Chapter 479: Elder Brother
(Planet Vorthas, Twelfth Elder’s Training Facility)
Two full days had passed since the Shapeshift training began.
Two days of searing pain, sleepless nights, and relentless trial-and-error under the hum of copper coils and the hiss of vacuum seals.
But despite it all, Leo made progress.
His body, long accustomed to stress and micro-adjustments, had begun responding to the training in subtle but tangible ways.
He had learned how to isolate the brachialis without letting his mana bleed into his tricep, how to increase water retention in his forearm fibers without distorting proportion, and how to restructure the visual symmetry of a bicep without breaking circulation flow.
And now, standing before the Twelfth Elder once again, Leo held his right arm at a perfect angle, its shape a near-flawless replica of the first image on the data slate.
His muscles didn’t bulge unnaturally. The veins rested in the same positions as the reference. Even the curvature of the delt and the angle of the elbow joint matched exactly.
The Twelfth Elder stepped forward and examined it without speaking.
His eyes scanned every inch with brutal scrutiny…. checking the tone, density, shape, nerve connectivity, and mana flow.
He tapped the slate once. The screen blinked.
“Accepted,” he said flatly, before flicking the screen to the next image. “Now do this one.”
Leo narrowed his eyes. The next arm was different, it looked longer, wirier, with a more pronounced radial vein and a tighter fiber density near the wrist.
But he didn’t complain.
He simply turned to the machine and began loosening his arm for the reset, as the Elder then shifted his gaze to the other side of the facility.
“Veyr.”
The younger cousin flinched, sweat still dripping down his brow as he massaged his right forearm, which was now swollen and uneven from a failed attempt a few minutes prior.
“You’re behind,” the Elder said. “Catch up.”
“I’m trying,” Veyr muttered through clenched teeth, rotating his arm slowly as he winced. “But it’s like the moment I get the taper right, the density shifts, or the veins disappear, or the damn nerves lock up…”
“That’s because you’re forcing the visual outcome,” the Elder replied. “Shapeshift is not a costume…. It is anatomical mimicry. You must understand the function before the form.”
Leo kept his head down, not saying a word, as he mentally rewound the process and prepared for the next transformation.
But for the first time since the training began, he found himself glancing sideways—watching as Veyr sat down beside the machine, grumbling quietly to himself as he reviewed the diagrams again and again, clearly frustrated, clearly lost.
Leo exhaled slowly.
They weren’t rivals anymore. That had already been decided.
Now, they were partners bound by the same legacy.
And even if being an elder brother didn’t come naturally to him, something about Veyr’s sincerity during the past two days of training stayed with him, enough to stir a quiet sense of obligation, or perhaps even the beginning of camaraderie.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Leo finally said, his voice calm but direct.
Veyr looked up, blinking in confusion. “What?”
“I don’t think you understand human anatomy on a fundamental level,” Leo continued, his gaze flicking toward the distorted muscle shape Veyr had formed. “Were you ever formally taught this stuff?”
Veyr let out a dry snort. “I was raised an orphan. The only education I got is what I scraped together myself.”
Leo nodded, not with pity, but understanding. “Alright then. Pick up your data slate and come here. There’s something important I want to show you.”
Veyr hesitated for a second, slightly thrown off. He hadn’t expected Leo to help him. But since the man was offering, he wasn’t proud enough to refuse, as without a word, he walked over and stood beside Leo, slate in hand.
Leo leaned in and guided Veyr through the interface, opening up a detailed anatomical diagram of the human arm. He began pointing out the brachialis, the brachioradialis, and several minor muscle groups that Veyr hadn’t even known the names of.
“These are the ones you’re meant to isolate,” Leo explained. “You’re not just pumping mana into your arm randomly. Each fiber has a function. Some create bulk. Some provide control. Others support shape. If you don’t know which is which, you’ll never replicate the image properly.”
Veyr squinted at the diagram, brows furrowed. At first, it all looked like a blur of unknown names and muscle fibers. But Leo was patient. He zoomed in, rotated the models, and even showed a layered breakdown of what each muscle did when tensed or relaxed.
“Try flexing this part,” Leo said, tapping a region just below the bicep. “Feel that? Now, look at the diagram. That’s the part you’re flooding too early. Pull back. Target here instead.”
Bit by bit, Veyr began to catch on. His confusion gave way to clarity as he finally understood which muscle did what, and how each one responded to specific mana commands.
“Ohh… so that’s the muscle I was supposed to channel mana into,” he muttered in realization, eyes wide as the pieces clicked into place.
Leo gave a small nod. “Exactly.”
With renewed focus, Veyr returned to his machine and tried again. This time, guided by both visual reference and Leo’s corrections, he managed to mimic the first reference image almost perfectly within two hours.
The Twelfth Elder inspected his work, then gave a short nod of approval before switching the screen to the second image. “Next.”
Veyr looked over at Leo, his breathing still heavy from the strain, but his eyes lit with something new.
Gratitude. Sincere and unguarded.
This moment had further elevated Leo’s position in his mind, as even though Leo didn’t have to, he still gave real, useful pointers.
As for the first time since arriving on Vorthas, Veyr began to feel a genuine connection with Leo.
It wasn’t quite friendship yet.
But it was a start.
His cousin did not seem like a bad man afterall.