Chapter 477: Demonstration

By the time the Twelfth Elder began his actual demonstration on how to slowly master the technique, both Leo and Veyr had already accepted the fact that this wasn’t going to be a conventional lesson.

There would be no practice dummies or training gear to learn with…. Only metal, straps, and pain.

“You can theoretically start learning this technique using any contraption present here, but for the sake of simplicity, let’s start with this one, which should arguably be the easiest muscle group for you to learn—” The elder said, as he stopped in front of a large, barrel-shaped machine, its outer surface covered with flexible steel bands and embedded copper coils.

He motioned for their attention, then rolled up the sleeves of his robe and placed his dominant arm into the rig.

“This contraption targets the brachialis, brachioradialis, and the surrounding connective tissue in your dominant arm….”

“Since your arm might be the tissue you’re already well used to using in isolation, let’s start with training that first.”

The machine hissed. The bands clamped down. Muscles twitched beneath the Elder’s skin as the coils activated, creating a vacuum seal around his forearm that began to apply pressure.

At first, it looked like he was just clenching. But within seconds, Leo and Veyr saw something shift.

The Elder’s arm expanded, not grotesquely, not in some exaggerated cartoonish way, but with an extreme precision.

Veins thickened.

Fibers realigned.

What had once looked like a trained but average arm now resembled that of a top-tier bodybuilder, right down to the natural striations in the muscle.

“What I’m doing here is not just inflating muscle with mana,” he explained, voice composed even as the machine buzzed with strain. “I am reconstructing it naturally.

I am pooling mana into the desired region and then allowing my muscles to quickly absorb water from my body to gain size

To ensure that they don’t deform, I’m also reinforcing the muscle fibers with mana, and then slowly, I am allowing them to settle down in my frame before reconnecting them to my nerves.”

With his free hand, he tapped his own bicep. It didn’t jiggle. It barely even moved.

“This is not an illusion. This is structural transformation. The muscle has learned how to expand, contract, and hold form on command.”

He then reversed the process.

In under three seconds, the same arm that had ballooned into something worthy of a genetic champion was back to its original build….. looking tight, lean and ordinary.

“This,” he said, withdrawing his arm and walking over to a set of data slates, “is your next task.”

The slates activated automatically as the two boys stepped forward, screens lighting up with a grid of high-resolution images.

Hundreds of human physiques. Every shape, size, density, and tone imaginable were displayed on the slate, as the twelfth elder handpicked about 25 different images from them.

“These are some of the arm types I want you to learn how to copy. And once you can copy all 25 to perfection, we move to the next muscle group—” He said, as Leo and Veyr browsed through the images he had selected.

Some of the arms were long and wiry.

Some were short and thick.

Some arms had exaggerated delts, minimalist triceps, or asymmetrical veins.

Some looked completely natural. Others, subtly enhanced through years of bio-engineering or magical augmentation.

“How close does the replication have to be?” Leo asked, already calculating the process in his head.

“Perfect,” the Elder replied without hesitation. “No sagging. No unnatural taper. No visual mismatch with your current body proportions. If you wish to take the form of a soldier with twenty-inch arms, then you must become that soldier. Not just look like him.”

Leo clicked his tongue but nodded, the challenge already stirring something competitive inside him.

Veyr, meanwhile, looked overwhelmed. He scrolled through the images, fingers twitching as he viewed muscle after muscle, size after size. There was no rhyme or rhythm to the gallery. Each one looked completely different from the other.

“This is insane,” he muttered.

“No,” the Twelfth Elder corrected him. “Insane would be me expecting you to recreate the physique of an Orc or Demon…. This is easy.”

He gestured back toward the machine.

“Now, both of you, insert your dominant arms into the contraption. We begin with the first training cycle. Your job will be to isolate the brachialis, pump mana into the fibers without letting it overflow into adjacent tissue, and then attempt your first controlled expansion.”

Leo moved first. He slid his arm into the coils and felt the cold grip wrap around his skin like a hungry snake.

Veyr followed, albeit hesitantly.

Once both were secured, the Elder activated the machine.

*CLANK*

The internal vacuum triggered. The copper bands tightened. Heat surged through the metal as a soft electric pulse buzzed to life, stimulating the muscles with precision.

“Focus on control,” the Elder instructed. “Not brute force. It’s not about pouring mana like you’re inflating a balloon. You need to trace every thread of muscle from insertion to origin. Target, isolate, expand, sustain.”

Leo narrowed his eyes, already visualizing his inner circulation. He channeled mana into his right arm, carefully guiding it past the deltoid, ignoring the twitch in his shoulder, and directing it down into the brachialis.

He could feel the fibers stretching, resisting, trembling, then slowly, responding, as they absorbed water cells from his bloodstream to grow in size.

Veyr winced beside him. His mana was leaking into his elbow joint, causing a jolt of pain to shoot up his arm.

“Too wide,” the Elder said flatly. “Your focus is scattered. Pull the energy inward, behind the elbow, not through it.”

Veyr gritted his teeth and adjusted.

Sweat began to bead on both their foreheads. Every second felt like a minute. The machine didn’t ease up. If anything, the pressure was only increasing.

“This is the first of 108 contraptions,” the Elder announced coldly, as the humming noise around them grew louder.

“Each one targets a unique part of the body. Some will work your jaw. Some will work your toes. Others your ribcage, your earlobes, your tongue, your diaphragm, your spine.”

Veyr felt his stomach twist. Training his earlobes? His damn tongue? What kind of monsters designed this program?

“Your task is to master every last one. Only then will your body be malleable enough for full-scale Shapeshift. Until then,” the Elder paused, voice dropping an octave, “until then, consider this as just isolated muscle training.”

Leo didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

Because deep down, he already knew,

This was going to be a hell of a training cycle, and it had only just begun.

However, while Leo remained unnervingly calm even as the machine’s pressure steadily climbed, Veyr couldn’t hide his discomfort. He winced, groaned, and shifted against the restraints, clearly unused to this kind of prolonged, targeted pain.

“The hell, Skyshard? You’re only a Grandmaster… how are you not flinching under this?” Veyr asked between clenched teeth, a few minutes into the cycle.

Leo gave a faint smile and shook his head.

“Pain and I go way back, Cuz. This? This isn’t enough to make me blink.”