As if he had reached a well of power that appeared near limitless, Altair's perception of reality began to transcend. His stats hadn't changed in the traditional sense; if anything, he felt leaner than before as his muscles and Mana began to condense. The power he commanded was becoming closer to the Vale, so much so that he found it quite difficult to differentiate between Vale Qi and Mana. There was almost no difference now.
Staring at the blackish violet mote of energy dancing around his fingers, shimmering like a burning sun, ready to consume the world. He breathed, releasing that energy, feeling the pang of the Thirteen Godhands echoing from some distant past. They were like Ancient Wells of Power that simply could not be contained by his fleshy body or unrefined soul.
