The resonant stone chamber felt charged, not with violence now, but with a profound, humming stillness. Yamato stood before Shinji, his luminous blue skin seeming to absorb the faint light filtering through high windows. The air itself felt thicker, heavier, as if saturated with unseen potential.
"Simply put," Yamato began, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in Shinji's newly attuned senses, "Spiritual Energy is the fundamental aura. The invisible ocean surrounding and permeating your body, your mind, your very essence. It is the breath of the cosmos within you." He held up a small hand, palm open. "Every being possesses it, Shinji. From the moment of birth, a spark exists. Even the wail of an infant carries a ripple in this ocean."
Shinji closed his eyes, focusing inward. He could feel it now, after Yamato's initial guidance; a low thrum beneath his skin, a subtle pressure against his senses, like static electricity clinging to damp air. "I feel it," he murmured, his brow furrowed in concentration. "A hum... a pressure. But I can't see it. It's just... sensation."
"Precisely," Yamato affirmed. "It is not light for the physical eye. It is a language for the spirit, perceived through the soul's awareness. Sight is irrelevant. Feeling, understanding, commanding; that is the path."
Shinji opened his eyes, frustration flickering in their deep blue depths. "So what's the point of this training? If I can't see it, and I already feel it... what am I controlling? What changes?"
Yamato stepped closer, his obsidian gaze intense. "The amount, Shinji. The stability. Your Spiritual Energy... it should be a vast, roaring river compared to the trickle you currently perceive. But it is dammed. Suppressed. Unconsciously constrained by your own mind, perhaps out of fear, perhaps simply from lack of awareness." He gestured emphatically. "This suppression weakens you. It stifles your true potential. Think of it not as growing new strength, but as unlocking floodgates you didn't know existed! Awakening the dormant power already within you!"
Shinji's eyes widened. The implications resonated deeply. The surges of Voidheart power, the regeneration, the strength that felt immense yet somehow... capped. "Wait... you mean I haven't been fighting at my full strength? Not even close?"
"Not consciously," Yamato confirmed. "Your body reacts, your power surges in moments of crisis, but it's uncontrolled, instinctive. A dam bursting under pressure, not a river directed by the will of its master. And," Yamato added, his gaze sharpening, "you cannot sense the Spiritual Energy of others effectively. This blindness is a vulnerability. Mastering your own aura will allow you to perceive the depth of others', to gauge their strength, their intent, their hidden reserves."
The strategic advantage was immediately clear to Shinji's analytical mind. Knowing an opponent's true power level before engaging? Priceless. "Alright," he said, resolve hardening his features. "I get it. How do we start?"
"Meditation," Yamato stated simply. "But not the passive relaxation you might envision. This is active internal architecture. Sit. Breathe. Not just relax your muscles, but relax the very fabric of your being. Release the unconscious clamps on your spirit."
Shinji lowered himself onto the cool stone floor, crossing his legs. He closed his eyes, trying to emulate the profound stillness Yamato seemed to embody. "Like this?"
Yamato observed him for a moment. "The posture is a vessel. The state within is the essence. It is... not that simple. This process, this initial sealing and control, typically requires three to four weeks of sustained, focused effort. Patience is not just a virtue here; it is the mortar."
"Weeks?!" Shinji's eyes snapped open, the prospect of prolonged stillness after the kinetic hell of the wilderness feeling like a new kind of torture.
"Silence the impatience," Yamato commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. "Focus. Your task now is singular: draw your rampant, suppressed Spiritual Energy inward. Compress it. Seal it within the core of your being. Minimize its external signature. This step is crucial; it teaches control and allows you to become a ghost in the cosmic currents, invisible to hunters like Amado's instruments." He stepped back towards the chamber entrance. "I will observe from a distance. My presence can be a distraction to the nascent spirit. Begin."
Shinji took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing down the protest. Invisible to Saganbo's hunters. The goal was worth any tedium. He closed his eyes again, plunging inward. The hum was there, chaotic and diffuse, like a storm contained within his skin. Minimize it... Seal it... He focused not on fighting the energy, but on gently coaxing it, imagining vast, invisible hands gathering the swirling currents, compressing them into a denser, quieter point deep within his center. It was agonizingly slow. Every stray thought, every itch, every echo of the past week's violence threatened to scatter his focus. Hours bled into each other marked only by the slow shift of light on the stone floor and the rhythmic sound of his own breath.
Meanwhile – Saganbo's Throne Room (Universe 3523)
The vastness of Saganbo's throne room, a space that dwarfed galaxies, hummed with a low, malevolent energy. Amado, his blue skin seeming almost gray in the oppressive gloom, bowed deeply before the dais. "I have brought him, my Lord."
A figure materialized from the swirling shadows beside Amado. He was unremarkable: average build, 185 cm tall, messy shoulder-length brown hair falling into warm, hazel eyes that held no particular fire. He wore simple, earth-toned robes that seemed designed to fade into any background. He projected an aura of utter ordinariness, like a clerk summoned for an audit. He opened his mouth. "I'm the M—"
CRUNCH!
Saganbo's boot, moving faster than thought, connected with the soldier's face. The impact wasn't explosive; it was brutally precise. The man's head snapped back, a spray of crimson blood and shattered teeth misting the air. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his ruined face, a choked gurgle escaping him.
"I didn't order you to speak," Saganbo's voice, cold as the void between stars, cut through the man's pain. He hadn't even risen from his throne of solidified darkness. "I was merely remembering which one you were." He idly examined his fingernails. "Your mission is simple: retrieve the Trascender. Shinji Kazuhiko. Currently hiding on Planet Suchumus in Universe 3, Galaxy 12." A cruel smile touched Saganbo's lips. "He is functionally immortal. Use any means necessary to subdue and transport him. Break him, burn him, scatter his atoms; just ensure he arrives here, intact enough to be... processed."
The soldier pushed himself up onto his elbows, blood streaming from his nose and split lips, his hazel eyes now wide with pain and terror, but also a chilling acceptance. "Y-yes, Sir!" he rasped.
"You are dismissed," Saganbo waved a dismissive hand, already looking bored.
The soldier scrambled to his feet, bowed jerkily, and vanished into the shadows as swiftly and silently as he had appeared.
Alone in the corridor beyond the throne room's crushing aura, the soldier leaned against cold, obsidian stone, spitting out a mouthful of blood and a fragment of tooth. He touched his throbbing face, wincing. *Universe 3... Galaxy 12... Suchumus.* He accessed the cosmic coordinates mentally, calculating the transit. *Current location: Universe 3523. Direct route blocked by the Null-Space Anomaly... Detour through Universe 5, skirting the unstable edges of Universe 4...* He sighed, the sound ragged. "Going will take roughly two months. Dragging an immortal prize back through cosmic customs... another two months, minimum." A flicker of dark humor surfaced amidst the pain. Four months total. Enough time to reread 'One Piece'... twice. He pushed off the wall, his ordinary face settling into an expression of grim determination. Alright. Time to collect a godslayer.
One Week Later – The Stone Chamber
Yamato stood just inside the chamber entrance, a silent sentinel. His obsidian eyes were wide, fixed on Shinji. The air in the room had changed. The chaotic, pressurized hum that had surrounded Shinji like an invisible storm a week ago was... gone. Not diminished. Sealed. Compressed into an almost imperceptible point. Shinji sat utterly still, a statue carved from concentration. No ripple of power escaped him. To any spiritual sense less refined than Yamato's own, he would appear utterly mundane, a non-entity.
*That is... astonishing,* Yamato thought, genuine awe warring with his usual stoicism. The sealing process... it typically takes three, even four weeks of grueling focus. He's compressed the vast majority into his core in one! And without a single complaint of boredom... A flicker of respect warmed Yamato's ancient spirit. The fire to defeat Saganbo... it burns hotter than I realized.
Meanwhile – Galactic Station Sigma (Universe 5)
Shirou leaned against a grimy viewport, his fiery white hair tied back severely, his face etched with exhaustion. Below, the chaotic, nausea-inducing swirl of colors and impossible geometries that was the transit lane through Universe 4 finally receded, replaced by the marginally more stable, though still bizarre, vista of Sigma Station. "Finally," he groaned, pushing off the port. "Damn cosmic architects. Why can't they stick a decent station in the backwater of Universe 3? Makes a man detour through this... visual vomit." He shuddered.
A fellow traveler, a multi-limbed being clutching a distressed-looking parcel, nodded sympathetically. "Tell me about it. Live in U3, Sector Gamma. Passing through the Fractal Veil in U4 every supply run... unpleasant doesn't cover it. Gives my tertiary stomach cramps."
Shirou offered a grunt of commiseration. "Whole sector needs redecorating. But... the rewards make the migraines worth it." He shouldered his pack and headed towards the bustling Main Hall, a cavernous space filled with species from countless universes, the air thick with strange scents and languages.
"Well, look what the spatial drift dragged in!" A voice boomed from behind a cluttered counter labeled 'Interdimensional Acquisitions & Liquidations - Jim'. The speaker, Jim, resembled a bipedal badger with cybernetic optics that whirred as he focused on Shirou. "Back early? Or did the Suchumus job go sour?"
Shirou slammed a heavy, reinforced case onto the counter. "Early? Try weeks cramped in a tin can breathing recycled farts just to get here from that rock! 'Early' my ass, Jim." He popped the latches, revealing the gleaming stacks of Galories within. "Job didn't go sour. Job went profitable. 870 Galories. Fresh from the vaults of Planet Suchumus, Universe 3, Galaxy 12. Should be... what? 120 Space Dust?"
Jim's cybernetic eyes whirred rapidly as he scanned the coins, running them through a handheld device that chimed softly. A low whistle escaped him. "Suchumus currency? High purity... limited circulation... buyer demand is up..." He tapped calculations. "Shirou, my friend... you hit the motherlode. Current valuation: 174 Space Dust."
A genuine grin, sharp and predatory, spread across Shirou's face, momentarily erasing the fatigue. "174? Now that's music to my ears. Knew risking those Acrosian heavies was worth it."
Jim chuckled, counting out shimmering, coin-like tokens that seemed to contain swirling nebulae within them; Space Dust. "Most you've pulled in a while, eh? Though not your record. Still remember the 630 Katorias from that tomb-world in U13. Now that was a payday. 315 Dust."
Shirou pocketed the heavy pouch of Dust, the weight satisfying. "U13 was a nightmare. Ancient security systems, gravity inversions... and that thing in the inner vault. Took me a month just to get out alive. 315 was hazard pay." He hefted the pouch. "174 for a few weeks dodging guards and a stubborn kid? I'll take it. Now, hand it over. Places to loot, people to annoy."
Jim slid the pouch across the counter. "Spend it wisely. Or don't. Your funeral."
Shirou snatched the Dust, the grin returning. "Wisely is boring, Jim. See you when I'm broke again." He melted back into the crowd, already scanning the station's job boards for his next lucrative, perilous target.
Three Days Later – The Stone Chamber
Yamato watched, his luminous skin seeming to pale slightly with disbelief. Shinji sat in perfect stillness, but the absence around him was even more profound than before. The last, faint whispers of his Spiritual Energy, the subtle signature that even a master like Yamato could perceive, had vanished. Compressed. Sealed utterly within the infinitesimal point of his core.
"No way..." Yamato breathed, the words escaping him. He sealed it all. Completely. In ten days. Unprecedented. He approached cautiously, his voice a soft murmur. "Shinji... you are done. Remarkably done. But move slowly. Rise with the same focused intent you used to seal the energy. Maintain the containment. A sudden movement could unravel it like a snapped cord."
Shinji's eyes opened. They were clear, calm, but held a new depth, a focused intensity that hadn't been there before. He unfolded his legs with deliberate, glacial slowness, every muscle under conscious control, and rose to his feet, maintaining the profound inner stillness. "Done?" he asked, his voice quiet, controlled.
"Excellently done," Yamato affirmed, genuine pride warming his tone. "You have minimized your Spiritual signature to near non-existence. Only beings like myself, or better like Amado could possibly detect the faintest echo now. You are a ghost, Shinji."
A flicker of relief crossed Shinji's face, quickly replaced by practicality. "So... am I weaker now? Did sealing it diminish my power?"
"Not at all," Yamato reassured him. "You have merely contained the signal, not the source. The power remains within you, ready. Now comes the crucial next step: learning to consciously access it. To display it. To wield it." He stepped closer, his obsidian eyes locking onto Shinji's. "For this, you must journey inward, deeper than you have before. You must locate the very core of your power. Not your physical heart, but the spiritual nexus; your Transcender Core."
Understanding dawned on Shinji. "The anchor... the vulnerability Merus warned about. I thought it might be physical... but after losing my heart, my head... it makes sense it's tied to this energy, not flesh."
"Exactly," Yamato nodded. "Until now, your abilities have been instinctive reactions, triggered by trauma or will. To consciously command them, to unlock their true potential, you must find and commune with this core. How long this takes varies... but anticipate roughly one month and a half."
Shinji absorbed this. The rest of the two and a half month spiritual training. "So... I look deep inside. Find this core. And... draw the energy back out? But consciously?"
"Essentially, yes," Yamato confirmed. "It is a process of deep introspection, of forging a conscious connection with the very source of your being. It requires focus, patience, and... caution. Do not rush. Do not force it. The core is resilient, but your spirit can still be strained. Overexertion in this realm has consequences."
Shinji met Yamato's gaze, the calm from his sealing practice still holding. The memory of Saganbo, the urgency of his mission, warred with the need for this foundational step. "Alright," he said, his voice steady. "Then I should begin." He lowered himself back to the stone floor, assuming the meditative posture once more, this time seeking not to contain the storm, but to find the star at its center.
"Good," Yamato murmured, stepping back into the shadows near the entrance. "May your spirit find its anchor." He watched as Shinji closed his eyes, his breathing deepening, the chamber settling into a silence charged with the anticipation of inner discovery. The hunt for the core had begun