The pain was unbearable.
It seemed that there was a reason it was called a Crucible. The integration process was quite literally searing the changes into the body, burning away former impurities or clashing aspects, and reforging them in a new light.
It was like tossing the body into a forge.
But Sylas quickly realized that this was the wrong way to think of it. A crucible was what was tossed into a forge. In this case, his body had suddenly become the forge of the Crucible itself, and the heat he could withstand, the pain he could endure, became what decided how well the Crucible was integrated into his body.
Sylas looked down at himself as his clothing was burned away, his charred pieces of flesh beginning to curl and bubble. It was a sight one would have found sickening even if observing it on another, let alone yourself.
But Sylas… simply stood there.
