Mirelle and Elya set the stage for the most critical moment of their research. The air in the chamber was thick with tension, every movement deliberate, every detail meticulously checked. This was not merely an experiment, it was a transformation, one that would determine Elya’s future as a mage.

  The construct had to be perfectly aligned with Elya’s body before the artificial meridian system could be integrated. Any deviation in the connection could lead to catastrophic magical instability. Mirelle carefully adjusted the arcane framework, ensuring that every line of energy followed Elya’s natural pathways as precisely as possible.

  Elya stripped herself of all external interference, both physical and magical, allowing for full synchronization with the construct. Clothing, jewelry, even lingering spells that could interfere with the delicate process, all of it had to be removed. She meticulously shaved herself, ensuring that no stray element would disrupt the intricate flow lines that would soon be drawn. From her feet to her head, every surface of her body would need to be mapped, the lines forming a delicate mesh of connectivity. Across her legs, groin, stomach, breasts, heart, shoulders, arms, hands, fingers, neck, and back, the magically-sensitive material would trace the pathways, a web of precision ensuring that the construct aligned flawlessly with her form. She stood at the center of the ritual circle, exposed yet unafraid, her mind focused on the momentous task ahead.

  Following the procedure, the markings on her body would be absorbed beneath her skin, their glowing tracery fading as they seamlessly integrated into her flesh. These new meridians, unlike their natural counterparts, would be stronger, more precise, and intricately attuned to the layered construct now interwoven within her core. The sensation of magic flowing through them would be foreign at first, like liquid fire rushing through unseen channels, but soon, it would become second nature, a part of her in ways she had never imagined possible.

  Ritual inscriptions and containment glyphs lined the floor, drawn with painstaking precision. These sigils would stabilize the energy transfer, anchoring the artificial system in place as it merged with Elya’s core. The chamber pulsed with latent power, waiting to be channeled into the intricate weave they had spent months perfecting.

  Mirelle gave one last look over their preparations, then turned to Elya. "This is it. Once we start, there’s no turning back. Are you ready?"

  Elya’s pulse thundered in her ears, but her resolve was steady. "I’m ready. Let’s begin."

  With a final nod, Mirelle took a long, hard look at Elya’s body, ensuring that every line was in place, every mark precise. Elya stood motionless, her breath shallow, her pulse a thunderous drumbeat in her ears. Naked and exposed, she felt as though she were stepping off a precipice, a terrifying freefall into the unknown. Her fingers curled involuntarily at her sides, a brief shiver running down her spine as the weight of what was about to happen pressed against her.

  This was no mere spell, this was a redefinition of who she was, a change that could never be undone. And yet, beneath the fear, excitement sparked in her chest. For so long, she had lived with restraint, her magic a flickering ember barely able to ignite. But now, now there was a chance to be more than she had ever dared to dream.

  Mirelle stepped forward, her gaze steady, her presence grounding. Then, with a deep breath, she activated the first sequence of the procedure, and the room was flooded with raw magic.

  The procedure began in earnest, with Mirelle working meticulously, weaving the construct layer by layer. Each thread of magic had to be positioned with precision, adjusting and reinforcing the pathways that would soon become Elya’s new artificial meridian system. The complexity was staggering. One misstep, one misalignment, and the entire structure could collapse.

  Elya, though physically drained and mentally exhausted, had to remain conscious through much of the process. Her awareness was crucial, her body needed to accept the construct, attune to it, shape it into something that felt natural rather than foreign. She gritted her teeth, her breath shallow as waves of magic pulsed through her, raw energy threading into the carefully drawn lines on her skin.

  Every delicate strand of magic tethered itself to her core, adjusting and shifting as if testing its new vessel. Her body’s own essence responded, a slow, painful melding as the construct adapted to her unique flow. Sweat coated her skin, her body trembling as the burning sensation of molten light crawled through her veins, embedding itself into her very being. It was not just an installation, it was an invasion, her very nature being rewritten from the inside out.

  The pain at times became unbearable, as if her body fought against the foreign network now taking root within her. The remnants of her damaged meridians screamed in protest, struggling to hold on to their fractured existence. But Mirelle worked swiftly, seamlessly reinforcing each section, ensuring the old system would not interfere.

  Doubt crept in at the edges of Elya’s consciousness. What if her body rejected the change? What if she was too broken to be repaired? Her thoughts wavered between desperation and determination, her mind fogged by exhaustion. The fear was suffocating. Yet, beneath it, buried under layers of pain and uncertainty, a fragile hope flickered.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  If she survived this, if the construct held, she would no longer be limited. The power that had always been just out of reach would be hers to command, no longer shackled by the fragile, broken meridians of her past. She would be free, unbound by the constraints that had defined her existence for so long. She would no longer be weak, she would be something more, something greater, something entirely new.

  Mirelle’s voice cut through the haze, steady and sure. “Hold on, Elya. Just a little longer.”

  She had no choice but to endure. Her body convulsed with the force of the change, her breath ragged as the raw magic coursed through her like a river breaking through ancient stone. Every fiber of her being screamed in resistance, yet she clung to the process, pushing past the agony, past the fear. The transformation was far from over, but deep within, she could feel the first stirrings of something new, something powerful waiting to awaken.

  After hours of painstaking effort, the moment had finally arrived. The artificial meridians were in place, meticulously woven into Elya’s body, primed to take over. Every thread of the construct shimmered with latent energy, waiting to be unleashed. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of Elya’s ragged breath and the faint hum of charged magic vibrating in the air.

  Mirelle steadied herself, exhaling slowly as she placed her hands over Elya’s core. The final step required absolute control. One mistake, one imbalance, and the entire system could unravel. With a final, resolute nod, she initiated the activation, sending a controlled surge of power through the construct.

  Elya’s body arched as raw energy flooded her veins, her muscles seizing, a choked gasp escaping her lips. For a terrifying instant, her magic spiraled out of control, slipping from her grasp like a current too wild to contain. Her vision blurred, the edges of her awareness fraying as a storm of power coursed through her.

  Then, silence.

  For one agonizing moment, the world stilled. The was no pain, no sound, no magic.

  And then it came. A wave of unrestrained energy roared through her, igniting every cell in her body with newfound life. A sensation unlike anything she had ever known crashed over her, pure and unfiltered, flooding every inch of her being. It was ecstasy and agony entwined, overwhelming in its totality, sending tremors through her limbs as her consciousness seemed to dissolve into the vast current of magic surging through her. The muted embers of her magic, once barely a flicker, erupted into a blazing inferno. Her entire form tingled, her core humming in perfect sync with the artificial meridians, the construct seamlessly interwoven with her essence.

  She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt everything, the pulse of the world, the untamed rawness of magic itself, the currents of power once beyond her reach now bending to her will. Her body trembled under the sheer force of it, every nerve alight with sensation, her very essence vibrating in harmony with the magic that now coursed through her veins. She felt weightless and yet utterly grounded, as though she had been stripped bare and rebuilt anew, more whole than she had ever been. She was no longer grasping at scraps of energy, no longer restrained by a failing body. Magic surged through her, boundless and infinite, no longer a whisper but a song, a symphony of untapped potential.

  Tears blurred her vision, her body trembling with the sheer intensity of what she had become. The surge of power left her breathless, her pulse pounding like a drumbeat against the walls of reality itself. She had spent years unable to push beyond a tiny spark, her magic shackled, her dreams constrained by a body that had betrayed her at every turn. Now, that weakness had been burned away, consumed by the roaring fire within her. The magic did not just flow through her, it was her, fusing with her very essence, singing in a harmony that had never before existed. Every fiber of her being pulsed with a radiant intensity, a force so overwhelming that it left her lightheaded, her senses teetering between total clarity and an unbearable flood of sensation. She was no longer just Elya. She was something more. She was limitless.

  Mirelle steadied her, her voice filled with awe. "How do you feel?"

  Elya clenched her fingers, magic crackling at her fingertips with effortless precision. She exhaled, a slow smile forming.

  "Powerful."

  Elya slowly rose, her movements eerily smooth, as if her body no longer carried the weight of limitation. Every breath she took felt lighter, every shift of muscle effortless. The aching resistance she had grown accustomed to was gone. The artificial meridians pulsed in perfect harmony with her essence, and for the first time in her life, she was not fighting against herself.

  Where once she could barely conjure a spell without feeling drained, now power hummed beneath her fingertips, waiting, no, demanding, to be shaped. It coiled inside her like a caged storm, restrained only by her will, a force so vast she barely knew how to comprehend it. She lifted a hand experimentally, flexing her fingers, watching as tiny arcs of energy flickered in response. It was intoxicating, this new sensation of boundless magic thrumming through her veins.

  She took a slow breath and called upon a spell, one that had eluded her for years, one she had never been able to hold for more than a fleeting moment. As she willed it into existence, the effect was instantaneous. The energy did not sputter, did not flicker uncertainly as it once had. Instead, it burst forth with flawless precision, sharper, stronger, refined to perfection. She had always fought for control, always strained against her body's deficiencies, but now? Now she wielded magic as effortlessly as drawing breath.

  The reality of what had happened settled upon her, not in a gradual realization but in a crashing wave of understanding. She was no longer weak. No longer broken. She had transcended what she once was, forged anew by the very magic that had nearly destroyed her. The shackles of her limitations had been cast aside, and in their place, raw, unfiltered power surged within her.

  And yet, with that power came a new weight, responsibility. What did this mean for her future? How would she navigate a world where she was no longer hindered? Where once she had been overlooked, underestimated, what would they see her as now? The thought sent a shiver through her, excitement and apprehension warring in equal measure.

  Mirelle watched her closely, searching for the words to define the moment. But there was no need. Elya already understood.

  She was no longer the girl who had fought to keep up.

  She was something more.

  As the chapter closed, one lingering thought echoed in her mind: What comes next?