Chapter 15: Foundations of Flesh

He flexed his fingers slowly, watching the way tendons moved beneath his skin.

Warmth. Weight. Pulse.

It had been so long.

So long since he’d felt gravity tug his limbs downward, air rush into lungs, or the way his heartbeat echoed quietly in his ears.

“This…” he muttered, rotating his shoulder, “…is different.”

Not better. Not worse.

Just real.

He clenched his fist—no energy, no constructs—just pure muscle. A punch against the air felt grounded now. Defined.

And now, he wanted to know:

What can this body do?

He flexed his fingers.

The sensation of flesh stretching over knuckles was… strange. Satisfying. Addictive

Every breath he took felt heavier than before—not just metaphorically, but physically. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Ethan could feel his weight.

His heartbeat.

The subtle fatigue lingering in muscle fibers after movement.

He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Well then… guess I better get to work.”

Without delay, he stepped into the training complex’s gym.

It had always been here—one of the many structures he’d built during his technomancer phase. Polished, spacious, filled with top-tier equipment modeled after the best of human fitness architecture.

Now, it had a real user.

He moved over to the dumbbells and casually lifted the heaviest pair on the rack.

They rose like paper.

“Hah. Of course.”

He began increasing the weight. Again. Again. Then moved on to machines. Deadlifts. Squats. Bench press.

Each time, the numbers climbed—until he finally felt that familiar strain. That subtle pushback from reality. Not resistance of will or energy—but of matter.

Effort.

He grinned. “Finally. Something that actually makes me try.”

“Computer,” he called between sets, “run a physical diagnostics check. Strength, speed, reflexes, all of it. Let’s get the numbers.”

[Processing. Commencing physical calibration. Prepare for standardized testing.]

A full suite of machinery unfolded around him. Punching targets. Resistance plates. Speed monitors. Friction treadmills. A full biometric assessment in real-time.

He went through it all. Jabs. Sprints. Weighted climbs. Static holds. High-intensity lifts.

The results came in.

[Strength output: Peak human class. Speed: Enhanced baseline. Endurance: Moderate. Recovery: Natural. Efficiency: 88%. Fatigue detected.]

Ethan nodded, hands on his hips. Sweat clung to his skin.

Not dripping. But real.

He was tired.

“Right. That’s new,” he muttered. “Energy body didn’t need rest. This one… does.”

A downside.

But also a challenge.

He looked at his hands again. There was no doubt—this was real. No longer a soul adrift in a sea of imagination. This was blood, bone, and muscle.

Which meant training wasn’t just a pastime now—it was a necessity.

And that brought him to another realization.

“If I’m going to improve this body, I’ll need fuel.”

His stomach growled in agreement.

He smirked.

“I can eat again.”

Without a second thought, he left the gym and headed toward his personal residence—another relic from the time he’d dabbled in technological advancement. It was sleek, clean, fully integrated with voice command systems and automated utilities.

“Computer, prepare food. Balanced, high-nutrition. As much as you can make.”

[Warning: Meat resources not detected. Substituting with enhanced plant-based protein blends.]

“Ugh. No animals. Right. No ecosystem.”

Still, moments later, a full meal appeared on the table—grains, legumes, nutrient-thick sauces, and pill-based supplements. It wasn’t gourmet, but it was warm.

And real.

He sat down and took a bite.

The flavors hit him like a memory long buried. Texture. Salt. Heat. Sweetness. The bland tang of powdered protein. All of it.

For someone who hadn’t eaten in what felt like eternity… it was divine.

As he chewed, thoughts stirred again.

With a real body, his options had expanded tenfold.

“Physical training. Real weapons. Energy manipulation in ways I couldn’t attempt before.”

His fingers tapped the table absently.

“I can still use Null. That won’t go away. But… I want more than that.”

He looked at his hand again, calling forth a flicker of Null between his fingers. It obeyed immediately, flowing like breath.

“But now I can master the others too. The ones that needed a body. Aura. Life. Even divine or cursed techniques that require a vessel.”

He leaned back.

“And powers.”

Not just energies. Not just magic.

Abilities that stemmed from concept, not source.

He remembered stories—figures who bent magnetism, who controlled vectors, who bent time slightly out of sync. He couldn’t copy them outright—not with the same names—but he didn’t need to.

He could understand them.

And once he understood… he could recreate.

He grinned.

Moments later,

The plate hit the floor with a solid clang, rattling slightly before settling.

Ethan exhaled, sweat beading across his brow. He moved on to the next machine, grip tightening.

Curl. Push. Press. Pull. Each repetition felt smoother, more efficient than the last.

His muscles burned—but only for a second. Then they adapted.

Then they grew.

He blinked, watching veins swell across his forearms. The weight that strained him minutes ago now lifted with ease.

“That’s… fast,” he muttered.

Too fast.

He moved into squats, deadlifts, then rotated through the machines—shoulders, chest, core. Within just a single session, what should’ve taken weeks of microtears and slow growth felt… immediate. Measurable.

The strain faded.

The effort lessened.

And the numbers on the stack kept rising.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Either I’m in some kind of freak regeneration mode… or this body learns way too fast.”

Still not satisfied, he stepped over to the test zone—where a reinforced punching machine stood. A thick slab of alloyed material, designed to absorb high-impact kinetic force and translate it into numerical readouts.

“Let’s see where I’m at…”

He didn’t even get into a proper stance. Just a relaxed jab.

Crack!

The machine didn’t beep. It shattered.

Steel and sensors crumpled, sparks bursting from its base. It keeled over, sparking out completely.

He froze, hand still raised.

“…That wasn’t even full power.”

He looked at his fist, then at the remains of the test rig.

“I knew it. My strength is increasing too fast.”

He took a slow breath, the realization settling.

“That’s the problem now.”

He wasn’t just getting stronger—he was accelerating.

Every rep, every push, every motion his new body performed was absorbed and metabolized into growth. Like the training itself was being understood, and the result integrated instantly.

It was too efficient.

“Now I’ve got another issue…”

He clenched his hand, this time more carefully. The muscle felt coiled—barely contained.

“…Control.”

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