The stale air of the classroom, thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint, earthy musk of ancient Murim dust, felt oppressively heavy as the last droning lecture of the day finally, mercifully, drew to a close. It had been another mind-numbingly dull exposition on the intricate, often baffling, nuances of ancient Murim etiquette – a subject that felt utterly alien to Harish, a triviality compared to the cosmic forces now swirling within him. He sighed internally, a deep, silent exhalation that barely stirred the robes clinging to his still-considerable form. The vast, humming ocean of his inner energy, a boundless reservoir of power that thrummed just beneath his skin, stood in stark, almost painful contrast to the stifling, rigid formality that governed every single aspect of Academy life. He needed to move, desperately, to exert himself, to burn off some of this supernal energy that threatened to burst from his very pores, to literally vibrate him out of his deceptive skin. More importantly, he needed to embark on his new, critically urgent, and deeply secret mission: to meticulously, imperceptibly, shed his chubby frame for the sake of his intricately crafted, absolutely vital disguise. The phantom ache of longing for his distant home in India, a vibrant land of spices and sun that he now realized, with a chilling certainty, he had absolutely no idea how to return to, weighed heavier on his soul than any physical burden. There was no map, no portal, no whispered legend that spoke of a way back from this alien dimension. No one here knew where he truly came from, what fractured seam in reality he had inadvertently tumbled through. This profound, crushing isolation, this utter absence of a discernible path back to his own world, made his desperate need for absolute, flawless secrecy even more paramount. He was a castaway, adrift in a sea of unknown powers and unfathomable threats, and if he wasn't painstakingly careful, he'd become a curious specimen, a caged exhibit in this strange new reality.
With a deliberately clumsy stretch, Harish eased his aching muscles, feigning a stiffness he no longer felt, before navigating the familiar, unyielding stone corridors. The dormitory building, constructed of dark, heavy Murim stone, seemed to absorb all light and sound, creating a perpetually solemn atmosphere. His footsteps, though light as a feather with his newfound agility, he forced into a heavy, deliberate shuffle, heading towards one of the Academy's vast, open training grounds. It was already late afternoon, the sun dipping towards the western mountains, casting long, fractured shadows across the disciplined squares of packed earth. The grounds were sparsely populated now, only a handful of dedicated disciples, their faces set in grim determination, still practicing their repetitive, precise forms. The air, growing cool with the approaching evening, carried the earthy scent of damp soil, the faint tang of distant pine trees, and the ever-present, subtle aroma of sweat and Murim iron. Harish found a relatively secluded spot near the periphery, away from the more serious practitioners. He performed a few exaggerated, awkward stretches, letting his limbs appear clumsy, even as he felt the immense, coiled power simmering just beneath the surface of his deceptive outward appearance. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, not on the standardized, rigid Murim exercises that now felt like rudimentary child's play, but on something far deeper, something intrinsically woven into the very fabric of his being, a memory encoded in his muscles, yearning for release.
Then, his limbs began to flow, almost instinctively, into the intricate, dance-like movements of Kalari Payattu. It was an ancient martial art from his home in India, a fluid, graceful, yet explosively powerful form that combined unarmed combat with weapons training, rooted in deep philosophical traditions. His hands, though seemingly soft and uncalloused, moved like striking serpents, poised to unleash devastating force, yet he held them in check. His feet shifted with the effortless grace of a prowling tiger, silently stalking its prey, his entire chubby frame twisting and coiling with a deceptive fluidity that utterly belied its bulk. Each movement was a calculated expression of potential power and absolute, honed control, a spiritual dance as much as a fighting form, connecting him to a heritage no one in this world could ever understand. Sweat beaded on his dusky skin, glistening like dew in the fading light, and a deep, satisfying burn ignited in his core, not from exhaustion, but from the joyful engagement of truly effective exertion. This was more than just exercise; it was a visceral connection to his roots, a subtle, personal defiance against the sterile, impersonal Murim disciplines, and a desperate, almost spiritual attempt to reclaim a semblance of normalcy, to feel a familiar ground beneath his feet even in this alien, bewildering world.
He moved faster, pushing himself with a controlled abandon that few could sustain, feeling the boundless energy churn and gather within him, demanding release, demanding recognition. He was acutely aware, even without a direct glance, of a presence at the far edge of the training ground, a silent, almost predatory stillness. Cheon Woo Jin. His enigmatic roommate, a figure of perpetual mystery, stood perfectly still, a sentinel carved from granite, his own form a picture of calm, intense focus. Harish felt a familiar prickle of apprehension crawl up his spine, a cold knot tightening in his gut. Cheon Woo Jin wasn't merely observing Harish's meager display; he was undoubtedly performing his own arcane, esoteric training, his senses stretched wide, clearly anticipating some unseen, "future upcoming threats" that only he seemed privy to. Harish knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the core, that every flicker of his own true energy, every ripple of truly unusual movement, every subtle shift in his aura, would be noted and analyzed by Cheon Woo Jin's unnervingly sharp, unreadable gaze. The man saw too much, sensed too much.
As Harish pushed through a particularly demanding sequence of high jumps and rapid evasions, focusing intensely on burning every single ounce of extraneous adipose mass from his body, a new, blindingly bright notification flared in his inner vision, accompanied by a resounding, ethereal mental chime that vibrated through his very soul.
[Crazy Skill Creator Function Activated!]
[Skill Creation Protocol: Body Fat Burner (Active) - Level 1 Initiated!]
[Description: Utilizes Inner Energy to rapidly metabolize and eliminate adipose tissue. Fat melts like ice, leaving pure muscle.]
Harish stumbled, a choked gasp catching in his throat, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated shock. What in the name of all that is holy?! He felt it instantly, a profound, almost disorienting internal warmth, like a super-accelerated metabolism igniting within his core. It spread rapidly through his entire body, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying. His chubby frame, moments ago still very much present, felt… lighter. Dramatically, unequivocally lighter. He could literally feel the fat receding, melting away from his stomach, his thighs, his cheeks, his chin, as if his body had become a self-contained furnace fueled by his seemingly limitless inner energy. It was happening too fast. A horrifying realization dawned on him as he glanced down at himself, a wave of pure panic washing over him. His robes, which had been comfortably snug just moments before, now hung noticeably looser around his quickly shrinking frame. His face felt sharper, his jawline more defined, a stranger looking back at him from his own reflection in the shimmering air.
Oh, my God! Harish's mind raced, a frantic, desperate torrent of thoughts. He had wanted to lose weight gradually, subtly, over weeks, even months, giving people time to adjust, to attribute it to normal training. This was… instantaneous. Catastrophic. Cheon Woo Jin was still there, at the far edge of the training ground, a silent, unmoving statue, his gaze seemingly fixed on nothing, yet Harish felt it prickling his skin. How could he possibly explain this overnight transformation? He couldn't just walk back into the dorm a third of his original size without triggering an absolute uproar. His entire "dumb, slightly lucky initiate" disguise, painstakingly conceived, would shatter like fragile glass, revealing the inexplicable. People would swarm him with questions, impossible, invasive questions, about his body, about his inexplicable origins. That could lead back to unwanted attention, to dangerous scrutiny that might eventually pierce the veil of his hidden past, a past that offered no known way back to xxxxxxxxxxx, to his family. Even if his family was not currently under threat, the possibility of being exposed, of his unique existence becoming a matter of public record or scientific curiosity, filled him with a cold dread. He couldn't risk becoming a subject of intense, academic or martial inquiry, a lab specimen for Murim elders, a living puzzle for the powerful. No. He absolutely, unequivocally, couldn't let that happen.
He needed to get away, to think, to process this bewildering, terrifyingly fast new development. "Just need to… uh… cool down! Be right back!" he bellowed, forcing a clumsy, exaggerated jog towards the edge of the training ground, where the dense, shadowy embrace of the forest began. He plunged into the relative obscurity of the ancient trees, his heart pounding a furious rhythm in his chest, half from physical exertion, half from sheer, unadulterated terror at his predicament.
He burst into a small, secluded clearing, bathed in the dappled light filtering through the thick canopy of ancient, towering pines that seemed to pierce the very sky. Here, the air felt different, moist and earthy, imbued with a strange, primeval quiet that offered a momentary respite from the Academy's vigilant eyes. Small, translucent, gelatinous blobs of various sizes pulsed gently on the mossy forest floor, oozing slowly across the verdant green. Slimes. Harish had seen them before in basic creature identification classes; simple, elemental beings, seemingly shapeless and infinitely adaptable, often overlooked. He watched one, utterly fascinated, as it flowed effortlessly around a fallen log, its amorphous form shifting and reforming without effort, without constraint. It absorbed a small pebble into its translucent mass, its gelatinous body momentarily stretching and distorting, then, with a subtle internal ripple, extruded it, its form snapping back into its perfectly smooth, unblemished state.
To change appearance however you want… to manipulate physical form at will… The thought flickered through his mind, a sudden, blinding flash of inspiration that cut through his panic. He focused intensely on the slimes' complete mastery over their own form, their inherent flexibility, their ability to be whatever their environment demanded. His Primal Insight [L4], already honed to connect disparate ideas, sparked with an almost painful intensity, a cascade of connections igniting in his mind, suggesting possibilities, hinting at a revolutionary new way to adapt, to survive this seemingly insurmountable problem.
Just as the idea fully formed, solidifying into an urgent, desperate, yet brilliantly cunning plan, another startling notification bloomed in his inner vision, surprising him even more profoundly than the last, confirming his desperate wish.
[Crazy Skill Creator Function Activated!]
[Skill Creation Protocol: Shape Shifting (Active) - Level 1 Initiated!]
[Description: Manipulates physical form at will. Can alter appearance, body mass, and features. Initial stage allows for subtle alterations and mimicry based on observed forms.]
Harish almost laughed aloud, a hysterical bubble of pure relief and disbelieving awe rising in his chest. The System, his chaotic, inscrutable guardian angel, truly worked in mysterious ways, always providing an unexpected solution at the eleventh hour. This was it. The perfect, instantaneous solution to his immediate, terrifying dilemma. He could use Shape Shifting to simulate a slow, natural weight loss. He could mentally dial back his true form, making himself appear to be gradually shedding pounds, day by day, week by week, instead of having transformed in a single, terrifying instant. He could control his perceived size, maintaining his original chubby frame for now, subtly reducing it over time, ensuring the change was always just believable enough. He could even use it to temporarily hide any accidental, tell-tale displays of his true agility or strength, making himself seem clumsier, more ponderous, more normal than he actually was.
A slow, almost sinister smile touched his lips, a genuine, if twisted, feeling of triumph spreading through him. Cheon Woo Jin, with all his unnerving perception, with all his sharp observations about "auras" and "resonances," would be utterly none the wiser. He'd just see Harish "working hard" and slowly, steadily transforming into a leaner, still ostensibly normal disciple. It was the ultimate deception, a layered illusion built on a foundation of reality-bending power.
His true strength, his boundless inner energy, his bizarre array of reality-bending skills from the incomprehensibly named My Utter Bullshit Will Become Divine Way Beyond The Heavens ability to his Infinite Experience Points Buff, his hidden lineage from xxxxxxxxxxx, and his incredible System would remain his deepest, most sacrosanct secrets. They would be hidden, meticulously, behind a carefully constructed facade of amiable mediocrity and a strategically, gradually shrinking waistline. The path to becoming the most secretly overpowered initiate in the Heavenly Demon Cult, a master of deception, self-control, and calculated feigned weakness, had truly begun.
Harish: Core Attributes & Skills
Name: Harish | Race: Human | Origin: xxxxxxxxxxx
Appearance: Chubby frame, dusky skin.
Level: 6 (Heavenly Demon Initiate) | Martial Prowess Stage: Pure Nexus Conduit
Inner Energy: Vast (Effectively Limitless)
Attributes (Effective Values - Doubled by Daily Attribute Double):
* Strength: 164
* Agility: 186
* Stamina: 202
* Constitution: 182
* Intelligence: 200
* Perception: 220
* Willpower: 200
* Soul: 300
Key Skills:
* Active:
* Energy Flow [L11]
* Unbound Stride [MAX]
* Shadow Nexus Wave [L3]
* Ghost Steps Transverse [L3]
* Predator's Eye [L3]
* Body Fat Burner [L1]
* Shape Shifting [L1]
* Passive:
* Primal Insight [L4] (Evolved from Chaos Breaking Divine Perception)
* Mind Eye
* Nexus Attunement [L10]
* 6Library
* Daily Attribute Double
* My Utter Bullshit Will Become Divine Way Beyond The Heavens
* Instant Mastery
* Infinite Experience Points Buff
* Iron Will Sanctuary [L1]
* Absolute Regeneration [L1]
* Diamond Carapace [L1]
* Crazy Skill Creator
* Ravana's Truth
The terrifying question of how to get back to his own dimension remained an agonizing, unanswered void, a constant, distant ache in his soul. But for now, survival and flawless secrecy were paramount. Harish knew that every interaction, every rigorous training session, every casual glance from Cheon Woo Jin, would be a relentless test of his resolve, a delicate dance on the edge of exposure. How will Harish's meticulously crafted disguise hold up under the subtle pressures and unexpected challenges of Academy life, and will his extraordinary secret ever be truly safe from the eyes that seemed to see far too much?