The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, but Zeke barely registered it. He was consumed by the storm raging within his own body, his mind nearly overwhelmed by the torrent of sensations. The large dose of Stonefist brew he had ingested at the end was merging with his blood, its effects rapidly taking hold.
The concoction seemed to have reached a critical threshold, completely beyond his ability to control. For now, Zeke was entirely at the mercy of whatever transformation the brew had in store for him.
Relegated to the role of a passive observer in his own body, he could only grit his teeth and endure, hoping for the best.
The first target of the brew's rampage was his head. It seeped into his brain, triggering a headache so severe that his vision swam. His eyes and teeth came next. His eyes burned as if strained far beyond their limits, while the pain in his teeth was just as uncomfortable. It felt as though he was a newborn teething for the first time—every tooth shifting and creaking as the brew worked its way through his system, reshaping his entire dental structure.
The transformation surged downward, scorching his throat before spreading to his major organs. By this point, Zeke's entire existence was consumed by pain. The torrent of sensations overwhelmed him, a chaotic mixture of agony and discomfort that defied his ability to track the changes occurring within his body.
For a fleeting moment, he considered ejecting his Soul to escape the torment, but an instinctual warning stopped him cold. This process felt deeply personal, as though it was designed specifically for him. He had the unshakable sense that detaching himself from it would disrupt something crucial, something that couldn't be undone.
Beyond that instinct, Zeke recognized another truth: using his Soul as an escape from pain could become a dangerous habit. While the technique was a lifeline for emergencies, he knew relying on it too often would make him weak, dependent, and incapable of enduring even minor discomforts on his own. That was a fate he refused to accept. Gritting his teeth, Zeke resolved to endure.
Zeke dimly noted that Drogar and Eldrin, seated on either side of him, were similarly consumed by their own experiences. It seemed the contestants had been granted time to process their gains—a respite for which Zeke was deeply thankful. If the next round had started immediately, he might have been forced to bow out.
Relieved of that pressure, Zeke turned his focus inward, bracing himself as his body continued to adapt. The searing agony that had wracked him earlier had now diminished into something more bearable. The sharp, lancing pain had ebbed into a dull ache, one he could endure without much difficulty.
Then, unexpectedly, a new sensation emerged. A faint, tingling warmth began to radiate across his skin, soothing and invigorating in equal measure. It spread gently, like a lover's soft touch, banishing the remnants of discomfort.
The shift was so stark, so profoundly different from the torment he'd endured, that Zeke had to steel himself to keep from voicing the pleasure aloud. His jaw tightened as he fought to maintain his composure, determined not to draw unnecessary attention.
After several waves of energy coursed through his body, the sensations abruptly ceased, leaving Zeke in a peculiar state. Despite the intensity of the experience, he felt remarkably refreshed. The pain was gone, completely erased, as though it had never existed. It was difficult to believe anything strenuous had just occurred. If anything, Zeke felt better than he had in years.
It was akin to waking from a perfect night's sleep—alert, energized, and ready to face the day.
For a while, Zeke lingered in the sensation, content to remain in this tranquil state. He wasn't in any rush to open his eyes and confront reality. Instead, he lazily directed a question inward. "What just happened?"
[Answer.]
The alterations to Host's physical structure have been significant and nearly total. The process may be described as a minor evolution, in a manner of speaking.
A smirk tugged at Zeke's lips as he envisioned himself soaring through the skies with wings of his own. "Did I grow horns or something?" he asked with a playful tone.
[Answer]
Negative. The modifications to Host's appearance are not that thorough, though certain adjustments have occurred.
The smile vanished from Zeke's face. While the idea of growing wings appealed to a small, childish part of him, the notion of losing his humanity sent a cold ripple of unease through him. The thought of becoming something other than human was deeply unsettling. The ramifications were likely far beyond anything he could foresee.
After all, the Ancient Races had been all but eradicated from the continent, and Zeke doubted that his Draconic lineage would be welcomed with open arms.
With a sudden sense of urgency, Zeke turned his Sphere of Awareness inward, carefully inspecting his body. Relief washed over him as he confirmed there were no horns, wings, claws, scales, or talons to be seen. At first glance, his appearance seemed almost unchanged. But as he delved deeper, the subtle alterations Akasha had mentioned began to reveal themselves.
His skin, for instance, appeared unchanged to the naked eye—soft, smooth, and entirely ordinary. However, beneath the surface, a profound transformation had taken place. The flesh now carried a faint crystalline sheen, as if the essence of scales had begun to take root. It felt tougher, more resilient, as though an invisible armor lay just beneath the surface—supple yet unyielding to harm.
Deeper still, the layers of tissue beneath his skin had thickened slightly. Their fibers were interwoven with a strange, otherworldly energy that seemed to emit a faint hum, alive and pulsating with latent power. Even the subtle tint of his skin had changed, catching and refracting light in unusual ways. In the right angle, it shimmered faintly, like sunlight glinting off a rippling lake.
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The changes were subtle, almost imperceptible at a casual glance, but undeniable to anyone who examined him closely. The more Zeke observed, the more he realized the extent of his transformation—skin, bones, organs, everything had undergone a transformation, subtly displaying traces of his inhumanity.
At the moment, Zeke was simply relieved that there were no obvious signs of his draconic heritage yet. Any inspection close enough to reveal more would be intrusive enough that Zeke had the right to refuse. For now, his secret remained safe.
"Calm yourself, whelp," the Dragon's voice rumbled with a low, resonating edge. "You've yet to show even a glimmer of the more pronounced draconic traits."
Zeke frowned, though he was genuinely relieved to hear Khai'Zar's voice. "Easy for you to say," he countered. "It's not your ass on the line."
The Dragon let out a sharp snort. "Oh, is that so? I seem to recall we're sharing this vessel, yet you don't see me flailing about, now do you?"
Zeke took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Bickering with Khai'zar wouldn't help. Besides, the Dragon was right—there was no reason to panic just yet. Still, the possibility of inhuman traits emerging in the future was something he needed to consider carefully. He would have to make a decision on how to handle them, now that it seemed almost certain he'd face that situation sooner or later.
"Do you know how long I have before I won't be able to hide the signs anymore?" he asked earnestly. The Dragon's response, however, wasn't particularly reassuring.
"No clue."
Zeke's frown deepened. "Could you take this a little more seriously, please?"
The Dragon fell silent for a long, contemplative pause. "I am taking this seriously, whelp. But as for a timeline... ha! I can't even begin to guess. In all my centuries, I've never encountered anything remotely like this. This... situation is held together by sheer chance and my stubborn willpower, keeping the worst at bay. And let me tell you something—based on everything I know about Draconic Blood, this merger between our kinds should be nothing short of impossible. It is a small wonder your body didn't explode the moment I planted my heart."
Zeke shook his head in exasperation. "You didn't mention that at the time."
The Dragon muttered, almost begrudgingly, "Well, I was desperate, and I didn't exactly want you to refuse." His tone carried a rare hint of sheepishness. "But now that you know, stop pestering me about your changes. I'm just as clueless as you are. Probably more so. After all, when it comes to Bloodline sensitivity, there are probably few who can rival you in the world."
Zeke had to admit, the Dragon was right. He had long since discovered that his Perfect Blood affinity gave him an unnaturally keen ability to sense even the subtlest fluctuations. Now that he knew he couldn't rely on Khai'Zar for answers, his mind quickly began working to figure out his exact situation.
Most likely, the fact that the merger between their bloodlines had worked at all was also due to his unusually high Blood Affinity. It made him more adaptable and resistant to the overpowering effects of foreign influences. If he was right, the success of the fusion also depended on both of them being willing participants. It seemed highly probable that such a bloodline merger could only occur if their wills were perfectly in sync.
However, none of these insights were particularly helpful when trying to figure out how much time he had before he couldn't hide his bodies abnormalities anymore. Thankfully, he had an expert analyst at hand.
[Notice]
If the changes continue to occur at the precious rate without any further exalarations. Then it will likely still take decades before the signs of an alternative bloodline become to pronounced to hide.
Zeke breathed a sigh of relief. He had absolute confidence in Akasha's prediction, fully aware that the Spirit wouldn't voice her opinion if she wasn't confident.
Now, with an open mind, Zeke was finally able to fully inspect the changes. What he discovered both amazed and made him reflect cautiously. There were no dramatic, external signs—no horns or wings marking a draconinc influence. Yet beneath his skin, his very structure had been transformed and fine-tuned in ways that were hard to believe.
His bones, for instance, felt denser, more resilient. The brittle fragility of mortal bone had given way to something far sturdier, akin to the material of a creature built for survival at the highest level. He could almost sense the microscopic changes, the layering of rich deposits within his skeletal structure that gave him enhanced durability. The shift was so precise, so natural, that Zeke found it hard to believe that only moments ago, his body had been wracked with agonizing pain.
His organs had evolved too. His heart now beat steadily, as if it had been tempered to endure anything. His lungs felt clearer, more efficient. Each breath felt deeper, more powerful, filling him with energy that he could channel at will. Even his digestion seemed to have improved, working with almost predatory precision to extract and utilize nutrients, making him feel lighter and more energized. Without testing it, Zeke was confident his stomach could now process even raw meat with ease.
The most obvious change, though, was to his eyesight. Where once Zeke's vision had been sharp, it was now nothing short of extraordinary. Colors seemed brighter, more vivid, and he could perceive the tiniest of details with startling clarity. Every flicker of movement, no matter how small, caught his attention.
His mind, too, had undergone a sharp improvement. Thoughts that once felt foggy now surfaced with startling clarity. Concepts that would have taken him hours to work through now unfolded in his mind like a well-structured map.
He marveled at his teeth next. His canines had become ever so slightly longer and sharper, a faint reminder of his newfound, more dangerous form. Even without the distinct appearance of a dragon's fangs, they were undeniably more suited for tearing into flesh. His jaw felt stronger too, as if it had been redesigned for crushing harder substances.
Perhaps the most unsettling discovery was the subtle shift in his mind. He couldn't place it exactly, but Zeke was almost certain that there was something different in the way his thoughts processed. A clarity, yes, but also a slight undercurrent of something more primal. It was as if the edges of his personality had been shaped ever so slightly, bent just enough to make him more attuned to the world around him—more focused, more alert, and more predatory in his instincts.
It wasn't enough to cause immediate concern, but Zeke could feel the quiet stirrings of change within himself.
As he continued to inspect his transformed body, Zeke couldn't ignore the overwhelming strength now coursing through him. He flexed his muscles, feeling the power that pulsed beneath his skin. As he moved, a restlessness began to build—a surge of energy demanding an outlet, an exuberant vitality that urged him to take action.
He felt powerful, almost invincible.
He was undeniably stronger than before. His body felt compact and solid, and his physical abilities had been enhanced in ways he couldn't yet fully understand. He felt like he could face off against a Chimeroi in a contest of might without fear of being overwhelmed. If one of those brutish fighters charged at him now, Zeke wasn't sure he'd be at such a disadvantage anymore.
As he was reveling in the sensation of his transformed body, the announcer's voice crackled to life once more, cutting through the silence.
"Th' recuperation period's ended! Contestants, brace yerselves fer th' next round!"
Zeke let out a soft sigh, the reality of the situation swiftly descending upon him. Despite the incredible changes to his body, there was no time to fully explore them now. The next round was about to begin, and he had to be ready.