Spark Nighthawk returned home. In the only way he could these days. Atop the broad, muscular back of a monstrous rhino-horse.
A regular horse would have snapped under his weight and bulk. The rhino-horse beast was a hybrid creature bred for strength and endurance. It was not fast, but it handled his towering mass and dense musculature with ease.
He rode through the cobbled streets of Gutlark Town. Past the bustling market and the less frequented noble district. His mount's heavy hooves were echoing a steady beat.
People got out of his way. Some stared. Some averted their eyes. He paid them no mind. Keeping his cheerful smile along the way
His destination was the Nighthawk family mansion. It was luxurious for common people. But it wasn't grand at all by noble standards.
It was a modest, two-story stone structure. Sufficient for the family it once held. Now, it held only him.
He lived alone. He had no desire for a retinue of permanent servants. Milling about, chattering, perpetually underfoot. Trust was for fools and the naïve. He had learned that lesson brutally, in his previous life.
He was not antisocial person. He had acquaintances, business partners, temporary girlfriends. But friends? Serious relationship? Not a chance. Even a permanent staff felt like a vulnerability he refused to entertain.
Instead, his needs were met pragmatically. He hired cleaning maids from the 'White Cloud Agency'. Different faces three times a week. Paid handsomely for their efficiency.
Gardeners came once a week to maintain the grounds: the garden and orchard. They were paid to work and leave.
His three rhino-horses were cared for by a skilled beast tamer. One who arrived precisely when needed and departed just as promptly.
It cost significantly more than employing staff full-time. But the expense was negligible. Money was never a concern for him.
For food, it was always his own domain. He kept his kitchen well-stocked and did the cooking himself.
It was the most efficient way to manage his precise caloric and nutrient intake. He knew exactly the fuel for his body that was constantly expanding and strengthening. Convenience and control trumped everything.
He dismounted. Handing the reins to the waiting tamer. He smiled and made a small talk before leaving the man to take care of his mount.
The heavy oak door of the mansion swung inward under his hand. He stepped inside. The familiar scent of old stone and polished wood greeted him.
He went directly for the basement stairs. His destination was the Cold Room.
The reinforced door of the Cold Room sealed it against the outside world. It was maintaining a frigid, unnaturally preserved environment within. Inside, hanging from thick hooks or laid out on stainless steel tables, were various specimens.
Parts of monsters. Whole carcasses. Strange alchemical ingredients. Prominent among them, massive even in death, was the carcass of an ox-sized lion. A Grim Lion. Its dark mane still impressive despite the cold. It pulsed faintly with a residual, unsettling energy.
This was an extremely expensive material Spark purchased. Specifically chosen for his Framepath Fusion.
Spark unslung his backpack. Taking out a pair of goggles. It was not simple eyepieces. It was a complex rune tool he had crafted himself.
The [Appraisal Goggle]. Its frame was etched with fine silver lines. Forming an intricate circuit involving a dozen different runes. He settled them onto his face.
He focused his gaze. Directing the goggles' energy towards the Grim Lion carcass. Information flooded his vision. Overlaying the physical form with cold, objective data.
[Monster Category: Feline Monster]
[Monster Species: Grim Lion (King)]
[Tier: 02]
[Compatibility Rate: 92%]
[Approximate Fusion Boost: Soul (160%)]
[Approximate Fusion Boost: Mind (120%)]
[Approximate Fusion Boost: Body (220%)]
[Required Growth Item: wild red meat]
[Acquirable Desire Boost: Pride (40%); Lust (40%); Pride and Lust (20%]
[Acquirable Talent: King Disposition (30%); Grim Aura (70%)]
[Ability: Framepath Fusion - Mighty Werelion]
Spark's lips curved into a brief grin. The data matched his previous scans. A Tier 2 monster. A formidable creature, even in death.
And 92% compatibility. It was an excellent rate for a Framepath fusion. Perfect for pushing his physical limits.
He stripped off the goggles. His expression was hardening. He knew what would happen next. It would not be fun. But, he had no hesitation. This was the next step in his relentless pursuit of power.
He extended a hand. His large palm flattening against the lion's frozen flank. He focused his will. Channeling his innate energy. Letting his Framepath instincts take control.
It wasn't a conscious series of steps. It was a primal urge. A fundamental process of absorption and integration.
The Grim Lion carcass didn't bleed or shatter. It shimmered. Before dissolving into a torrent of crimson particles that surged into Spark's hand. Up his arm. And spread rapidly throughout his body.
His entire form began to emit a deep red glow. It was intensifying with each passing second.
Then, the pain began.
It wasn't a sharp, sudden agony. It was a deep, pervasive, body-wracking torment. It felt like every cell in his body was being torn apart. While at the same time, it was violently reconstructed.
His bones thickened, shifted, and reformed. His muscles swelled and re-knit themselves. The fibers becoming denser, stronger. His skin tightened. His internal organs pulsed and changed.
It brought extreme pain. But, this was the price of fusing with a monster. Even so, a creature of higher power. It was the unavoidable discomfort of raw physical transformation.
He fell to the floor. Curling into a tight ball. His hands clawed at his own flesh. A futile gesture against the internal storm.
Sweat poured from him like melting ice. Mingling with the dark, viscous grime expunged from his pores. And small traces of blood where his skin split before healing instantly.
Spark knew he couldn't afford to faint. As it would significantly affect the fusion result. He grit his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter.
Fifteen minutes. He had to experience the waves of agony for fifteen minutes. He had to hold on so that the pain didn't consume his consciousness for fifteen minutes.
He clung to awareness with sheer, brutal willpower. He refused to let the pain break him. He had endured worse. Mentally, if not physically. He would endure this.
Slowly, after the duration passed, the pain began to subside. The violent restructuring lessened. It became a deep ache. Then a dull thrumming beneath his skin.
The red glow of hi body faded. He lay there panting on the cold stone floor. His body was slick with sweat, blood, and dark filth. But beneath the grime, he could feel the change. His body was full of raw power.
He pushed himself up. He could feel hid muscles were fundamentally different. Stronger. His clothes were ruined. Plastered to his skin by sweat, blood, and grime.
But, more importantly, he was starving. He needed sustenance. Fortunately, he had prepared for this.
From a small rack in the Cold Room, he grabbed five thick, deep blue glass vials. They were energy potions. Extremely expensive in the market. But at least, they were functional.
They contained concentrated nourishment. Packed with calories and vital essences. Designed for rapid recovery. He downed them one after another. The bitter, slightly metallic liquid was a balm to his starving constitution.
Leaving the Cold Room, he made his way to his private bathroom. The sprawling marble room felt quite small around his newly expanded frame.
He stripped off his ruined clothes. And stepped under the cascading hot water of the shower. Scrubbing away the mess of the fusion.
Finally he was clean. He stood before the full-length mirror. Studying the results. He knew that the [Appraisal Goggle] data should have been accurate. But seeing it was something else.
His already imposing height had increased. Adding at least ten centimeters. His frame became thicker. Adding perhaps twenty kilograms of dense mass.
His tanned complexion had deepened. Slightly darker. Slightly smoother. And his eyes... his eyes were no longer plain brown. They were now a deep, unsettling dark grey. Reflecting the power he now held.
He flexed a hand. Testing the physical limits. The sensation was staggering. He felt the quality of his physique had at least doubled. Maybe even more.
His soul power and mental power had also seen an increase. They were definitely stronger. But it was his body that had received the most dramatic enhancement.
He wanted more confirmation. He willed his new Framepath ability into existence.
[Framepath Fusion - Mighty Werelion]. Energy surged. Coiling around him. Morphing his form. He grew larger still. His muscles were bulging. Veins were prominent beneath his skin.
His features blurred. Reforming. His face was elongating. Covered in coarse, dark fur. A heavy mane sprouted around his neck and overlapping with his short hair. His head quickly became that of a massive, formidable lion.
His feline grey eyes were glowing with primal power. He was a werelion. Towering and fearsome. The sheer physical might radiating from him was breathtaking. This was Tier 2 power in its rawest form.
After a while, he deactivated the fusion. The transformation receded. Leaving him in his enhanced human form.
He felt the slight looseness in his joints fade. As his body settled back into itself. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes – a simple tunic and trousers – from his wardrobe.
They were noticeably tighter across his chest and shoulders. It seemed another visit to his tailor was required.