The Primeval Era-Chapter 130: Are You Strained? II

She said all this, but when Damian looked at himself again, he truly did not feel any exertion.

His soul did not ache. His spirit did not struggle against unfamiliar boundaries. This body felt like his body. These wings felt like his wings. This mane of sacred flame felt as natural as the hair that had covered his human head.

If he could choose...

He would much rather remain in this massive form.

The power was intoxicating. The clarity of perception was unmatched. The sheer capability this body granted him exceeded anything he had experienced since before his cultivation was shattered eight years ago. Why would he want to give this up?

But he still needed to transform back to his actual body.

Didn’t he?

"..."

He blinked.

He thought.

Daring ideas and possibilities bloomed in his mind.

Who said he had to follow the rules that governed others? Who said that the limitations observed throughout history applied to someone whose cultivation drew from the Primordial Tongue itself? Who said that what had always been must always continue to be?

His voice began to boom out across the battlefield.

"Who decided that a transformation of a Land and Sky Physique has to end?"

The words carried weight that made the air itself grow still.

"Who decided that I could not remain in this form for as long as I want?"

HUUUM!

Power thrummed through his declaration, the Crown of Kingship blazing brighter in response to the challenge he was issuing against the fundamental nature of Physique transformations.

Serala shook her head with incredulity.

Her expression clearly conveyed what she wanted to say. What do you mean who decided that? That’s how it’s always been! The rules of Land and Sky Physiques weren’t arbitrary restrictions imposed by mortal authorities. They were fundamental truths about the relationship between soul and flesh, spirit and form.

But Damian’s thoughts were already set.

"It would be a shame to let go of such a powerful body."

His leonine features curved into something that might have been a smile.

"Why not take a portion of it to simply form my human body?"

BOOM!

He laid out a ridiculous idea.

Both Masamuk and Serala looked at him as if he were utterly insane. The Holy Daughter’s complex expression shifted into open disbelief. The Slime of Chaos’ obsidian body pulsed with confusion that even his enthusiasm couldn’t mask.

Take a portion of his transformed body to form his human shape?

That wasn’t how any of this worked.

But in the next moment, Damian acted.

He raised his massive paw before his chest. Golden claws extended from sheaths of flesh, each one longer than a human arm and sharper than any blade. Without hesitation, without giving himself time to doubt, he drove those claws into his own transformed flesh.

He cleaved his chest open.

Crimson-gold blood gushed from the wound, Mana-saturated fluid that sparkled with power accumulated from rivers of energy still flowing into his form. The blood was beautiful in its vitality, carrying traces of sacred flame and sovereign radiance within every drop.

He controlled the flow.

He controlled the musculature beneath.

He controlled the bones that his claws had cracked.

All of it began to flow outward from the wound, guided by will and instinct and something deeper than either. Blood and muscle and bone emerged from his chest and gathered before him, condensing into a circular bundle of biological material that pulsed with the same life force that sustained his massive form.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

Not really.

He was simply going by instinct, following impulses that felt correct without being able to explain why. The Primordial Tongue inscription on his heart burned with approval. The golden marking replicated from Tiaret’s Lineage hummed with recognition. The winged pupils copied from Serala’s Physique perceived flows of Mana that showed him exactly how to shape what he was creating.

He asked himself a simple question.

Why not?

His Second Doctrine allowed him to cultivate externally. He could feel himself in the mountain he had raised to save the Purple Stone Tribe. He could sense himself in the defense walls that protected those he cared about. He could perceive his presence in structures he had painted with his blood and empowered with his flames.

So right now...

Won’t he be able to simply build his human body made up of the same materials as before?

If mountains could be part of him, why not flesh?

If walls could carry his essence, why not bones?

If stone could be cultivated through his blood, why not a form that he could walk around in?

The mass of Mana, blood, musculature, and bones began to shine before him.

"Persevere."

HUUUM!

Blue flames erupted around the gathered materials, sacred fire wrapping the bundle in radiance that burned away impurities and refined what remained. The flames didn’t consume. They shaped. They molded. They guided the raw components toward a configuration that existed in Damian’s mind.

A human body.

His human body.

The bundle stretched and elongated, taking on proportions that matched what he remembered of his own physical form. Bones aligned themselves into proper positions. Muscles wrapped around those bones in patterns that would allow movement. Blood vessels wove through the developing flesh, creating networks that would carry Mana throughout.

Internal organs formed next.

A heart that beat in perfect synchronization with the heart still pumping within his leonine chest. Lungs that drew breath from the air even as his massive form continued breathing independently. A brain that sparked with consciousness borrowed from the mind that orchestrated this entire impossible feat.

Skin wrapped over the exterior.

Tan skin covered the muscles and bones, forming a surface that looked exactly like what Damian had worn before his transformation. Dark hair grew from the scalp, short and disheveled and utterly human in appearance. Features took shape across the face, the same imperious bone structure and intense expression that had marked him since birth.

Damian opened the eyes of this body.

The pupils that stared out from this new face were golden wings. They perceived the world with clarity that exceeded ordinary human vision, Mana flows and power signatures and the fundamental nature of reality all laid bare before their sight.

And his vision split in two.

He saw through the eyes of his massive lion form, looking down at the human body floating before his chest. He saw through the eyes of his human form, looking up at the leonine features that gazed back at him. Two perspectives. Two bodies. One consciousness spanning both.

His Second Doctrine had allowed him to forge a second body.

...!

Off to the side, Serala and Masamuk had absolutely no words.

They were frozen.

The Holy Daughter’s wing-shaped pupils had gone wide with shock. The Slime of Chaos’ obsidian form had stopped pulsing entirely, his crimson eyes fixed on the scene before him with something approaching religious awe.

Damian looked at them through both sets of eyes...and he smiled with both mouths!