Physical Changes

Searing pain shot through Silas's entire body. His bones grew, muscles reshaped. Stabbing agony pierced his eyes and face. He blinked, hoping to alleviate the pain, but it persisted.

The world blurred and distorted. Then, suddenly, the pain vanished. Silas stood up, cautiously optimistic. As his vision cleared, he was stunned by what he saw.

Everything was crystal clear. He could make out details he'd never noticed before - the cracked spines of books on distant shelves, the intricate wood grain of the floorboards beneath his feet.

Silas flexed his hands and forearms, watching in awe as his muscles rippled beneath his skin. He felt reborn, as if he could run a marathon with only mild effort.

A notification flashed: Stats screen updated.

Silas called up the stats screen, eager to see the changes:

Name: Silas Blackwood

Species: Hybrid: Human/Leviathan Larva

Mana core: Leviathan

Magical Affinities: Neuromancy, Biomancy, Essomancy

Magical Deficiencies: None

Magical Voids: None

HP: 10/10

MP: 21/25,000

Level: 1

Exp: 0/10

Strength: 18

Agility: 17

Stamina: 16

Intelligence: 10

Luck: 10

The changes to his strength, agility, and stamina were impressive but unsurprising - he could already feel the difference. The other alterations, however, piqued his curiosity.

His species now read "Hybrid: Human/Leviathan Larva." While not entirely unexpected, the implications were intriguing. Clearly, the integration of the Leviathan mana core had altered his physical makeup, possibly down to the DNA level.

The term "Leviathan Larva" particularly caught his attention. Did this imply developmental stages in his transformation? Would each progressive stage make him stronger? He could only assume so. But how many stages were there? How much stronger could he become?

"Mom," Silas called out, addressing the AI system that housed his mother's consciousness, "what does this Leviathan Larva thing mean? How many stages are there? What will they do?"

"I can only speculate, since I never had the opportunity to test the Leviathan core with the system," his mother's voice replied. "But obviously, Larva is the first stage."

"Right, but how many stages do you think there are? Like, how strong will I get?" Silas asked eagerly.

"I'd estimate between 5 and 8 stages. Considering a leviathan is roughly 100 times stronger than a human, I'll use the scientific term: ridiculously strong."

"Thanks, Mom. Very helpful," Silas said sarcastically, but with a smile. Having even a semblance of his mother with him felt amazing. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed her.

His magical affinities remained unchanged, but his deficiencies were gone, replaced by the beautiful word "None." And his MP... Silas blinked, making sure he was seeing it correctly. 21/25,000. His current MP had increased to 21, but his maximum mana capacity had skyrocketed to a staggering 25,000.

While amazing, this also concerned him. He still couldn't produce his own mana, and the mana core had been depleted to just 21 remaining points. It made sense - he'd been feeding off the mana core for years and using it to cast spells. It was bound to run out eventually.

He didn't know how much time this left him, but it couldn't be much. A day at most. After that, he would either die or have to siphon mana from another source.

Another notification appeared: New Level 1 Biomancy Skill: Venom Synthesis!

Silas pulled up the Biomancy skill tree:

Biomancy: Drain lv. 1 Venom Synthesis lv. 1

He opened the venom synthesis skill.

Venom Synthesis lv. 1: The ability to synthesize venom within your body with varying effects. Current effects available: Paralysis

A new skill already! He wasn't thrilled that it implied he'd have to bite someone or something to use it, but it was better than nothing.

Having assessed his system changes, Silas approached a mirror on the wall to check for physical alterations.

As he studied his reflection, he was once again unsurprised to see differences, but in awe of how drastic and strange they were.

Hard, black scales had sprouted on his cheeks and jawline. His eyes had changed from a warm brown to a neon pink. The sclera, which should have been white, had darkened to an inky black.

Feeling something in his mouth, he opened wide to discover his canines had elongated and sharpened, resembling a snake's fangs. This must be how he'd deliver venom to his targets.

Stepping back, he noticed he'd grown taller, about an inch or two. His muscles were more defined and prominent, giving him the appearance of an athlete or fitness model. He flexed his arms, watching as his muscles strained against the remaining fabric of his sleeves.

Despite the improvements, he knew the other changes posed a problem. How would he hide this at school? He could wear sunglasses for his eyes, but would that be allowed in class? It would certainly seem suspicious. And the scales - maybe he could remove them?

Silas reached up and grasped one of the scales on his cheek. He pulled at it tentatively, afraid it might hurt, but found that it came away with only mild resistance. Relieved, he began plucking the scales from his face, wincing as each one detached from his skin with a strange, slick sensation. Beneath the scales, his flesh was smooth and slightly slimy to the touch. He quickly washed away the residue, revealing smooth, natural skin underneath.

Having addressed his appearance issues, he felt better, but worried about what the future held. Would later stages in his transformation cause even more noticeable changes? Would the scales eventually become permanent?

He had no way of knowing the answers to these questions. He could only press forward, taking each challenge as it came.

Silas suddenly remembered the acceptance letter in his pocket. Arcanium University, once the most prestigious institution for magical learning in the realm, had accepted his application. As his father's alma mater, it had been Silas's first choice.

But as he reread the letter, his joy turned to frustration and disappointment. The university had changed significantly since his father's time. It had been transformed from a beacon of scholarly pursuits into a combat school designed to produce mage knights for the military.

The letter spoke of rigorous training regimens, courses intended to hone battle magic and tactical thinking. It was vastly different from the stories his father had told, of long hours spent poring over ancient tomes and engaging in lively debates with fellow students.

Silas sighed, placing the letter on his mother's desk. He knew the war with the Fae had taken a toll on the magical world. The government had taken over many similar institutions to bolster their ranks. But knowing and seeing were two entirely different things. His heart ached and his blood boiled at the sight. He felt betrayed. He wanted to uncover the secrets of the universe, not learn how to kill more efficiently.

And yet, Silas knew he had no choice. With an ongoing war against the Fae and a mandatory draft, he needed Arcanium University to learn how to survive on the battlefield. He refused to become cannon fodder.

After all his parents had sacrificed for him, giving up wasn't an option. He'd complete his tour of duty, then settle into a normal job. Maybe he could even become a professor at a regular magical college and finally invest in scholarly pursuits.

Silas reached for the system embedded in his chest, drawing comfort from the hum of his mother's presence.

He grabbed a pair of aviator sunglasses from his mother's desk and put them on. Checking the mirror, he found they were reflective enough to hide his eyes, but he'd need a more permanent solution soon. He couldn't wear the glasses forever, especially not in class.

Silas hurried back upstairs to finish packing. As he passed his father in the hall, he suddenly pulled Aldrich into a long, tight hug. "I love you. Thank you for everything you've done for me."

"I love you too, Silas," Aldrich said, returning the hug and patting his son's back. "What brought this on?"

"I was in Mom's study. I just realized how much you and she have done for me."

"You're welcome, son. I know it may not have seemed like it sometimes, but your parents care about you a lot."

Silas ended the hug and walked to his room, leaving his father standing there, stunned. "He's not on drugs, is he?" Aldrich muttered. "No, that can't be it."

In his room, Silas tugged on his luggage harder than necessary, unused to his new strength, and almost toppled over. He made his way downstairs, aviator glasses firmly in place. His father stood waiting by the door.

"You ready?"

"Never been more ready," Silas replied.

Silas stepped out into the sun, its warmth pleasant on his face. As they walked through the streets of their district and hailed a carriage, he couldn't help but notice people looking at him strangely. His journey was just beginning, and already nothing was as he'd expected.