The transit to Omnius Prime was a passage through the throat of creation. The courier ship slid through the Federation's stabilized warp-lane, a tunnel of shimmering, non-Euclidean geometry where the screams of daemons and the whispers of dead stars were kept at bay by humming Gellar Fields and the sheer, arrogant will of human engineering.
Ryosuke Tanaka sat in meditation, but his mind was a kaleidoscope of refining comprehension. The silence of the Crucible had been his forge. Now, every pulse of his Cursed Energy, every instinct of the Kurokaze symbiosis, was being examined, cataloged, and perfected. He didn't just feel the Severing principle; he understood its relationship to the fundamental binding forces of reality. His Reality-Compliance Domain wasn't just a bubble; it was a statement of his will against the chaos of the Immaterium.
[Warp-transit environment: Hostile. Local reality compliance: 0.72 Federation Standard.]
[Personal Domain 'Unlimited Void' (Proto-Manifestation) active. Compliance within 5m radius: 1.00. Stability: Optimal.]
[Symbiosis Sync with 'Kurokaze' (Remote): 48%. Fluctuations detected due to Warp interference. Adjusting…]
The System's data was a cold comfort. Outside, the Warp pressed against his domain like a living, malevolent tide. It recoiled from the absolute, cutting certainty of his presence. He was not a psyker wrestling with the currents. He was a rock, a blade, and the currents parted.
After a subjective week, the ship vomited itself back into realspace with a gut-wrenching lurch.
And there it was.
Omnius Prime.
It was not a planet. It was a cosmic edifice. A mega-planet a million times the mass of Terra Prime, its surface a mesmerizing tapestry of artificial and natural wonders so vast they defied human scale. Continents were the size of star systems, patterned with city-light that glowed like captive nebulae. Mountain ranges pierced cloud layers a hundred kilometers thick. Orbital rings, each a world in itself, encircled the equator like the rings of a god, casting continent-spanning shadows. And at the heart of the primary continent, visible as a thread of impossible light even from this distance, was the Celestial Spire—a structure so tall its apex brushed the lower orbital rings, a monument to the Federation's terrifying ambition.
"This is the Nexus," the tech-priest pilot intoned, his voice a static-laced prayer. "The heart of the Unified Federation. The Multiversal Academy of Realms awaits at the Spire's root. Prepare for docking at Starfarer's Threshold, Ring Alpha."
The approach was a lesson in controlled insanity. Traffic lanes streamed with vessels of every conceivable design: sleek, dagger-like Starfleet cruisers gliding beside gothic, cathedral-shaped Imperial battleships; organic, living ships from the Eldar world-singers; massive, whale-like Starjammers from the One Piece cosmos; and colossal, blocky Jaeger-transport barges crawling like mechanical beetles. The scale of the armada was a silent scream of the war they were in.
The Starfarer's Threshold was a city built on the inner surface of the primary orbital ring. The courier ship was swallowed by a cavernous docking bay, a symphony of clanging metal, shouting deck officers, and the thrum of a thousand exotic engines.
As Ryosuke disembarked, the sensory assault was total. The air was thick with ozone, exotic pollens, engine plasma, and the unique pheromone-signatures of a hundred non-human species. The sound was a roaring river of languages, mechanical chatter, and distant, ceremonial horns that vibrated in the bones. And the sights…
A phalanx of Adeptus Custodes in gold-and-red auramite armor marched past, their guardian spears crackling with power, each step shaking the deck plates. A group of laughing Straw Hat Pirates (or cadets dressed in homage) argued with a stoic vendor selling glowing fruit that pulsed with internal energy. A robed Jedi Padawan practiced telekinetically juggling spare parts while a Shinobi from the Hidden Leaf watched, his Sharingan eyes casually analyzing the Force technique. A young Kryptonian in a blue-and-black cadet uniform floated a few inches off the ground, reading a data-slate.
This was not just a hub. This was the capital of everything.
A prim holographic attendant with the Academy's crest materialized before him. "Recruit Ryosuke Tanaka. Identity confirmed. Welcome to Omnius Prime. Your team is assembled at Shuttle Bay 7-Alpha. Follow the guiding lumens."
His team. The thought cut through the sensory noise with the clean precision of a katana. He followed the floating blue lights, weaving through the throng. He drew looks—his appearance was starkly beautiful even here—but in this crowd of gods, demigods, and engineered warriors, he was merely another remarkable specimen.
Shuttle Bay 7-Alpha was dedicated to Academy traffic. The craft awaiting them was a sleek, arrowhead-shaped shuttle with the Academy's sigil: an open book superimposed over a stylized, ringed planet, bisected by a vertical sword.
He boarded. The interior was luxuriously appointed, with synth-leather seats and a panoramic forward view. And there they were.
Sera, Chen, Varg, Aris.
They had changed. Not just rested, but honed.
Sera sat with a new stillness, a contained sun behind her eyes. The frantic fear was gone, replaced by a focused, thermonuclear confidence. Chen's perpetual motion was now a poised readiness, his eyes flickering with the ghost of perceived futures. Varg's augmentations were seamless, the machinery humming in harmony with his flesh, giving him the grounded presence of a tectonic plate. Aris radiated a deep, psychic calm, a fortress-mind that felt unshakable.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Chen broke into his familiar, brilliant grin. "Boss! You're late! The food here is insane! I ate a steak from a creature that photosynthesizes gamma radiation! It gave me visions!"
Sera rolled her eyes, smiling. "He's been unbearable. It's good to see you, Ryosuke."
Varg gave a solid, respectful nod. Aris offered a serene smile. "You feel… sharper."
"And you all feel more yourselves," Ryosuke replied, taking his seat. The simple, familiar dynamic was a grounding wire in the overwhelming new reality.
The shuttle detached and dove planet-ward. The descent was a silent, awe-inspiring plunge through layers of impossible geography. They passed floating island-cities wreathed in perpetual storms, forests of crystalline trees that sang in harmonies that plucked at the soul, and vast, shallow seas where leviathans the size of capital ships swam in placid herds. The sheer, god-like scale of the engineering and terraforming was a blunt-force lesson in the Federation's power.
Their destination was the Academy Grounds, a continent-sized campus sprawling at the base of the Celestial Spire. It was a fractal city of diverse architectures—soaring Gothic academiums next to serene Sengoku-era dojos, Brutalist Mech-hangars beside elegant Elven spires grown from living wood.
Their shuttle settled on a pad marked JAEGER CORPS - PRIMORDIAL QUADRANT. The air here was cool, thin, and charged with a tangible energy—the collective potential of the most unique and dangerous young beings in the multiverse.
Awaiting them was not a drill sergeant, but a man in the impeccable black-and-silver robes of an Academy Professor. He was older, with sharp, intelligent features, grey hair swept back, and a glowing data-monocle over his right eye. His nameplate read PROFESSOR LYNUS.
"Team Obsidian," he said, his voice dry, precise, and utterly devoid of warmth. "I am your Faculty Advisor. Your performance on Terra Prime was statistically adequate for a tertiary planetary academy. Do not let it inflate your self-assessment. Here, the baseline is genius. The median is monster. You will be deconstructed to your component axioms, and then, if you are fortunate, rebuilt into something marginally useful for the Federation's existential wars."
He gestured, and a holographic map of the campus blossomed in the air. "Your domicile is in the Primordial Quadrant. Your academic schedule is pre-loaded on your slates. Classes begin tomorrow. Today, you will be fitted, oriented, and instructed on the Cardinal Rules. Primarily: unauthorized use of abilities on campus is punishable by immediate dimensional exile. We lost three promising reality-warpers last term to a misguided duel in the cafeteria. The paperwork was… excessive."
His monocle whirred, focusing on each of them. "You are assets. Exceedingly sharp, potentially unstable assets. Our task is to teach you not to cut the hand that wields you. Dismissed to the Quartermaster."
---
Quartermaster Station Delta-7
The Quartermaster was a vast, automated depot. They were scanned, measured, and issued their Academy kits.
Uniforms: Tailored suits of a smart-fabric that was grey at rest, but shifted to a deep, navy blue when in motion or under stress, with subtle silver piping denoting the Jaeger Corps. It was armor disguised as finery.
Data-Slate & Neural Sync: A crystalline tablet that fused with their personal implants. It immediately populated their visual overlay with a dizzying array of information: campus maps, student profiles, and their Course Manifest.
Ryosuke's eyes scanned the list:
· Multiversal Cosmology & Dimensional Mechanics (Prof. T'soni, Asari)
· Xenopolitics & Federation Jurisprudence (Prof. Organa, Human-Alderaanian)
· Advanced Neural Synchro-Theory & Jaeger Interface Dynamics (Magos Lehm, Adeptus Mechanicus)
· Applied Awakening Integration & Power-System Theory (Master Windu, Jedi Council)
· Universal Battle Arts & Cultivation Fundamentals (Grandmaster Fū, Shinobi Council Elder)
· Primordial History & Archeotech Studies (Dr. Daniel Jackson, Terran)
· Practical Field Tactics & Squad Operations (Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance)
The workload was colossal, designed for post-human intellects.
Dormitory: Primordial Quadrant, Spire-view Tower 7, Suite 12
Their "dorm" was a luxurious five-bedroom suite with a common room, a small kitchen, and a balcony that offered a breathtaking, vertigo-inducing view of the Celestial Spire's base. It was clear: here, even students lived like minor nobility.
Chen threw himself onto a sprawling sofa that adjusted to his form. "Okay. This. This is the life."
They spent the afternoon settling in, then attended the Mandatory Orientation—a hololithic lecture delivered by a calmly frantic Administration AI. They learned about temporal-locked libraries, causality-neutral dueling chambers, and the Replicator Code: while it could produce any of 12,847 registered cuisines, algorithmic hybrids (like "Klingon Bloodwine-Infused Konpeito") were strictly forbidden and would result in a bio-hazard containment team deployment.
As the first of Omnius Prime's three suns began to set, painting the sky in bands of crimson and amethyst, Ryosuke stood on the balcony. The campus hummed with activity. In the middle distance, he saw a training yard where a Saiyan cadet with spiky black hair traded world-shattering blows with a Kryptonian in a blinding display of speed and power, their impacts echoing like distant thunder. In another yard, a group of students practiced Kendo stances, their movements so precise they seemed to cut the very light.
The scale was humbling, but it ignited a cold, competitive fire in his gut. He was a minnow here. For now.
Sera joined him, leaning on the railing. "It's… a lot."
"It's the starting line," Ryosuke said, his voice quiet.
"I missed this," she confessed. "The team. The quiet. The Sun-Forge was… transcendent. But lonely."
"The Crucible was silent," he replied. "It teaches you what you are when no one is watching."
She studied his profile. "And what are you?"
He finally looked at her, a faint, arrogant smirk touching his perfect lips. "Limitless."
---
Day 1: Universal Battle Arts & Cultivation Fundamentals
The class was held in a Grand Dojo, a space so vast its ceiling was lost in misty illusion. The floor was polished dark wood that felt alive underfoot. Students from every branch of service filled the room, sitting in disciplined rows. The air thrummed with suppressed power—Ki, Chakra, Haki, The Force, Spiritual Pressure, Psionic potential—a cacophony of energies that Ryosuke's Six Eyes parsed with effortless clarity.
Their instructor entered. He was an old man, but he moved with the fluid, inevitable grace of a landslide. He wore simple Shinobi blues, a Leaf Village headband across his forehead, and his eyes held the depth of centuries. This was Grandmaster Fū, a legend from the Naruto-verse, now a Federation instructor.
"Silence," he said, and the word carried the weight of a mountain. The room fell utterly still. "You are here because you possess power. Raw, untamed, often arrogant power. This class will not increase your power. It will teach you to understand it. To wield it with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, not the brutality of a falling rock."
He began to pace. "Across the multiverse, power systems arise. They seem different. Chakra from the manipulation of spiritual and physical energies. Ki from the vitality of the body and soul. Haki from the strength of will. The Force from the connection to all living things. Psykana from the touch of the Immaterium. Cursed Energy," his eyes flickered to Ryosuke for a nanosecond, "from the negative emotions of humanity."
He stopped. "They are all, at their core, the same. They are the imposition of will upon reality. Cultivation is the process of refining your will, your body, and your energy to impose that reality more efficiently, on a grander scale."
He raised a hand. A tiny, perfect sphere of blue Chakra appeared above his palm. Then, it shifted, becoming a flicker of golden Ki. Then a swirl of silvery Haki. The energy changed its flavor, but its fundamental nature—concentrated will—remained.
"You will learn the universal principles: Gathering, Circulation, Refinement, Manifestation. You will learn stances and forms that optimize these processes, regardless of your energy type. These are the Universal Battle Arts. They are the foundation upon which your unique techniques are built."
He gestured, and holographic diagrams appeared—complex meridians, chakra points, ki pathways. "Your first lesson. The Standing Meditation of the Still Mountain. Assume the stance. Breathe. Feel the energy within you. Do not command it. Observe it. Map its natural flow. You have one hour."
The class erupted into movement as hundreds of students assumed the basic stance: feet shoulder-width, knees slightly bent, spine straight, hands held before the diaphragm.
Ryosuke assumed the stance. He closed his eyes, deactivating the Six Eyes' external focus. He turned his perception inward.
He felt his Cursed Energy. It was not a warm, living flow like Chakra or Ki. It was a cold, vast, humming potential, like a frozen ocean. It did not circulate in neat meridians. It simply was, coiling around the infinite space within his soul, connected to the dormant, severing presence of Kurokaze.
He did not try to force it into the diagrams. He applied his otherworldly comprehension. The principle wasn't to change his energy to fit the art. It was to use the art's principles to understand his energy better.
Gathering? His energy was self-generating, drawn from the limitless negative potential within his own concept. It did not gather; it was always full.
Circulation? It had no need to circulate. It existed uniformly. But… could he create a current? A directed flow to increase the speed of manifestation?
He imagined the infinite, frozen ocean. He imposed a gradient—a slight "slope" from the core of his being to his extremities using the abstract concept of Blue (attraction). The Cursed Energy, responsive to spatial manipulation, began to flow along that gradient, not through physical pathways, but through conceptual ones. It was a circulation of meaning, not matter.
Refinement? His energy was already infinitely refined in its own domain—the essence of "Limitless." But he could refine his control over its expression. He focused on the boundary between his energy and the world, using the principle of Infinity to make that boundary more absolute, more defined.
Manifestation? This was where Kurokaze's principle shone. To manifest was to make internal will external reality. His Severing principle was the ultimate manifestation—a direct, unambiguous edit.
In the space of ten minutes, while other students grunted and sweated trying to feel their ki or chakra, Ryosuke had not only mapped the unique topography of his power but had created a personalized, hyper-efficient "circulation" model that would allow him to deploy techniques 50% faster.
He opened his eyes. Grandmaster Fū was standing before him, his ancient eyes wide with shock.
"You…" the Grandmaster whispered. "You have not just learned the lesson. You have rewritten the textbook for your own energy system. I felt it. A flow of… conceptual coldness. A severing of inertia." He leaned closer, his voice for Ryosuke alone. "What is your name, student?"
"Ryosuke Tanaka, sir."
"Tanaka. You will see me after class. We have much to discuss about… unorthodox cultivation."
The rest of the class passed in a blur of theory. Ryosuke's mind absorbed it all—the comparative strengths of different cultivation bases, the stages of progression (Mortal, Earth, Heaven, Sovereign, Cosmic), the importance of a solid foundation.
When class ended, Grandmaster Fū gestured for him to stay. As the other students filed out, the old Shinobi regarded him.
"Your power is alien. It is not of the Force, nor the Warp, nor any standard continuum. It is… primordial. A power of definition and negation. Your comprehension is monstrous. It took Master Jiraiya decades to develop the Rasengan's unique chakra circulation. You devised an optimal flow for an unknown energy in minutes."
He placed a hand on Ryosuke's shoulder. It felt like being touched by a mountain. "This is a gift. And a curse. You will advance faster than anyone can teach you. You will also draw attention from those who fear what they cannot categorize. Be careful, Ryosuke Tanaka. And come to my advanced seminar on Chakra-Ki Hybridization Theory. I believe you will find it… trivial." A rare, dry smile touched the old man's lips.
---
Day 2: Applied Awakening Integration
This class was held in the Harmonic Atelier, a vast, white chamber whose walls were lined with reality-dampening hexagons. The instructor was Master Mace Windu, his purple lightsaber hilt prominent on his belt, his presence in the Force a bastion of grim resolve.
"Power is worthless without control," Windu began, his voice deep and commanding. "Here, you will learn to marry your innate abilities to Federation technology and tactics. Today's exercise: Synergistic Pairing. You will be matched with a student from a different power discipline. Your goal is not combat. It is to produce a single, combined effect that demonstrates mutual understanding and enhanced utility."
The pairings were assigned algorithmically. Ryosuke found himself standing across from a girl with skin the color of a twilight sky and hair that drifted like solidified smoke. Her slate identified her as Nyx, from the "Umbral Weavers" of a dark-matter universe. Her power: Conceptual Shadow Manipulation.
Her galaxy-dark eyes assessed him. "Your light is… absolute. It leaves no room for nuance."
"And your shadows are all nuance," Ryosuke replied. "They have no edge."
For forty minutes, they failed utterly. His attempts to create spatial lattices were consumed by her shadows. Her attempts to shroud his distortions dissolved against their inherent, defined "realness." Frustration mounted. Their energies were philosophically opposed: his was about infinite clarity and definition; hers was about obfuscation and absorption.
Then, Nyx frowned. "This is inefficient. Our principles are antithetical."
Antithetical. The word was the key. Not synergy, but juxtaposition. Not blending, but using their opposition to create something new.
"Change the objective," Ryosuke said, his mind racing. "Don't try to combine. Let's create a layered effect. You generate a sphere of pure conceptual silence—a zone where data, light, and intention cease."
Nyx's eyes gleamed with understanding. "A pocket of absolute zero-information. And you?"
"I will define its boundary. Not with a wall, but with a cut. A line of absolute spatial separation that makes the inside truly outside. It will make your silence… irrevocable."
They enacted the plan. Nyx raised her hands. A sphere of profound absence bloomed between them—not dark, but void of perceptual data. It was unsettling, a hole in reality.
Ryosuke focused. He didn't create a barrier. He enacted the Severing principle along the perfect spherical interface between Nyx's effect and the normal world. He drew a line.
The effect was instant and profound. The sphere of shadow didn't just sit there. Inside Ryosuke's defined boundary, it became a law. Sound waves hitting the boundary were severed, their energy negated. Light particles ceased their existence upon contact. It became a perfect, spherical blind spot in reality—a Null-Sphere.
Master Windu approached, his brow furrowed. "Fascinating. You have not created synergy. You have created a defined phenomenon. A zone of absolute negation, bounded by absolute definition." He scanned it with a specialized tricorder. "Readings show localized entropy at zero. You have created a temporary end to time's arrow within the sphere. A stasis field of pure absence. This has immense tactical potential—for containment, stealth, negating exotic energy attacks. You pass. Remarkably."
As they left the Atelier, Nyx gave him a nod of genuine respect. "Your edges are sharp, Tanaka. They cut clean truths. It was… elegant."
---
Slice of Life: The Replicator Incident
Back at the suite, Chen was in a state of rapture. "I programmed the replicator for 'Grand Line Sea King Sashimi with a side of Konoha-style Ichiraku Ramen broth infusion.'"
The result was a shimmering, vaguely fish-shaped blob that emitted a smell both briny and porky, and pulsed with a dangerous-looking red light. A moment later, a calm robotic voice echoed in the suite: "Bio-hazard alert. Unauthorized culinary hybridization detected. Containment team dispatched."
Three maintenance drones whirred into the suite, sealed the offending dish in a stasis bubble, and vacuumed the air. A demerit was added to Chen's record.
Varg stared at the spot where the food had been. "The machine-spirit of the replicator is vengeful."
Aris meditated, trying to calm the offended culinary kami.
Sera just laughed, a real, unreserved sound. Ryosuke allowed himself a small smile. This was their life now: cosmic lessons interspersed with mundane absurdity.
That evening, a priority notification flashed on all their slates.
[Special Assignment - Probationary Field Assessment.]
[Issuing Authority: Office of Strategic Threat Assessment (OSTA).]
[Team: Obsidian.]
[Mission: Investigate and contain a minor dimensional incursion on Federation Protectorate World PX-991 ('Veridia'). Incursion Type: Low-level Psychic Echo / Data-based Lifeforms ('Digimon'). Risk: Green. Objectives: Assess incursion stability, neutralize hostile manifestations, collect data. Departure: 0800 tomorrow via Corvette 'Whisper'.]
[Note: Performance evaluated for future mission priority and resource allocation. This is a live field operation.]
A real mission. Their first.
Chen pumped his fist. "Yes! Field trip!"
Varg cracked his neck. "A good test for the new augmentations."
Sera's hands shimmered with contained heat. "Data-based lifeforms. Interesting."
Aris nodded. "I will prepare psychic dampening protocols."
Ryosuke read the notice again. Digimon. It sounded almost benign. But OSTA's involvement meant it was a test. A first, careful step onto the true battlefield of the multiverse.
He looked at his team, his family, reunited in this city of impossible scale and ambition. They had been honed by masters, tested by isolation, and were now being pointed at a target.
The Academy was the theory. Veridia would be the practical exam.
And Ryosuke Tanaka, with the silent song of a primordial blade in his soul and a monster's comprehension in his mind, was ready to write the answer in the language of severed fates.