The hearth, once alive with crackling flames and the warmth of a shared gathering, now held only the faintest glow of embers. The fire had long been extinguished, leaving behind a dim orange hue that flickered sporadically, barely pushing back the encroaching shadows. The silence of the room was broken only by the occasional chirping of crickets and the haunting hoots of owls drifting in from the world beyond the stone walls.
Yomi remained awake amidst the stillness. His breathing was steady and deliberate, each inhalation slow and measured as he settled deeper into his meditative state. Legs crossed, his body unmoving, he directed his focus inward, seeking to touch the invisible threads of the world's energy—Ki.
In his previous life, Ki had been a rare and precious force, something only a select few could harness. To wield it required not just skill but a natural affinity, an innate gift that set apart the extraordinary from the mundane.
Yomi had been one of those few—a prodigy whose mastery of Ki earned him the title of Heavenly Demon, a name spoken in awe and fear. Yet, even at the height of his power, Ki in his old world had been scarce. It was a resource fought over, coveted, and hoarded, its acquisition often requiring years of grueling meditation to claim mere scraps of its essence.
Here, however, everything was different. As Yomi extended his senses, he was struck by the sheer abundance of Ki that flowed through this world. It was everywhere—unrestrained and plentiful, like a vast ocean teeming with life. The air itself seemed thick with it, vibrant and alive, as though the very fabric of this land pulsed with untapped potential. Yomi's focus sharpened as he reached out, his metaphysical grasp brushing against the immense wellspring surrounding him.
Shock rippled through him. This wasn't the strained effort he had grown accustomed to in his past life. There was no need to claw and scrape for morsels of Ki, no years of patience required to seize even a fragment of its power. Here, Ki practically begged to be harnessed, as though this world had been waiting for someone capable of wielding its might.
The realization was both exhilarating and humbling. He could feel it coursing through the stones of the floor, humming within the walls, and radiating from the very earth beneath him. This world's Ki was a boundless river compared to the arid trickle of his former existence. For the first time in what felt like eons, Yomi experienced the thrill of unbridled potential.
His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained closed, his expression one of quiet triumph. This world will be mine to master, he thought. The scarcity and struggle of his old life were nothing more than memories now. Here, in this land brimming with life and energy, the possibilities were endless.
For Yomi, the night stretched long and quiet, but it was far from idle. This was only the beginning.
Here we go.
Yomi thought, his words a silent whisper carried only by the stillness of the room. Unbeknownst to him, the beast girl, cloaked in the veil of shadows, watched him intently from her cage. Her wide, expressive eyes gleamed with a mix of fear and curiosity, her instincts screaming that something unnatural was unfolding.
The first step to manipulating Ki required breaking free from conventional techniques—a practice known as the Zen Flow Cultivation. To embark on this path, one had to enter a state of Eternal Repose, a trance-like harmony that bridged life and death. Few succeeded, and many lost their lives attempting it. But for Yomi, this was no insurmountable challenge—it was a technique etched into his very soul, a remnant of his mastery from a past life.
Yomi's breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic precision. With each exhalation, he sank deeper into his meditative state, his awareness expanding beyond his fragile physical form. The air grew heavy as an unseen force stirred around him, responding to his command.
A faint ripple trembled through the ground as something dark and viscous seeped from the stone floor. The black ooze slithered with purpose, coiling and writhing as it moved closer to Yomi's cage. Its movements were almost serpentine, a living shadow drawn to the faint hum of power emanating from him.
"I can feel it," Yomi thought, his voice steady within his mind. He extended his hand toward the formless Ki, and the energy responded like iron to a magnet, gravitating toward his touch. Its density was far greater than he had anticipated, thick and potent like raw, untapped potential.
With graceful precision, Yomi began to manipulate the Ki, guiding it into motion. It swirled in the air around his chest, rotating faster with every flick of his fingers. The energy glowed faintly, its dark hue pulsing with primal intensity. He needed to refine it, compress it into a state his body could absorb—a feat few dared to attempt, let alone accomplish.
As the rotation intensified, a burst of light flashed within the swirling Ki. "There it is," Yomi murmured, a sense of triumph flickering in his voice.
He extended a single finger, steady as steel, and pressed into the center of the force. The energy condensed, forming a marble-like orb of pure power, radiant and dangerous.
Without hesitation, Yomi thrust the orb into his chest. A sharp, searing pain ripped through him as blood erupted from his mouth. His vision blurred, but he remained steadfast. The energy surged into his heart, igniting like a storm contained within his very being.
The world around him dissolved into darkness—a vast, empty void. Yomi's breathing steadied again, his body still, as he floated in the infinite abyss. This was the crucible of transformation, the moment where life, death, and power converged. And Yomi? He was ready to claim it all.