The icy words of the cold young woman were like a bucket of cold water, dousing the boiling primal instincts within Hoffa. Under the effects of his meditation technique, the surging beastly energy was gradually suppressed.
Hoffa's grip on the serpent loosened slightly, stopping his next action.
His life force had already dropped to 2.
Ossivia spoke calmly:
"Human transfiguration requires focus and control. You must handle it like a scalpel—precisely and deliberately. It's not meant for the magic to control you."
Control.
Hoffa glanced at his life force, which was about to fall to 1.
Without hesitation, he made the critical decision to activate life conversion.
Instantly, the blue magic flowing within him was once again converted into life force.
This was the hardest transformation Hoffa had ever undergone. The Thunderbird energy within him raged like a wild stallion, untamed and ferocious. Only by exerting his full mental strength could he barely force it to turn back.
Even so, the moment the foreign magic was converted into life force, inevitable changes began to take place in Hoffa's body.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Electric currents crackled inside him. His body started to grow taller, but this time, it didn't shift toward a birdlike form.
He was forcibly stretched to a height of 1.7 meters. His arches rose, his neck bent, his tendons lengthened and tightened like steel cables. Lean and wiry, his back arched, yet his frame was sturdy. Every joint protruded prominently.
His hair stood on end like steel needles, and blue arcs of electricity danced between the strands.
Two wizard phantoms charged at him fearlessly, one of them leaping high into the air with a blade raised overhead.
Still in the midst of transformation, Hoffa instinctively sensed danger. With a sharp shake of his head, he reached out and caught one of the phantoms mid-air.
The other swung its sword heavily into Hoffa's shoulder.
The blade tore a deep gash through his deltoid muscle. Pain surged through Hoffa's mind, but he swung the phantom he was holding, smashing it against the other. Both shattered into shards, scattering like broken glass.
Hoffa felt his breathing grow labored, his wounded shoulder itching unbearably.
His life force was rising rapidly, but his magic was depleting just as quickly.
"Be gentler. Don't be so forceful. Balance it—find equilibrium in your power," Ossivia's voice came again, steady and calm.
Glancing into his mental sea, Hoffa noticed his magic index dropping swiftly.
Gritting his teeth, he activated the Crimson Bloom once more.
The rampant expansion of his body stopped.
His heart pounded loudly within his chest, pumping life force into golden patterns that coursed along his arms, converting into magic.
Ossivia's tone softened slightly:
"Yes, just like that. Find your balance point. Control and harmonize it like breathing—don't wage war with yourself."
Breathing. Balance.
Hoffa felt a spark of understanding. Animagus transformation was an extreme form of change, requiring stringent conditions that didn't suit his current state.
What he needed was a fighting style more compatible with himself—a transformation method tailored to his current situation.
Fortunately, Gugall's method of dual conversion offered him two reins to hold.
Crimson Bloom.
Life Conversion.
In this way, Hoffa alternated seamlessly between the two states.
In his mental sea, the red and blue bars representing life and magic fluctuated continuously.
One grew as the other diminished.
One diminished as the other grew.
At first, Hoffa felt as if his soul were a leaf caught in a storm, tossed back and forth. But gradually, he reduced the range of these fluctuations.
From a wild oscillation between 2 and 8,
to a steadier rhythm of 3 to 7,
and finally a balanced state of 4 to 6.
At last, Hoffa no longer felt discomfort. On the contrary, he felt as if he had gained a new lung that could breathe, or a piston engine added to his core.
With each exhale, his life force rose to 6 while his magic dropped to 4.
With each inhale, his magic climbed to 6 while his life force fell to 4.
Everything became alive. Not only did his magic and life flow dynamically, but even the surrounding mental field became extraordinarily sensitive. Though it contracted to a range of ten meters, every movement within that radius was now fully within Hoffa's awareness.
Several wizard phantoms charged at Hoffa from behind.
Without even looking, he turned and swept his hand, decapitating three phantoms in one motion. The running phantoms shattered instantly, scattering into shards on the ground.
The explosive power was incredible!
Hoffa stared at his own hand in amazement. Fine, elongated exoskeletal structures had grown along the back of his hand, shimmering with a faint blue glow.
He had transformed into a completely different form—a highly efficient and adaptable state.
Just as Hoffa was marveling at this newfound form, life force converted back into magic, sinking smoothly into his body. This drastically reduced the waste from meaningless magical fluctuations.
Boom!
Before he could savor his new state, countless black shadows surged toward him like a tidal wave, piling on and pinning him down.
Ossivia remained unmoved, standing with her arms crossed, watching from her position.
Though darkness engulfed his vision, the seamless circulation of magic and life within his body kept Hoffa's breathing steady.
Crackle.
From within the dense mass of shadows, a sudden arc of electricity flickered.
The next second—
Boom!!
The mottled phantoms pressing against Hoffa's body were violently thrown outward. They flew dozens of meters, knocking over several bookshelves before crashing heavily into towering statues in the distance, shattering into countless sparkling fragments.
With that powerful burst, Hoffa flipped himself off the ground in a nimble leap.
Like a bolt of lightning, he dashed forward. Stretching out his hand, his wand returned to his palm, transforming into a gauntlet that wrapped around his arm.
The wizard phantoms showed no fear or hesitation. Without emotion, they charged at him relentlessly.
Hoffa felt exhilarated. With a powerful stomp on the ground, he vanished from his spot.
When he reappeared, he shattered two wizard phantoms with a single punch.
His speed now nearly rivaled that of ghostly steps.
His body felt unexpectedly agile, each joint brimming with boundless potential. Every cell within him seemed to cheer and shout, dividing rapidly under the stimulation of the electricity. The scars on his face and the wound on his shoulder healed swiftly.
This was not the pure power of the Thunderbird. It was a fusion—a combination of his meditation state, life conversion, and Animagus transformation. These forces worked in unison, aiding and reinforcing each other, forming a closed loop that flowed continuously within him.
It was more agile, more controlled, more stable—and entirely his own.
This was an extraordinarily sensitive activated state.
Unknowingly, Hoffa's transformation magic had reached a new level.
After smashing two phantoms, Hoffa turned to glance at Ossivia, who stood nearby.
Her expression was indifferent, but she nodded slightly.
"Not bad."
Hoffa disappeared in a flash once more, and the phantoms before him shattered one after another.
The sensation of moving with such lightning speed was intoxicating. The phantoms, which had been so dangerous moments ago, now seemed as fragile as paper, incapable of keeping up with his speed.
One, two, three, four...
Hoffa darted through the mass of phantoms. With each flicker, another phantom was dispersed. He felt like a finely tuned engine, lubricated and operating at peak efficiency, continuously outputting power.
A growing desire for battle began spreading through his mind. He wanted more—more opponents.
Snap!!
Suddenly, Ossivia caught Hoffa's fist mid-strike.
Instinctively, he swung at her, but recognizing her face, he calmed himself and lowered his hand.
The wizard phantoms were all gone.
Ossivia held Hoffa's arm for a moment before a crisp cracking sound echoed through the air.
Every object in the scene—the phantoms, the surroundings, and even the entire scene itself—shattered into dust and dissolved into nothingness.
The grand hall reverted to how Hoffa had first seen it: old, dilapidated, abandoned, and covered in cobwebs.
The only difference was that his vision had become much clearer. The watery veil that had once blurred his perception had vanished entirely.
Hoffa shook his head, fully awakening from the influence of the activated state.
His body shrank and grew smaller, reverting to its previous form—a twelve-year-old Hoffa, thin and unremarkable.
But his clothes hadn't shrunk. During the transformation, his school robes had been stretched out by at least three sizes and were riddled with holes and scorch marks.
He stared at his tattered clothing, intending to restore it with magic.
But suddenly, an inexplicable thought crept into his mind:
Why do I need to wear clothes?
The thought was so strange, so sudden. Hoffa swayed slightly on the spot, feeling a warm but inexplicable weakness wash over him.
This wasn't physical weakness—it was a deep, unnamable sense of melancholy.
For a moment, his mind was consumed by a void, a blankness devoid of desires or purpose.
The emptiness made him stagger back two steps before he sat down heavily on the ground, staring blankly at Ossivia.
Ossivia froze. "What's wrong with you?"
Hoffa shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"What are you doing sitting there? We still have tasks to complete," she said.
"What's the point?" Hoffa murmured, his tone utterly flat.
Ossivia frowned. "What's gotten into you?"
Hoffa continued muttering, "Why am I alive?"
Completely bewildered, Ossivia grabbed the limp Hoffa off the ground, checking his forehead.
Hoffa's head and limbs hung loosely from her arms.
He felt as though he had entered a strange state of detachment, no longer caring about anything. He wanted nothing more than to sit there and quietly wait for the end.
"Strange. Your heartbeat is normal, and your magic isn't depleted," Ossivia said with a frown.
"Mm," Hoffa responded with a nonchalant hum, unmoving.
He didn't know what was happening to him. He suddenly couldn't bring himself to care—about the half-human king, the library, or even where he was.
Ossivia released him, sighing thoughtfully as she stroked her chin. "Your mental strength still isn't strong enough."
"Oh," Hoffa replied, utterly uninterested.
To him, Ossivia's foreign beauty—so admired by countless students—was now nothing more than a lump of protein and carbohydrates. Her words passed through his mind like the droning of a disinterested spouse, entering one ear and exiting the other.
After a moment, Ossivia softened her tone slightly. "Human transformation isn't easy to master. You've done well. Rest for now."
"Oh," Hoffa replied without enthusiasm.
He had no desire to talk to Ossivia, no desire to speak at all.
He simply wanted to empty his mind. If he could, he would have smoked a cigarette, contemplating the purpose of his existence and the birth of the universe.
For about twenty minutes, Hoffa sat blankly, lost in depression and emptiness, staring ahead. Gradually, he began to come back to himself.
"What... just happened to me?" he murmured.
As his awareness returned, he grew increasingly alarmed. The more clarity he gained, the more fear crept in.
"What's wrong with me?!" he exclaimed in shock.
(End of Chapter)
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