412: A Crazy Idea 412: A Crazy Idea All at once, the weight of his pain came crashing down.
The memory of his parents, bloodied and helpless⊠the image of Alice, crying out as she was snapped and dusted away⊠the guilt, the rage, the despair he thought he had buried deep withinâeverything resurfaced.
It came not as thoughts, but as raw emotion.
He couldnât breathe.
His fists clenched.
His heart thundered with hatred.
His teeth ground against each other as the infernal energy tried to feed on his rage, intensifying it, deepening it, pushing him further into that violent abyss.
He felt himself slipping, his mind warping under the pressure.
The red strings of energy pulsed, spreading now toward his left shoulderâslowly, inch by inch, threatening to wrap around his entire being.
His breathing grew erratic.
His aura turned monstrous.
He was no longer thinkingâhe was reacting, like a beast that had tasted blood.
But thenâŠ
the pond moved.
It was subtle at firstâa soft glow beneath the black surface, a gentle swirl of violet light.
The water shimmered, reacting not with violence, but with stillness.
From beneath him, a calming wave spread through his body like a cool breeze touching fire.
The dark water around him glowed faintly, forming a soft halo of purifying energy that circled his body.
The infernal energy slowed.
The spreading red threads hesitated, twitching just as they reached his left shoulder.
His right arm still burned with power, and his eye still glowed crimson, but the water wouldnât let the transformation consume him entirely.
The pond didnât suppress the energyâit embraced it, filtered it, removed the chaos while allowing the strength to remain.
It absorbed his negativity like a sponge soaking up poison, and in doing so, it granted him clarity.
The anger was still there.
The sadness, the loss, the painâit all remained.
But it no longer ruled him.
Only his right side remained altered.
His left eyeâonce on the brink of corruptionâreturned to normal.
The spreading had stopped.
Maxâs breath steadied, and slowly, his clenched fists opened.
His heart calmed.
He wasnât drowning anymore.
He had reached the edge of madness⊠and the pond had pulled him back.
âThat was intense⊠I almost lost it,â Max muttered under his breath, exhaling deeply as the calmness slowly seeped back into his body and mind.
His chest rose and fell steadily now, the storm within finally subdued.
He could still feel the raw, burning heat of the infernal energy coiled within his right arm and eye, but it no longer surged wildly like before.
It was containedâstable, even.
The red strings of energy, which had once thrashed like serpents trying to devour him from the inside, now pulsed rhythmically, as if tamed by an unseen force.
Max stared down at his reflection in the gently rippling pond beneath him.
His right eye still glowed like molten crimson, a stark contrast to his normal left eye.
His entire right arm, from shoulder to fingertips, was veiled in a dark red sheen, the markings of the Infernal Demon Tattoo glowing faintly along his skin.
But beyond the visual changes, what amazed him most was the sensationâcontrol.
For the first time since acquiring the twelfth-layered infernal demon tattoo, he wasnât fighting it.
He wasnât suppressing it.
He was existing alongside it.
The transformation had halted halfway through, stopping at his left shoulder, and he could still feel the tension there, like a line that dared not be crossed.
But it wasnât unstable.
It wasnât tearing him apart.
It wasâŠ
balanced.
And all of itâthis clarity, this harmonyâwas thanks to the pond.
Max realized it then.
Without this place, he wouldâve been gone.
Lost to rage, drowned in hate, consumed by the very power he sought to master.
The pond hadnât just calmed himâit had saved him.
It had embraced the infernal energy, tempered it, and anchored his soul.
Slowly, he brought his right hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers as crimson energy flickered along his skin like firelight.
There was no tremble.
No burning ache.
Only powerâand control.
A rare, dangerous harmony between destruction and will.
âThis placeâŠâ he whispered, eyes still locked on the reflection of his transformed self, âis a miracle.â âNow that Iâm in control of the Infernal Demon Transformation,â Max thought, hovering quietly above the shimmering pond as its soft glow rippled beneath him, âI need to find a way to master this form without relying on the pondâs influence.â The thought settled heavy in his mind.
He couldnât carry this sacred water with him into battle.
He couldnât depend on it to always balance his rage or suppress the infernal chaos inside him.
If he truly wanted to use the infernal energy within his body and tap into the devastating potential of the twelfth-layered Infernal Demon Tattoo, he needed to control it with his own will.
Not through luck.
Not through external forces.
He needed mastery.
But how?
Max let out a slow breath, his gaze hardening.
The calm the pond had gifted him still lingered, but he could feel how fragile it was without its influence.
The infernal energy was like a coiled beast, resting, not tamed.
One wrong moveâand it would rise again.
His mind ran through countless ideas.
Meditation?
No, that wouldnât be enough to suppress the raw hatred that came with the transformation.
Pain training?
Maybe, but the infernal energy didnât respond to physical enduranceâit fed on emotion.
On rage.
On despair.
He needed something that pushed both his body and soul to adapt.
Something repetitive.
Something relentless.
And then it came to him.
He looked down at his right handâstill burning with stable infernal powerâand clenched his fist.
âWhat if I undid the transformation entirely?
What if I suppressed it⊠calmed it⊠and then unleashed it again?
Over and overâuntil my body and mind got used to the side effects of the infernal energy.
Until I could stay calm in the storm, even without the pond?â It was an insane idea.
Risky.
Dangerous.
But it felt right.
If he could cycle through the transformation enough times, maybeâjust maybeâhe could train himself to withstand the rage and madness.
To maintain control through sheer force of habit, understanding, and resilience.
CREATORSâ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Give me more motivation!