetition, the 'groove' he was carving into his neural pathways deepened. Muscle memory thrived on repetition. By performing the same enhanced actions under the potion's influence, he was giving his body a template to remember. Only after the template was set could he begin the fine-tuning with his will.
As evening painted the sky in hues of purple and gold, the effects of the final potion faded. Kevin didn't return to the house. Instead, he simply lay back on the cool grass of the courtyard, staring up at the emerging stars. His body hummed with a new kind of fatigue—not of exhaustion, but of profound, cellular change. The first session was complete. The foundation, however tentative, had been laid.
"Phew... no, this frequency of potion use is unsustainable. I'll run into trouble if I keep this up."
A Moment of Dream was, at its core, Post-Mortem Nen. Due to the unique fusion with his own being, it caused him no direct harm. However, the rule that potions brewed from it carried side effects for others seemed to have a corollary: excessive use, even by him, triggered a backlash.
The first two potions had been clean—just the expected drain on stamina and aura. By the third dose in the afternoon, a new sensation crept in: a deep, pervasive lassitude. After the fourth, the weariness was pronounced, seeping into his very spirit.
"Of course. Excessive medication is inherently harmful." It was basic medical logic, knowledge that would have been ingrained in the original owner, a medical student. That subconscious understanding had likely woven itself into the ability's fabric from the start. This, Kevin realized, was precisely the kind of innate limitation Bisky had mentioned—a restriction born not from a conscious vow, but from the user's fundamental worldview.
"Fortunately, I'm an Enhancer," he mused, pushing himself upright. "I don't need to layer on complex, artificial conditions." Intricate, rule-bound abilities were often the domain of other types, creating avenues for clever but weaker opponents to prevail. His path was one of raw, direct augmentation.
"Based on today... my current physical limit is about six potions in a day. Beyond that, I risk causing irreversible damage or outright collapse." He compared the sensations, mapping the thresholds of his own endurance. "To maintain peak condition without side-effect interference, two potions per day is the optimal, sustainable amount. Of course, as my body strengthens through training, that limit will rise."
He had a framework now. Two potions daily was the plan, at least until he depleted his current stock and could assess the long-term results. Material acquisition and brewing time were other constraints to factor in later.
Putting the logistics aside, he refocused inward. The four consecutive doses had yielded tangible results.
He concentrated, and the aura around his body flared, its visible intensity noticeably thickening.
"Hmm. I've learned it, but... the efficiency is low." He judged the increase to be less than 10%, a far cry from the potion's direct 30%+ boost. Still, a smile touched his lips. "It's fine. The fact that I can learn it at all is the success."
He continued to probe the sensation, his brow furrowing in concentration. A minute passed, then two. "An illusion? No... it shouldn't be. With my level of control, I can tell the difference."
He murmured to himself, the initial doubt slowly giving way to dawning comprehension. Finally, a look of genuine, pleasant surprise lit his face.
"An unexpected bonus! My base level of visible aura has increased. And my muscle strength feels... slightly enhanced as well."
The improvement was marginal, but it was real, a permanent uptick in his baseline.
So that's how it works, he realized. The so-called 'muscle memory' enhancement wasn't just about recording a temporary state. It was a learning process that prompted his body to spontaneously train towards the potion's effect during the Blank Meteor state. While actively under the influence, his physiology was unconsciously adapting, reinforcing the pathways the potion illuminated.
One day's results were subtle. But given time...
Whoo!
A surge of exhilaration, sharp and clean, cut through his fatigue. The path was not just viable; it was fertile ground. Every step forward would now compound, each potion not just a temporary tool but a seed for permanent growth. The loop was closed, and it was beginning to turn.
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