A sandstorm raged across the desolate plains, scouring the terrain with biting gusts. Crimson dust clogged the air, turning the setting suns into two smoldering embers on the horizon. In the midst of that harsh twilight, Gojo Satoru hovered a few meters off the ground, the outlines of his lean frame wreathed in swirling energy. His white hair—wet from sweat—lay plastered against his forehead beneath the blindfold, though anyone with the faintest sense for power would know that his Six Eyes were keenly active behind that cloth.
This world had been unforgiving from the start, chosen by Gojo for its severe climate, unpredictable gravity, and frequent storms. But that was precisely what he needed. Ever since his humbling meeting with Whis, Gojo had redoubled—no, tripled—his resolve to push his limits. Months of relentless training had already yielded remarkable results. Still, every time he felt the slightest plateau, the Eternal Flame within him urged him onward, fueling him with an ever-ascending spark.
Today marked the start of a new training regimen even more brutal than before. The temperature soared well above what any Earthling might consider tolerable, the planet's twin suns merciless. Meanwhile, the swirling red dust sharpened the air like razors. Yet Gojo's stance never wavered, anchored by the synergy of his Infinity, the Eternal Flame, and his newly honed Six Eyes.
He exhaled, letting his mind sink into perfect stillness. Through the Six Eyes, the chaotic currents of cursed energy in the environment became clear threads in his vision—he saw the layered flows of heat, gravity pockets, and swirling negativity drawn from the planet's harsh climate. His control over cursed energy had always been unrivaled, but in these conditions, he was forced to refine it even further, weaving the intangible fields around him like a master conductor.
A sudden fluctuation in gravity buffeted him, sending waves of sand spiraling. Ordinarily, Infinity would passively keep such turbulence at bay. Now, however, he toggled it on and off in rapid bursts, forcing his body and reflexes to adapt. Each time he let Infinity drop for a split second, the storm would hammer his physical frame, raising welts or drawing shallow cuts. Then he'd re-activate Infinity an instant later, halting the punishment. This approach demanded supreme mental and physical coordination—a dance of microseconds and flawless reading of environmental cues through the Six Eyes.
And he thrived on it.
When the barrage of sand and wind became too vicious, Gojo shaped negative cursed energy into Reversed Cursed Technique, transmuting negativity into healing warmth. The ragged cuts on his arms sealed shut almost immediately, new skin weaving itself from shimmering blue-green motes. He rarely had to rely on Launch's first-aid—he could keep himself in prime condition day after day, thanks to the reversed flow of cursed energy.
Nearby, Launch squinted from behind a rocky ridge. She'd donned a makeshift visor to protect her purple hair and gentle eyes. In truth, part of her wanted to get in there and help, but she knew better than to interrupt Gojo at these peak moments of intensity. He had made it clear: This was training that could only be done solo, harnessing every ounce of his will, skill, and energy manipulation. She had her own regimen, but it paled compared to the insane crucible he forged for himself.
As the suns dipped further, the dust storm began to ebb, leaving behind a stillness. Gojo touched down lightly on the ground, dissipating the final swirl of Infinity around him. The battered desert had been gouged by the blasts of sand and gravitational eddies; it looked like a cratered battlefield. His breathing was labored but controlled. Blood trickled down one cheek from a gash above his eyebrow, quickly knitted back together by a pulse of Reversed Cursed Technique.
No time to rest. This was only Phase One.
He refocused on the next step: heavy-lift endurance. Bulma had given him a set of advanced gravity cuffs and weights, each capable of pushing him to the brink. He strapped them to his wrists and ankles, dialed them to higher levels than ever before. The raw pressure dropped him to a knee for a moment, the sand crunching beneath him as he nearly toppled. But he clenched his jaw, drawing on the Eternal Flame. A surge of vitality coursed through his muscles, blending with his cursed energy as he rose to stand upright, weights straining to crush him.
Perfect control of cursed energy, aided by the Six Eyes, meant he could direct power to each muscle fiber more efficiently than a normal being. It wasn't just brute force: he used Infinity micro-adjustments to offset the worst of the gravitational force, while still letting enough impact remain to stress his body. With each step, he took the sensation of near-crushing weight as a challenge, forging new synergy in how he used Infinity and cursed energy to lighten or intensify the load.
For hours, he slogged across the desert, bounding over dunes in short leaps, letting the environment's volatility test his balance. Gusts of wind threatened to topple him, but he turned them into training opportunities. If the gravity spiked, he turned negative energy into Reversal pulses that bolstered him just enough to stand. If the swirling dust battered his lungs, he shielded them momentarily with Infinity, then dropped it again to keep forging real resilience.
Finally, as the evening's cooler air set in, he arrived at a cliff overlooking a wide canyon—a perfect vantage for his next challenge. There, he set the gravity cuffs to their maximum, leaving him a hair's breadth from being pinned to the ground. He then lifted one hand, forming Blue in the shape of a swirling sphere. Another hand formed Red, crackling with violent repulsion.
He began alternating them in rapid succession. The desert around him roiled as Blue yanked columns of sand and rock upward, then Red blasted them into smithereens. His Six Eyes picked up on every micro-disturbance, letting him measure out exactly how much cursed energy to use, how quickly to switch from negative to positive flow, and how the Eternal Flame's presence might sharpen or soften each technique.
Eventually, he combined them: Hollow Purple. The swirling wave of destruction carved a path through the canyon, sending debris high into the sky. The shockwave knocked him back a step, but he rebounded, chest heaving as his reversed technique healed the fresh bruises on his arms.
At last, battered and drained, he sagged to one knee. Even Infinity felt shaky under the strain. Yet a smile tugged at his lips. He pressed one palm over his heart, sensing the slow, steady flame that refused to be extinguished. Still not enough.
He took a minute to center himself. In that moment, Launch appeared at his side, blonde hair this time she must have sneezed recently, triggered by the swirling dust. She wore a light desert cloak pinned around her shoulders, and behind the sandy goggles, her fierce gaze flicked with concern.
"You look like hammered junk," she said bluntly, but there was a hint of admiration in her tone. "Time to call it a night?"
Gojo let out a low chuckle, still bracing on one knee. "Not yet," he murmured. "Gotta at least finish strong."
She pressed her lips into a line, scanning the wrecked canyon. "Strong? Seems like you already took down half the planet's terrain." But she relented, stepping back with a small, exasperated sigh. "Fine. Do your thing. Just don't drop dead."
He glanced at her, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks."
Rising, he closed his eyes behind the blindfold, letting the synergy of Infinity, the Eternal Flame, Six Eyes, and reversed cursed energy unify in his core. In a single breath, he launched himself high into the sky, ignoring the punishing gravity cuffs. Air whistled past him, and the horizon fell away. Up here, he could see both suns dipping below the curved edge of the planet, painting the deserts purple and red.
He suspended himself midair— partially Infinity, partially cursed energy flight—then let the gravity cuffs ramp up to an even heavier setting. Instantly, a crushing weight seemed to plummet him downward, but he anchored himself with a short burst of Blue, nullifying some of the gravity while still enduring the rest.
In that suspended moment, he threw out a barrage of Blue and Red orbs, each one sculpted with more nuance than the last. He changed their shapes from perfect spheres to twisting spirals, to compressed needles. The Six Eyes let him sense the exact frequency of negative energy in each projectile, so no movement or watt of energy went to waste. The air crackled with negative and reversed flows, the combination forging shapes never before seen in cursed energy manipulation.
Finally, as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, he descended in a controlled freefall, Infinity flaring just enough to cushion the landing. Dust billowed around him in a wide circle. He steadied himself, chest rising and falling like a bellows. Every muscle in his body trembled from the extremes of gravitational force and cursed energy manipulation. Still, a grin lit his face, triumphant in the knowledge that he'd progressed yet another step.
Launch hurried over, her expression a blend of relief and exasperation. "You done for real now, or do I have to knock you out?"
Gojo let out a ragged laugh, sliding down to sit on a boulder. "I'm done," he promised, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just… give me a sec."
She didn't argue, removing her goggles. Her blonde hair tumbled free, and she knelt by his side, rummaging through a small satchel. "Water?" she offered, pressing a canteen to his lips.
He drank greedily, letting the cool liquid revive him a fraction. Then, placing a hand over the small cut on his forehead, he invoked Reversed Cursed Technique again, healing it in a gentle glow. The process was so smooth—like second nature.
Launch observed, a spark of wonder in her eyes. "That's still freaky, you know. Not that I'm complaining. Beats the old bandage routine."
Gojo managed a grin. "Comes in handy… pun intended."
The pair shared a moment of quiet camaraderie, the wind carrying away the last remnants of the day's ordeal. Above them, the night sky blossomed with stars, sharp and clear in the thinning atmosphere. For a while, neither spoke, letting the hush of the desert cradle them in well-earned fatigue.
Eventually, Launch stood and offered him a hand. "Let's get back to camp. It's late, and the creatures around here get frisky at night."
Gojo accepted her help, rising with a groan. His legs ached in a satisfying way—progress documented in muscle fibers. 'The Eternal Flame and my cursed energy are merging better than ever,' he thought, excitement buzzing through his veins. 'How far can I push it?'
They walked side by side across the cooling sands, the planet's twin moons hovering overhead like silver coins. Ahead, a faint glow marked their small campsite—just a ring of stones, the battered Capsule Corp camper, and a fire pit. Yet it felt like home amid the endless wilderness.
Inside the camper, Launch rummaged for a quick meal while Gojo shrugged off the gravity cuffs, massaging feeling back into his wrists. He could still sense the synergy in his body, humming like an undercurrent. The Six Eyes, Infinity, reversed cursed energy, and the Eternal Flame all danced in tune—like four instruments in a cosmic orchestra.
Tired as he was, he realized something profound: training was no longer just a means to be strong. It was a path to unify these disparate powers into something seamless. Every daily challenge taught him new ways to integrate cursed energy manipulations, healing, and dimensional control. Even if he never matched Whis or reached the pinnacle of cosmic might, each day's progress was exhilarating in its own right.
Launch plopped down next to him on the camper's small bench, passing him a plate of rehydrated stew. "Eat up, big shot. Tomorrow's another day of you trying to kill yourself out there."
He smirked, stirring the stew. "Hey, I do it all in the name of self-improvement."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide a fond smile. "Lucky for you, I'm tagging along to make sure you don't actually get yourself killed. Or starve. Or whatever."
Gojo paused, resting a hand on hers in a spontaneous gesture of gratitude. "And I appreciate that," he said softly.
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away, muttering, "Yeah, yeah. Just eat."
They fell into a companionable silence, the crackle of a small heater purring in the background. Tomorrow would bring another round of punishing drills, gravity storms, and expansions of Infinity. Gojo could hardly wait. The Universe was vast, and the ladder of power stretched on, rung after rung. But now, with the combined might of the Six Eyes, Infinity, reversed cursed techniques for healing, and the Eternal Flame's unrelenting spark, he had never felt more prepared—more alive.
In the hush of that alien night, he let the stew warm his exhausted muscles, mind drifting over the next day's plans. The path ahead might be endless, but for a sorcerer who'd tasted both humility and promise, endless sounded just fine.