?Deep within the jagged peaks of the new Obsidian Realm, the earth didn’t just shake; it groaned under the weight of a new presence.

  ?Agent X sat in a cross-legged meditation pose in his castle. His form had undergone a radical, violent transformation. His stage two form was no longer. In place of the smooth black plating, a light-purple-skinned demon had emerged. Out of its back sprouted a pair of three-foot black bone wings, missing any membrane or feathers. A sleek tail, corded with dense muscle, ended in a long, whip-thin tip capped with a lethal obsidian spike.

  ?The very air around him shimmered with heat haze. As he drew a final breath, the rumbling of the kingdom ceased instantly.

  ?Agent X opened his eyes. They were no longer merely glowing; they were twin violet-purple suns in a sea of black. He looked down at his clawed hands, feeling the sheer volume of energy coursing through his veins.

  ?Finally, I’m an Arcane Commander, he thought, his voice a low, melodic hum that resonated in the air.

  ?He knew the stages of the system very well. This was the final stage of age-based growth—the plateau where most natives stopped. To reach Stage Four and become an Overlord, he could no longer rely on time. He had to gather and condense the world’s ambient energy into his own core. He had to merge the world’s strength with his own.

  ?He stood up, his movements unnervingly fluid. He wanted to test the output of his new Arcane capacity. Agent X went outside his obsidian castle and pointed a single finger toward a massive, jagged pillar of obsidian nearly fifty yards away. He intended to chip the top off with a precise needle of energy.

  ?A pillar of violet light, as wide as a tree trunk, erupted from his fingertip. The sound was a roar of displaced atmosphere. When the light faded, the obsidian pillar was gone. In its place was a molten crater in the side of the mountain, and the shockwave had leveled a dozen nearby structures he hadn't even been aiming at.

  ?Agent X stared at the destruction, a frown tugging at his thin lips. "Too much," he murmured. "The output is more than intended. I nearly forgot—since this is a new Universal Loadout, it's free of the curses my other ones have. Plus, I already have a deity's blessing boosting my strength."

  ?He realized then that his raw power had outpaced his control. If he went into a serious battle now, he was as likely to vaporize his surroundings as he was his target. He needed a catalyst—a fight with something durable enough to survive his opening moves so he could practice modulating his power.

  ?He closed his eyes, extending his sensory reach across the continent like a spiderweb made of silk and shifting sand.

  ?The first signature he brushed against was familiar. Minimal. The energy was that of a divine being. He’s grown, Agent X noted. He reached stage two, finally.

  ?Next, he felt the chaotic, swirling pressure of Hurricane. It was erratic, like a localized storm. Then came the cold, biting precision of Glacier. Both felt like they had hit the Stage Two ceiling, likely furthering their own variants by now. They were keeping pace with each other, but they were still children playing in the shadow of their demon lord.

  ?Agent X was about to withdraw his senses when he felt it.

  ?A pulse of energy, subtle and deep in the southern mountain ranges—the only unclaimed territory. At first, it was faint, like a flickering candle. But as he focused, the signature began to swell. It was dark, cold, and possessed a strange similarity. Was this energy copying his?

  ?The more he focused on it, the more the energy seemed to expand, reaching out to meet his senses with a defiant, jagged edge. It was a power source he hadn't felt before—one that was rapidly condensing into something formidable.

  ?"Intriguing," Agent X whispered.

  ?He didn't know who or what was causing such a disturbance in such a lowly place, but it was the strongest reading on the map outside of his own. It could be a perfect whetstone to sharpen his new blades.

  ?His tail flicked, shattering the stone beneath him as he took off toward the energy source.

  ?The mountain range in the southern reach was a jagged, desolate spine of stone, but Agent X didn't see the landscape—he saw the flow of energy. The source was deep, buried beneath millions of tons of granite and ancient tectonic pressure. It hummed with a frequency that felt oddly familiar, almost like an echo of his own heartbeat.

  ?He descended to the base of the tallest peak, his feet barely touching the soil. He didn't reach for a tool. Instead, he channeled his Obsidian Sand.

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  ?The ground beneath him didn't just break; it was ground down. He reached into the earth with his will, calling upon the volcanic glass buried in the crust. A massive vortex of obsidian sand erupted, swirling around the mountain’s base like a black, grinding maw. With surgical precision, Agent X used the sand to mill through the stone, vibrating the grains at such high speeds that they acted as a thermal drill.

  ?He worked for hours, the mountain groaning as he hollowed out its foundation. Finally, deep within the dark, pressurized heart of the range, the sand hit something that didn't crumble.

  ?It was a cage. A perfect, seamless cube of an unknown matte-black metal. It had no bars, no windows, and no visible hinges. It sat in the center of a hollowed-out cavern like a dead god’s secret.

  ?Agent X approached the cube. The energy coming from inside was deafening now, a scream of raw, unshaped potential. He didn't look for a key. He stepped forward, his new demonic muscles rippling as he jammed his clawed fingers into the microscopic seal of the metal.

  ?With a guttural grunt, he pulled. The metal groaned and shrieked, warping under the pressure of his strength until the front plate tore away like wet parchment.

  ?A thick, viscous black sludge began to seep from the dark interior. It didn't splash onto the floor; it rose, defying gravity as it pulsed with a sickening, rhythmic beat. Slowly, the sludge began to lengthen and harden. It grew limbs. It grew a tail. It sprouted a head.

  ?Within seconds, a perfect mirror of Agent X stood before him. It was identical in height, build, and stance, right down to the twitch of its barbed tail.

  ?Agent X tilted his head, a predatory smile spreading across his face.

  ?You look like me, he thought, his violet eyes flashing. But how much like me can you actually be?

  ?The mimic didn't answer. It lunged.

  ?The impact was like two meteors colliding. The mimic possessed the same terrifying physical capabilities as Agent X, but as they traded blows—the cavern shaking with every punch—Agent X realized the creature was a blank slate. It was a physical powerhouse, but it lacked the Arcane spark. It didn't use obsidian sand; it didn't channel energy or flame. It was raw, unrefined muscle.

  ?It was the perfect training dummy. The mimic offered no real threat, but it could endure his strength.

  ?The mimic’s first strike was a blur of violet-black motion. Agent X met it with a forearm block, and the resulting boom sent a spiderweb of cracks racing up the cavern walls. He expected the creature to recoil; instead, the mimic’s arm seemed to liquefy at the point of contact, wrapping around Agent X’s guard like a constricting python.

  ?Agent X’s eyes widened. "Adaptive biology. Not just a mirror, but a sponge."

  ?He surged with power, throwing a short, internal-frame punch into the mimic’s chest. He felt the ribs shatter—a satisfying crunch—but a heartbeat later, the mimic’s chest cavity expanded, swallowing his fist in a mass of dense, rubbery muscle. It wasn't just taking the hits; it was neutralizing the kinetic energy.

  ?The mimic let out a distorted, skin-crawling echo of Agent X’s own voice—a hollow rasp—and lashed its tail. The obsidian spike at the end whistled through the air, aimed directly at Agent X’s throat.

  ?Agent X ducked, the spike shearing off a lock of his hair. He realized he couldn't just "hit" his way out of this. If he blasted at full power, he’d bring the entire mountain range down on his head.

  ?"Control," he hissed, his violet eyes narrowing. "Let's see how you handle pressure from the inside out."

  ?The mimic lunged again, its hands transforming into jagged blades modeled after Agent X's obsidian tail spike. Agent X didn't retreat. He stepped into the mimic's reach, his movements a fluid dance of redirection. He grabbed the mimic’s wrist, not with brute strength, but with a calculated grip, channeling a microscopic thread of mana into the creature’s joints.

  ?The mimic stiffened. It tried to shift its form to compensate, but Agent X was faster. He began a rapid-fire succession of strikes—palms, elbow snaps, and tail sweeps—each one delivered with exactly enough force to subdue most foes without sending his target flying through the mountain.

  ?It was a gruesome game of chess. Every time the mimic adapted to a strike, Agent X altered his frequency. He was learning the "weight" of his new body in real-time. He felt the way the air resisted his wings, the way his tail balanced his center of gravity, and the best way to fight with his new form.

  ?The mimic, sensing it was being outclassed, let out a piercing shriek. Its body began to swell, growing extra limbs in a desperate attempt to overwhelm Agent X’s sensory input. Six arms, tipped with obsidian claws, rained down a flurry of blows.

  ?"Too chaotic," Agent X murmured, his calm a sharp contrast to the creature's frenzy. "You’re inefficient. Observe."

  ?He caught the mimic’s primary fist in his palm. The shockwave cracked the floor, but Agent X didn't budge. He had finally found the "sweet spot"—the perfect equilibrium between his Incarnate power and his physical form.

  ?Restraint, he told himself.

  ?He let the mimic’s momentum carry it forward, then pivoted, using a fraction of his energy to redirect the creature. As the mimic stumbled, Agent X raised both hands.

  ?"Stay," he commanded.

  ?The obsidian sand that had been milling the mountain earlier surged into the cavern. It didn't crush the mimic; it wove together, forming a dense, airtight interlocking lattice of black glass that solidified into a new cage—one far more durable than the metal cube.

  ?The mimic slammed against the bars, its strength equal to his own, but the obsidian cage was reinforced by Agent X’s active energy. As long as he maintained the flow, the creature was trapped. After a short time, the mimic lost its stolen form and the banging returned to silence.

  ?Agent X sat back down in a meditative pose just outside the cage. He looked at the makeshift prison that held the mimic.

  ?"You will be my whetstone," Agent X whispered. "When I want to practice my control, I will let you out. When I am done, I will put you back."

  ?He closed his eyes, finally feeling a sense of satisfaction. He had found something he could get used to his new strength with. He didn't have to worry about breaking it or the surrounding area. Since it didn't possess the same energy, it was an easy toy to put away.