"How long will it take you to recover?" he asked. "And do not give me that look of reproach," he said to Minerva. "If he had fulfilled his obligations to the school and not violated his contract with it, he would be safe and sound. Let him be grateful that Hogwarts did not make him a Squib, and that he only received a light punishment."
"I... xa... it is no big deal," Albus wanted to say more in his defense, but he was interrupted by Phineas.
«Do not presume to deceive me! You might be able to pour your treacle into the ears of children, but for one who is a master of mentalism, Nigelus has more than sufficient mental power after his resurrection. I find it an affront not to bestow upon him the knowledge he can wield with such potency and potential. There is no possibility that I will tolerate such nonsense. Your fate is of no concern to me. If you are foolish and find yourself in difficulty, it is not my responsibility. The castle itself will prove fatal to you if you become arrogant. If this occurs, it will not be difficult for me to find another director more capable and deserving of the position.»
Nigelus paused momentarily to take his seat in the transformed chair behind him. He did not care if Albus could not stand if he wished to, but Albus was obliged to remain standing! While Nigelus settled into his chair, which resembled a throne more than a chair, Albus prepared to act.
I beg your pardon for any misunderstanding that may have arisen during our encounter. It was merely a harmless prank on my part. Allow me to introduce myself: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Master of the Order of Merlin, First Class.
In the blink of an eye, he regained his composure. While Nigelus continued his tirade, Albus consumed one potion after another, his appearance already much improved. Gazing at him through the lens of spiritual vision, one could discern the gaps in his aura beginning to close. Alas... What else could one expect from a "puppet" of Flamel's, whom he had not hesitated to supply with concoctions crafted with the aid of the Philosopher's Stone? These were not merely elixirs of life, but potent and brimming with vitality as well.
«Yes, yes. I am but a humble Phineas Nigelus Black, Lord, also a knight of the Order of Merlin of the first class, and imagine me also the headmaster of Hogwarts — late, however. Oh, and newly resurrected. Now stop this jumble of words. I have told you before that I require more than cheap tricks and feigned performances to work with. I give you my final warning!»
"I trust you are aware that I am no mere boy of arrogance, but a man of talent who has attained the rank of master through blood and sweat," Albus declared, his voice laced with irritation. Dropping his mask, he unleashed his power, seeking to demonstrate his strength to those gathered. He was not one to be cowed, and he was willing to summon the forces of the school's altar to aid him.
However, I would not allow it. Dumbledore was forced to rely on his own strength alone, and his display was not as impressive to Greengrass or Minerva as it might have been. But to Black, and certainly to me, it was a feeble show. Phineas, on the other hand, responded swiftly and symmetrically, until his power filled the Headmaster's office, causing Dumbledore to collapse back into the chair he had risen from in his fury to assert his dominance.
"Fool, do you suppose I am unaware of the blood and sweat that have propelled you to these heights?" At that moment, Phineas' eyes resembled two supernovas, radiating a cool, luminous white light. Just as before in the square outside Grimmo's, his veins and arteries coursing through his head pulsated with an ethereal darkness. The sight was one that would be etched in memory forever, a testament to Lord Black's mastery of his vision, allowing him to perceive the world through every available spectrum.
And Phineas hinted to Albus that it was now no secret to him how Albus had acquired a significant portion of his power. It was not through the use of light rituals or blood magic, which Albus condemned so vehemently, nor through the consumption of dark elixirs or other potions composed of ingredients extracted from sentient beings, including wizards. Albus was a hypocrite.
In his youth, Albus had employed every means at his disposal to enhance his physical prowess, but once faced with the consequences of his own dark side, as exemplified by the tragic loss of his younger sister in a duel with Gellert, Albus forbade himself from anything that might entice his soul or cloud his mind. Now, this individual who deems himself righteous endeavors to impose his vision of life and attitude towards darkness upon others.. This individual, a self-styled paragon of virtue, is not above resorting to force when necessary to assert his dominance over his adversaries. The irony of the situation is that much of his current influence is derived from the very principles he now denounces, rendering his actions somewhat blinded by hypocrisy. Truly, he is a two-faced individual!
I interjected, drawing Nigelus's attention. "My lord Black, may I remind you that I maintain a cordial relationship with Phineas and am free to interrupt him without consequence. I am also prepared to support Dumbledore. Might we return to the purpose of your visit to Hogwarts?"
Phineas acknowledged my interruption with a nod, addressing both the Greengrass family and me. "I apologise for my outburst," he said, his gaze fixed on McGonagall and Dumbledore with a hint of contempt. "I cannot abide by shameless deception and hypocrisy."
— I could not agree with you more on this matter. It can indeed put one in a sour mood. However, let us return to the matter at hand — the school. Principal, — he inclined his head towards Albus, — on our way to the Great Hall we had a brief conversation with Lord Black, and I gather that his purpose for visiting the school is to obtain the financial report for the previous year regarding the school budget, comment on it, and inquire about any urgent requirements that may arise.
In essence, I assumed the role of an amiable individual who endeavors to avoid conflict whenever feasible, capitalizing on my cordial, even friendly, relationship with Lord Black. This allowed me to initiate a dialogue between Phineus and the leadership represented by Dumbledore.
My objective was for DDD to cease regarding me as an inconvenience and harboring intense animosity towards me, and instead view me as a valuable asset to the school, albeit not necessarily aligned with his personal preferences. I endeavored to present myself as an indispensable asset to the future collaboration between the governing body of the school and the new chair of the Board of Trustees.
While Lord Black no longer held the position of chair, but rather served as a regular member of the Board, there was no doubt that if Nigelus were to assume the role, as he undoubtedly would, he could easily organize a re-election to secure his position.
For approximately half an hour, Albus, overcoming his natural inclination to communicate with others with an awareness of his own personal power and a sense of superiority, endeavored to engage in a dialogue with Lord Black in a manner that would ensure that their confrontational encounter and the near-missed conflict would be forgotten. He strove not to appear insincere or disingenuous in his efforts. Indeed, even after establishing contact with Flamel, Albus initially felt only a minor advantage in the bare power of the ancient alchemist, which made it relatively easy for him to interact with the French master, with whom he subsequently maintained an equal footing. However, as the saying goes, "first impressions are everything," and he had yet to encounter any archmages. Had any of them attempted to overwhelm him with their power, it is possible that he would have suffered a heart attack or stroke.
Consequently, at the close of this day's gathering, the eminent delegates from both sides came to a state of dissonance, yet simultaneously achieved certain positive outcomes.
Dumbledore was relieved that his neck had not been snapped, and as a gifted sensualist, he could discern Phineas's true intentions towards him with ease, as the latter did not attempt to conceal them given his own power. Dumbledore harbored no illusions regarding the outcome of a direct confrontation between them.
On the contrary, Phineas had fulfilled every task I had assigned him. He displayed himself in all his grandeur and splendor, with his problematic nature, which, to his chagrin, Albus took note of. He would no longer be able to act as he pleased at Hogwarts, and he presented himself in a favorable light, indicating that he was open to hearing my words.
I believe this will only serve to reinforce Dumbledore's belief that I belong to the Brance lineage and am Alphonso's sibling, especially after the fact that I attended the recent Black gala in the company of Maria Badoer, who was seen in the presence of Alphonso Brance, my sibling-in-law.
And this information about my relationship with Alfonso, which I casually mentioned in conversation with Albus at the beginning of our acquaintance, is likely to become public knowledge very soon, if it has not already. Dumbledore, more than anyone else in England, knows how to manipulate information, which, in his hands, can transform from a weapon into a medium of exchange, a currency, and a shield against adversity.
Our brief stay in the study was but a momentary interlude. Indeed, during our visit to the Headmaster's office, Greengrass did not utter a dozen words beyond a greeting and a farewell.
"Well, gentlemen," I said, addressing Greengrass and Black as we descended the stairs from the tower that housed the Headmaster's office towards a door that was imperceptible to the minds of all others in the castle, "shall we proceed to the drawing room of the faculty, where your former colleagues are awaiting us?"
My suggestion was well-received, and after a brief five-minute descent through the lift — accessible to all members of the Hogwarts faculty — we found ourselves deep within the school's subterranean levels, not far from the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
I was also intrigued to note that no one else was currently utilizing the inter-floor elevator connections, but as it turned out, it seemed that no living person was aware of their existence. My distant ancestor, Corwin Gont, upon becoming the headmaster of the institution, undertook a thorough reconstruction and renovation of the facility, simultaneously implementing a series of security measures. He enacted a Fidelius Charm on all elevators and bound the key to accessing the secret to his own bloodline, ensuring that only his descendants — provided they held positions within the Hogwarts staff — would gain knowledge of the lifts and their functionality.
Indeed, three and a half centuries ago, a decline began. I could not conceive of any rationale for his actions other than a desire to set his lineage apart from the rest.. The Gonts, in their attempts to assert their kinship with Salazar, sought to leave no stone unturned in reminding everyone of this fact, manifesting their superiority over others. However, upon a more objective examination of the aristocratic circles of not just England but also beyond, it becomes evident that such a predilection is shared by the vast majority of families with a lineage spanning at least five generations.
The Mraxes, who I will restore from obscurity by establishing their Basilisk lineage, have also embarked on a similar path, boasting their connections to the illustrious Peverells and Slytherin lineages.
But it's all the small things of life, and, by and large, I couldn't care less about what anyone thinks of themselves here. At the moment, I have far more grand and far-reaching goals. I need to be prepared to face any potential threat, no matter how small or large it may be, which could be unleashed by a demon lurking in the shadows, or any other unexpected and unpleasant surprise that fate may throw my way.
Therefore, it was high time to finish working on my combat gear and forge an impenetrable armour, improving upon the one I had already created, which was fashioned from the armour I had crafted for myself using the materials I had gathered before my journey east, when I met Vasilisa, and what I could find in the former city of Stllosh, which belonged to one of the elf princesses and the hero of their legend. But I should be well-equipped, as I have learned much in the realm of higher artifacts, whose creations are legendary and divine in nature.. However, the process of crafting a suitably tailored set of armor and weapons for one's chosen companions can be fraught with challenges. It is necessary for them to forge their own unique artifacts, which will become their defining attributes upon completion, but alas, my daughters have not yet attained the requisite skill and strength to undertake the task with the precision required to create an impenetrable defense for themselves. The sheer weight of adamantium they would require for absolute protection would be prohibitive. My daughters could not bear the burden of such a formidable energy load.. Were it not for my access to the egregor of the One, I would be utterly spent. Without it, I could not operate with the vast array of bahionem it contains, which allow me to manipulate this metal and imbue it with the desired form. Moreover, they enable me to travel to other parts of this enchanted artefact without conflict with adamantium's properties, which destroy any structured energy formations in its vicinity.
Thus, I must undertake the majority of the work myself, only involving my wives in the final stages of creation. They must infuse their own energy into the energy frameworks of the forthcoming charm complexes woven into the armour of the artefact, ensuring their obedience to their command alone.
As I engaged in a leisurely yet brief conversation with Nigelus regarding the history of these elevators, which bore an uncanny resemblance to the ancient Sumerian rituals performed on the entire structure and the enchantments bestowed upon them, one stream of my consciousness was occupied with crafting armour for my beloved and cherished wives. Mine, having been completed long ago, I now found myself standing before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, which parted before us without the need for a password. Naturally, such a privilege would not be extended to the Head of the Slytherin household!
"Lord Black, may I introduce you to Horace Tiberius Slughorn, Dean of the Slytherin faculty, the most esteemed Potions master in England, alchemist, and elixir creator, and Dean of Slytherin House," I introduced my colleague to one of the staff members of Hogwarts, who greeted us in the faculty lounge.
It is a delight to make your acquaintance, Lord Black, and I am honoured to be presented to you. My studies have been enriched by your works, and I have been deeply impressed by your contributions to Hogwarts and the realm of magic. Your book, "Darkness Does Not Mean Evil", has been an indispensable part of my collection since my initiation into the world of wizardry.
"My dear Lord and Lady Greengrass," Slughorn began, his tone dripping with insincerity, "I must confess, I was not expecting to find myself in your esteemed company until after the Christmas Ministerial Ball. Why, you might ask, am I keeping you on my doorstep when I could have invited you to my private quarters? My drawing room has been meticulously prepared to welcome such esteemed guests."
"Horace, alas, we do not have much time," Henry interjected, "We have much to attend to today. We came here only briefly to see our daughters."
Phineas, who was on the verge of confronting the overly familiar Dean, did not care that his actions would reflect poorly on both Dumbledore and himself. The students in the lounge watched their exchange with great curiosity, trying to discreetly hide their interest.
Alas, what a pity. In that case, you may avail yourself of my hospitality and converse with your children in my abode. Thereafter, you shall have the opportunity to sample a remarkable wine, bestowed upon me by an old friend hailing from Spain. From his own testimony, and for good reason, I have no cause to doubt him, this vintage hails from South America and is known as Claim. It accompanied Fernando Cortés on his journey to Europe, having been brought from within an Aztec temple, once belonging to a high priest of that civilization.
"We shall endeavour to do so, Horace," Sylvia said, "but we are in haste, so we shall take your advice at once."
"Rosalia," she called to her daughter, "Bellatrix." As they approached, we followed Horace's lead towards his quarters.
As we proceeded down the corridor, more than three dozen pairs of eyes were fixed upon us, belonging to Slytherins who were already aware of Lord Black's triumphant return, both new and old. In the minds of each of these individuals, I could discern a multitude of sentiments directed towards James Travis and Rodolphus Lestrange — sentiments that encouraged the faculty and their own kind to disregard the two "uppity" youngsters who thought themselves superior.
These were the children of noble families with lofty ancestries, who had been severely reprimanded by their elders, some even threatened with losing their titles as heirs. They were determined to restore amicable or at least cordial relations with the Greengrass heiress and Bellatrix Black, whatever the cost.
The moment we stepped out of the doorway leading to Horace's apartment, Rosalia enveloped her daughter and niece in a warm embrace, while Phineas gazed at his progeny with a curious expression, employing his psychic vision once again, which appeared quite eerie, but my students were oblivious to it, their backs turned towards him.
Meanwhile, I took a seat in one of the armchairs, adjacent to a small table adorned with fresh fruits and a variety of candied delicacies, including the renowned candied pineapple from Rowling's writings, a particular favourite of Horace.
I seized the opportunity to sample them. Having savoured the exquisite pineapple, transformed into candied fruit using cane sugar hailing from Cuba, my palate was eager for more. I poured the wine Slughorn had touted for all the adults in our gathering, a glance at which revealed its age in my astral sight. It was no less than five hundred years old and crafted not from ordinary cassava, a tropical tuber, but from its magical counterpart.
Delving deeper into the analysis and dissection of this low-alcohol beverage now in my glass, I discovered that it was not merely wine but a tonic elixir, boasting numerous beneficial effects on the digestive system and contributing to the elimination of toxins and harmful substances from the body. Once I was certain of its safety, I imbibed a sip, only to be struck by a sudden impact on my mind, akin to that of an ordinary mortal consuming half a liter of vodka in one go.. I was feeling absolutely exhilarated, yet somehow not quite right, and if I weren't a Higher Psion and master of other spiritual realms, I might have started to lose my mind, as often happens to mortals when they are intoxicated, when they can't see the shore, and the ocean is up to their knees! However, I swiftly regained control of my senses and erased this curious sensation from my being. My, my… only I could find something that could even affect me, something I sometimes so desperately need nowadays. Sometimes I long to escape the mundane, to relax, but none of the alcoholic drinks I know seem to do the trick. Once, Avalonian ale pleased me, but after I became a god, it no longer had the desired effect on me! Its effects wore off too quickly.
Hm… Why did this beverage suddenly have such an impact on me? I shall delve into this matter later, when I am outside of Hogwarts' walls. Having become Nura's heir and successor, even with the plethora of charms of Thor at my disposal, which I transcribed from Helga's chalice, it will be a simple task to recreate this enchanted wine.
Ormarr… are you with us, Salazar? It was Phineas, somewhat alarmed and apprehensive, who addressed me, as I remained motionless in my seat, my eyes closed, for fifteen minutes. Ten minutes prior, I had not responded to Lord Black's call.
"Yes. That's fine. And regarding Bellatrix and Sylvia, your point is well taken. They are both snake-eaters now."
Nigelus was cognizant of the fact that his offspring possessed a talent that had no connection to the Black family or their mother, nor to Sylvia's own gift. When he was able to tap into it, he became a skilled and knowledgeable practitioner of magic, gaining some measure of control over the relative he had taken under his wing. Then, the truth about Bella and Sylvia's unrecorded talent was revealed to him. Imagine his state of mind when he realized that a member of the Black clan possessed the gift of parseltongue.
"But how?!" came the simultaneous question from the Green-grasses and Phineas. I shrugged at their inquiry as if nothing of note had occurred. "Even a mere faerie can accomplish such a feat, and it is not difficult for our kind to bestow a magical gift upon someone from those at our disposal. And I sensed that if I were to impart training to someone, they ought to be a serpentine folk and converse with me in my native tongue!"
"Thank you, my liege!" That is what he would do. He took great delight in expressing his deference and esteem. The zealot knelt before me, his head bowed low, emanating a flood of ecstasy and awe directed at me and Bellatrix alike. In his eyes, she was as precious to the family as an heir, and he would sacrifice the lives of his kin without hesitation to save hers.
"Rise, if you please. You are well aware that I do not appreciate being addressed from a position of inferiority," he said to Greengrass. "Are you ready to depart Hogwarts already? Returning home?"
"Today, the Greengrass family is hosting a small gathering at their residence, to which members of the Neutral faction are invited. Following last night's grand event and Black's performance, everything in Albion has been turned on its head. Once, there were two distinct and intense factions in the political landscape, with neutrals attempting to navigate the turbulent waters of the rotting political swamp. But now, there is a new development. An enigmatic magister emerges, who, before the esteemed public, lays the head of a radical leader at the feet of his house. Those with a discerning eye for magic can appreciate the stark difference in power, for they can see the might of Black, who effortlessly subdued Gont."
«Yes, the first arrivals are due in two hours and, as the hostess, it is my responsibility to ensure that the housekeeping staff execute their duties impeccably and maintain a pristine environment.»
«Come, let me escort you out. Are you attending the Greengrass soirée this evening, Phineas?»
«Yes, my lord,» I replied. «As you have said, I shall join the moderates and not attempt to take over the extremists. And I shall also draw in the conservatives, who have only followed Gaunt due to the lack of an intelligent candidate to lead those who oppose Dumbledore's policies.»
There was no uniformity within Tom's faction either. He could only eliminate those he could label. And there were many clans within it that had agreed to support Gaunt merely because they were too impassioned. They shared the moderates' aspirations on most fundamental matters, but their methods of achieving their objectives did not suit them. They were too dynamic and wished to avoid being part of a political movement whose fruits, at best, would be seen by their descendants. They desired change here and now, returning to their roots as in the past. But we shall cure them, we shall educate them for the new reality.. The key point is that among radicals, there are some who are not devoid of honour and nobility. Indeed, Nigelus, let us proceed, and your students will engage in study today under the guidance of my clone, who shall be awaiting them at my residence in half an hour's time. With that, I departed to attend to my vassal, leaving the Greengrasses to their own devices.
Having bid farewell to Nigelus and the Greengrass family, having escorted them beyond the protective anti-apparition shield of Hogwarts, my clone returned to the school in my stead, while I set out on my divine course, following the plan of the One, to forge my own armor. This task, which would have taken me a month in the "heavenly realm," was completed in a mere twenty-four hours in the mortal world.
I invested no less than thirty-five kilograms of adamantium in refining my armor, coating it with this unyielding metal, rendering it impenetrable to any external force. Now, I am impervious to all but the most extreme impacts, such as overloads or concussive forces, yet with the intricate enchantments at my disposal, it is difficult to imagine the magnitude of impact required to cause me harm while encased in this armor.
Unless, of course, I were to encounter and confront Saitama, which is a far-fetched possibility.
It is now time to commence the process of fortifying my defenses against feminine adversaries.
The foundation, so to speak, beneath the armour, will consist of hinged ensembles of talismans designed to provide me with beauty, comfort, and protection from overloads, as well as other benefits such as climate control. However, it is possible to dispense with air and rely solely on energy to provide ourselves with everything we need. Nonetheless, it is preferable to approach things naturally, without resorting to surrogates, although perhaps there is still a trace of humanity in us, an echo of our mortality.
The armour will also feature built-in overload compensators. I will craft it from my craw space, incorporating the chitin of my daughter Loss, the horn plates of my son Dagon, the skin of Dracula, his battle form in which he perished, and for the sake of completeness, I employed three kilograms of silver, not merely illuminated, but entirely sacred, materialized from the baiony of The One and representing the concept of sanctity.. But I did not rest on my laurels in my pursuit of creating the ultimate defense. I meticulously processed and prepared each of these materials, combining them with the aid of elixirs and potent potions crafted from the same precious ingredients. Even the tears and blood of Vasilisa, the one who had been banished from our world along with the remnants of the Slavic pantheon, were incorporated into the complex concoction that I employed to imbue my crawler with exceptional resilience and durability.
In addition to incorporating the blood and viscera of all the divine-ranked monsters at my disposal, I subjected the armor to a unique process of hardening and tannage. The result was an armor with extraordinary regenerative properties for both the wearer and me. Upon completion, it resembled a scuba diving suit tailored to fit the wearer precisely. Now, it was time to utilize my wife's blood to forge a bond between the armor and my beloved.. The intricate arrays of enchantments woven into this masterwork of artificing were mere mental-astral energetic frameworks, inert until the moment my wives awaken them. They will activate these elements when the final phase of the armour's creation commences.
Now, I must focus my attention on the most demanding aspect of my task. I must become a conduit, guiding a vast quantity of bahiony through my spiritual layers, subjected to immense pressure. My goal is to imbue adamantium with an unyielding yet supple nature, allowing my girls to move freely while maintaining their remarkable agility and grace in battle. Moreover, I aim to infuse the metal with a metamorphic essence, enabling the armour to adapt to the changing dimensions and forms of my beloved companions' bodies.
Incidentally, with my armor, I accomplished this feat, and now I am capable of transforming into a serpent measuring one hundred and forty meters in length, clad in adamantium scales. My only vulnerable point is my mouth; the transparent inner lids that shield my eyes are also crafted from adamantium, leaving me without sinuses. Thus, unless I open my mouth, I am impervious to harm. My armor, the Archimage staff, and the anti-void demonic chain have become my talismans.
Now, I would forge armour for my beloved ones that would become an inextricable part of their very essence, not merely an artefactual armour. And I would also create armour for my wives. Why? Because I would be the conduit for the Bahiony required for the creation of what I had envisioned, and I deliberately sought to create as much tension as possible in order to give everything I had and a little bit more, thereby infusing my soul with power.
Yes, it would be painful, and for some time I would not be fully functional. Perhaps with half a year of bed rest, I would need to recuperate, but it was worth it. I was taking this step because the more powerful I became, the slower my progress would be, and only intense, life-or-death situations could help me overcome this obstacle. But I was not a fool who would willingly seek such perilous adventures that could end in my demise, was I? I loved her so dearly! So, rather than face such mortal danger, I would rather tear out my heart in this manner.. Within the confines of my egregore, there is no risk of mortality, of that I am certain.
Well then, let us commence our work!
At this juncture, as I embarked upon the most intricate and critical phase of crafting armor for my consorts, Maria and Koneko, I had apprised them that upon receipt of a signal from my clone, they were to swiftly transition to my egregore to participate in the forging of their respective artifacts.
Alas, I was absolutely correct in anticipating the magnitude of the challenge and the arduousness of its completion. While the creation of the inner layers of armor for my beloveds required less than three weeks, the development of the outer layer, the adamantine armor itself, proved to be a formidable task, owing to my decision to set the level of conductivity through my bionic soul at a high level.
It was only through my nearly absolute control over reality within the egregore of the All, that I managed to persuade both the universe and myself that such an endeavor was within my capabilities.
I summoned my wives to my side with a week remaining until the completion, when it was time to infuse the framework of the enchanted complex with the essence of my beloveds, so that in the end the armour would be entirely in their possession, acknowledged as their sole proprietors with unequivocal rights, leaving no loophole for outsiders.
If I imbued the charms with my energy, it might affect the swiftness of their response in the future, or even trigger a clash of energies, should the magical infusion of the armour require a source of power to restore or fortify certain aspects of the complex beyond its own capabilities.
When my beloved ones received my gifts into their hands and adorned themselves with them, they felt utterly invincible and protected at that moment. Logically speaking, I should have suffered at that moment, but my state of mind was not conducive to it. My entire being, including my spirit, felt like one massive bruise. Every part of me ached! I received painful signals from every corner of my body, from my hair and nails to my inner organs. There was nothing I could do to alleviate this suffering. I needed time and plenty of Bahion of the One, like cool water on a burn, to help me through this period.
The Bahion did not stimulate healing or accelerate the regeneration of my soul, as it remained relatively unaffected. The issue was that it had swollen significantly and rapidly to a size three times larger than its previous size, though this is not an accurate representation of my injury or the size of my soul per se.. The process became more intricate, protracted, profound, luminous, and vivacious, with a heightened concentration of energies within each soul-shell. Consequently, my degree of reality increased, notwithstanding the enhancement provided by the adamantium in my dimensional pocket.
Ha... Another concept I have realized, and the repercussions fall within the anticipated parameters. Now, I must await recovery in the celestial realm and engage with the world through my replicas, which shall serve as my embodiments for the ensuing year.