Upon officially being promoted to Grade 1, the benefits and perks increased once again.
Sōjun Minamoto made a trip to the mission building to update his information, claim resources, and handle various tasks.
The most important item was his identification badge. As proof of identity, the old badge had to be submitted and destroyed. The new one, which he glanced at briefly, looked the same in design, except for one detail:
The number "2" had been replaced with "1."
This symbolized his status as a Grade 1 sorcerer.
Mishima Shiko, as Sōjun's assigned assistant supervisor, naturally accompanied him for this process.
Her procedures were even more complicated.
The two exchanged evaluation forms for each other, and both filled them out satisfactorily.
"Here's to continuing our great teamwork," Shiko said with a smile, extending her hand.
Sōjun smiled and shook her hand.
"Let's keep doing our best."
On the way back, Shiko was unusually silent. From what Sōjun knew of her, it was likely jealousy eating at her again.
Despite her formidable strength, comparable to that of a quasi-Grade 1 sorcerer, her official grade remained at Grade 3.
She came from a civilian background and lacked a cursed technique.
In the eyes of the elite, she was seen as untalented and unworthy of cultivation—one of the many to be discarded.
Some clans didn't even regard those without cursed techniques as their equals.
Such a twisted class hierarchy was the foundation of the jujutsu world.
During her student years, Shiko had endured painful experiences that left scars.
She had done nothing wrong, but to certain people, her mere existence was an affront.
Arrogant individuals, unable to defeat her in combat, targeted her all the more intensely. This targeting persisted even now. As long as people like her existed, prejudice would remain.
Thus, Shiko's journey over the years had been far from easy.
The Tokyo Jujutsu High, originally a beacon for the rise of clans, had devolved into something far removed from its ideals.
Yet, Shiko, oblivious to its flaws, continued to hold deep love for the institution.
During her most challenging and despairing moments, a teacher had brought her into the school, giving her a new life. It was a life vastly different from that of ordinary people, one she was willing to risk everything for.
Her love for the school was less about the institution itself and more about her gratitude toward that teacher.
Sōjun was familiar with that teacher—none other than Masamichi Yaga.
Having transitioned from being a pawn to becoming a chess player, Yaga appeared to be setting the stage for a grand game.
As they passed by Shiko's residence, she seemed absent-minded, instinctively following Sōjun further ahead.
Tilting his head to meet her gaze, Sōjun noticed her downcast eyes and dejected expression.
He lightly patted her head. "How about I become your recommender from now on?"
Barely finishing his sentence, Sōjun quickly stepped aside.
Shiko's swipe missed, but she didn't seem to mind. "Then you'd have to recommend me twice."
Watching him walk away with a smile, she raised her right hand, waving lightly in the air. Her voice, carried by the wind, still reached his ears clearly:
"No problem. As many times as it takes."
Shiko lifted her head again, realizing how fortunate she was. In her darkest times, good people always seemed to appear.
Returning to his residence, Sōjun resumed his daily training, throwing punches.
The promotion to Grade 1 hadn't significantly impacted him, nor had it altered his routine.
Strangely, despite having been at Jujutsu High for quite some time, participated in several large-scale missions, and encountered numerous sorcerers, he had never witnessed a successful Black Flash in person.
He had reviewed countless cases and analyses related to Black Flash in the school archives, comparing and cross-checking repeatedly, but found no discrepancies with his memory.
When the time gap between a physical strike and the surge of cursed energy is within 0.000001 seconds, space distorts, cursed energy emits a black glow, and the impact is amplified by a factor of 2.5.
No sorcerer could intentionally perform a Black Flash.
The difference between those who had experienced it and those who hadn't lay in their distance from the core of cursed energy—a vast chasm.
These were common statements.
The explanations surrounding Black Flash were never sufficient. But one thing was universally acknowledged: successfully executing it relied entirely on "feeling."
When the feeling struck, it was unstoppable. When it didn't, no amount of effort could force it.
Sōjun was currently stuck in this state.
Feelings, being inherently subjective, were challenging to articulate. The sparse records were inconsistent and lacked structure.
During his training, Sōjun often found himself pondering.
For example, when infusing cursed energy into a straight punch, the energy was divided into various functions: strengthening the fist, striking the opponent, boosting speed, disrupting perception, or creating special effects.
A sorcerer must control all of these while also calculating the timing of impact and the composition of cursed energy, all of which were critical to performing a Black Flash.
Environmental factors, the opponent's cursed energy, physical traits, and even temperature, humidity, and wind speed could all influence the outcome.
Adding cursed techniques into the mix when striking further heightened the difficulty of achieving a Black Flash.
Thanks to his perfect mastery over cursed energy, body, and soul, Sōjun met most of the requirements.
But factors beyond his control remained outside his grasp.
By methodically eliminating errors through trial and error over the years, he finally glimpsed a hint of success.
Standing beneath a large tree in his courtyard, Sōjun continued punching and retracting, the cursed energy on his fists rippling and constantly adjusting.
He needed to successfully perform a Black Flash just once. Just once, and the rest would follow naturally.
Unfortunately, the first time was always the hardest. Having reached the peak of control, the rest depended solely on luck.
He hated relying on luck.
And he had terrible luck.
Days passed as time slipped away during training.
During a session experimenting with a spatial cursed technique involving locust heads, Sōjun finally grasped the inspiration for Black Flash.
He punched the air.
Staring at the faint black glow emanating from his palm, though it lasted only a moment, he felt a deep sense of joy.
So Black Flash was a spatial ability all along.
Those deeply involved often miss the obvious.
The description of Black Flash had indeed mentioned "space distortion."
Sōjun had always assumed it was a byproduct of cursed energy surges or excessive power—akin to how extreme heat distorts space.
It turned out he had misunderstood the sequence.
One had to distort space first and then overlay the force to unleash amplified power.
With this final hurdle overcome, Black Flash became second nature—at least when striking the air.
Next, he needed to test it in combat, seek out different opponents, accumulate experience, and reduce the time needed to calculate Black Flash until it became as natural as breathing.
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