Corvin remained seated in lotus posture, still amidst the smoldering aftershocks of his evolution. His presence pulsed with dense magic, and the air around him shimmered with residual aetheric discharge. His body had undergone yet another transformation, his height had increased again, now standing at an imposing 2.6 meters. His physique resembled a war god sculpted from tempered steel, a wet dream for any warrior or artist who valued form born of raw function. Muscles rippled with latent power, but it was more than simple strength. It was control. Precision. Dominion.
His mana reserves, already equal to several Planarchs, had doubled again. No longer did he merely sense the Aether, he now drank from its source with ease. The floodgates had been unshackled, and magic bowed to him like the ocean to the pull of the moon. His connection to the weave had shifted entirely. Every thread, every strand, he felt them moving like tides beneath his skin.
