The Art of Divine Engineering
His focus turned inward, to the vast archives of the Library of Heavenly Paths, that infinite repository of knowledge spanning three realities. Designing a body was no longer about brute force or crude assembly; it was an act of elegant engineering, a masterwork of biological architecture.
His initial purpose for a physical body had been simple: to act and appear human in this reality, to affect the world without constantly draining his own reserves like a leaking battery.
Earlier, he had begun analyzing X-genes which led him to understand their energy nature, the fundamental frequencies they operated on. Now, with his consciousness able to converse with Psionic energy as easily as breathing, the game had changed entirely.
Now it was more like wearing a fresh set of clothes, that suit you. Nothing major.
***
The ultimate purpose of something like the X-Gene was to unlock mortal potential by aligning spirit with body, creating a bridge between the ethereal and the physical. He could do that with a thought now, no gene required, no catalyst needed.
But the X-Gene was more than power; it was the perfect disguise, a plausible explanation to hide his uniqueness in plain sight and keep away the headache of maintaining checks and balances with causal influence. Being a nice guy, in other words:
The gene gave him cover.
The Sea of Possibility & The Mathematics of Mutation
Standing in the sea of Psionic energy, surrounded by a luminous ocean of thought and potential, his intentions rippled outward, manifesting like waves.
He began with the blueprint of his previous template, enriching it with magical schematics from Loki, Asgardian physiology pulled from the void, the TVA's hybrid technologies, and Earth's sorcery. He overlaid this with a complete genetic analysis of mutants ranging from Jean Grey to Apocalypse himself.
His research confirmed a simple truth: the X-Gene was a master switch on the 23rd chromosome, sitting dormant in the code like a loaded weapon. It didn't grant power outright; it activated unique sequences shaped by the soul's experiences and ancestral history.
Universal Key + Unique Soul + Traumatic Catalyst = Mutant.
The formula was elegant. The gene was surprisingly common - one in a thousand carried it unaware. But activation was rarer, one in a hundred thousand. True "mutants" were lottery winners, one in a million.
The vast diversity of powers came from the gene triggering different codifying sequences in each person, unlocking potential as unique as fingerprints. It wasn't a spontaneous wish-fulfilling gift granted by cosmic whim; it was a deeply personal, almost logical emergence from the intersection of genetics and soul.
Pseudo-Biology and Divine Architecture
His initial template had been a simple "if it works, it's enough" shell, designed before he understood magic or Psionics, before he'd fought the Phoenix and learned to shape reality itself.
It had been without a flaw, technically perfect. But optimization wasn't flaw correction, it was refinement toward an ideal. It didn't even have his normal face, just a generic approximation.
Now, he saw that beings like Asgardians possessed a form of pseudo-biology, with genetic templates featuring built-in dimensional manifolds and magical etchings written directly into their chromosomes. Creating a pure genetic base for a Thor would spontaneously generate his archetypal magical consciousness, the myth made flesh.
A hybrid from him, however, wouldn't carry that same automatic divinity.
Synthesizing mortal, Asgardian, magical, and Psionic knowledge, he engineered a being with 22 pseudo-chromosomal pairs. Each was a masterpiece. A distinct X-Gene marker sat integrated with Asgardian-style dimensional manifolds, ready to link to any energy dimension or even Yggdrasil itself.
A human appearance to blend in. Mutant potential to explain the power. A godly birthright woven into every cell. It was a perfect balance of chaos and order - Yin and Yang made flesh.
Becoming Mutate - Birth of Form
For the first time, he created with virtually zero energy cost to himself. His Will transformed the Psionic energy, and the universe performed the quintillions of calculations required.
He shared his wish: Form a genetic structure based on my thought. A body that is the true reflection of my soul.
He watched as a helix of impossible complexity formed in the Psionic sea, spiraling and folding in ways that would drive a geneticist mad. It rapidly cycled from single cell to fetus, to child, to young adult in the span of heartbeats. The face that emerged was his own, but not a copy - it was the physical manifestation of his core identity.
Initially, it took on the elegant, sharp features of the Saint Race - or "Elves," as this world might call them. Seeing this deviation, he refined the mental blueprint, tweaking the clay until a human look-alike was born, perfect down to the microscopic level.
The cost? Information. The uniqueness of this new alien biology was fed back into the astral plane's endless dreams. A fair trade: information for form.
The Awakening
Shifting into his astral form, he initiated the final integration - the moment of absolute connection. He did not attempt to squeeze the immensity of his layered Saint Soul into the mortal shell like stuffing a sleeping bag; such a crude method would have shattered the vessel instantly.
Instead, he established a permanent, shielded connection - a cosmic VPN, to use a term from his past life.
His monolithic consciousness remained the server, vast and eternal, residing in the higher dimensions. This new body, with its compliant Ego Shell and freshly formed brain, was merely the terminal, the high-access interface. The "Silver Cord" did not anchor him to the body in the traditional sense; rather, it anchored the body to the immeasurable gravity of his soul, allowing the flesh to draw strength from an infinite well.
As the link solidified, reality pressed against him. The Astral Plane felt suffocatingly close, brushing against the physical layer like a lover's breath on skin. His mind formed a perfect avatar within the Psionic Sea - mirror image made of pure thought - and dived deep into the collective unconscious.
The Cosmic Registration
The connection snapped into place. But before the Psionic link could fully settle, the magical ways of universe shuddered.
Deep within the dimensional superstructure, where the roots of the World Tree (Yggdrasil) weave the Ten Realms together, a new branch didn't just grow - it erupted. A new uncrowned divinity. The magical knowledge found a new possibility of flesh in making ever since fifth cosmos, a new archetype: Paragon...waiting for someone to sense its mysteries.
The 22 pseudo-chromosomal pairs within his cells were not merely biological instructions; they were also runic keys. He felt a sudden, thundering resonance with the magical frequency of the cosmos. He wasn't stealing from it; he was harmonizing with it, forceful and loud. Somewhere in the golden halls of Asgard, the eternal winds paused for a heartbeat. Ravens took flight in confusion, cawing at a disturbance they couldn't name.
It was an unauthorized annex to their cosmology, a new room violently added to their house without permission.
On his throne, an old man with one eye blinked open, his gaze piercing the void trying to see.
High atop Olympus, in a realm that exists in a pocket dimension tangential to Earth, Zeus sat in his private solar, nursing a goblet of ambrosia. The mood was generally festive - it always was - until the wine in his cup tilted. Not because his hand shook. But because the horizon did. He dismissed it as soon as he saw the dance of the Charites.
The Blindness of Fate
Far below the golden spires, deep in the roots of Yggdrasil, lay the Well of Mimir. The waters here were usually still, a mirror reflecting every truth that ever was or would be.
Beside the well sat the Norns - Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. They were the weavers of the great tapestry, their fingers usually deftly spinning the golden threads of Asgardian lifespans and the grey threads of mortals.
Suddenly, the water in the well rippled. It stood up like a standing wave, defying gravity, before crashing back down as if nothing had happened.
Verdandi (The Present) gasped, dropping her spindle. "A thread... a new divinity... a new thread just appeared. But it is not golden. It is... non-existent."
Urd (The Past) peered into the well, her ancient eyes narrowing as she searched the reflection. "No beginning here. I see no ancestors. I see no birth. It simply is. A branch that grew without a root."
Skuld (The Future), usually the most terrifying and stoic of the three, screamed. She covered her eyes as if looking directly into a supernova. "I can't see! The thread - I can't see further. It doesn't weave into the tapestry. It cuts through it!"
For the first time in eons, the Weavers of Fate were blind.
The Living Ley Line
Then came the magic.
In the Marvel Universe, magic is almost always borrowed - siphoned from the Vishanti, bargained from the Dark Dimension, or stolen from demons. But his body was designed to be a Generator, not a borrower.
His intent was pure and well - defined. The magical energy in the atmosphere coiled around him, trembling. Magic was an accessory. If he was bored enough to make the universe process all the rules, he will let it.
He felt the ambient Darkforce and the background radiation of the Mystic Arts recoil, creating a momentary vacuum around his form. Then, realizing the hierarchy had changed, the energy rushed back in to obey. He wasn't tapping into the ley lines of Earth; he had become a living ley line, a gravitational well for arcane energy that bent the local reality weave simply by existing.
His connection to the timeline felt more solid than ever.
When Tao dived into the Collective Unconscious, he didn't enter as a visitor. He entered as a Monolith. The sheer mass of his consciousness - layered with knowledge, the mental fortitude of a cultivator, and the cold logic displaced the local reality of those that trying to infiltrate the new opening.
A tidal wave of "Lucidity" crashed through the Dream realm. Nightmares were instantly dissolved, replaced by a blinding, terrifying sense of order and calm.
"Who dares?!", "Who brings logic into my domain?!" a shout was heard.
One tried to trace the source, but the "Silver Cord" led back to a firewall that burned his fingers the moment he touched it.
***
Outside, present:
BOOM.
The moment Tao's consciousness fully seated itself, he felt it - the buzz of every mind on Earth. It was a cacophony that would have shattered a lesser consciousness. Thoughts, memories, visions - all of it close, intimate, and overwhelming.
But it didn't stop there.
The Psionic Tsunami
On the outside, in the physical world, an immense wave of Psionic energy washed outward from him as the point of origin, rippling across the planet like a heavy stone dropped in still water.
It startled sensitive minds globally.
In Westchester, Charles Xavier's head snapped up in surprise, his jaw tightening as he strained his Omega-level mind to see through the noise.
In her bed, reading the Gothic Romance: Jane Eyre by Charlotte, Jean Grey's eyes went wide, feeling a resonance that vibrated in her ... almost as if she were sensing a sibling??
But the illusion of equality vanished in an instant. In the space between milliseconds, their vast minds were reduced to mere droplets as his consciousness began to balloon, expanding past the atmosphere, reaching out across the planets.
His perception expanded with the wave.
It was a new kind of vision. If his Divine Sense was 360-degree surround vision, this was a perception shift - instantaneous and absolute. He could feel the farthest rock in the asteroid belt as if he were standing right in front of it. His perception followed the wave, expanding until it reached the same order of magnitude as his Divine Sense, and then, with a thought, it stopped.
Overwhelmed by the sheer scope of his own presence, he reined it in. He erected walls of encryption and misdirection, fading from the cosmic radar.
He sensed the shielded minds of his wives nearby, watching with anticipation. Slowly, the galaxy faded from his mind's eye, and he returned to the body.
First Impressions
(Point of View Shift)
Well, considering the half-dozen hungry eyes watching me ~ spiritual eyes that could see through matter itself ~ I made the quick decision to not remain naked.
Another thought, responding to a flicker of will through the psionic sea, shimmered the energy and transformed it into the appearance of pristine vacation clothes. Linen-like trousers that caught the breeze and a soft, open-collared shirt decorated with a subtle universe theme, stars and nebulae swirling across the fabric. It was the perfect costume for a newly physical being pretending at mortality.
The physical body couldn't hold Soul Armor on its own yet, so I stored that away.
I was flexing my muscles and checking for any rigidity, feeling the play of tendons under skin, while simultaneously feeling my mutant sense awakening over my ability like a sixth sense coming online.
I braced for it:
With my enhanced consciousness, the sudden activation of X-gene awakening ~ what would be traumatic agony for a mortal ~ went away like a breeze, barely noticed. The soil around me just rose up and fell down in response to my unconscious will, particles dancing.
The Inspection
Opening my eyes once again, fully inhabiting this flesh for the first time,
"How do I look?" I asked, turning slowly from experimenting with controlling my new ability to facing my captive audience.
With my normal eyes ~ mortal eyes, limited to visible spectrum ~ I could only see their shimmering silhouettes, like heat hazes in the shape of devastatingly beautiful women. Annoying limitation.
I flicked my divine sense on, and the full, glorious spectrum of their spiritual presence flooded my perception in vibrant color.
Better.
They circled me, a council of primordial beings inspecting the latest mortal firmware update. Their curiosity was palpable, radiating off them in waves; they had watched the entire, intricate process of cosmic engineering unfold, and now they were judging the fit of the trousers and the fall of the shirt like fashion critics at a divine runway show.
"Serviceable," Ziyun conceded, her voice a whisper of soul energy that bypassed my ears entirely. "The form is... aesthetically congruent with the local dominant species."
"..."
".... Speak normally, we are not in a theatrical play." I could feel her playful pout in the shift of her aura, the spiritual equivalent of sticking out her tongue.
"You look more detailed than your earlier form. Becoming more... alive, the spirit is closely connected to the body in ways it wasn't before. But the true test is in the feeling," Xiao Ning interjected, her spirit brushing against mine like silk across bare skin, intimate and teasing.
"Can you closely feel the grass beneath your feet? The warmth of the sun on your skin? How is the perception through mortal senses?"
The Symphony of Sensation
She was right. This was far from whatever crude approximation that earlier template body had been. It was so lacking in such details that even my mind didn't felt it was worth checking earlier.
I wiggled my toes in the wet grass, savoring the simple, electric sensation of individual blades bending beneath my weight and damp soil giving way, cool and alive. The texture, the temperature, the subtle resistance ~ all of it new.
"Every blade. It's... the feeling is different than before, more immediate. The sun is like a gentle weight on my skin, warm and present. Mostly I feel cold, though."
"..... I might need to make some tropical climate adjustments here."
I looked around at the temperate island setting.
A thought, and the vacation clothes shifted seamlessly into luxurious winter furs, thick and soft. The properly calibrated physical form was a symphony of input, vastly different from the clunky, muted experience of the previous template.
I can feel more of it. I picked up a piece of gravel from the ground and simply crushed it between two fingers, feeling the inherent strength in this new body, the way the stone crumbled to powder.
Well, okay-ish, I thought. Not impressive by divine standards, but satisfying in a visceral way. Roughly 200 times stronger than regular human or two and half times an Asgardian.
Powers Revealed
"So what's the mutant superpower you were telling us about?" another voice chimed in, Long Yuyin's spiritual presence bright with curiosity.
"Crushing things with your fingers?"
"Not just mutant abilities. I can channel divine magic, too, once I form a proper connection to the right dimensions. As for the mutant power?" I shrugged, enjoying the physical gesture.
"Basically, we can do whatever we want through our spirit, manipulate reality itself, but the body has its own restraints and limitations."
I paused, gathering my thoughts, and then continued:
"Full reality manipulation doesn't sit well with mortal genetics ~ the flesh can't handle that scope ~ but it is possible with some caveats and workarounds. So instead of attaching too many disparate traits and risking instability, I chose the opposite approach: just a single ability rooted in one theme, then refining it to the extreme until it becomes something transcendent."
" Just tell us what it is.." Xiao Ning asked unable to stand the curiosity.
"Matter Manipulation. I've developed a liking for creating things ~ like this island, like matter itself. If you can see and touch it, its under my domain. Ability also naturally branched into total bodily autonomy, adaptive evolution, and guided mutation. Multiple abilities flowering from the same root, all connected."
"Is it to move earth elementally?" Long Yuyin followed, trying to understand.
The Demonstration
"Boring. No flashy powers?" Ning teased, her spiritual form practically vibrating with mischief.
"I thought you'd choose something like the winged creature we found at the mutant mansion?"
"Like this?" I conveyed the thought to my freshly baked mutant power, reaching for the potential coded into my genes. A fascinating, slightly painful sensation followed as psionic energy rearranged my innards in real-time, creating new muscles and ligaments from nothing, rewiring nerves, hollowing bones.
With a sound like unfurling silk mixed with the snap of a sail catching wind, wings of pure, pearlescent light swept out from my shoulder blades, spanning over three meters tip to tip. They glowed softly, beautiful and alien.
Of course, on its own, a human body wouldn't fly with just wings ~ the physics didn't work, the weight-to-lift ratio all wrong. But if you had matter control working like telekinesis for support, combined with genetics superior even to an Asgardian who needed to rely on muscles alone?
"Cool," Ziyun admitted.
"Those look like our soul wings when we first formed them," she continued genuinely impressed despite herself.
A new sense flooded my mind ~ an intrinsic knowledge of aerodynamics, air currents, and lift that felt instinctual rather than learned. An experimental spread and powerful downward swipe later, I was airborne, lifting off the ground. A brief, thrilling fall as I misjudged the angle was instantly corrected by feedback from the wings themselves, neural pathways I'd never had before lighting up with information.
I did a quick lap around the island, the wind a real, physical force against my face for the first time, tousling my hair and making my eyes water. The sensation was incredible ~ freedom in three dimensions. I landed gracefully after a full circuit, muscles remembering movements they'd never made before.
A thought, and the wings dissolved back into my form, matter rearranging itself once more.
Their Turn
"Now, our turn. We wish to feel it too," Ziyun stated, her gaze intense and unwavering, brooking no argument.
I grinned, the expression feeling natural on this new face. "I thought you'd never ask."
"I also want wings, but they should be made of lightning!" Ning chimed in enthusiastically, having seen me have fun without spending a drop of spiritual energy, just using the body's inherent power.
"Anyway, I want something like lightning control, based on my own domain and laws."
"I want the power of snow and wind," Ziyun added, her desires clear and specific.
The IP Lawyer
"Calm down. Unfortunately, those specific ability sets are already taken by others in this world," I explained, playing the unexpected role of Mutant Intellectual Property lawyer.
"There's a weather-controlling mutant, a lightning manipulator, ice creators ~ the classic powersets are all occupied."
"To avoid being copies, pale imitations of existing mutants, I can craft something more unique for each of you. For you, Ning ~ elemental control of lightning, yes, but over the field of charge itself. Charge Manipulation.
Not just throwing bolts. You could conjure electricity in solid shapes, impossible constructs. Bind enemies with arcs of contained potential that hold them like chains. Shape lightning into shields, weapons, anything you can imagine."
I turned to Ziyun, watching her process the information. "And for you, instead of projecting cold outward like a common ice mutant, how about a power that absorbs heat?
You'd be a walking entropy sink. If you train it properly, you could literally siphon chaotic entropy from a system, cooling not just temperature but disorder itself. The ultimate chill, order from chaos."
Ziyun nodded slowly, a smile forming as she cooked up possibilities in her mind, already imagining the applications. "Acceptable. I like it."
Grace and Power
"What about you, Yuyin?" I asked, turning to the third member of our group.
"I want to be formed delicate and graceful. Like the dancer we sensed in Rio de Janeiro. Her grace, beauty, the way she moved... that, but mine, uniquely mine..."
My curiosity piqued at the unexpected request. "I thought you'd want the same strength and grit of a warrior, something drawing from your dragon lineage, some combat ability. These aesthetic concerns come by design?"
"No. I've had that. I've been that for a lifetime," she said, her spiritual form softening with the admission.
"My mother taught me to be a warrior from childhood and I did become one, fierce and strong. But I know these bodies here are frail no matter how buffed up they become, so instead of appearing fierce for no reason, serving no practical purpose, I wish to be grace itself. To explore what I've never been."
"Well, I can't debuff you compared to the rest of us," I mused, thinking through the challenge. "That wouldn't be fair."
"How about this: you become an empath, specifically able to perceive and greatly influence the ego ~ the spiritual self-image ~ and influence the biological responses tied to emotions. Your grace would be amplified, felt by others as an aura you can control at will, making them see and feel you as you wish to be seen. And I'll weave in perfect bodily control and kinetic knowledge at the genetic level, so every movement is poetry, every gesture calculated perfection."
I gave her a sly look, unable to resist. "Your grace will be most profound when you feel our affection, watching you move and appreciating every motion."
She considered it, spiritual presence brightening. "Hmm... I like it. Yes."
Final Fittings
I continued, making sure they understood: "Remember the principles I taught you over these months and the method I shared to channel information through my unique energy I will be placing on each of you. The form follows the function of your soul, translated by my power and shaped by reality itself. But consider this your final fitting, your last chance for changes. Any... other personal requests?"
They exchanged glances, spiritual forms flickering with unspoken communication. These were powerful beings who had transcended mortality, but together, in moments like this, they were just... women. Curious, possessive, and fiercely proud of their identities.
With tone brooking no argument, "Do not make me delicate," Ziyun interrupted, her spectral form radiating a threat that made the air shimmer. "I want to be robust. Tall. Fierce. A queen in bearing. If you make me a fragile flower, Tao, I will eat you alive. Oh, and give me purple eyes."
Well. That certainly clarified the design constraints with crystal clarity.
Ning simply gave me a look that contained years of shared history and a very specific, unspoken command about certain... proportions she had particularly admired seeing on women at the French beach through our soul corridor. Her meaning was unmistakable.
I laughed, the sound wonderfully human in my new lungs, rich and genuine. "A dancer's grace, an entropy queen's frame, and... barbarian aesthetic noted and rejected," I said, catching Ziyun's suddenly wide eyes and grinning.
The Key to Individuality
The key was individuality, I realized. I couldn't make one "perfect" template and cause infighting among them; I had to make each one perfect for them, a reflection of their unique identity and desires that would make the others admire it rather than envy it. Appreciation, not competition.
"One final reminder," I said, gathering the Psionic energy. "This power isn't free like heavenly Qi. We have to feed it ideas. Narratives. From now on, our shared experiences - our story - false or true, what we agree to provide ... will be the fuel."
They nodded, understanding the price of the power.
The Gathering
Gathering them together under the expectant spiritual eyes I could feel watching, I imagined what they needed ~ the perfect forms to house their eternal souls, add all the new protections I just learned when I sensed
~ and simultaneously began awakening the mutant potential within each genetic template with a mind incomparable to any mortal telepath.
But this was the delicate part, requiring all my focus. Creating bodies for them was like composing a unique symphony for each, every note precise. I had to factor in their spiritual essence, the latent power that needed a vessel to channel through, and... well, their personal tastes and vanities.
I'd spent years in another world and two months here. I'd seen what they'd admired in others, what caught their attention.
I raised my hands, the Library of Heavenly Paths already cross-referencing millions of genetic possibilities. The air hummed with the potential of creation. Reality itself seemed to lean in, curious to see what would be born next.