Roy locked the door, and the gentle smile on his face vanished like an ebbing tide.
Taking its place was a focus and calmness completely at odds with his age, carrying a hint of a researcher's scrutiny.
He didn't start right away.
Impulse is the devil.
For someone like him, dancing on a razor's wire, any attempt made without calculation could lead to a crushing fall.
What he took out of his schoolbag wasn't any kind of weapon or tool, but the most basic textbook from the Ninja Academy: Introduction to Chakra Theory.
The book fell open, revealing detailed diagrams of the human body's meridian system.
Most students found this theoretical knowledge boring, memorizing it only to pass exams.
But in Roy's eyes, it was the only map he could consult for the high-stakes gamble he was about to undertake.
He mentally reviewed the sections concerning chakra flow in the entire book, word for word.
Chakra, formed by combining spiritual energy and physical energy, is gentle and highly malleable, forming the foundation of this world's power system.
Its flow relies on the meridian system, like water rushing through pipes.
And his own power…
Roy closed his eyes and could feel the sleeping thunder dragon deep within his soul.
It was pure destruction and dominance; there was no guiding it, only subjugating it.
It didn't need pipes; it was, in itself, a thunderstorm.
The consequences of forcing a thunderstorm into water pipes were obvious.
But he had no choice.
He had to find a path, even if that path was paved with knives.
He sat cross-legged and sank his consciousness into his body.
Cautiously, he extracted an extremely faint wisp of chakra from within himself.
This energy was as docile as a little lamb, flowing gently through his meridians along his will, feeling very comfortable.
He had practiced this disguise for three years, and it was already second nature.
Maintaining the stability of that chakra wisp, he then, with extreme difficulty, diverted a thread of his consciousness to touch the sleeping dragon.
A single drop of water fell into a pot of scalding oil.
A faint, yet wildly violent, energy awakened.
It carried no specific nature, just pure, condensed power. Roy called it Armament Haki.
The moment this power appeared, the wisp of chakra within him instinctively reacted with violent rejection, like a mouse encountering a cat.
Roy clenched his teeth. His powerful spiritual energy formed two chains, forcibly herding these two incompatible energies – water and fire – into the meridians of his right arm.
Agonizing pain.
An indescribable, agonizing pain exploded from inside his arm.
Countless red-hot needles crazily stabbed through his meridians. This wasn't merely physical pain, but a violent fundamental conflict between the two sources of power.
Chakra wailed and fled, while Armament Haki rampaged, intent on destroying everything in its path.
Crack!
A faint wisp of electric arc flashed across the surface of his skin.
Roy grunted, his right hand going numb. The wisp of chakra was instantly scattered, and the Armament Haki vanished along with it.
Failure.
He collapsed sitting on the floor, cold sweat soaking his back. The meridians in his right arm throbbed with fiery pain, making it impossible to use chakra for a short while.
He didn't get discouraged; he simply analyzed the reason calmly.
Forcing it was the stupidest approach.
It was like trying to cram two tigers into one cage; it was inevitable they'd fight to the death.
The fundamental issue was the conflict in their natures, one docile, the other dominant.
Wait… guide.
The words the chunin instructor had said during the day suddenly flashed through his mind.
The flow of chakra needs guidance, not commands.
He had always treated this phrase as a reminder for his own disguise, but he had overlooked its deeper meaning.
Guidance, not commands.
His eyes suddenly lit up.
Perhaps he had been thinking about it all wrong from the start.
He shouldn't act as a forceful manager, but rather as a clever intermediary.
Half an hour later, the stinging pain in his arm had subsided somewhat.
Roy sat down again. This time, his mindset was completely changed.
He re-condensed a wisp of chakra, but instead of rushing to touch Armament Haki,
he patiently guided this chakra to form a stable, smooth circulation within the meridians of his right arm. It was no longer a static stream, but a living, continuously flowing circular river.
Having done this, he then diverted his consciousness and, with unprecedented caution, separated an even smaller wisp of Armament Haki from the thunder dragon's power than before.
Then, instead of pushing it, the moment the Armament Haki appeared, he actively used the flow formed by the chakra circulation to gently envelop it.
Like using flowing water to envelop a piece of red-hot iron.
Sizzle…
A soundless noise resonated within his body.
The intense pain was still there, but significantly lessened. The dominant Armament Haki, enveloped and washed by the current of chakra, had its edges and ferocity slightly smoothed. Meanwhile, the chakra itself continuously evaporated and was consumed through contact, only to be replenished by the ongoing circulation.
This consumption was enormous, but it worked!
Roy poured all his focus into it.
He could feel that wisp of Armament Haki was no longer rampaging wildly; instead, it had become a heavy piece of iron, arduously rolled forward by the current of chakra encasing it.
Success!
Maintaining this delicate balance, he guided this mixed energy, with extreme slowness, to the tip of his right index finger.
This process drained nearly all of his mental energy. By the time the energy reached his fingertip, his face was deathly pale.
He opened his eyes. In front of him was a wooden desk, and on it lay a spare chopstick.
He raised his slightly trembling index finger and gently tapped the tip of his finger against the middle of the chopstick.
No sound.
No flashy effect.
Not even the kind of dent he had left on the iron ingot earlier.
At the point where Roy's fingertip touched the chopstick, silently and instantaneously, a tiny pile of black powder, finer than dust, formed and rustled onto the desktop.
That part of the substance seemed to have been erased at its very source.
Having done all this, Roy could no longer hold on. He fell backward, gasping for air.
He looked at his fingertip, then at the pile of black powder on the desk.
A light flickered in his eyes, a mixture of exhaustion, pain, and intense excitement.
This wasn't one plus one equals two.
This was a qualitative change.
A power… of annihilation.