Moreover, it turned out that physical conditioning directly impacted the efficiency of both "Thought Acceleration" and "Memory Partition." Of course, that didn't mean becoming some kind of "One Punch Man" would automatically make me a master of Atlas Institute magic. These abilities were still magical in nature and required constant study and practice. At some point during my training, a rather "bright" analogy popped into my head: if mastering Alchemy of Atlas was like honing skills in online shooters, then "Thought Acceleration" and "Memory Partition" were akin to in-game reflexes, reaction time, and finely-tuned gameplay skills, while your physical body was like the hardware you played on. The better and more powerful your "rig," the easier it was to unleash your full potential. Sure, you could beat noobs on a weak PC, but if you wanted to face off against real pros, you needed top-tier gear.

Looking back, there was a time when every fiber of my being rejected the idea of becoming some martial arts fanatic or wandering samurai seeking life-or-death duels. After all, as an average guy who grew up in a normal world, the thought of real combat felt absurd. It seemed as ridiculous as willingly becoming a mercenary and heading off to war zones. Who in their right mind would want that?

Yet, with each passing day, I realized there was no avoiding it. Every magic lesson with Tomoe, every sparring session with my sister, and every heart-to-heart with my mother hammered home one important point — I was going to face the darker side of the supernatural world. Whether I liked it or not. And when that time came, I had to be ready. Otherwise, it wouldn't just end badly for me, but for my whole family. It was like that legendary "You're the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo" moment, where reality itself forces you into a corner and dictates the terms, leaving you no choice but to shout, "Sir, yes, sir!"

Still, it wasn't all bad. The more I learned about this world through historical records, autobiographies, and stories from Mikoto herself, the clearer it became that a fateful encounter with some bad guys was inevitable. And after four months of intense training, I began to understand that this wasn't just some fantasy ideology but a basic law of the jungle, adapted to a reality where literal gods roamed the human world.

In a way, living in this world was like living in a country where every citizen owned dozens of weapons. Meanwhile, I was acting like a pacifist, trying to inject a sense of normalcy into the chaos, only to find myself becoming the insane one in a world where madness was considered the norm.

In the end, it all boiled down to the realization that magic wasn't some child's plaything or a tool to indulge in fleeting, often downright stupid desires. It was part of a reality far more dangerous than I had ever imagined. The ability to defend myself — and more importantly, the readiness to do so — weren't just optional skills. They were essential for survival.

Besides, I'm not about to become some whiny pussy yearning for a perfectly ordinary human life, crying about how cruel this world is while pretending to be all enlightened and virtuous... What a load of hypocritical crap! If a normal life and ideals of mercy were so important to me, I shouldn't have even bothered studying magic in the first place." This was the conclusion I came to. And to be honest, it brought me a strange sense of relief, like I could finally breathe freely, fully aware of just how fast I'd changed.

Alright, enough with the philosophical musings, like some twenty-year-old blogger rambling about the meaning of our fleeting existence. Let's get back to something actually cool. Because what I'd achieved in magic couldn't be described as anything less than cool… though "badass" might be the more appropriate word, but I'll save that for later.

I realized pretty quickly that at my tender age, before becoming a target for every supernatural riff-raff out there, my main priority should be developing the Alchemy of Atlas. First, I didn't need to rush into mastering destructive or complex spells just yet. Second, even if the need arose, my current magical power was far from sufficient for that. So, it made sense to focus on building a solid foundation for future magical feats — to "get on my feet," so to speak.

So, it's 2004.

Question: how does one develop "Thought Acceleration" and "Memory Partition" in an era when the tech boom is just starting, and I don't have access to any magical gadgets?

The answer begins with understanding how these two abilities can even be improved. Surprisingly, the solution was simpler than I had expected. Despite all the complicated descriptions of Alchemy of Atlas that sound like: "The magic of the Atlas Institute is a fusion of science and magic, specializing in methods of thinking that use the human body as an arithmetic unit for transforming phenomena into reality," the foundation of it was still the same as any other magic — magical energy. But there was an additional element called mental power. As a diligent student, I already knew that both magical energy and mental power could be trained like muscles, through constant use and exercise.

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So, to develop "Thought Acceleration" and "Memory Partition," I needed to strengthen my mental power. Essentially, I had to put my brain through its own kind of physical workout!

Now, how does a six-year-old kid go about developing this so-called mental power? That's right — chess!

In an environment where the brain is pushed to its absolute limits, blitz chess against a computer turned out to be one of the simplest, most accessible, and effective training methods. By this time, top chess programs had already beaten the strongest grandmasters in the world, so I decided to take revenge on behalf of humanity!

First and foremost, I had to establish a few ground rules to make my training as efficient as possible: Rule One — each match had to be blitz chess, meaning the entire game would be played within ten minutes, five minutes for each player. Rule Two — I had to play like a machine, calculating every possible move in my head, completely avoiding intuitive decisions. This second rule was especially crucial, as it forced me to rely entirely on calculations, leaving no room for instinct or experience.

The start of my battle against computers was nothing short of a disaster — I lost game after game for three and a half months, sometimes managing a draw if I lowered the difficulty level. But despite the constant defeats, my brain wasn't stagnant. Slowly but surely, it was evolving, inching closer to the point where I could finally beat those soulless machines.

The first thing I mastered was how to more effectively and "seamlessly" partition my consciousness. Visualizing my mind as two rooms, each running four thought processes, I effectively turned it into a dual-core processor with four threads. This allowed me to use my magic as a natural extension of myself, without significant strain or disconnect — provided I had enough magical energy to support it. I could simultaneously focus on calculating moves from my own perspective and that of my opponent, allocating one core and two threads to each task. Meanwhile, "Thought Acceleration" was developing as well, enabling me to notice even the smallest details — like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings, which I tested at the zoo.

But despite these improvements, victory over the machine still seemed elusive. However, everything changed a week ago. At some point, fully immersed in the game and my calculations, I didn't even realize how my "Memory Partition" had hit a whole new level.

It was like finally taking a satisfying dump after straining for so long... There are plenty of analogies to describe that feeling of freedom and lightness, but this one was my personal favorite.

Having reached the level of an official Atlas Institute Alchemist, I could now split my mind into three rooms, and that leap in capability put me on a whole new playing field. The improvement felt exponential — now, I could run twenty-seven simultaneous thought processes.

I went from being an 'Intel Core i3' to an 'Intel Core i-whatever' with three cores and twenty-seven threads. And honestly, it was freaking awesome!

With three separate mental rooms, each managing nine thought processes, I could play chess, read a scientific paper on the Lorentz Force, and solve university-level math problems simultaneously. More importantly, I could focus all that computational power on a single goal — crushing the chess program! Along with the now-enhanced "Thought Acceleration," which evolved in tandem with "Memory Partition," I finally achieved something monumental! My first blitz match against the most advanced chess program I had access to ended in a draw — though I was still adjusting to my newfound mental horsepower. But during the second match, I absolutely obliterated it.

I straight-up took out the trash — wrecked and humbled that overconfident machine!

With a sense of accomplishment, I indulged in a bit of self-congratulation, dubbing myself the "T-800." Eager to push my limits further, I decided to test my abilities by attempting a "simultaneous exhibition" — a chess event where a strong player competes against multiple opponents at the same time. Lacking friends and with my social detachment firmly in place, I opted to face off against ten chess programs simultaneously. The only adjustment I made was switching to the "rapid" format, where each player is given ten minutes total. This mode was designed to give the computer programs more time to analyze, while my brain, now functioning almost like a machine, outpaced their capabilities under blitz conditions.

This approach worked out even better than I had hoped. By complicating the game and giving the chess programs more room to maneuver, I pushed my mind to operate at its absolute peak. A pleasant side effect of playing against ten opponents at once was a significant improvement in my memory. Thanks to my second rule — "I feel like this is the right move, but let's work out where it leads" — I had to memorize all the calculated combinations for each individual game, rather than starting fresh every time.

In short, I entertained myself as best I could. On top of the three or four hours of physical training with my sister, I added another two to three hours of practice with "Thought Acceleration" and "Memory Partition."

The only side effect of this grueling schedule was an insatiable appetite and a ridiculous craving for sugar. Fortunately, my mom quickly took care of that problem. As for the inevitable cavities I was bound to earn at this rate — well, that was my issue to deal with. But hey, I wasn't about to complain. I mean, what's a little tooth enamel and dentin damage when you've got magic, Carl!