Vega’s deranged sanity clung tight against the onslaught of energy threatening to tear him apart.
The power had come to Yoto in staggered increments, tiers of transformation that he had climbed one level at a time, but the General had taken an equal amount of the open blade’s energy in an instant. He had not even thought to remove himself from his pet before plunging the weapon into his heart.
Vega’s armor shell exploded, viscous muscle expanding, spreading wide into the system of his pet. Their bodies merged, the two species’ flesh bubbling above the horizon, blotting out the night sky.
The massive form bloated outward, exoskeletal growth spreading over new muscles. Thick knobs of bone ruptured out of its back, forming two rows of jagged horns extending down into four thick arms.
Bands of light emanated from below its flesh, tracing its internal organs, seething with power. The claws on its four powerful legs clenched as they dug into the dirt, holding its wide mass above the Arena. Vega’s face stretched, disfigured and barely recognizable.
The Arena broke into a frenzy, Numah slaves and Olokun warriors scattering below the two titans.
The General examined his new body, entranced by the metamorphosis. Like all Olokun, he had spent the majority of his adult life learning how to sync minds with other organisms, mastering the art of manipulation. And Vega was the Olokun who had raised this skill to its highest, most potent level.
Yet this was different. Even walking became a new experience.
Rasping sounds reverberated out of his throat.
He tried again, shaping the noises into words, “Th-this. This is how it’s done. This is how you embrace power.”
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