Trigon Unleashed Chapter 4: Basics of Energy Control.

(Trigon's P.O.V)

The world had changed.

Not the physical world—though the dry crater where a massive lake once stood was a glaring exception (sorry, nature). The trees still swayed, the rivers still flowed, and the sun still rose and set over the Eastern Europe landscape where we'd been staying for over a year now.

No, the change was in me. The moment my power fully awakened, something inside shifted irrevocably.

It was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a flood of my true self. Or maybe it was more like my body had evolved to contain the sheer magnitude of the power now coursing through me. Either way, I was no longer the same.

The week following my awakening was a crash course in patience and control. I broke the ship seven times, accidentally destroyed one of Sersi’s art pieces, and generally became an unintentional wrecking ball. It was frustrating, but it was also inevitable.

I could feel it now—more than ever. A vast, bottomless ocean of energy churned within me, raw and untamed. It was alive, whispering to me in the quiet moments, urging me to unleash it, to let it consume everything in its path and remake the world in my image.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Thena had seen it too—those moments when my power erupted uncontrollably. Her golden blade would materialize in her hand, but her eyes held something I hadn’t seen before: fear. Not of me, but for me. She didn’t know what I was becoming, and she had no idea how to stop it.

So, she did the next best thing. She called for help.

Sersi returned a few days later from a mission with Ikaris (which I suspected was a cover for some alone time—wink, wink). Her presence was as calming as the gentle breeze that followed her into the specialized chamber Phastos had built to suppress my powers while I worked on control.

I ignored Ikaris’ glower with practiced ease and bowed to Sersi.

“What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting visitors today, Miss Sersi. Welcome to my humble prison.”

“He’s exaggerating. Don’t believe him,” Phastos interjected through the walls.

“Says my jailer,” I scoffed, earning a chuckle from Sersi.

“I’ll be outside, listening. Yell if you feel threatened,” Ikaris told her, shooting me a glare.

“You worry too much. Trigon isn’t like that,” Sersi replied, kissing him on the cheek.

“Exactly. I’m a very good boy.”

My smile widened, revealing the sharp row of teeth I knew made him uncomfortable. Ikaris’ jaw tightened, and he stormed out.

Sersi kept her distance, but that was just her way—she was like that with everyone except Ikaris and a certain child-sized Eternal who hadn’t shown up yet. Her mannerisms were soft and kind, but no less powerful.

Her mastery over energy manipulation was unparalleled. Like all Eternals, she possessed enhanced physique and immortality, but her special power was where things got truly wicked.

Molecular rearrangement. She could manipulate the molecular structure of objects down to the subatomic level. She used it to create art, heal injuries, reconstruct damaged structures, and weave illusions so real they were indistinguishable from reality. And even that was underselling her capabilities.

Ikaris was hailed as the strongest Eternal, but my money was on Sersi. Thena hoped she could teach me control. I hoped so too.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” Sersi said, her voice warm but laced with caution. She patted the floor, inviting me to sit.

I obliged, regarding her with suspicion. She met my gaze evenly, unfazed by my demonic appearance. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

'Good, she’s not mad about the art piece.'

I extended my hand, and she placed hers over it. The moment our energies connected, the air around us crackled with power.

Sersi’s eyes widened, and she quickly pulled back, her expression a mix of awe and concern.

“Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “that’s certainly… something.”

“What is it?” I asked, my four eyes narrowing.

“Your energy,” she replied thoughtfully. “It’s not like ours. It’s darker. More primal. But it’s also incredibly versatile. If you can learn to control it, there’s no telling what you might be capable of.”

And so, the training began.

Over the next week, Sersi started with the basics: breathing exercises, meditation, and simple energy manipulation. She taught me to focus my power, to channel it through my body like a river flowing through a canyon. It was tedious work, but I was determined.

At first, progress was frustratingly slow. Trigon’s Demonic Energy was wild and unpredictable, resisting my every attempt to control it. But Sersi was patient, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to my growing frustration.

“You’re trying too hard,” she said one day. “You’re fighting your own energy. You need to work with it, not against it.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let her words sink in. Maybe she was right.

Instead of forcing my energy to obey, I let it flow, guiding it gently like a shepherd guiding a flock.

Alarms blared as a blood-red aura erupted from my core, swirling around me like a violent tornado. I tried to pull it back, but the power thrashed like a wild animal, too intense for the chamber to contain. The walls groaned and cracked under the strain.

“Trigon! What the hell, man? You better not destroy that room, or I’ll—” Phastos’ voice cut off abruptly.

“Pay him no mind, Trig. You can do this. Gil, Makkari, and I believe in you,” Thena’s voice came through the intercom.

Her words gave me the strength to release the leash on my power. To trust it.

And then, something clicked.

The energy storm calmed, as if surprised by my surrender.

'You’re really not going to fight anymore?' I interpreted its behavior as a question.

'Nope. Like Sersi said, you’re a part of me. It’s about time I accepted that.'

My response gave it pause, and the energy flowed back into my core, coalescing smoothly in my palm. I opened my eyes to see a small orb of crimson energy hovering above my hand, its surface rippling like liquid fire.

The golden shield around Sersi faded into light motes, and she smiled, her eyes filled with pride. “There you go. Now, let’s see what else you can do.”

Over the next few months, as my control improved, I began to experiment. Sersi had taught me the basics of cosmic energy manipulation, and I applied those lessons to my volatile but versatile Demonic Energy. The results were two new abilities: Destructive Energy Beams that incinerated over 100 acres of forest and Physical Enhancement that amplified my already monstrous strength to the point where a single punch could collapse a mountain and alter the weather.

But I wanted more. I wasn’t lacking in raw power, but I was inefficient and clumsy. To someone with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

My solution was to study my 3 favorite Eternals’ powers and see if I could replicate them using my own energy.

It started with Thena. Her ability to conjure weapons from cosmic energy fascinated me. She agreed to train me in armed combat, and during our sessions, I watched her closely, memorizing her movements. I studied how she channeled her energy, how it flowed through her and took shape in her hands like putty.

Then, I tried it myself.

I focused, letting my energy flow as Sersi had taught me. I imagined a blade—sharp, gleaming, and pulsing with crimson light. I reached out and grasped it.

A crimson blade materialized in my hand, its surface rippling with dark energy. It wasn’t as refined as Thena’s, but it was mine. And it worked.

Thena watched me, her expression unreadable, but I could see the pride in her eyes. It filled me with a sense of accomplishment.

Next was Makkari. Her speed was unmatched, and I wanted to understand how she did it. Superstrength alone was terrifying, but paired with superspeed? I’d be unstoppable.

Studying Makkari was a challenge. She moved so fast she blurred, the air around her crackling with energy. So, I enhanced my eyes and focused on the cosmic aura lines surrounding her body.

Then, I tried to replicate it.

By now, focusing my power was becoming second nature. I let it flow through my body, concentrating a higher dose in my legs. Red strings of aura, similar to Makkari’s, appeared around me.

I took a step and covered a mile in an instant.

“Whoooaa!!!” I screamed in exhilaration. The world blurred, yet I could see everything. The wind whipped past my face as I moved faster than ever before. It wasn’t as fast as Makkari, but it was close—close enough to run on water.

Of course, I still needed to work on sudden turns and direction changes, as evidenced by my face-first collision with a cliff.

Finally, there was Gilgamesh. His strength was immense—not quite on my level, but impressive nonetheless. What I admired most was his subconscious precision. I often forgot my own strength, breaking cups or crushing objects in my grip. It was frustrating, especially when it meant spilling precious milk.

Gil was a chill guy. We hung out almost daily, competing in weightlifting and arm-wrestling. Through our sessions, I discovered the secret to his control: his muscles. He used their twitching, contractions, and relaxation to coordinate his energy. I’d always thought control was purely mental, but Gil showed me otherwise.

I focused my energy and tried his method, letting it flow through my arms and into my fists. I punched, keeping my muscles relaxed.

The result was a normal air shock. The energy obeyed my intention.

I pulled my hand back and flexed my muscles this time, punching down.

Boom!

The ground shattered beneath me, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through the earth. Gilgamesh laughed and clapped me on the back.

“Not bad, kid,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Not bad at all.”