Mike knelt beside the teleportation formation, his fingers brushing over the ancient runes he'd painstakingly adjusted. The faint glow of energy within the formation was promising, but not enough. The problem was clear—it needed more time to collect enough energy to function properly. At least half a year.
"Patience is key when dealing with something as delicate as space-shifting," he thought, stepping back and gazing at the formation. "One wrong move, and I could end up lost in the void."
The risks of rushing the teleportation were too great. Mike had learned enough through his transformation to understand that he couldn't force the formation to work prematurely. He'd come so far, and now he just needed to wait.
"I'll have to bide my time, gather resources, and prepare myself for the journey ahead."
Determined to make the most of the time, Mike decided to explore the area near the cave's entrance. He ventured out cautiously, knowing the wilderness could be teeming with beasts. To his surprise, the area was quiet. No traces of beasts, no disturbances. It was as if the mountain itself had fallen into a temporary peace.
He gathered wood, stone, and whatever materials he could find, making several trips back and forth. Every time he stepped outside, he kept his senses sharp, but luck seemed to be on his side. No threats appeared, allowing him to focus solely on his task.
"I'll need these for crafting and strengthening the cave. It's better to stay prepared."
Satisfied with the resources he had collected, Mike returned to the depths of the cave. He had sensed something earlier, a faint pulse of metallic energy coming from deep underground. Curious, he started digging into the rock, following the energy's trail.
It wasn't long before he struck something. His hands brushed away the loose dirt, revealing a small vein of iron. But this was no ordinary iron. The metal was dark, almost black, and heavier than any iron he had encountered before.
"What is this?" Mike wondered, tapping the iron. Its weight and density felt unnatural, but his instincts told him it was valuable. He collected as much of it as he could, hoping to put it to use later. "It's heavier, tougher—this could be perfect for crafting a weapon."
As he studied the strange metal, another idea sparked in his mind. His chaotic energy had evolved so much during his time in the cave, and now that he had full control over it, perhaps he could shape it into elements. He'd been refining chaotic energy into a more controlled form for months—could he turn it into something tangible?
The thought excited him. He returned to his stone slab and focused his mind on the chaotic energy circulating through his body. First, he allowed the energy to flow into the palm of his hand, feeling its familiar, volatile hum. Then, he tried to shape it, forcing the particles to move in a specific direction, to compress and concentrate.
"If I can control the speed…" Mike thought, adjusting his focus. He pushed the chaotic energy to vibrate faster, increasing the friction between the particles.
Suddenly, a small spark flickered in his palm.
"It's working!" Mike's heart raced as he pushed the energy even further. The particles began to heat up, creating more friction. Moments later, silver flames burst to life in his hand—a fire born from chaotic energy.
Mike stared at the flame in awe, its silver light dancing in his palm. The heat was intense, but the flame was stable. For the first time, he had shaped chaotic energy into something elemental. It was fire—pure, chaotic fire.
"I've done it," he breathed, excitement surging through him. "I can shape the chaos into fire."
The silver fire flickered as Mike's mind raced with possibilities. With this newfound control, he could create more than just fire—he could craft, forge, and even fight with this elemental energy. And with the strange iron he had discovered, he could forge a weapon worthy of his newfound power.
"I've been relying on my body and chaotic energy until now, but I need a weapon. Something strong, something that fits me."
The thought of crafting his own weapon, infused with chaotic energy, made Mike's pulse quicken. The silver flames in his palm flickered as he considered his options. The dark, heavy iron he'd collected could be shaped into something formidable, and with the power of chaotic fire, he had all the tools he needed.
"I've been waiting for a challenge like this," he thought, grinning. "Let's see what I can make."
With renewed determination, Mike extinguished the flames and turned his attention to the dark iron. He knew that crafting the weapon would take time and patience, but the thought of wielding a blade of chaos excited him more than anything else. He could already imagine the finished product—a weapon forged from the darkest metal and the most volatile energy.
"A weapon fit for the Chaos Matrix."
For now, though, the first step was clear: mastering the fire.
Mike sat cross-legged, surrounded by the dark, heavy iron he had collected from the vein in the cave. His mind raced with possibilities as he considered different weapon designs.
"A sword?" he mused, visualizing a long blade crackling with chaotic energy. He quickly shook his head. "Too cumbersome. I'd need both hands to wield it effectively, and I've trained my body for versatility. A sword would limit my movements."
Next, he imagined a spear, its tip ablaze with chaotic fire. "Spears have range, and I could channel my energy through them," he muttered. "But they're too defensive. In close combat, I'd be vulnerable."
He shifted his thoughts to a set of twin blades, picturing their sharp edges slicing through enemies. "Blades would work for speed, but they're still detached from my body. I need something more instinctive… something that feels like an extension of myself."
As he dismissed one idea after another, Mike's memories from his past life surfaced—specifically, a comic he used to read as a kid. "Wolverine," he said aloud, recalling the hero with claws extending from his hands. A smile crept onto his face as inspiration struck.
"That's it," he realized. "I don't need a traditional weapon. I need something that complements my body cultivation, something that feels natural."
He began sketching a design in his mind: a glove fitted tightly to his hand, made from the dark iron he had mined. It would have three retractable claws extending from the knuckles, sharp enough to tear through flesh and stone alike. The claws, infused with chaotic energy, could ignite with chaotic fire when necessary, making each strike more devastating.
"Perfect," Mike muttered. "The Abyssal Gauntlet—not just a weapon, but a part of me."
With the design finalized in his mind, Mike focused on the task of creating it. He knew he didn't have the tools or experience to forge metal in the traditional way, but he had something far more powerful—control over chaotic energy.
"I can't rely on brute force," he thought. "But if I can master the use of chaotic fire, I won't need a hammer. I'll shape the iron with pure energy."
Closing his eyes, Mike raised his palm and gathered chaotic energy. This time, he focused not just on gathering power but on control. He began vibrating the particles of energy, creating friction until a small spark ignited in his hand. The silver fire danced in his palm, its chaotic nature barely contained.
He smiled, feeling the surge of satisfaction. "Now to shape it."
With his newfound mastery over the chaotic fire, Mike spent the next several hours practicing. He learned how to keep the fire's intensity stable and how to increase the pressure of the chaotic energy to melt and shape the iron. Every movement was precise, every ounce of energy directed with purpose.
"This is my path," he thought, feeling a rush of determination. "No hammer, no forge—just me and the chaos I've mastered."
Mike stood at the edge of the cave, staring at the dark iron he had mined. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. This wasn't just about crafting a weapon anymore; this was about pushing his limits—forcing himself to use chaotic energy in ways no one had ever dared.
He extended his hand, summoning chaotic fire. The silvery flames ignited with a soft whoosh, hovering over his palm. The dark iron was heavy, denser than any metal he had encountered before, but under the heat of chaotic fire, it started to soften. After a few minutes, the iron glowed, turning into a liquid mass. The liquid iron hovered in the air, held in place by a web of chaotic energy. Mike concentrated, keeping the fire steady as the molten metal shimmered before him.
"Perfect," Mike whispered to himself. "Now... let's shape it."
With his mental energy and chaotic energy combined, Mike started molding the molten iron. The liquid metal twisted and stretched, slowly forming into the shape of a glove. The process was delicate, requiring immense focus and control. As he crafted each finger, each curve, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
"This glove," Mike thought, his eyes narrowing in concentration, "it will be my extension—my weapon."
As the glove's basic shape took form, a new idea sparked in his mind. "What if I added formations? Like those I've studied in the teleportation formation?" He smirked, the excitement building. "If I can engrave energy formations on a glove, I can amplify its power."
He carefully began designing the first formation—a basic energy amplifying formation that would boost his chaotic energy whenever he attacked. But that wasn't enough for Mike. He started engraving defensive formations as well, weaving them into the very structure of the glove. "I need more... something that can withstand more than just physical damage."
Once the base formations were in place, his attention turned to the blades. He envisioned the claws extending from the glove, sharp and deadly, infused with his chaotic energy. "Penetration formation," Mike thought, as he engraved the runes along the length of each blade. "This will make sure no defense can stop them."
His heart raced as more ideas flooded his mind. "Wound-tearing effect… blood absorption…" Each formation was carved meticulously into the blades, layering them with effects that would devastate anything they struck.
As Mike worked, his mind wandered back to the runes engraved into his own body—the ones that had transformed his entire cultivation. "What if I added those runes as well?" He grinned like a madman. "This glove will be like no other."
With newfound inspiration, Mike carefully inscribed the ancient runes from his chaotic heart into the inner structure of the glove. The more he worked, the more absorbed he became in the process. His chaotic energy flowed through him, guiding his hands and mind, molding the molten iron and layering it with even more formations. He kept melting additional iron and compressing it into the glove, reinforcing it until it was nearly indestructible.
Then, another thought struck him. He remembered the fantasy novels from his past life, where protagonists would bond their weapons with blood, making them unique and tied only to their user.
"Why not?" Mike muttered, biting down on his finger until it bled. Silver blood dripped from his finger, glistening as it fell into the glove. The liquid iron sizzled as his blood was absorbed into the weapon.
Suddenly, the air grew cold. The sky outside darkened, thick clouds gathering overhead. Red lightning sparked within the clouds, swirling ominously as they thickened. Mike's heart skipped a beat.
"Oh, come on!" he yelled at the sky. "Every time I break through, or craft something new, you try to destroy me!" The heavens, it seemed, had no intention of giving him a break.
The glove, now infused with his blood and layered with formations, floated up toward the sky. Mike watched, wide-eyed, as it ascended into the storm, the red lightning crackling ominously.
Then, without warning, a bolt of red thunder crashed down, aiming directly for the glove. Mike clenched his fists, but to his shock, the glove wasn't harmed. The claws extended from the glove, gleaming with an eerie silver light, and slashed through the air. The red thunderbolt shattered under the strike, dispersing into fragments. The dark clouds above roiled angrily as another bolt of lightning, even stronger than the first, descended with fury.
Mike's heart raced as he watched the glove react. This time, the claws extended again, slicing through the air with a single, powerful swipe. The second bolt of lightning cracked with a deafening roar, but the glove held firm.
The thunderbolt shattered, though some of the energy managed to bypass the glove and struck Mike directly. He grunted as the raw energy entered his body, but instead of pain, he felt something else. His chaotic energy surged, automatically absorbing the residual power from the lightning. His entire body hummed with newfound energy as the glove descended, now fully formed and glowing with power.
"Did I just… create a tribulation weapon?" Mike murmured in disbelief.
The glove, now attached to his hands, fit perfectly. The claws retracted smoothly, disappearing into the glove. It was a deep black, with intricate silvery patterns and mysterious runes etched all over its surface. Every inch of the weapon radiated power.
Mike looked down at the glove, awe filling his eyes. "This… this is far beyond what I imagined. What the hell did I just create?"
He flexed his fingers, admiring the way the glove melded with his body. The chaotic energy within him pulsed in sync with the glove, reinforcing it and amplifying its power with every heartbeat.
He grinned, excitement bubbling within him. "Abyssal Gauntlet… you were definitely worth the effort."
Mike stood in the cave, flexing his fingers, marveling at how perfectly the Abyssal Gauntlet fit on his hand. It wasn't just a weapon—it felt like an extension of his body. He could sense the energy coursing through it, the same chaotic energy that flowed in his veins. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sat down to meditate, circulating chaotic energy through his body. To his surprise, he felt the glove also absorb some of the energy, as though it was alive, feeding on his cultivation.
"Huh," Mike thought, raising an eyebrow. "It's like the glove is growing with me."
The realization hit him hard. This was no ordinary weapon; it was a growth weapon—one that would evolve and strengthen alongside him. His excitement soared. With every refinement, every breakthrough, the glove would grow in power, just as he did.
"You're not just a weapon, are you?" Mike whispered, admiring the Abyssal Gauntlet. "You're a part of me now."
Excited to test the weapon, Mike got to his feet and began practicing the Chaotic Killing Art. As he unleashed his strikes, he activated the retractable blades on the glove. With each slash, the claws extended in a blur of silver, cutting through the air with ease. Every motion felt fluid, natural, as if the claws had always been a part of his fighting style.
He grinned, exhilarated. "This is insane!" he thought as he moved faster, pushing the limits of his technique. The chaotic energy within him roared to life, amplifying the power of his attacks. The claws of the Abyssal Gauntlet tore through the air, each strike more precise and deadly than the last.
The more he practiced, the more comfortable he became with the retractable blades. He could feel the formations on the glove working in perfect harmony with his chaotic energy, amplifying his strikes and defense. His movements were sharper, quicker, and deadlier than ever before.
"I'm so happy I made this thing," Mike thought, almost laughing with joy as he finished his training session. "It's perfect. I'm perfect."
After a few more rounds of testing his new abilities, Mike decided it was time to prepare for the next phase of his plans. He collected the remaining black iron, carefully storing it in his space ring. "This material is incredible," he mused, feeling the weight of the iron even in its raw form. "I'll need more of this if I want to make a full set of armor. And maybe a few accessories."
His eyes gleamed with excitement as he thought about the possibilities—a complete set of gear made from the same dark iron as his gauntlet. If the gauntlet alone was this powerful, what would an entire suit of armor be like?
With a wide grin, Mike made his way back to the deepest part of the cave, where he had sensed more of the metallic energy earlier. "Time to get back to work," he said aloud, his voice echoing through the empty cave. He summoned his chaotic energy once again, this time using it to break apart the rock and soil, making the mining process faster.
As he dug deeper into the cave, his hands never felt the strain. The Abyssal Gauntlet hummed softly, as if it was eager to be part of the process. Mike couldn't help but laugh, the joy of his new creation fueling his energy. He worked faster, breaking apart chunks of rock with ease, revealing more and more of the dark iron vein.
He started singing to himself, an old song from his past life. The sound echoed off the stone walls, creating a surreal atmosphere in the depths of the cave. Every time he uncovered more black iron, he felt a surge of satisfaction. "This is going to be great," he thought, picturing the full suit of armor that would soon take shape.
For hours, he continued mining, singing and smiling as he worked. His spirits were high, the thought of crafting more weapons and armor filling him with excitement. It was like a puzzle, one he was eager to solve.
He paused for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow, even though his new realm meant he hardly ever felt fatigued. Looking at the iron, he chuckled. "This is going to be fun."
Mike knew that, with the right formations and more chaotic energy, he could create something even more powerful than the gauntlet. The thought made his heart race with anticipation.
"I wonder what the heavens will do next," he mused, a smirk crossing his face. Every time he pushed his boundaries, the sky seemed to challenge him. "Whatever it is, I'll be ready."
He continued mining, the sound of his voice and the clink of metal filling the depths of the cave, his mind already racing with plans for the future.