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"Shift slightly toward the left sacrum."
"S3 nerve should pass through the second foramen in the dragon bone!"
"S2 needs to curve around the third foramen quickly, incise the periosteum of the second coccygeal segment. Align the dragon bone now!"
"A little more to the left…"
Nolan calmly adjusted Connors' movements as he guided the surgery with perfect clarity. Connors had been tense at first, but Nolan's precise instructions helped him settle into rhythm. Before long, he was focused, confident, and fully immersed in the transplant.
Norman stood to the side, watching everything intently. He realized this was why Connors surpassed him in academic achievements because when Connors worked, he disappeared into the science.
Norman couldn't do that. His mind was always split obsessing over outcomes, over consequences. He envied the ability to become pure logic under pressure.
Still, he didn't let it show. He acted as a perfect assistant supplying tools, reading vitals, and staying out of the way.
"Administer the anti-stimulant," Connors said quickly.
"Boss, brace yourself. I need to sever part of your spinal cord."
This was the critical moment in integrating the dragon bone with Nolan's spinal nerves.
The spinal cord was, after all, the body's second brain responsible for processing reflexes and motor control. Though Nolan's healing factor could regenerate tissue, there were still risks. The sheer volume of nerve endings here made it agonizing.
With no anesthesia, the pain was savage like something out of medieval torture chambers.
"Mm," Nolan grunted. The sensation was intense, but compared to what he'd endured while bonding with the Super Soldier serum in his early days, this was almost tame.
If anything, the serum had enhanced his pain threshold and emotional control.
His breathing remained steady as Connors exposed the cord and connected the bundle of delicate nerves to the dragon bone's interface.
And then they moved.
Tendrils of nerves slithered along the bone like vines finding an unclaimed banyan tree. The reaction was instant and visceral.
Connors said nothing. He carefully sealed the interface, pressing muscle and tissue back into place. Nolan's body began healing immediately stitching together the torn edges in seconds.
There was no need for sutures.
The only trace left behind was a thin streak of blood near the base of Nolan's spine.
It was like nothing had ever happened.
Connors wiped his forehead. He was soaked in cold sweat, hands trembling slightly.
He'd performed more complex surgeries. But never on someone like Nolan.
Nolan pushed himself off the operating table. Norman handed him his shirt, but Nolan waved them both away.
"You two go. I need a moment alone."
Truthfully, he didn't feel any different. If he didn't know better, he'd think the dragon bone was never implanted at all.
"Norman, head out. I'll keep Connors here in case anything changes."
"Understood," Norman said and left without protest.
Nolan sat cross-legged on the lab floor and began regulating his breathing.
He shifted into a state of deep meditative focus, following the techniques passed down from the Sanctum.
As his mind emptied, something changed.
Normally, his internal energy field was even balanced across every limb and muscle group.
To activate a specific ability, he had to consciously awaken that part of his body.
This was the basis of his theory on latent versus dominant mutations and how mental focus could trigger dormant X-gene expressions in ordinary humans.
But now… his tailbone was burning with activity.
With just a hint of thought, the area lit up like a forge. The mild warmth he usually felt during meditation turned into lava—spreading upward like molten fire erupting along his spine.
He canceled the meditation and opened his eyes but the sensation remained.
The energy was still flowing alive within him.
"Connors hit my spine with beta radiation. Now."
This was it.
The beginning of a whole new evolution his first real connection to the mystic realm through biological integration.
He had toyed with demonic energy before, but it was crud-like clubbing stone with stone.
If this worked, he'd be able to engineer biological vessels to store and channel demonic energy. And with the bone's magnetic containment properties, no external tech would be needed.
No leaks. No drain.
Just raw, internalized power.
Connors activated the beta emitter.
The moment the beam swept across Nolan's back, the screen lit up.
Fluorescence bloomed across his spine—especially near the lower vertebrae.
It was radiant.
But as Nolan focused inward, he realized he couldn't extract the Dragonforce yet.
The energy was reinforcing him yes. But it wasn't being channeled outward. Not yet.
"Boss, I saw something interesting," Connors said, eyes on the scan. "The energy in your tailbone extended in filament-like tendrils. But then… it stopped. Recoiled."
Nolan narrowed his gaze.
He turned to the secure cabinet and retrieved his full reserve of the Aura a milky-white, highly volatile mystic essence.
"Prepare to transfer it to my spine. All of it."
If he was right, it wasn't just about compatibility. It was about volume. Iron Fist had absorbed the energy of an entire dragon. This ancient bone fragment likely held only a fraction of that power.
Connors gave a hesitant nod. He didn't understand how the mystic energy worked—but he could operate the containment units just fine.
He activated the electromagnetic siphon, guiding the swirling white energy from its containment chamber directly toward Nolan's back.
Nolan suddenly shuddered—a surge of blazing heat shot through his body, as if his blood was being replaced with magma.
Focus.
He fell into meditation again, channeling all mental clarity into his spine.
In his mind's eye, his spine transformed—like a great beast awakening from slumber. It opened its jaw and devoured the flowing Elder Aura with hunger and precision.
"Boss… your back…"
Connors' voice trembled.
Etched along Nolan's skin glowing like a brand was the image of a dragon. Not just any dragon, but one far more majestic and serpentine than Danny Rand's.
It coiled down his spine like a living sigil, as if the ancient power now belonged to him.
And perhaps it did.
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