Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

Adom slid WAM and BAM onto his hands, feeling the familiar weight settle against his skin.

Kern and Fili had worked wonders with the upgrades. The reinforced knuckle plates featured subtle grooves that hadn't been there before. The palm inlays had been replaced with something that allowed him to feel things through the gauntlets almost as well as with his bare hands, while still maintaining full protection.

Theoretically, they could withstand two Thunder Shrimp punches each without damage. Considering what his Thunder Shrimp was capable of, that was a significant improvement.

"Most impressive," Zuni commented from the bedpost. "They suit you quite well, Law. The blue tint is rather striking against your skin tone."

The quillick had barely stopped talking since they'd woken. After a thirty minutes of enforced silence in unfamiliar territory, Zuni seemed determined to make up for lost time.

"You know what would complement your appearance splendidly?" he continued. "A small sweet to share with your faithful companion. I've been thinking about those honeyed nuts from the market back home. The ones with the cinnamon."

"Hah!" Adom flexed his fingers, testing the gauntlets' responsiveness. "I knew those kind words had a purpose."

"I am merely suggesting a small reward for our successful navigation of this strange realm thus far. A token celebration, if you will."

"Zuni," Adom interrupted gently.

"Yes?"

"We should head downstairs. The others are waiting."

"Ah, yes. Quite right." The quillick scampered down the bedpost and up Adom's arm to his customary shoulder position. "Though I must say, I'd be much more sociable with a bit of sugar in my system."

Adom suppressed a smile.

The inn was eerily quiet as they made made their way downstairs. No sounds of anything being prepared, no other guests chatting or moving about. Just silence, broken only by the soft tinkling of silver leaves outside.

In the main room, he found the others already gathered. Thorgen was checking his axe's edge. Zara sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyes closed, apparently meditating. Artun was lounging against the wall, idly flipping a dagger in one hand. Bob stood near the door, frowning at a small map.

"Where is everyone?" Adom asked, looking around the empty common room. "Other guests, innkeeper?"

"Fae don't exactly keep regular hours," Bob replied without looking up from his map. "Most of them only need sleep once a month or so."

"And the Moorigans?"

"Celebrating their anniversary elsewhere, thank the stars. I've had enough flying shoes for one visit."

Zara opened her eyes, her meditation apparently complete. When she spotted Adom, she rose gracefully and crossed to him, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

"Look at you, all geared up and serious," she said with a fond smile. "So cute when you're trying to be intimidating."

Adom stepped back, uncomfortable with the overly childish treatment. "I'm not trying to be anything."

"He's a grown ass man, Zara," Artun said, still flipping his dagger. "Not one of your little brothers."

"I know, I know." She sighed. "I just forget sometimes. He's got those innocent eyes."

"My eyes are not innocent," Adom muttered, which only made her smile wider.

"Are we quite finished discussing Law's ocular innocence?" Thorgen rumbled, sliding his axe into the holster on his back. "We've a job to do, if I recall correctly."

"Right." Bob folded his map and tucked it away. "We need to make tracks before the Morning Court begins. Less official attention, the better."

"Where exactly are we headed?" Adom asked.

"The Woods," Bob replied. "West of the city. Only way out without going through the royal checkpoints."

"Is there a particular reason we're avoiding official channels?" Zuni inquired from Adom's shoulder.

Bob shot the quillick a sharp look. "Fewer questions, more walking. Walls have ears, remember?"

"In this place, I suspect even the air has ears," Zuni replied.

"Too right," Bob agreed grimly. "Now, everyone remember what we discussed. And for the love of all that's holy, don't insult the local flora. Some of those trees are older than your entire civilization and hold grudges like you wouldn't believe."

"No insulting ancient trees," Artun nodded. "Got it. Any other obvious things we should avoid? Dancing with shadows? Singing to rocks? Making rude gestures at passing clouds?"

"Actually, yes to all three," Bob said with complete seriousness. "Shadows here can be sentient, some rock formations are sacred, and clouds are often the physical manifestation of atmospheric spirits."

Artun blinked. "I was joking."

"The Fae Realm isn't," Bob replied flatly. "Now, are we ready?"

They gathered their gear and headed for the door. As they stepped outside, the strange light of Alfheim washed over them. The three moons had shifted position already, now forming a straight line across the sky. The silver leaves of the great oak tingled more urgently in a breeze that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"I've been wondering," Adom said as they started down the street. "How do we pay for the inn? I didn't see any transaction take place."

"Already settled," Bob replied. "I keep an account with them."

"In what currency?" Zuni asked, genuinely curious.

"You don't want to know," Bob said, in a tone that discouraged further questions.

They passed through the city, heading toward the western gate. The streets were filled with Fae of various kinds, most going about their routines with the same mix of purpose and whimsy that seemed to define everything in this realm.

"Stay close," Bob cautioned as they approached a busy intersection. "It's easy to get separated in the night crowds."

"Not exactly a hardship, being lost in a magical fairy wonderland," Artun commented, eyeing a group of particularly attractive Fae crossing nearby.

"Until you wander into the wrong alley and find yourself aged a hundred years or turned inside out," Bob replied. "The Fae don't all share the same sense of humor, especially when it comes to non fae."

Thorgen grunted. "Delightful place ye've brought us to."

"You knew what you were signing up for," Bob reminded him.

The dwarf shrugged. "Aye. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

They continued westward, the buildings gradually becoming fewer and farther between, the spaces between them filled with strange gardens and small groves of trees.

"The Woods are about two hours' walk from here," Bob said as they finally reached the city's edge. "Assuming the path behaves itself."

"What do you mean, 'behaves itself'?" Zara asked.

"Paths here sometimes have ideas of their own about where they should go," Bob explained. "Especially ones leading to important places. Broken magic, you see."

"Wonderful," Thorgen muttered.

"You get used to it."

Ahead of them stretched a road of pale stone that wound its way between rolling hills covered with grass that shifted colors like the northern lights. In the distance, a dark line of trees marked the horizon—trees that seemed taller and more ancient than any Adom had seen before.

"The Woods," Bob confirmed, following Adom's gaze. "Where we'll find our answers—if we're lucky."

"And if we're not lucky?" Adom asked.

"Then we'll find something else entirely."

The western gate of Alfheim looked nothing like the city they'd just walked through. Where the buildings were elegant and impossible, the wall was just a wall—plain stone with a single arched gateway. It stretched up maybe twenty feet, and beyond it, ordinary-looking hills rolled away toward the distant line of trees.

They passed through the archway without incident, the stones beneath their feet transitioning from the glowing paving of the city to a simple dirt path.

Adom noticed movement from the corner of his eye.

When he turned, he saw a cluster of tiny winged figures hovering near a flowering bush. They looked almost human, but small enough to fit in his palm, with dragonfly wings that caught the strange moonlight. The fairies watched him with unblinking eyes, then broke into fits of tinkling laughter before darting away into the undergrowth.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Hard to say with the little ones," Bob replied. "Could be your hair, could be they know something you don't. Best not to wonder too much."

"By the way," Adom said, "how exactly do you know where to find this cave? The one from my dream?"

Bob's pace didn't falter. "I don't."

"Then how—"

"If the dryad wanted you there bad enough to make you dream walk, she'll guide us once we're in the wild. That's how it works with her kind. They don't give directions—they call you."

"That seems inefficient," Zuni commented from Adom's shoulder.

"It's not about efficiency," Bob replied. "It's about intention. The journey matters almost as much as the destination in places like this."

"Should we be concerned about who else might be listening for this... call?" Zara asked. "If it's meant for Adom, but others can hear it too..."

"That's why we're moving quickly," Bob said. "And staying off the main paths."

They continued onward, the Woods gradually growing larger on the horizon. After another half hour, Adom realized something odd about the distant tree line—it wasn't getting much closer despite their steady pace.

Before he could mention it, they came to a bridge. It was simple but well-made, spanning a narrow river whose water flowed not with the current but in careful spirals, like a giant's fingerprint pressed into liquid.

Bob stopped short, sighing deeply. "Well, this is going to be a pain in the ass."

The others exchanged glances.

"What's wrong?" Thorgen asked. "Looks like a perfectly fine bridge to me."

"It's not the bridge," Bob said. "It's who tends it."

"Is it safe to cross?" Zara asked.

"Safe? Yes. Easy? No."

They approached cautiously. As they stepped onto the worn wooden planks, the horizon seemed to waver, like heat rising from summer pavement. The bridge itself shifted, not physically but somehow perceptually, as if they were moving and standing still simultaneously.

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"What's happening?" Adom asked, grabbing the railing to steady himself.

"Just the bridge doing its thing," Bob said calmly. "Keep moving. Don't look down too much."

"I sense something," Zuni whispered, his claws digging into Adom's shoulder. "A presence."

"More like smell something," Bob corrected.

As if on cue, a figure emerged from beneath the bridge.

It shuffled onto the path before them, blocking their way. Grey-skinned and no taller than Thorgen, it had a protruding belly, stubby limbs, and a face that looked like it had been carelessly assembled from leftover parts. A patchy beard covered its multiple chins, and small, surprisingly intelligent eyes peered out from beneath heavy brows.

"WER WAGT ES, MEINE BRÜCKE ZU ÜBERQUEREN?" the creature bellowed in a phlegmy voice.

Then it paused, blinking at them. "Oh. Outsiders." Its tone shifted to a gravelly accent with mangled vowels. "Ve do not get many of your sort zese days. Usually just local traffic, ja?"

No one seemed to know how to respond to this abrupt shift.

"Is that... a troll?" Zara whispered.

"Bridge troll," Bob confirmed. "Fae variety. Smaller than the ones in your realm. Meaner, though."

The troll squinted at Bob. "Cearbhallán? Is zat you? I vas not recognizing you at first. New coat, ja?"

"Hello, Grimble," Bob said. "Yes, new coat. How's the bridge business?"

"Same as alvays." Grimble picked at something between his teeth. "Boring like vatching mud dry, ja? Centuries of ze same routine. 'Who goes zere?' Zis one. 'Answer my riddle!' Zat one. It gets old."

Artun leaned against the railing, looking bored. "Tough break. Maybe consider a career change?"

The troll let out a wet snort. "Listen to fancy pants here. 'Career change.' Like I am some merchant who can just decide to sell different goods tomorrow, ja?"

Thorgen's hand drifted toward his axe. "Just tell us what you want so we can be on our way."

"Oh ho!" Grimble's eyes lit up. "Ze dwarf wants to fight, does he? I vould not recommend it, shortstack. Zis bridge vas given to me by ze High King himself. Harm me, and it's war with ze entire realm."

"No one's fighting anyone," Bob said firmly. "Just ask your riddles, Grimble, so we can get going."

The troll scratched his belly thoughtfully, his grimy shirt riding up to reveal more grey skin. Zuni made a small sound of disgust.

"Ze thing is," Grimble said slowly, "I do not much feel like riddles today."

"Excuse me?" Bob blinked.

"See, I have been doing ze same three riddles for seven hundred and forty-two years. I know all ze answers myself, don't I? Vhere's ze fun in zat?" He leaned forward, his breath a noxious cloud that made Adom step back. "Last interesting traveler vas zat fellow with ze pumpkin for a head. Now zere vas a challenge! Had to make up new riddles on ze spot."

"What do you want then?" Thorgen asked bluntly. "A fight after all?"

Grimble waved a dismissive hand. "Nah. Too much paperwork if I kill ya. Forms in triplicate for non-fae fatalities."

"Then what?" Zara asked.

The troll's face screwed up in concentration, as if he were making the most important decision of his long life. Finally, his expression cleared.

"I vant a joke," he declared. "A good one. Make me laugh—really laugh, mind you—and you can pass. Been seven decades since I had a proper chuckle."

They all stared at him.

"A joke?" Adom repeated.

"Zat's right." Grimble folded his stubby arms across his protruding belly. "One joke. Needs to be funny enough to make me laugh. You get one try each." He settled back on his haunches, expression expectant. "Vell? I am vaiting."

They all exchanged glances. No one seemed particularly eager to volunteer.

Thorgen cleared his throat. "I'll go first."

The dwarf stepped forward, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath.

"A band of mountain dwarves are lost deep in the mines," he began. "Their food is gone, their lamps nearly out. The leader suggests they split up to find an exit. His second-in-command says, 'If we split up, we might never see each other again.' And the leader responds, 'Aye, that's the first bit of good news I've heard all day!'"

Thorgen let out a hearty chuckle and slapped his knee. No one else made a sound.

Grimble stared at him, expression flat as stale beer. "Vas zat supposed to be funny?"

"It's a classic!" Thorgen protested. "Been bringing down the house in Khahad-Thar for centuries."

"Maybe it loses something in translation," Zara suggested kindly.

"BOOOO!" Grimble gave an exaggerated thumbs down. "Next!"

Thorgen's face reddened beneath his beard. "Everyone's a critic," he muttered, stepping back.

"I'll try," Zara said, stepping forward. "What happens when a faerie can't pay their gardening bill? They get repossessed!"

Grimble blinked slowly. "Ve don't have banks here."

"Right. Different financial system. Um..." She looked around desperately. "What about—"

"NEXT!" the troll bellowed.

"My turn." Artun pushed off from the railing. "Wait—how do you even know what banks are if you don't have them here?"

Grimble shrugged his lumpy shoulders. "Ve fae listen, ve learn. Travelers tell stories. I've been here for centuries—you think I don't know things from other realms?" He snorted.

"Fair enough," Artun conceded. "Now, for my joke: A man walks into a tavern with a speaking parrot on his shoulder. The barkeep says, 'That's amazing! Where'd you get it?' And the parrot says, 'Found him in the desert, there are thousands of them.'"

A flicker of something—possibly amusement—crossed Grimble's face, but quickly disappeared.

"Close," he said. "But not close enough."

"I told it wrong," Artun muttered. "Should've made the parrot a crow."

Bob shook his head. "Don't look at me. My people's humor doesn't translate well. Involves a lot of context about stolen shoes."

All eyes turned to Adom.

"I'm not good at jokes," he said.

"Try anyway," Bob urged. "Or we're stuck here."

Adom racked his brain. He didn't exactly have a repertoire of comedy bits ready to go. What would make a bridge troll laugh? Something about bridges? Travelers? The absurdity of existence?

"Okay," he said finally. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"To get to ze other side," Grimble finished, looking bored. "Oldest joke in any realm."

"No, that's not it," Adom said, pushing forward desperately. "The chicken crossed the road because... because it was stapled to the... wait, no."

"You're thinking of the one with the baby," Artun stage-whispered.

"Right. No. Um." Adom took a deep breath. "A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is smoking a pipe with a satisfied smile, and the egg looks irritated. The egg says, 'Well, I guess we answered that question.'"

Grimble frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead creating deep shadowed valleys. For a moment, Adom thought he might have succeeded—then the troll's expression cleared.

"I don't understand," he said. "Chickens and eggs don't smoke. Zey don't have hands."

"It's about the question of which came first," Adom tried to explain. "The chicken or the egg. It's implying they just had—"

"NEXT!" Grimble roared. "Or are you all out of jokes already?"

Rude.

"I believe it's my turn," Zuni said from Adom's shoulder.

The quillick's voice was so quiet that Grimble had to lean forward, squinting to see the small creature.

"Vat is zis? A talking squirrel?"

"I am a quillick," Zuni replied with dignity. "A sentient mammalian species from the other realm."

"You're mighty small to be telling jokes," Grimble said doubtfully.

"Size bears no correlation to humor, as I'm sure you're aware." Zuni cleared his throat delicately. "My joke is brief but, I hope, insightful."

Grimble settled back, waving a chubby hand. "Get on with it zen."

Zuni straightened up on Adom's shoulder. "What lies between fear and courage?"

"I don't know," Grimble replied, already looking disappointed. "Vat?"

"The letter 'and,'" Zuni answered.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Grimble's face remained utterly blank.

Then his lips twitched. A small snort escaped him.

"Ze letter 'and,'" he repeated. "Because... because fear AND courage..."

The troll's shoulders began to shake. A wheezing sound emerged from his throat. Suddenly, he was doubled over, great belly heaving with laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHA! ZE LETTER 'AND'!" he howled, slapping his knee with enough force to make the bridge tremble. "It's BETWEEN zem in ze sentence! HAHAHA! AND! A literal truth disguised as philosophical wisdom! HAHAHAHA!"

Tears streamed down Grimble's face as he gasped for breath between guffaws. "Oh, zat is good! ZAT IS SO GOOD! Ze letter 'and'! HA!"

The others looked at each other in disbelief. Zuni sat calmly on Adom's shoulder, radiating quiet satisfaction.

"I fail to see how that's the funniest thing he's heard in seventy years," Thorgen muttered.

"Humor is subjective," Zuni replied quietly.

"OHHHH!" Grimble wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "I haven't laughed like zat since... since I can't remember when!" He pointed a stubby finger at Zuni. "You win, little squirrel. You all may pass my bridge."

"I am not a squirrel," Zuni corrected, but his protest was lost as Grimble stepped aside with a grand, sweeping gesture.

"Cross freely, travelers! May your journey be as clever as ze little one's joke!"

They didn't need to be told twice. The group hurried across the bridge, casting occasional glances back at the troll, who was still giggling to himself, muttering "ze letter 'and'" and breaking into fresh peals of laughter.

Once safely across and out of earshot, Artun turned to Zuni. "Seriously? That was your joke?"

"It was both linguistically accurate and philosophically resonant," Zuni replied. "A satisfying verbal paradox."

"It wasn't even funny," Thorgen grumbled.

"It made him laugh," Bob pointed out. "That's all that matters."

"And got us across," Adom added, smiling at his small companion. "Nice work, Zuni."

"Thank you, Law." The quillick's smiled at him.

Behind them, they could still hear Grimble's laughter echoing across the river. "ZE LETTER 'AND'! HAHAHAHA!"

The Woods loomed before them, trees stretching toward the tri-moon sky. Unlike the manicured forests near the city, these were wild—gnarled trunks thicker than houses, roots that burst from the ground like serpents, canopies so dense they blotted out the moonlight.

"Well," Thorgen said, hefting his pack, "that doesn't look ominous at all."

"It's just a forest," Artun replied, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

Bob stopped at the tree line and turned to Adom. "Now that we're out of the city, where do we go?"

Everyone looked at Adom.

"What do I know?" he asked, confused. "I just had a dream about a cave and a dryad. I don't know where it is."

"That's the point," Bob said patiently. "She called you here. Now you need to let her guide you."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Close your eyes," Bob instructed. "Focus. Feel the forest. She knows you're here—she'll show you the way."

Adom glanced at the others. Zara gave him an encouraging nod.

"Alright." He closed his eyes.

Nothing happened. He felt silly standing there, eyes closed while everyone watched. He could hear Thorgen shifting his weight impatiently.

"I don't think this is—"

A breeze brushed against his face. Not from any particular direction, but somehow from everywhere at once. It carried whispers—soft, half-formed words that danced at the edge of comprehension.

"This is creepy," he said, eyes still closed.

"What do you hear?" Bob asked.

"Whispers. I can't make out what they're saying."

The whispers grew louder, still unintelligible but more insistent. Then, behind his closed eyelids, Adom saw something—a path winding through the trees, illuminated by a soft green glow.

His eyes snapped open. "That way." He pointed northeast, where the forest looked darkest. "Through those two twisted oaks with the intertwined branches."

Bob nodded. "Let's move. And stay close. The Woods aren't kind to stragglers."

They set off, Adom in the lead with Bob close behind. The path wasn't visible to the naked eye, but Adom could feel it—a subtle pull guiding his steps. It was hard to properly explain.

"Anyone else think these trees are watching us?" Artun asked, glancing around.

"Because they are," Bob replied.

"That's reassuring," Zara muttered.

"Do you think the dryad will be pleased to see us?" Zuni asked from Adom's shoulder. "I understand that they can be temperamental."

"She went to a lot of trouble to get us here," Adom replied. "It better be worth the sleepless nights."

They walked for nearly an hour, the forest growing denser and darker. Strange sounds echoed around them—chirps and wails unlike any animal Adom had heard before. Luminescent fungi clung to the trees, providing just enough light to see by.

"This place reminds me of the Whispering Glades back home," Zara said. "My brothers and I used to dare each other to spend the night there."

"Did you?" Adom asked.

She laughed. "Stars, no. We were stupid, but not that stupid."

"I spent three weeks in the Dark Forest of Karnor once," Artun chimed in. "Tracking a bandit who'd stolen the Duke's favorite horse."

"Did you catch him?" Thorgen asked.

"Her, actually. And yes, but—"

High-pitched laughter interrupted him—childlike but wrong somehow, too sharp and too cold. It seemed to come from all around them.

Everyone froze.

In an instant, weapons appeared—Artun's twin swords, Thorgen's massive axe, Zara's compact crossbow. Adom slid WAM and BAM onto his hands.

"What is that?" he whispered.

"Redcaps," Bob replied, drawing a short curved blade from beneath his coat. "Pack hunters, like goblins but nastier. Don't let them surround you."

"Redcaps?" Zara asked, scanning the trees.

"They dip their caps in the blood of their victims," Bob explained. "Gives them power. They're vicious little bastards."

More laughter, closer now.

"Form up," Bob ordered. "Back to back. Whatever happens, don't separate."

They moved into a tight circle, weapons facing outward. Adom felt the familiar tingle of his mana activating, the flame like energy flowing just beneath his skin.

"How many?" Thorgen asked.

"Hard to tell," Bob replied. "Dozen at least. Maybe more."

A whistling sound cut through the air. Artun ducked, an arrow embedding itself in the tree behind him.

"Arrows too? That's just not fair," he complained.

Red eyes appeared in the darkness between the trees—dozens of pairs, blinking and shifting positions.

"Let them come to us," Bob advised. "Don't chase them into the woods."

A small, hunched figure darted between trees, too quick to target. Then another. And another.

"Steady," Bob said.

Something flew from the darkness—a crude spear that Thorgen easily deflected with his axe.

"Is that the best they've got?" the dwarf growled.

As if in answer, a redcap leapt from the shadows, a twisted little creature no taller than Thorgen but lean and vicious. Its skin was a sickly gray, with sharp teeth and malevolent eyes. And atop its head, a cap stained dark with what looked like blood.

Zara's crossbow twanged. The bolt caught the redcap in mid-leap, punching through its chest. It fell to the ground with a shriek.

"One down," she said, already reloading.

Howls. Howls of rage erupted in the forest. Redcaps poured from the darkness, brandishing crude weapons—knives, clubs, rusted axes.

"Here they come!" Bob shouted.

Adom focused his mana, channeling it through WAM. A miniature hurricane formed above his palm, spinning.

He sent it hurtling toward a group of redcaps charging from the left. The vortex caught three of them, lifting them off their feet and smashing them against a tree trunk.

Beside him, Thorgen roared as he cleaved through anything that came within reach. Artun danced between attackers, only blood followed his wake and Zara's crossbow had a steady rhythm—aim, fire, reload.

"Good shot!" Zuni called as Adom blasted another redcap with a fireball. "Look out! Behind that fallen log!"

Adom spun, catching a leaping redcap with a gravity spell that slammed it to the ground with bone-crushing force.

Something changed. The mana flowing through him—normally a cool blue energy—began to shift. It felt... different. Lighter. More responsive. His awareness expanded, taking in the battlefield in a new way. He could feel the redcaps' movements before they happened, sense the flow of combat like currents in a stream.

"Behind you, Artun!" he called, already launching a spell to intercept a redcap dropping from a branch above the swordsman.

He wasn't thinking anymore—just acting. Spell after spell flowed from his hands. A wall of force to protect Zara as she reloaded. A burst of wind that cleared the path to Bob's right. A targeted gravity well that pulled three redcaps into the swing of Thorgen's axe.

"They're retreating!" Zara called.

She was right. The redcaps were falling back, disappearing into the forest as quickly as they had appeared. A few moments later, the Woods were silent again, save for the heavy breathing of the party.

"Everyone all right?" Bob asked, scanning the trees for stragglers.

"Not even a scratch," Artun replied, wiping his blades clean.

"They didn't put up much of a fight," Thorgen said, sounding almost disappointed.

"That's because Adom here turned half of them to ash," Zara said, turning to look at him. Her eyes widened. "Adom?"

The others turned to stare.

"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Your mana," Bob said quietly. "Look at yourself."

Adom glanced down at his arms. The familiar blue energy that typically surrounded him when weaving had changed. It was nearly transparent now, with a white, pearlescent quality that seemed to bend light around it.

"Whoa. What's happening?" he asked, alarmed.

"I've never seen anything like it," Zara said, moving closer to inspect the phenomenon.

The energy pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady glow around him. A message flashed before his eyes, floating in the air like a phantom:

[Change detected. Your body is evolving...]