Chaos' Heir

Chapter 1603: Chrysalis

The way Khan saw it, godhood could screw itself. He had never cared about titles or states of being anyway, so he would gladly give up that superior form of existence if he could keep valuing what he held dear.

Khan would do that even if he had to give his everything to the ancient horrors in his genes and create the monstrous bloodline the Maker had warned him about.

Evolved warriors existed beyond their physical selves, but that aspect remained a factor in their beings. That was even more true for Khan, since his cells wielded the Great Old One’s species’ might, which had once held its ground against the very mana.

Khan’s cells also worked differently from his mana and the invading True Chaos. They were connected to his existence, so they had approached the ascension alongside the other parts of his being, but their inclinations couldn’t be more opposite.

The mana and True Chaos were busy fighting themselves for supremacy, continuously clashing against each other, only fusing upon their mutual defeats.

Instead, Khan’s cells were fundamentally primitive. They didn’t care about differences in energy types. They didn’t strive for higher forms of being or superior versions of their existence. They were pure, raw might that had been starving for eons.

That simpler, rawer, and primal urge cared for nothing, only focusing on devouring and absorbing anything within its range.

The more straightforward, basic approach took the two superior energies by surprise, overwhelming them while they were still busy clashing against each other.

Of course, there was more to it than simple strength from simplicity. Khan’s cells, his mana, and even the True Chaos that was transforming him were part of his existence. His will could affect them, and his furious anger empowered the former.

Khan felt as if he was being eaten from the inside, but the process didn’t empty him. Unlike the True Chaos, his cells didn’t turn the pieces of his existence into something that didn’t belong to him. They shrank it, but Khan could still feel its presence.

If anything, Khan felt as if his existence was losing power. After all, his status as an evolved warrior came from his mana, and his complete attunement with that energy had even kick-started his ascension, so turning it into food for his cells led to a strange weakness.

It was as if Khan was losing the very fuel that empowered him and enabled his many spectacular abilities, but that turned out to be a misunderstanding. He was indeed growing weaker, but also stronger at the same time.

Khan’s existence was simply shifting to a different state. He had walked on the path of the mana until now, on the evolutionary gauntlet established by superior energy.

However, Khan’s cells followed a different path. They forsook powers that extended beyond their physical selves or that delved into higher forms of existence to focus on their individual bloodline.

Of course, Khan wasn’t turning into a simple animal. Even the Great Old One’s incomplete perfection was beyond that primitive state, but he failed to study his ascension or transformation any further since his awareness began to darken, as if entering a hibernating slumber.

Khan’s consciousness was actually about to go completely dark when he forced it to snap awake. He had no time to waste in prolonged transformations. The God was out there with his dear ones, so that process had to unfold here and now.

At some point, Khan’s cells had eaten the core that the clash between mana and True Chaos had given birth to, somehow awarding them with a level of control over those two superior energies.

The hibernating process had tried to solidify the flickering True Chaos, turning it into a solid membrane, seemingly wanting it to become a chrysalis. Yet, Khan’s urgency forced it to transform once again, becoming a melting liquid that fused with his flesh.

That melting process didn’t only apply to Khan’s flesh, and his element didn’t stay still during it, either. If the True Chaos burned and reforged, his chaos broke and crushed. He was being ripped off from the inside and outside, but his cells devoured any leak and rebuilt him.

A darkened, almost liquid version of Khan emerged from that absorption as the transformation continued. His limbs were now intact, but his flesh moved, as if worms were slithering all over under his skin.

Khan’s hair also fell off, his strands shattering into energy that his transforming body reabsorbed. The same went for the scar on his chest, which saw scarlet sparks ravaging its insides, removing it from his figure.

Then, everything solidified, seemingly turning Khan into a dark statue, only for cracks to appear on its surface. Something flashed through those gaps, and those darkened pieces blew outward, revealing a still-solid, but far less motionless Khan.

A river of black strands fell from Khan’s head as soon as that superficial layer vanished. Hair that reached down to his waist covered his face, chest, and back, but that didn’t stop him from inspecting himself.

Khan lifted his right arm, spotting his usual complexion and the blue tattoos, before his chest drew his attention. His blue scar had disappeared. The mark he had carried since the Second Impact was no more, and his disbelief brought his fingers to the spot it used to occupy.

It was at that point that Khan saw that his fingernails had changed. They had become black and sharp, almost resembling claws, which reminded him of the Niqols.

Slight discomfort spread from Khan’s mouth, claiming his attention again. He ran his tongue over his teeth, only to find that his canines had grown, becoming strangely sharp, too.

Still, on top of all that, Khan felt strong, stronger than he had ever felt before. He couldn’t find his mana core nor sense it, but his element still existed, and he spotted it when he closed his raised hand into a fist.

As Khan’s forearm tensed, thunderous noises cried in his brain. He felt lightning bolts coursing through him, as if they were his very blood, intensifying the sensation of bottomless strength that pervaded him.

Moreover, the lack of air stopped being a factor. Khan actually had to remember the absence of atmosphere instead of noticing it. He believed he could still breathe, but his body didn’t feel that need, nor did it experience any discomfort in that open space.

Obviously, Khan couldn’t dwell in that new form for too long. He was in a hurry, so he threw a look at his now-black hair before running his tattooed hand over his face, pushing those strands away to reveal the obscuring light his dark eyes radiated.

Red light suddenly flashed amid that obscuring glow when Khan’s eyes focused on a distant object. His legs didn’t move, but his figure did, teleporting to another location of that separate dimension.

Khan’s darkening eyes now shone on a still-spinning golden crown, dimming its shades, before his tattooed hand grabbed it. His fingers, or claws, closed on the oversized ring while his obscuring gaze snapped to his side, staring at the emptiness as if it had a solid form.

That separate dimension had felt unreachable just a few minutes earlier, but Khan saw it as nothing more than brittle paper now.

The layer of space didn’t even feel like a hindrance anymore, so Khan slammed his left hand on it, and his claws pierced the nothingness, spiderwebs of cracks spreading from his fingers.