As the miasma coiled and congealed inside the previous form of the machine god, it underwent a transformation that defied conventional understanding. The ethereal substance, once intangible and nebulous, begins to take on a disturbingly corporeal quality as if it were being sculpted by unseen hands into a grotesque imitation of living tissue.
Each tendril of the miasma twisted and contorted, merging and separating in a chaotic symphony of writhing motion. As if the very essence of flesh were being woven into its form.
The surface of the machine god's body begins to ripple and bulge as if something were pulsating beneath its skin. Strange protuberances emerge, resembling the suckers of a squid's tentacles, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. The once pristine surface is now marred by irregularities and deformities, giving it the appearance of a creature born of nightmare rather than of logic and reason.
