Seven months passed in steady discipline, each day layered upon the last with cultivation, practice, and repetition.
On one quiet morning, as I sat cross-legged beneath the great tree, I guided nature energy through my body with slow, measured breaths. The house was still, the early light filtering down in thin streaks around the trunk as it rose through the roof.
Everything felt balanced and controlled.
Then it happened again.
The strange jolt.
Without warning, a sharp surge erupted at my forehead where the black dot resided. It was not a gentle pulse or subtle tremor. It felt like something igniting deep within my skull, a sudden burst of energy forcing itself outward.
Pain followed immediately.
It was intense and blinding, as though invisible claws were tearing at the space behind my eyes. My entire body locked in place. Sweat broke out across my skin in an instant, dampening my clothes and trickling down my temples.
The flow of nature energy wavered.
For a brief moment, my breathing faltered, and the world around me seemed distant, swallowed by the pounding in my head.
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to remain still, tightening my control over the flow of nature energy instead of letting it scatter. My spine straightened instinctively, grounding me beneath the great tree as I fought to maintain balance.
The pain pulsed fiercely, radiating from my forehead down through my neck and along my spine. It was not random. It felt purposeful, as if something within that black dot was pressing outward, testing the limits of an unseen boundary.
For several long breaths, all I could do was endure.
Then, slowly, the intensity began to lessen.
The sharp edge of the pain dulled. The violent surge faded into a heavy heat concentrated behind my eyes. My breathing steadied with effort, each inhale deeper and more controlled than the last. The tremor in my hands subsided until they were still once more.
The jolt had passed.
I drew in a slow, steady breath and turned my awareness inward once more, carefully directing it toward my forehead.
I focused more closely on the space within my forehead, and the black dot remained there, silent and dense, unmoving in its position. Yet it was not the same as before. There was a subtle but undeniable difference in its presence. It had grown a little bit, just as it had during the previous jolt months ago.
The change was not dramatic, nor was it overwhelming, but it was unmistakable. Its form felt slightly larger and more solid, as though the faint speck I had first sensed was slowly gaining weight and structure each time this strange surge occurred.
A slow smile spread across my face before I could stop it.
It was progress... small perhaps, but undeniable.
I rose to my feet at once and stepped inside the house, the lingering warmth of cultivation still humming faintly within me. Charlie was near the hearth, tending to the morning fire as he prepared breakfast. The scent of broth and herbs filled the room.
"Charlie," I called, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
He glanced up immediately. "Yes, young master?"
"It happened again," I said, stepping closer. "The black dot has grown a little."
Charlie paused, setting aside the ladle in his hand. He turned fully toward me and studied my face with careful scrutiny, his gaze sharp and assessing. He was not looking for excitement. He was looking for any imbalance, strain or danger.
After a long moment, he seemed satisfied.
He gave a small nod of approval.
"Well done, young master," he said calmly. "You are beginning to see the fruits of your hard work."
His praise was measured as always, but I could hear the quiet pride beneath it.
I nodded eagerly. "Charlie, let us practice. I want to see if my ability has improved."
He gave me a firm look. "Young master, first have your breakfast. You have just drained your energy from cultivation."
I exhaled impatiently but nodded. "Then let us eat quickly."
I sat down and ate, though my mind remained elsewhere. I barely tasted the food. Every few seconds my thoughts returned to the black dot and the shield. If the core had grown, even slightly, then the shield should respond differently.
The moment I finished eating, I set the bowl aside and stepped outside with Charlie toward the open space near the pond. The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth. Sunlight reflected softly off the water's surface, casting pale ripples of light across the ground.
We took our usual positions on the flattened earth. Charlie stood opposite me, his posture relaxed but attentive. Without a word, he lifted one hand. A flame flickered to life in his palm, growing steadily until it burned with a controlled intensity. It was neither weak nor overwhelming, but balanced, deliberate.
He gave a slight flick of his wrist, and the fire shot toward me.
With the book secured beneath my shirt, I drew in a breath and focused inward. My awareness settled on the space behind my forehead. I felt the now-familiar presence of the black dot, and as I reached toward it, the invisible thread connecting it to the artifact stirred.
This time, the connection did not feel faint or fragile.
It felt thicker, as though the thread had tightened and reinforced itself after the recent surge. The warmth from the book responded immediately, steady and cooperative, aligning with the pulse at my forehead.
I raised my hand and held the image of the shield clearly in my mind, shaping it with intention rather than urgency.
Energy gathered before me in a steady, controlled flow. It did not surge wildly as it once had, nor did it tremble at the edges of my awareness. It moved smoothly along the strengthened connection between the black dot and the book, responding to my intent with quiet precision.
The energy condensed in front of my raised hand and shaped itself into a circular translucent barrier. Its surface shimmered faintly in the morning light, clear and firm.
Over the past months, I had learned to alter its structure. I could form curved arcs to guard a single direction, partial domes to cover wider angles, or narrow shields to block precise strikes. Today, I chose a clean circular form, balanced and compact.
The fire collided with it.
The impact sent a visible ripple across the shield's surface, waves of energy spreading outward from the point of contact. I felt the pressure register faintly in my forehead, but it did not spike into pain.
The shield held.
My eyes widened slightly.
In the past, this level of fire would have shattered the barrier almost instantly. Now, although the surface trembled and shimmered under the force, it did not crack. It remained intact, firm against the assault.
A grin slowly spread across my face before I could suppress it. The difference was undeniable.
Charlie noticed.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if reassessing the situation, and gathered more fire into his palm. The flame burned brighter this time, its edges sharper, the heat more intense. Without hesitation, he thrust his hand forward.
Another stream of fire surged toward me.
The moment it struck, the shield reacted more violently than before. Ripples spread rapidly across its translucent surface, distorting the air around it. The impact felt heavier, pressing against my control. I could sense the strain pushing back through the connection in my forehead.
But the barrier remained intact.
Charlie increased the power once more.
The next burst was stronger, thicker, hotter. It crashed against the shield with greater force, and this time faint cracks appeared, thin lines spreading like spiderwebs across the surface. The pressure behind my eyes sharpened, a pulse building at the center of my forehead.
I clenched my jaw and held the image steady.
The cracks trembled, yet the shield did not shatter.
Excitement surged through me.
"Your shield's durability has increased greatly, young master," Charlie said calmly. His voice remained composed, but I could hear the approval beneath it.
I let the barrier dissolve and nodded, unable to suppress the smile on my face. The faint ache behind my eyes was still there, but it felt earned rather than punishing.
We continued practicing.
This time, Charlie did not simply throw direct attacks. He altered his approach, sending bursts of flame from different angles, testing my reaction speed. A shot came low toward my legs. Another angled toward the tree trunk behind me. One streaked toward the edge of the pond, forcing me to widen the shield to protect more than just myself.
I responded as quickly as I could, shaping barriers in varying sizes. Sometimes I formed compact shields, dense and precise. Other times I widened them into broader arcs to cover larger areas.
The rhythm between us sharpened.
The difference was clear.
I could endure more than before. The connection between the black dot and the book felt steadier, less fragile under strain. The shields formed faster, held longer.
The pressure in my forehead still built with repeated use, but it no longer overwhelmed me at the same intensity. It was a limit, yes, but one that had moved a little further away.
And that alone made all the months of hardwork worth it.