Time passed.
Not in cycles anymore.
Not in small corrections.
In accumulation.
Fights blurred together.
Not one.
Not ten.
Many.
Enough that the difference between them stopped mattering.
The creatures changed.
Slightly.
Stronger.
More resistant.
They didn't fall instantly.
Not like before.
At first, it slowed him.
His strikes landed.
But didn't end things immediately.
He adjusted.
Applied more pressure.
Held longer.
Forced the outcome.
Again.
And again.
Until that became normal.
Then—
that wasn't enough.
The delay remained.
Small.
But constant.
Yuto didn't stop.
He didn't return to the crack as often.
Didn't pause between fights.
He kept moving.
Through it.
Through resistance.
Through the growing difference.
And slowly—
something changed.
Not control.
That was already complete.
Something deeper.
The way his body responded.
A strike landed.
But instead of stopping—
the limb hardened.
Slightly.
Unintended.
But noticeable.
The creature broke faster.
Yuto didn't stop.
Another fight.
This time—
he pushed it.
Not outward.
Not faster.
Denser.
The limb shifted.
The outer layer tightened.
Not briefly.
Not unstable.
It held.
Sharper.
Stronger.
The strike pierced deeper.
Faster.
The resistance broke sooner.
Yuto held it.
Maintained it.
The shape didn't collapse immediately.
It stayed.
That was new.
He lowered it.
The form loosened.
But not fully.
Not completely.
Something remained.
A difference.
Small.
But present.
Yuto moved again.
Another creature.
He didn't wait.
His limb shifted before striking.
The edge tightened.
Sharper.
Then—
it moved.
The strike landed.
Cleaner.
Faster.
The body beneath him didn't resist as long.
It stopped.
Consumed.
Yuto didn't pause.
Again.
And again.
Each time—
the change came faster.
Less effort.
Less instability.
The shape held longer.
Didn't collapse as easily.
Didn't revert immediately.
Over time—
it stopped feeling like a change.
It became default.
His limbs were no longer just limbs.
They were edges.
Not perfect.
But defined.
Sharp.
Reliable.
The pressure inside him didn't just move.
It reinforced.
It held structure.
Kept it in place.
Didn't let it slip.
Didn't let it collapse.
Yuto pushed further.
Not just edges.
Density.
His body tightened.
The outer layer hardened.
Not visibly.
But in response.
A creature struck him.
Its claws scraped across him—
but didn't sink as easily.
The impact reduced.
Not avoided.
But lessened.
Yuto didn't stop.
He pushed it again.
The pressure settled deeper.
Not scattered.
Not surface-level.
Inside.
Holding everything together.
Reinforcing.
Another strike.
This time—
less effect.
The body held.
Better than before.
Yuto moved.
The fights continued.
But they weren't the same anymore.
Not repetition.
Application.
Each encounter became testing.
Not survival.
Not control.
Refinement.
His limbs shifted naturally now.
Edges forming without delay.
Without collapse.
His body held together under impact.
Didn't break rhythm.
Didn't lose structure.
The pressure didn't need to be forced.
It stayed where it needed to be.
Maintained everything.
Consistently.
Time passed.
More fights.
More resistance.
None of it stopped him.
The delay that once existed—
faded.
Not because the enemies became weaker.
But because he changed.
Yuto stopped.
Not forced.
Not interrupted.
Just stopped.
His limb shifted.
The edge formed.
Clean.
Stable.
It held.
Without effort.
His body remained still.
Dense.
Reinforced.
Unshaken.
There was no instability left.
Not in movement.
Not in structure.
Not in form.
He moved.
The ground ahead stretched on.
Different now.
Not because it had changed.
But because he had.
Yuto was no longer just controlling his body.
He was shaping it.
Constantly.
Deliberately.
And this time—
it didn't fade.
It stayed.
He had learned how to modify his body.