CHAPTER 67: TOURNAMENT PREPARATIONS.

The training hall buzzed with an almost electric energy as Ren settled into his meditation position.

The breakthrough to the second layer of the loom still felt surreal, like touching a dream that had suddenly become solid reality.

He could sense the difference immediately; the threads that danced through his consciousness were thicker now, more substantial, humming with a power that made his fingertips tingle even when he wasn’t actively weaving.

What’s more, he could sense the threads in the second layer at a radius of approximately 5 meters!

That was already insane considering he just broke through!

But power without control was just destruction waiting to happen. Ren had learned that lesson the hard way during his soul seizure. Now, he needed to master what he had gained before reaching for more.

The theoretical knowledge swirled through his mind like water finding its course.

A weave cast in the second layer carried twice the strength of the same pattern woven in the first layer.

The mathematics of it fascinated him, if he could reach the third layer someday, that same weave would be four times stronger than its first-layer counterpart!

At the same stage!

But the real revelation lay in understanding range dynamics.

When he cast a space lock weave at ten meters in the first layer, it generated a hypothetical force of one hundred units.

In the second layer, that same force could be achieved at just five meters range!

The implications made his pulse quicken. If he used the full ten-meter range while weaving in the second layer, the force would double to two hundred units.

Same stage, same fundamental technique, but the layer difference created an exponential leap in capability.

"Theory is one thing," Ren muttered to himself, flexing his fingers. "Practice is where dreams either soar or crash."

The threads in the second layer resisted him like thick honey compared to the flowing water of the first layer.

Each attempt to grasp and manipulate them required more concentration, more precise control.

His first tries at weaving the space lock pattern ended in frustrated tangles of energy that dissipated harmlessly but left him mentally drained.

Hours passed in patient repetition. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to maintain the delicate balance between force and finesse.

At night, the evolution forge worked tirelessly within him, its abilities somehow making the impossible feel merely difficult.

By the end of the first day, he managed his first successful second-layer space lock weave.

The sensation was intoxicating; power flowing through the pattern like lightning through storm clouds.

When he tested it against a practice dummy, the binding force was so strong it actually cracked the reinforced training equipment!

"Twice as strong," he whispered, staring at the damaged dummy with something between awe and concern. "The masters weren’t exaggerating."

The second day brought focus to his mind blast weave. This pattern had always been trickier, requiring not just thread manipulation but also precise mental targeting. In the second layer, the complexity multiplied exponentially.

The threads seemed to have their own will, slipping away from his mental grasp like mischievous spirits.

Each failed attempt left him with a pounding headache that reminded him why most weavers took time to adapt to higher layers.

He was pushing the boundaries of what should be possible in such a short timeframe.

But the evolution forge’s influence was undeniable.

During his rest periods, he used it to work on his understanding, refining his technique in ways that bypassed normal learning curves.

Knowledge that should have taken days or weeks of trial and error crystallized in moments of sudden clarity.

When he finally achieved his first successful second-layer mind blast, the practice target - a specially warded stone designed to simulate mental defenses cracked straight down the middle!

The psychic force had been so intense that even the protective enchantments couldn’t fully absorb it!

Ren sat back, breathing heavily but grinning. Two fundamental weaves mastered in the second layer!

His combat options had just expanded dramatically, and more importantly, he was beginning to understand the deeper mechanics of layer manipulation.

But weaving wasn’t his only focus. The kusarigama lay across his lap during rest periods, its weight familiar but its secrets still largely hidden.

The weapon manual spoke of forms and techniques that sounded almost absurd in their descriptions.

The first form of the fiendish whirl manual had taunted him for weeks. According to the manual, it was a chain of seven connected strikes, each building momentum and power from the last.

The culmination which was the seventh sweep, would carry nearly double the force of the opening attack.

"Fiendish sweep, the first form," Ren read aloud from the worn pages. "Let the weapon sing its hunger, and feed it motion until it screams for blood."

The poetic language was flowery, but the underlying mechanics were brutally practical.

Each sweep had to flow seamlessly into the next, building rotational energy and channeling it through precise body movements. Missing the rhythm or breaking the chain would reset the entire sequence.

His first attempts were disasters. The kusarigama tangled around his own limbs more often than it struck the practice targets.

The weighted chain seemed determined to wrap around every possible obstacle, and maintaining the flowing motion while building power required a level of coordination he hadn’t yet developed.

But persistence and the evolution forge’s guidance slowly paid dividends.

On the third day, he managed to complete three connected sweeps before losing the rhythm. By evening, he could chain five together with growing consistency!

The breakthrough came just hours ago, in a moment of perfect focus when thought and motion merged into pure instinct.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Seven sweeps flowed like water into water, each strike faster and more powerful than the last.

When the final blow connected with the reinforced training post, the impact sent vibrations through the entire hall.

The training post, designed to withstand attacks from stage-three carvers, bore a deep gouge from the seventh sweep that almost split it apart.

Ren stared at the mark, hardly believing he had created it. The power difference between the first and final strikes was dramatic, exactly as the manual had promised.

"Fiendish sweep mastered," he said softly, running his thumb along the kusarigama’s blade. The weapon seemed to purr under his touch, as if it approved of his progress.

Three days of intensive training had transformed him, but they had also revealed new limitations.

His body still ached from the soul seizure, and the strain of the second rune carved into his essence was a constant presence. Every major technique he attempted reminded him that power had a price.

The third rune waited in his storage pouch like a treasure just out of reach. He could feel its potential, the way it would complete another layer of his foundation and unlock even greater abilities.

But attempting to carve it now would be reckless beyond measure.

"My body needs time to adapt," he reminded himself for the hundredth time. "Another soul seizure could cripple me permanently."

The conservative approach went against every instinct he had developed. The inter-block tournament was tomorrow, and every additional edge could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

But wisdom was knowing when to push and when to wait, and his body was sending clear signals about its current limits.

Instead, he had focused on mastering what he already possessed.

The second-layer weaves were formidable weapons in their own right, and the fiendish sweep gave him a reliable combat technique that could end fights quickly.

Combined with his growing understanding of the kusarigama’s balance and reach, he felt more prepared than ever.

The bloodsucker ability remained a mystery, though. He had planned to explore that power next, to understand how his kusarigama differed from ordinary weapons of its type.

But as Ren shifted position to begin examining the bloodsucker ability more closely, a sharp knock echoed through the training hall.

The sound cut through his concentration like a blade through silk, bringing him instantly back to the present moment.

He froze, kusarigama still in his hands, listening intently. The knock came again, three measured raps that spoke of someone with purpose rather than casual visit.

Very few people knew about his private training sessions, and fewer still would dare interrupt them.

The timing was unfortunate. He had been so close to unlocking another piece of his weapon’s mystery, and momentum in understanding was often fragile.

Once broken, it could take hours to rebuild the proper mental state for discovery!

But the knock was insistent, and whoever stood outside his door clearly had no intention of leaving.

Ren sighed and set the kusarigama aside carefully, making sure it was positioned for quick retrieval if needed.

In his current state; exhausted from training but buzzing with newfound power, he wasn’t sure if this interruption would bring opportunity or trouble.

"Just when things were getting interesting," he muttered under his breath, rising to his feet with fluid grace.

The movement sent small ripples through the air around him; a side effect of his increased sensitivity to the loom’s threads that he was still learning to control.

The inter-block tournament loomed less than twenty-four hours away. His strength had grown dramatically in these past few days, but so had the complexity of his situation.

Time to discover what wanted his attention badly enough to interrupt a warrior’s private training session.