Lusborn knew that his body was at its absolute limit, for now at least.
He could feel it in the very core of his being, a deep, gnawing exhaustion that had settled into his muscles, his bones, his very cells.
The rule was simple: as long as his physical form could endure it, he would gain the powers of his transformation without immediate repercussions.
He knew this feeling. It was the price he paid for pushing his transformations too far.
Stamina, he thought, the word echoing in his mind.
It wasn't just about shifting shapes; it was about the cost. His body could handle the form of Lockjaw, but the power… the teleportation had drained him dry.
He'd learned that lesson the hard way.
He considered shifting into something regenerative – a vampire, perhaps. The thought flickered through his mind, tempting.
Healing. But he knew better.
He'd tried that trick before, a quick patch-up after a particularly taxing transformation. It worked, superficially.
The immediate wounds vanished, the aches subsided. But the exhaustion… that remained.
It clung to him, a persistent drain on his reserves. And the moment he shifted back to human, the accumulated fatigue would hit him twice as hard.
Take it like this.
For every transformation, his stamina is consumed, meaning even when he heals, his stamina will also be consumed through it.
So just like that, it would be no work done. He would heal enough to run, but after the transformation, he would find that his stamina was used through it and he would be exhausted again.
No, healing wasn't the answer this time. He needed something more… fundamental.
And so, with all the pressure of impending capture weighing down on him, a sudden thought struck him.
It was something like an epiphany, a realization so simple yet so crucial that he almost cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.
What if, instead of healing his fatigue, he made his body adapt to it?
His ability wasn't just about changing form—it was about transformation at a fundamental level. His cells, his muscles, his bones—everything could be altered.
Right now, his biggest limitation was his physical capacity.
His body wasn't strong enough to handle the strain of Lockjaw's teleportation ability, and that was why he was in this state.
But what if he could force his cells to adapt? What if, instead of trying to heal the damage, he evolved past it?
If he could make his cells grow stronger in response to the fatigue, then he wouldn't need to recover—he would simply be better.
His body would no longer be limited by the exhaustion it had just experienced. The fatigue would cease to be an issue because his very cells would be conditioned to withstand it.
It was a gamble, but it was the only option he had.
His heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow and uneven as he forced himself to focus.
Lusborn's power operates on a fundamental, cellular level.
He doesn't just change his outward appearance; he rewrites his very being, altering his cells to match the form he's mimicking.
He had already demonstrated the ability to partially transform, changing specific parts of his body without a full-body shift.
This suggests a degree of control over the cellular transformation process.
And in turn, the strain would be reduced by a huge factor saving him from unnecessary strain. And now, that ability would be his lifeline.
Now, considering the exhaustion.
It's not just physical tiredness; it's a cellular exhaustion. His cells have been pushed to their limits by the long-distance teleport, their energy reserves depleted, their structures strained.
So instead of transforming into a new being altogether, he would focus on just his cells. He didn't need to think about every individual cell—scientifically speaking, that was impossible.
He couldn't even feel his cells, let alone manipulate them one by one. But his ability would do it for him.
So he closed his eyes and let go. He surrendered to his power, trusting it to do what needed to be done.
The moment he did, he felt it.
A tingling sensation spread through his body, a warmth that felt both strange and familiar. His muscles twitched involuntarily as his cells responded to his mental commands.
He wasn't just healing; he was enhancing. He was pushing his cells to adapt, to become stronger, more resilient, mimicking the rapid adaptation he'd seen in movies and anime – creatures becoming stronger the more they fight.
Take Godzilla and doomsday for example.
It wasn't magic; it was accelerated evolution, a bio-hack of his own design. The process wasn't instantaneous, but also really fast.
He felt a burning sensation as his cells underwent these rapid changes, a testament to the effort required.
And a few seconds later, he recovered.
Completely.
But he had no time.
They were already here.
From the corner of his eye, he saw them—a group of people rushing toward him, their faces etched with concern.
One of them, a man in his early twenties, reached out his hand, fingers stretching toward Lusborn's shoulder, about to touch him—
He had to act. Now.
In that split second, Lusborn made a decision.
He could have transformed into an insect, a bird, something small enough to slip away unnoticed. It would have been the most logical move.
He could have disappeared, leaving these people to wonder where the injured man had gone, fueling wild theories about what had happened.
But where was the fun in that?
Not that he wanted to have fun right now, the dude just wanted to lie down for a bit more.
Instead, he did something far more ridiculous.
The moment the man's hand touched him, he was no longer flesh and blood.
He was wood.
His entire body had transformed into a perfectly sculpted wooden statue, an exact replica of himself, down to the finest detail.
His face, his clothes, his hair—everything looked real. But the moment the man's fingers made contact, a dull, hollow sound echoed through the air.
Confusion washed over the group like a wave. They all froze, staring at him in disbelief.
"Whoa, check this out! Some kinda statue thing. Think it's worth anything?" one of them, a young man, muttered, touching the statue slightly.
"Feels like… wood?" he continued.
"Careful, Marco. Don't touch it too much. Who knows where it came from." another one, middle-aged, said looking around nervously, "Police will here in a moment…"
Another red haired woman says, "It's… really detailed. Look at the clothes, the face… almost looks real."
Touching the statue cautiously, she continues, "Yeah, definitely wood. But… some kind of expensive wood, maybe?"
This time a dark haired woman says, "Probably just some junk somebody dumped. Don't get any ideas, Marco. Remember what happened with that 'antique' vase you found last month?"
"But… what if it is something valuable? We could split it four ways…" Marco tries to argue.
"And what if the cops come back? They'll think we stole it. I don't need that kind of trouble." the dark haired one said.
However the red head looked at the statue curiously, "Wait… I heard them say something about a dog… a big dog… before they screamed. You don't think…?"
"Relax, Sophie. It's just a statue. Let's get out of here." the dark haired one assured.
"Fine, fine. But I'm telling you, we're missing out on something…" Marco said as he was pulled away by the old man.
Lusborn, still very much conscious and aware beneath his transformation, fought back the urge to smirk.
That red head was rather analytical, but hey, that was exhirilating.
And it had worked.
If he could hold this form just a little longer, until they lost interest and walked away…
Okay lets not want to jinx it, shall we?
Then he would be free.
Lusborn knew that his time for playing around was over. He had already pushed his luck, and staying any longer in that spot might attract even more unwanted attention.
He had already heard the distant sound of police sirens, meaning that they were on their way.
The people who had initially gathered were starting to disperse, most losing interest and going back to their previous activities, though some still lingered, watching in curiosity.
Others, having concluded that the two women's screams were nothing more than an elaborate prank, chose to head home, shaking their heads in amusement or irritation.
The four friends who had come to check on him were making their way down the path.
Because with the arrival of the police, if seen with such an "art piece", questions would be asked.
Without another word, the four of them abandoned their plans and hurried away, leaving Lusborn alone once again.
He almost let out a sigh of relief, but he held it in, maintaining his wooden form until he was absolutely certain that no one was paying him any more attention.
Once he was sure he was in the clear, he immediately shifted into a bee and shot into the sky, zooming away as fast as possible.
Now that he was safe, Lusborn needed to focus on his actual goal: the bank. He flitted around the city, taking in his surroundings.
However he made sure not to fly so high and be blown away by the wind, so he was using the sides of the road.
He shifted, the world shrinking around him. He was a bee, small and unnoticed. Or so he had hoped.
As he zoomed past the street, a hand swatted at him, missing by a hair's breadth.
"Buzz off!" a gruff voice grumbled.
Lusborn's heart (or whatever passed for one in bee form) pounded. He veered sharply, narrowly avoiding a collision with a passing cyclist.
Cursing the man in his mind, if he had one as a bee, he flew a bit higher and went on.
But then thinking things through, he immediately made his way to the nearest roof top.
And then immediately transformed into a sparrow, his favorite bird species and then continued his journey.
Geneva was beautiful, with its neat streets, stunning architecture, and vibrant energy.
From his bird's-eye view, he could see the city's parks, markets, and towering buildings. However, he wasn't here for sightseeing.
After a few minutes of flying around, landing occasionally on trees to eavesdrop on conversations and remembering the map, he finally spotted his destination.
The bank stood proudly in the heart of the city, its grand structure exuding wealth and power.
People moved in and out constantly, creating an unceasing flow of activity.
From one glance, Lusborn could tell that security was tight. He needed a solid plan before making a move.
He perched on the edge of a skyscraper opposite the bank and shifted back into his human form, feeling the cool breeze against his skin.
It was then that he noticed something surprising—his body felt different. Stronger. Not by much, but he could definitely feel the change.
If he had to guess, he would say his strength had increased by about 15-20%. And he knew exactly why. His previous experiment had worked.
By transforming his cells into an adaptive form, they had retained some of the benefits of the transformation, adapting and evolving too, even after he returned to his normal state.
While most of the power vanished along with the transformation, some of the enhanced traits had remained.
Excited by this realization, Lusborn decided to test something.
He shifted into Lockjaw once again, the enormous Inhuman dog with teleportation abilities, and without wasting another second, he teleported straight to the first place that came to his mind: Antarctica.
He wasn't sure why his mind chose such a desolate location, but he went with it.
Instantly, an unbearable wave of freezing cold slammed into him like a sledge hammer, making his whole body shudder.
The bitter winds bit into his thick fur, and he could feel the ice beneath his paws.
With pure instinct, not waiting for another second, he teleported back to Geneva, appearing back on the skyscraper he had left.
"Never going there again," he muttered.
He was still shaking from the intense cold, his body struggling to warm up.
He immediately shifted back into his human form, and as expected, the pain came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
He gritted his teeth, barely managing to stay standing. However, he knew exactly what to do.
So he activated his adaptive transformation again, allowing his cells to adjust to the strain, and within moments, the pain eased. And just as before, he could feel his body growing slightly stronger.
Seeing this, Lusborn had an idea.
If he could push his limits even further, then perhaps he could accelerate this process and grow even stronger in a much shorter time.
He needed a transformation that would burn through his stamina quickly.
That way, he could experience extreme fatigue, force his cells to adapt, and repeat the process as many times as necessary.
"Let's see if this works," he muttered to himself. And with that, he transformed into something he had always wanted to try: Sonic.
The iconic blue speedster from one of his favorite movies.
The moment he completed the transformation, he could feel the difference. His body was incredibly light, optimized for speed and agility.
He could feel an electric energy coursing through him, his body crackling with blue lightning as he powered up.
Then, everything around him seemed to slow down. It was as if time itself had crawled to a stop. He felt invincible, like he could outrun anything, escape any danger, achieve the impossible.
But he didn't stop there. He pushed the transformation even further, channeling more energy into his body.
The crackling blue lightning intensified, surging around him like a storm.
The sensation was exhilarating, unlike anything he had ever felt before. However, in the back of his mind, he knew that if he pushed too far, the consequences would be devastating.
If he ended the transformation at this level, the strain on his real body would be unbearable.
He might even end up as nothing more than a pile of broken flesh.
Realizing the danger, he immediately stopped and returned to his human form.
As expected, the pain struck him like a sledgehammer. His muscles screamed in agony, his nerves felt like they were on fire.
But he was prepared. He activated his adaptive transformation once again, allowing his cells to adjust to the overwhelming strain.
The pain gradually subsided, and he could feel his body growing even stronger.
One has to know that sonic has an insane amount of__ let's call it 'speed electricity'__ the more speed he wants, the more electricity he gives out.
This was what Lusborn wanted to exploit, by gradually increasing the amount of electricity Sonic can use, he could exhaust his reserves without need to use different transformations.
Encouraged by his progress, he shifted into Sonic again, pushing the transformation further than before.
This time, it wasn't just speed; it was endurance.
He felt the familiar tingling sensation as his cells began to reach their limit, so he turned back to human, immediately activating his adaption, but this time, it was different.
The adaptation wasn't just about strength; it was about efficiency. His body was learning to conserve energy, to push beyond its previous limits.
So he repeated the process. Over and over again, he transformed, pushed his limits, then allowed his cells to adapt.
Each transformation, each strain, each adaptation built upon the last.
He wasn't just getting stronger; he was becoming more adaptable, his body learning to respond to the demands he placed upon it.
By the tenth transformation, he could feel a difference.
The pain was still there, but it was less intense, more manageable. He could recover faster, push himself further.
However, he also noticed something, his body growth was cumulative.
With each adaptation, the increase in strength was getting smaller and smaller.
Yet this didn't deter him, he was sure to reach his limit today by hook or crook.
He continued, doing it not once, not twice, but fifty times. Each time, he could feel the incremental improvements in his strength, endurance, and resilience.
By the end of the session, Lusborn felt a plateau. He could push himself further, but the gains were minimal.
He had reached the limit of what his body could adapt to in one go. But he knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning.
He had discovered a way to push past his limits, a way to grow stronger beyond normal constraints.
And he would continue to refine this method until he reached heights he had never even imagined possible.
But at least for now, he was sure he was even stronger than he was in his previous life.
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