I. The Silent Review
The hive was silent. The resin walls stopped pulsating, the bio-luminescence dimming to a dull, dying grey as the Queen's life force faded from the network. The heat, once suffocating and wet with the scent of gestation, began to dissipate, replaced by the cold, stagnant air of the deep earth.
Absolutum stood in the center of the extermination zone, surrounded by the paste of crushed eggs and the husks of the slain. He did not move. He was listening to the internal hum of the Ossis Perfectio Matrix, feeling the violet marrow settle into his new, heavier limbs. The battle rage of Bruce Lee and the fluid focus of Jet Li receded, leaving only the cold, calculating core of the System.
"...Report..." he ground out, the vibration of his neck bones echoing in the empty chamber.
The System responded, a cascade of blue holographic text scrolling across his vision, overlaying the carnage with clinical data.
đź’€ SYSTEM STATUS REPORT: POST-HIVE OPERATION
SUBJECT: Absolutum Optimum Perficere EVOLUTION PHASE: 2 (Asymmetrical Composite - Stabilized via Symmetry) OVERALL INTEGRITY: 45.1% AURA RESERVES: 88% (Refilled via Hive Eradication)
🦴 ANATOMICAL AUDIT (Hardware)
[TIER 3 - VOID GRADE (Optimal)]
Upper Extremities (Arms): Xeno-Praetorian Assembly. Analysis: PERFECT. Obsidian-Chitin composite. Immune to acid, high-velocity impact, and extreme torsion. Capable of blocking siege weaponry without fracture. Integration: 100%. Marrow flow is unimpeded. Manipulators (Hands): Void-Forged Claws + Transcribed Serration. Analysis: PERFECT. 5-finger adaptation successful. Grip strength registered at 1200 PSI—sufficient to crush plate armor or crush stone into dust.
[TIER 2 - EARTH GRADE (Superior)]
Thoracic Cage (Ribs/Sternum): Dwarven Ironbreaker. Analysis: STABLE. The high-density cage successfully anchors the upper body musculature (spiritual equivalent). It allows for maximum spinal rotation without torque-fracture. Shoulder Girdle (Scapula): Orc Berserker. Analysis: STABLE. The reinforced mounting bracket is holding the heavy Void-Arms with a 15% strain margin. Warning: Sudden, jerking overhead lifts may still strain the Elven clavicle connection points.
[TIER 1 - BEAST GRADE (Transient)]
Right Lower Limb: Porcupine Anchor Tibia. Status: FUNCTIONAL. High density. Quill capacity: 100%. Roots the host effectively for heavy strikes. Left Lower Limb: Deer Shadow Spring. Status: FUNCTIONAL. Tendon elasticity nominal. Provides necessary acceleration to offset the Void-Arm weight. Caudal Appendage: Xeno-Stalker Tail. Status: FUNCTIONAL. Retracted into pelvic cavity.
[TIER 0 - ELVEN BASE (CRITICAL FAILURE POINTS)]
Cranium (Skull): Original Host. Status: BRITTLE. Zero sensory enhancement. Jaw bite force negligible. A direct strike to the head will result in immediate incapacitation, regardless of arm strength. Vertebral Column (Spine): Original Host. Status: CRITICAL. The spine is the weak link connecting a 400lb Torso Assembly to a High-Torque Leg Assembly. Simulation: If Host attempts a max-power deadlift or absorbs a vertical impact greater than 2 tons, the lumbar vertebrae will undergo Shear Failure. The spine will snap. Femurs (Thighs): Original Host. Status: COMPROMISED. Internal hollowing for Weapon Docking (Katanas) has reduced structural wall thickness by 40%. Warning: Sprinting while weapons are docked creates internal friction. High-impact landings risk spontaneous femoral fracture. Pelvis: Original Host. Status: WEAK. Cannot support maximum leg drive. The connection point for the Tail is currently straining the sacrum.
🧬 PHYSIOLOGICAL AUDIT (Software/Marrow)
Binary Payload: Active. Marrow synthesizes Acid (pH 0.5) + Neurotoxin. Systemic Toxicity: All bone matter (including regenerated Elven bone) is now toxic to organic life. Acid Immunity: 100%. Host can wade through digestive pools without damage. Regeneration: Active. Current repair speed: 0.4 seconds for minor fractures. However, regeneration does not increase density; it only restores the original brittle state.
⚔️ ARSENAL AUDIT (Docked)
Right Femur Dock: Acid-Bone Katana (Status: Ready). Left Femur Dock: Acid-Bone Katana (Status: Ready). Spinal Ridge Dock: Vertebrae Recurve Bow (Status: Ready). Note: Weapon deployment causes micro-fractures in Tier 0 storage bones. Repeated cycling of weapons weakens the "Scabbard Bone" over time.
đź“ś ADVANCEMENT PATHWAY UPDATE
[TARGET: NIGHTMARE ADVANCEMENT TRIAL] [REWARD: LIQUID ADAMANTINE SYSTEM]
[PREREQUISITES UPDATED:]
Bone Replacement: 206/206 must be Tier 3 (Void/Mythic) or higher. (Current: 60/206). Tendon Gathering: >600 Tendons must be Tier 3 capacity. Joint Articulation: NEW REQUIREMENT. To support the Liquid Adamantine flow, ALL 360 JOINTS must be upgraded to Double-Jointed (Hyper-Mobile) status. Current Double-Jointed Status: 0/360. Analysis: Host is currently rigid. True perfection requires total fluidity—the ability to strike from impossible angles, dislocate at will to escape holds, and rotate limbs 360 degrees.
Absolutum dismissed the screen with a thought. The data was clear. He was strong, but he was structurally incoherent. The road was longer than he thought. It wasn't enough to just be a tank; he had to be water. He needed to hunt creatures that twisted, coiled, and flowed.
II. The Cost of War (Gear Check)
Absolutum looked down at himself. The Normalization Protocol had compressed his monstrous form back into a humanoid shape—shading the black obsidian arms to look like gloved hands, smoothing the spiked leg—but the illusion could not repair physical matter.
His equipment had not fared as well as his bones.
[GEAR INTEGRITY CHECK]
Iron Full-Helm: Intact, but deeply etched with acid pitting from the Drone spittle. The metal looked diseased, bubbly and grey. The visor hinge was fused shut by the corrosion. Heavy Woolen Cloak: Ruined. Shredded by the Praetorian's claws and dissolved in large patches by the acid blood. It hung off his broad Orc shoulders like a beggar's rag, offering no concealment. Chainmail Hauberk: CRITICAL DAMAGE. The chainmail on his chest and arms had fused into a solid, twisted lump of slag. When he had hugged the Praetorian to deliver the acid payload, his own marrow excretion—venting through his ribs—had melted his armor from the inside out. It offered no defense. In fact, the cooled, melted iron was now a rigid cage restricting the expansion of his new Dwarven ribs. Every breath (or simulation thereof) fought against the metal.
Absolutum gripped the melted chainmail on his chest with his new Void-Claws.
Rip.
He tore the metal off his body like wet paper. The Void-Forged fingers, harder than diamond, sheared through the iron links effortlessly. He peeled the slag away, the metal groaning as it gave way, leaving his torso exposed under the tattered cloak. The violet glow of his marrow pulsed visibly between his ribs, now unhidden.
Leather Boots: Stretched to the breaking point. His Anchor Leg and Shadow Spring foot were biologically denser and slightly larger than the Elven feet they replaced. The leather was groaning, the seams splitting at the toe box. The sole of the right boot had cracked under the weight of the Porcupine density.
"...Disguise... Compromised..."
He looked like a nightmare. An acid-scarred helm, tattered rags fluttering around a glowing ribcage, shattered boots, and beneath it all, bones that shone with a dark, metallic luster that no human skeleton possessed.
III. The Scavenger's Exit
He couldn't go back to the surface looking like this. The guards at Fort Aethelgard would kill him on sight as a lich, or worse, the Paladins would sense the sheer density of the "Dark Artifacts" grafted to his body and investigate.
He scanned the room. The mercenaries who had died here... their gear was dissolved, eaten by the acid or crushed by the hive.
Wait.
He looked at the Orc Berserker he had harvested earlier. The Orc's body had been encased in resin before the acid fight commenced. The amber-like substance had protected its possessions from the corrosive spray.
Absolutum walked back to the shattered cocoon. The Orc's skeleton was gone (now fused into Absolutum's shoulders), but its gear remained in the pile of dried fluid.
He pulled out a Heavy Plate Pauldron (Shoulder armor). It was crude, rusted, and massive—forged from scrap iron by Orc smiths. It was ugly, but it was large enough to cover his mutated shoulder joint. He found a Bear-Hide Kilt, stiff with age but intact. It was a barbarian's garment, studded with iron rivets.
He stripped off his ruined cloak and the remnants of the melted mail. He strapped the Orcish pauldron onto his left shoulder—it fit the new, broader joint perfectly, the rusted spikes mirroring the violence of his nature. He wrapped the bear-hide around his waist. It was heavy and rough, but it successfully covered the pelvic gap where his Bone Tail retracted, hiding the alien appendage.
He kept the human helm. He grabbed the fused visor with his black claws and squeezed. CRUNCH. The rusted hinge broke, and he forced the visor up, creating a permanent opening so he could see clearly without obstruction.
He looked at his reflection in a pool of black blood. He looked less like a human mercenary now, and more like a wandering barbarian executioner or a silent destroyer from the wastes. It would have to do.
IV. The Next Hunger
Absolutum began the long walk back to the surface. The System kept flashing red warning icons over his Femurs and Spine on his HUD.
Every step he took, the heavy Void-Arms swung, their inertia pulling dangerously on his fragile Elven spine. He felt the vertebrae grinding, the cartilage screaming under the load of the Praetorian limbs. Every time he flexed his legs to step over debris, the Bone Katanas docked inside his thighs pressed against the thin Elven bone walls. The friction was a constant, dull ache—a reminder that he was storing razor blades in a cardboard box.
He was a Ferrari engine mounted on a wooden chassis. The power was there, but the frame couldn't handle the torque.
[PRIORITY TARGET: FEMURS.] [REASON: Weapon Storage Stability.] [ANALYSIS: Current Elven femurs are at 60% integrity. Combat stress will cause storage failure (weapons jamming inside bone or bursting out during movement).] [SUGGESTED TARGET: Beast-Type (Bear, Drake, or Heavy Equine) for sheer volume and wall thickness.]
[PRIORITY TARGET: SPINE.] [REASON: Core Integrity.] [ANALYSIS: Spinal column is under "Shear Stress". Rotational techniques are currently capped at 50% speed to prevent self-decapitation.] [SUGGESTED TARGET: Serpent, Naga, or Wyrm (Double-Jointed Synergy).]
Absolutum emerged from the Crypts into the cool night air of the Battle Zone. The fighting had died down. The mercenaries were drinking around campfires, celebrating the "mysterious retreat" of the aliens—completely unaware that the entity walking past them had massacred the hive single-handedly.
The smell of roasted boar and ale drifted through the air. To a living man, it would be salvation. To Absolutum, it was nothing. He had no stomach. He had no hunger for meat.
He looked at the mercenaries. He saw their spines—rigid, limited. He saw their femurs—weak, fragile.
He walked past them, a towering, silent figure in mismatched, rusted armor, his violet eyes glowing faintly from deep within the helm.
He didn't stop for coin. He didn't stop for praise. The celebration of the living was a distraction.
He walked toward the Wildlands, the untamed frontier beyond the fort. He needed a spine that could bend without breaking. He needed legs that wouldn't shatter when he drew his swords.
"...Snakes..." he whispered, the vibration rattling in his helm like pebbles in a tin can. "...I need... Snakes..."