Eo moved through the water with effortless speed, leaving the surface world behind. The artificial chamber, the fleeting presence of Aelith, Thorne, Caelum, and Frid—all of it faded from his thoughts the moment he plunged deeper.

  "I’m going out for a walk."

  That was all he said before vanishing into the abyss.

  The surface lacked what he needed. The magic there was too thin, too diluted. If he wanted to push further, to modify himself properly, he needed something more. Something raw, something dense. And there was only one place to find it.

  As the light from above dimmed, the magic around him grew richer. He could feel it saturating the water, pressing against his body, urging him to take it in. It wasn’t just mist anymore—it was something deeper, heavier. This was what he needed.

  But this time, he wasn’t just absorbing.

  He was rebuilding.

  Eo’s body was efficient, but it wasn’t perfect. Magic flowed through him, but not in an organized way. It moved wherever it wanted, following the easiest path, spreading without direction. That had worked before. It wouldn’t work now.

  He needed control.

  So, as he dived, he began to reshape himself. The way his body moved energy, the way it handled magic, even the way his blood functioned—everything had to change.

  Instead of letting magic and nutrients mix together in a single messy system, he started separating them. His body needed two distinct flows—one for life, one for power.

  The first would keep him alive, moving nutrients, repairing damage, keeping his form stable.

  The second would be purely for magic, a network designed to store, refine, and unleash power when needed. No more wasted energy. No more sluggish reactions. Just pure, controlled output.

  And if either system got damaged? It wouldn’t matter. He would adapt. His body would reroute, rebuild, and move forward without hesitation.

  But control wasn’t enough. He needed something to regulate it all.

  A single heart wouldn’t do—not for what he was becoming. He needed something stronger, something that could handle both his body’s demands and his growing hunger for magic.

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  So, he created something new.

  Not a heart.

  A core.

  It wasn’t a single organ, but a network—linked chambers within his body, capable of holding energy, compressing it, and releasing it instantly. No more slow gathering. No more waiting for magic to respond. If he needed power, he would have it now.

  His body pulsed as the changes took hold. Magic surged through him in ways it never had before, faster, sharper, more precise. The shift was happening, not just in his structure but in the very way he existed.

  This wasn’t just an improvement.

  It was evolution.

  And he wasn’t done yet.

  The transformation was instinctive, yet entirely deliberate. Every adjustment followed logic—his logic. He had no guide, no blueprint to follow but his own understanding of efficiency. The deeper he went, the denser the energy became, wrapping around him like a second skin, flooding through his newly formed channels.

  It was intoxicating.

  The core within him pulsed, a steady rhythm that matched the ebb and flow of the abyss. It was not a heart, yet it beat in a way that resonated with life itself. It was not a mere storage unit, yet it carried magic like a controlled storm, gathering and distributing it without delay. This was power, not as a chaotic force, but as something refined, sharpened into a tool of precision.

  But a tool was useless if it lacked adaptability.

  His body would not be bound by rigid structures. Instead, he made sure it remained fluid—capable of shifting, redirecting, even altering itself depending on the situation. His newly formed pathways were not fixed; they could expand, contract, or even change function when needed. His blood, once a simple medium for nutrients, now carried something far greater.

  It carried affinity.

  The Elemental Blood

  His body had always adapted, but now it was intentional. Instead of relying solely on passive absorption, he redefined his very essence. His blood no longer functioned as mere sustenance. It was a conduit, a bridge between magic and physicality.

  It could store elemental properties.

  Water, fire, lightning, even the mist he had come to know so well—all could be carried through him, embedded into his system like living veins of power. If he needed strength, his blood would pulse with fire. If he needed speed, lightning would surge through it. If he needed resilience, the stability of earth would take root. And if he needed to disappear, the abyss itself would welcome him.

  But that was not all.

  If his blood could carry affinity, then it could evolve beyond that. It could learn. Every time he absorbed something new, it would not simply be fuel—it would be integrated. Studied. Broken down and reconstructed into something more.

  This was no longer just evolution.

  This was mastery.

  The Abyss Watches

  Eo continued to descend, his senses expanding with each passing moment. The abyss had always felt vast, but now he could truly grasp its scale. He was not just passing through it—he was feeling it, connecting with it in ways he never had before.

  And it was watching.

  Something deep within the abyss stirred, an awareness that brushed against his own. It was not hostile. It was not welcoming. It simply acknowledged him.

  He did not stop.

  His body continued its transformation, the last of his modifications settling into place. He was no longer the creature that had left the chamber. He had become something different, something more.

  He turned his gaze downward, into the endless dark below.

  There was still more to understand. More to take in. More to become.