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Eientei

After returning from the Treeborn world, Veyron suddenly felt like he'd been slacking off a bit these past few days.

Time to get back to doing something meaningful.

He stood there, a chunk of melted vibranium swirling in his palm.

Yup, Vibranium.

That unique metal with a molecular structure in a near-static state.

Once cooled and solidified, it became nearly indestructible. That made it ideal for creating top-tier armor capable of tanking both physical and energy-based attacks.

But what truly set vibranium apart was that it barely conducted heat, energy, or kinetic force. Its ridiculous resistance to everything made it the kind of material that could turn sci-fi dreams into real-world tech—just by brute-forcing it into shape.

Wakanda had gone from tribal age to futuristic powerhouse thanks to a single vibranium meteorite crash. What used to be a third-world nation in Africa quietly evolved into a global tech leader, all thanks to the vibranium buried beneath its soil.

Now, under Veyron's control, the blob of liquid vibranium in his hand slowly shifted and reshaped itself into a round shield.

"Alright," he said, glancing at Inukimi, who was currently lounging nearby in her demon dog form. "Go ahead. Hit it."

Whoosh—

Without getting up, Inukimi raised a paw and casually swiped through the air.

Zzing—!

A sharp, not-unpleasant hum rang out. The vibranium shield, less than a millimeter thick and about as flimsy-looking as rice paper, had taken the hit from a top-tier monster... and didn't so much as ripple. Still shiny. Still flawless.

"Again. This time, seriously."

Veyron's tone shifted slightly. Inukimi's relaxed demeanor vanished. Her eyes sharpened.

She lifted her paw again—only this time, she added the precision and force of her gene lock Tier-4 to the strike.

ZZINGGG!!!

"What is this stuff?"

Inukimi frowned, staring at the smooth, unscathed surface of the silver-gray shield.

"Exactly what it looks like," Veyron replied. "A metal with… some very unique properties."

With a flick of his finger, a small gust of his Ki flowed toward the shield. A soft thunk echoed out as the impact landed.

The shield held firm—but a subtle energy network embedded within the metal lit up across the surface. It had absorbed the force, but it was clearly starting to hit its limit.

Veyron extended another finger and flicked it again. But there was a golden glow around his Ki this time.

PCHK—

Where it struck, the vibranium shield sizzled, like foam touched by a red-hot iron. A small hole, about the size of a fingertip, burned straight through it.

Veyron stared thoughtfully at the hole.

Sure, vibranium was often described as "the strongest metal in the Marvel Universe"—but that label wasn't absolute.

He thought back to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, where vibranium's so-called "indestructibility" had been broken multiple times.

Ultron, who built his body from vibranium, was still stabbed through by Corvus Glaive when he came to retrieve the Mind Stone. Later, during the Battle of Wakanda, Wanda shattered the Mind Stone—along with Vision's vibranium skull. Thanos rewound time, revived Vision, and ripped the stone out himself.

Captain America's iconic shield, made mostly from vibranium (maybe mixed with something else), was scratched by T'Challa in Civil War—and T'Challa was using a suit also made from vibranium. Later, in Endgame, Thanos sliced the shield in half with his dual-bladed sword.

All that to say: vibranium's durability and energy absorption were impressive, sure—but not limitless.

Put it up against something harder than itself, or hit it with more energy than it could handle, and it broke like any other metal.

And yet… what puzzled Veyron now was this:

His first flick had way more power—enough, in theory, to wipe out a third of the moon. That one just lit up the energy network inside the shield, with no actual damage.

The second flick? A much weaker shot—maybe enough to level a small mountain—and that one punched a hole right through.

The only difference between the two…

"…has to be you, doesn't it?"

Veyron raised his hand, staring at the swirling golden glow gathering in his palm.

Light of the Mind!

To recall, the Gene Lock progression was like that:

Tier 1: Allows the user's body and mind to operate on a higher level—enhanced reflexes, clearer thinking, and better performance across the board.

Tier 2: Grants absolute control over the physical body—every muscle movement, every nerve, all perfectly regulated.

Tier 3: Unlocks absolute control of the brain—enhanced awareness, mental resilience, and even multitasking on a superhuman level.

Tier 4: Genetic Manipulation that lets you tweak your genetic code down to the tiniest detail, optimizing your biology for maximum combat performance.

But there was another ability in Tier 4. The Light of the Mind!

Normally, people following the Gene Lock system wouldn't awaken their Light of the Mind until they reached mid-stage Tier 4 Gene Lock, usually after conquering their Soul devils (heart demons). It was part of the standard process: once you hit that level, you'd unlock both your Total Genetic Control AND the personal awakening of your mind-light.

Still, a very rare few could even personalize and manifest their mind-light during the early stage of tier 4.

Veyron had a hunch he was one of those rare cases.

And it wasn't just ego talking.

For starters—thanks to the T-Virus, he'd already awakened something like telekinesis ages ago. A mental power that looked a lot like the early form of a mind-light. And because of the Trait System he used, the strength of his telekinesis had long since gone off the charts.

Right now, at Level 38, his base telekinetic force was sitting at 2.43 million tons.

On top of that, after reaching Tier 4, he'd started to feel it—that surreal, borderline-cheaty sensation of being "plugged in" to something deeper.

The first time he noticed it was when he got that world fusion mission from World-0 and traveled to World-2 — the time-stopped academy world —to grind some bonds.

That's when he got the time-stopping pocket watch from that cloaked woman. And when he experimented with it, he realized something: the watch didn't actually stop time for free. It drew from the user's own conceptual timeline to fuel its effects.

Originally, he could use the watch seemingly without cost.

Why? He figured it had something to do with the weird post-transmigration traits of his body—like hair and flesh, the "time" being drawn would just loop back into him before it even left.

But later, when he got lazy and didn't bother initiating the process himself, the watch stopped pulling time from him—and instead began leeching off the cloaked woman's timeline instead, its true original owner.

With help from the Trait System, which gave him near-complete awareness of his condition, Veyron was sure—absolutely sure—that at that moment, he couldn't feel time. Not conceptually. Not even close.

Except… maybe through the still-undefined Light of the Mind tied to his gold-tier Gene Lock.

Since then, even though he didn't fully understand the mechanics, he'd repeated that kind of miracle more than once—just by trusting his instincts.

Like when Larentia invited him to become the monarch of the Treeborn World—he sensed it wasn't the right time, and somehow knew to decline.

Or back in Fubuki's world, when he peeked into fate itself and confirmed that only he had seen the truth of Saitama for some reason…

And now, just moments ago, when he'd fired that second, technically-too-weak finger flick—and punched a perfect hole through a shield that should've eaten the blow without issue.

It could only mean one thing.

The Light of the Mind was already active.

Following his will, the golden glow in his hand surged—brighter, sharper, almost alive.

And somewhere, deep within a vast, unknowable "ocean" with no beginning, no end, and no bottom—

A single streak of golden light cut through the darkness.

.

.

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