Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher
Chapter 12: All That Can Be

Chapter 12: All That Can Be

He sat in stillness once again, energy humming softly beneath his skin—if it could even be called that.

He’d grown used to the rhythm now.

A thought.

A concept.

A deep dive into his imagination... and something new would awaken.

This time, he focused on something he had only glimpsed in fiction—Etherion. A mythical energy, spoken of in worlds of fantasy. Not elemental. Not physical. A pure, potent force of ancient power. The kind that could fuel massive spells, destroy nations, or warp reality.

He didn’t fully understand it. But he remembered it.

And memory, in his world, had power.

Etherion responded.

It coursed through him—smooth and overwhelming, yet not wild. It slithered into his soul force like molten light, not burning, but embedding itself into his being.

His glowing form shimmered—no drastic change, but clearer, sharper, stronger.

Subtle evolution.

Just like before.

He opened his eyes.

And just as expected...

The island pulsed again.

At the distant edge, reality rippled. Etherion—barely visible, like streaks of liquid starlight—curled through the sky. The terrain didn’t change, but the atmosphere felt heavier, like a loaded circuit waiting to discharge.

The island had begun producing Etherion.

He watched quietly.

So that made it seven now.

Mana. Aura. Life. Divine. Prana. Death. Etherion.

Each time, the same result.

Him: refined.

The island: transformed.

His voice was low, thoughtful. "It’s always the same. The moment I create it... the world starts to make it too."

Time passed—not in minutes or hours, but in creations.

One after another, he conjured energies from across every story, world, and theory he’d ever known.

Psionic force—a mental-based energy drawn from sheer willpower and telepathic strength.

Netherlight—an eerie, dual-aspect energy of darkness and light intertwined, pulled from the tales of fallen angels and forbidden sorcery.

Chaosflame—an unstable but powerful current from chaotic realms, pure destruction unshaped by logic.

Draconic Essence, Stellar Force, Mythic Core, and more...

Some were volatile. Some refused to settle inside him and dispersed after flickering into existence. Others fused quietly, joining the swirling storm of power within.

Each time, as if following a divine rule etched into the world, his body changed slightly—a small refinement, a denser glow, a more defined aura.

And each time...

The island changed too.

New energies began to weave themselves into the soil, the skies, the waters.

Psionic winds danced above the mountains. _{f|ree(w)ebn\o.vel.com}

Netherlight shimmered between the trees like phantom fog.

Chaosflame left scars on certain stones, eternally smoldering without consuming.

The realm was evolving alongside him.

Not by force.

Not by intention.

But by resonance.

Every spark of energy he summoned echoed outward—a ripple across a canvas that was becoming a world.

And still, deep within that ever-growing storm of light and power, he stood calm. Unmoved.

But not unchanged.

But soon... curiosity led him further.

"If normal energies are not enough," he murmured, "then... what about the ones deemed forbidden?"

He sat again. Not in calm, but in focus.

This time, he didn’t reach for light.

He reached inward—toward chaos, hate, fury, destruction.

Demonic Energy was the first.

A heavy, boiling force born from wrath and domination. He visualized endless battlefields, conquest, hunger for power. His aura flared black-red, and the ground beneath him cracked faintly.

And as before, the island responded.

A thin crimson mist appeared near the training dome’s edge. Faint at first... then thicker.

The island had begun producing it.

He didn’t pause.

Next—Malice Vein, a corruptive energy from twisted fantasies. Cold, quiet, insidious. The power of curses, decay, and whispered ruin. It slithered around him like smoke through broken glass.

Then came Abyssal Flame—the energy of void-born realms. Silent, consuming, not hot but anti-light. His body flickered briefly with unstable violet before adapting again.

On and on he went.

Sinforce. Voidshade. Doomthread.

With every dark pulse, the air thickened. The ground turned darker in corners. Some trees shed leaves. A second sky, faint and almost invisible, seemed to shimmer above in eerie silence.

He noticed... but didn’t react. Not yet.

He was chasing something more.

But then...

He finally looked.

He stood atop a metal platform overlooking the far edge of the island. His energy senses now spanned nearly the entire terrain.

And what he saw... made him pause.

Mana still flowed through the rivers. Life energy pulsed from trees. Divine force hummed in the breeze.

But near the cliffs—demonic energy lingered.

In the caverns—void energy coiled.

In the old lab ruins—malice pooled faintly in cracks.

Yet none of them clashed.

Not a single energy opposed the other. Not one element rejected its counterpart.

Life energy and death energy flowed side by side.

Holy force shimmered next to chaotic flame.

Order and destruction... breathing the same air.

It defied logic. Defied every story, every law of magical equilibrium he had ever imagined.

"They should be tearing each other apart..." he whispered, frowning.

Instead, they existed in harmony—subtle, layered, balanced like paint on a cosmic canvas.

And in that moment... something clicked.

His glow pulsed faintly.

"I can feel it," he whispered. "I am getting close."

Not power.

Not control.

Understanding.

Something more fundamental than magic or creation. A principle he hadn’t yet fully grasped—but was circling closer to.

Something that unified everything he’d made.

He didn’t know what it was yet.

But he would.

Soon.

Time passed.

Not minutes. Not hours. Something... else. Unmarked. Silent. Endless.

And in that span of stillness, he created everything.

Every energy he could imagine.

Every force he had ever read, seen, theorized, or invented.

Mystic. Physical. Elemental. Spiritual. Arcane. Alien. Abstract. Even energies unnamed, unshaped—born from pure concept or chaos.

All of it.

And with every spark, the island changed. Expanded. Stabilized. Transcended.

Now, it breathed.

It pulsed with an impossible harmony—filled with all energies once known, once feared, once forbidden.

Then—he opened his eyes.

"I can feel it," he whispered. "I am getting close."