Chapter 179: Chapter 179: Assessing Physical Changes Sol stood alone in the silence of the Void Temple, the echo of Isylia’s scream still fading into the infinite darkness above. The throne was empty. The Goddess was gone. Now that he focused on himself, he felt that something was... wrong. No. Not wrong. It was more accurate to say different. Everything felt smaller and lighter, but at the same time heavier, it was a weird feeling. Like it wasn’t a burden on his shoulders; it was like density in his cells had increased. He took a step forward, intending to walk to the edge of the dais, but his foot slammed into the obsidian with a force he hadn’t intended to exert. CRACK. A spiderweb of fractures bloomed instantly under his bare heel. The stone groaned, dust puffing up around his ankle. Sol froze, looking down at the damage. He hadn’t stomped or exerted weight. He could swear that he had simply walked. "Okay," Sol whispered. His voice dropped an octave, resonating in his own chest cavity like a cello bow dragged across thick strings. "Seems like calibration is needed." He lifted his hand. It looked the same... calloused, tan, perhaps a little broader across the palm... They were trembling, not from fear, but from a terrifying surplus of energy vibrating under his skin. The veins along his forearms were bulging, dark and thick like blue cords, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic thud that sounded like a war drum in his ears. But the feeling was wrong. Or rather, it was too right. He clenched his fist. The air inside his palm popped, a pressurized sound like a whip crack. The skin over his knuckles pulled tight, revealing tendons that looked less like biological tissue and more like braided steel cables. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, his lung capacity has definitely increased. The air in the Void Temple was thin and smelled of ancient stones, but his body processed it with terrifying efficiency. He could feel the oxygen hitting his blood, burning cleaner, hotter. "Diagnostic time," Sol muttered, his scientist’s brain waking up to analyze the miracle. He walked... carefully this time, treating the floor like thin ice... over to a polished section of the black wall that acted as a mirror. He looked at himself. The boy who had woken up in the thrashed hut... scrawny, malnourished, dying was gone. The Sol staring back was a predator carved from marble. His muscles hadn’t bulked up into the grotesque, swollen mass of a bodybuilder; instead, they had condensed. He looked lean, but there was a density to him, a compactness that screamed of coiled power. His shoulders were broader, his waist tapered, his posture naturally aligned for violence. But it was the eyes that stopped him. His eyes, once a muddy brown and black, had changed. The irises were now a deep, burning Crimson. They weren’t glowing like a monster’s, but they caught the low light of the void and reflected it back with a predatory sheen. He leaned closer to the reflection. "Night vision?" he wondered. He concentrated. He willed his pupils to dilate. The world changed. The deep shadows of the ruin, blocked from light, which had been pitch black moments ago, suddenly resolved into monochromatic Crimson Shade. He could see the texture of the stone fifty feet away in the corner. He could see the dust motes drifting in the air. He wasn’t completely blind in the dark anymore; he seems to have low-light amplification. "There..." Then, he noticed something else. Drifting in the air, definitely invisible before, were tiny, glittering specks. Dust? No. They were literally glowing. They looked like fireflies made of glass, shimmering in currents he had never seen before. Sol squinted, focusing his Crimson gaze on them. Burn. A sharp pain spiked behind his eyes, like a needle being pushed into his brain, He gasped, but the image sharpened. The specks weren’t bugs. They were energy. Maybe Ambient mana? Ether? Spirit energy or maybe divine energy. He didn’t know the word, but he knew it was real. They pulsed, swirled, flowing like rivers in the air, swirling around the area where Isylia had disappeared. "T‑this..." he stammered, breath hitching, "this seems like... magic vision. Is it really something like magic vision?" His voice trembled between awe and disbelief. "I can see... the energy," Sol whispered, awe dampening the pain. He tried to focus on a cluster of them drifting nearby, the moment he locked on, the headache spiked to a blinding crescendo. His eyes began to water, capillaries bursting. "Ah!" Sol hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and cutting the flow of energy, but even through the pain he felt a surge of ecstasy. The motes weren’t just light... they were alive, responsive, bending as if they knew he was watching. He opened his eyes again, the crimson fade lingered for a moment before returning to normal vision, but the shining motes also vanished, returning the world to normal. He wiped at his watering eyes, smearing blood from burst capillaries, but he was grinning through the sting. He staggered, clutching his head, half‑laughing, half‑groaning. "Okay. Magic sight is a ’use with caution’ feature. Got it." But even as the pain ebbed, exhilaration roared in his chest. His heart hammered, his breath came ragged, but his mind was alight with possibilities. "I really have magic vision," he whispered, eyes wide, trembling with wonder. "I could track energy. I could see what others can’t. I could—" He broke off, shuddering, the thrill almost too much to contain. It was a massive cheat, as a senior otaku, he knew there was so much he could do with this. He felt that the world wasn’t closed to him. It had cracks, hidden pathways, secrets only he could glimpse. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine. He had seen the world peel back, had glimpsed currents of power that no mortal eyes should ever touch. And though it hurt, though it nearly blinded him, the ecstasy of discovery was worth every drop of blood. Even though it was already great, he knew that it wasn’t the end, he turned away from the mirror. It was time for the real tests. He looked at a chunk of debris lying near the base of a broken pillar. It was a block of obsidian like shiny rock, likely dislodged during the artifact’s earlier tantrum. It was roughly the size of a small car. Sol walked over to it. In his past life, or even yesterday, he wouldn’t have been able to budge this with a crowbar. Even the elite hunters of the tribe would need two men and ropes to move it. He walked up to it, bent his knees, and dug his fingers into the wet earth beneath the stone. He inhaled. He didn’t grunt or jerk. He just... stood up. GRR-RUMBLE. The mud made a sucking sound as the boulder tore free. Sol’s eyes widened. His quads bulged, the muscles tearing and knitting instantly under the strain, but his back remained straight. He hoisted the massive rock until it was chest-height. He held it there. It was heavy... he could feel the mass of it pulling at his shoulder socket... but it wasn’t a struggle. It felt like lifting a heavy suitcase. His internal calculator ran the numbers. "Estimate... eight hundred pounds? Maybe a thousand?" "I could throw this," he realized with a dark chuckle. "I could literally throw a boulder at someone. Damn, it seems like I’m a goddamn walking forklift." He set it down... gently, so as not to crack the floor again. And with this he reached the conclusion that his strength was at least Elite Hunter level. He was already stronger than the average hunter. But now he was definitely stronger than, and it was without even training, with training, he would definitely get even stronger. "Now... let’s check the speed." The dimension was vast, about 50 meters of open stone. He walked to one end, rolling his shoulders, trying to psych himself up. He dug his back foot into the ground, getting into a sprinter’s stance, channeling strength into his calves. "Go." He exploded forward. The acceleration was absolutely violent, the ground behind him literally cracked and burst apart. It felt less like running and more like being shot out of a cannon. The wind roared in his ears instantly. The pillars blurred into gray streaks. "Ohhh this is fast! This is way too fast!" he shouted, half‑laughing, half‑panicked. He crossed the distance in seconds. The far wall was rushing toward him fast, a bit too fast. "Stop! Stop! AAAAGH!" He tried to skid, but his speed was too fast and boom! CRASH. He slammed straight into the wall, bouncing off with a grunt and collapsing onto the floor in a heap, just like in a looney tunes cartoon. Dust dramatically rained down around him. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Okay... note to self... braking system not included." He coughed, then laughed despite himself. He sat up, rubbing his head, eyes wide with lingering exhilaration. "But gods... that was insane. If I can control this... I could outrun arrows. I could blitz through armies. I could—" He broke off, chuckling breathlessly. "I could also break every bone in my body if I don’t figure out how to stop." Sol pushed himself to his feet, wobbling but grinning, checking for injuries. His shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact, was red, but not broken. His heart was still hammering, his body trembling with adrenaline. "Triple speed of fastest human in previous life," he calculated, rubbing the spot. "Maybe more in short bursts. So, I’m faster than a leopard." He had checked the strength and he also had the speed. But now the time was for the hard part, because in the jungle, durability was king. He picked up a random long stone piece. It was sharp, the edge ground to a razor point. He looked at his left forearm. The skin was smooth, unblemished, glowing with that faint sheen he had noticed earlier. "Let’s see what you’re made of," Sol whispered. He pressed the sharp stone against his forearm. He applied pressure. Normal pressure first... enough to slice skin. Nothing. Nothing happened. The stone pressed into his flesh, dimpling it, but the skin refused to part. It felt like pressing a knife against cured leather or a tire. He pressed harder, put his new, monstrous strength behind it. SNAP. The stone broke. Sol looked at his arm. A faint white line, like a scratch on plastic, faded within seconds, but no blood. "Tough," Sol muttered. "Really tough. Kinda like biological armor. High density dermal layer," Sol cataloged. "Immune to environmental hazards. Thorns and sharp rocks are useless." He picked another sharper one this time and applied just enough pressure to nick the skin. At first, nothing. Then, with a little more force, the edge finally scraped a shallow cut. Sol leaned closer, eyes wide. Within seconds, the mark faded. The skin knitted itself back together, erasing the wound as if it had never been there. "...That’s insane," he whispered, flexing his arm. "I heal like... like a lizard tail regrowing. No blood, no scar. Just gone." He laughed nervously, shaking his head. "Okay, so small cuts are useless. I’m basically immune to paper cuts. Not like there is any paper in this world. That’s... comforting, I guess." But curiosity gnawed at him. If shallow wounds vanished instantly, what about deeper ones? He gritted his teeth. He needed to know the failure point. If he went into battle thinking he was invincible and got gutted by a spear, he’d be a dead fool. He raised the stone once again. "Don’t be a pussy, Sol. And... sorry, arm." He stabbed down with serious force. THUNK. This time it finally punctured. It broke the skin, sinking about half an inch into the muscle. "GAH!" Sol hissed, gritting his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "Damn it went too deep, ouch, ouch." "But still, penetration was achieved at approx. 60% strength output." He yanked the stone free. Dark, rich blood welled up, dripping down his arm, he hurriedly clamped his hand tightly over the wound. He pressed harder, trying to stem the flow, heart hammering as he imagined himself bleeding out alone in this vast stone chamber. But then... something strange. Within minutes, the bleeding slowed. The pain shifted, turning into a maddening itch beneath his skin. He peeked under his hand... the blood was already thickening, bubbling, clotting faster than it should. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to wait. An hour passed. The pain dulled, replaced by a steady tugging sensation, like invisible stitches pulling the wound closed. He watched, breath hitching, as granulation tissue formed, knitting together in real time. It was like watching a wound heal in fast‑forward. Another hour. The cut sealed completely. A scab formed, hardened, then flaked away, leaving only a faint pink line. Even that began to fade as he stared, wide‑eyed and trembling. Sol flexed his arm, disbelief choking him. "Hyper‑regeneration," he whispered. It wasn’t instant... not some comic‑book miracle where wounds vanished in seconds. A spear through the heart, a decapitation... those would still kill him. But flesh wounds? Cuts? Bruises? They were irrelevant. He could fight through damage that would cripple a normal man. He laughed shakily, rubbing the spot where the wound had been, the adrenaline of the self-mutilation mixing with the thrill of discovery. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Alright... durability, healing... what’s next?" His eyes drifted to the rubble pile nearby. A new idea sparked. He picked up a handful of loose stones, weighing them in his palm. "Reaction time," he said, almost daring himself. He threw them into the air... five stones, tossing them high and wide in a chaotic arc. And closed his eyes for a split second, then snapped them open. His dynamic vision kicked in. To his old eyes, they would have been a blur. But now... Slow. He watched them descend. He could see the rotation of the individual pebbles. He could see a drop of water clinging to one. He moved and exploded into motion. Snatch. Snatch. Snatch-snatch. His hands were a blur. He caught three with his right hand, two with his left, weaving between the falling trajectories with effortless precision. He stopped, his breathing barely elevated. For a moment, Sol just stood there, staring at his hands. His fingers tingled, his pulse raced. "...I caught them," he whispered, almost disbelieving. "All five. I saw them spinning. I knew where they’d land. It was like the world slowed down just for me." He flexed his hands, opening and closing them, then laughed... a shaky, incredulous laugh. "My reaction speed... it’s insane. I’m not just physically faster. My reaction speed is fast too, I can calculate trajectories mid‑air like some kind of... living ballistics computer." He crouched, picked up one of the stones again, tossing it lightly and snatching it out of the air with effortless precision. His grin widened. "I could pluck arrows out of the sky. I could catch blades before they hit me. Hell, I could juggle knives blindfolded if I wanted to." The thought made him laugh harder, almost giddy. "I’m basically cheating at physics. Reaction time like this... it’s not human. It’s simply divine." ... Just as he sat down to rest, his breathing steadying as the adrenaline of his physical testing began to ebb. He felt powerful. His muscles hummed with potential energy, his skin was impenetrable to common stone, and his eyes could pierce the darkness. But as he closed his eyes to center himself, he realized the greatest change wasn’t in his arms. It was inside.