Chương 168: Heavy Steps

An inner voice… Better known as one's internal monologue… June's feet pounded against the ground, shattering stone from the sheer force of his steps; he ran with all of his might. If his body wasn't a slurry held in shape, he would have felt his tendons straining due to the force of his stride alone.

His own thoughts were drowned out by the shock each leg received every time his foot tapped against the floor, to swiftly lift up into the next step without care for his body — It all went beyond simple aches — a normal human would have been torn apart by their own unrelenting motions if they were even able to muster still a quarter of his strength… an Aspirant may be able to hold out, momentarily, that is. June leveraged his Flesh-Shaping and his status to heal his unwinding body.

His steps were anything but lightfooted; he didn't move with a gazelle's stride, or a cheetah's technique — his form was more like a lumbering, enraged elephant. Each graceless step tore his body apart internally, to the point that other Dreamers would struggle to emulate, no, to even handle the sheer force of his steps. What would be going through a person's mind to make them exert themselves to the point of tearing themselves apart? Only two things… Nothing and Everything all at once!

A state of true selflessness, a trance taken on for a singular purpose — to find and protect something, no, someone, that gave him purpose. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He somehow found it weird that his internal monologue that had long split, was still able to ponder clearly, separated from the events that his body felt and sensed. Was it subconscious? Or was it his consciousness that still thought? Was there a secret third that he never considered?

'No, maybe Voice would be considered the third?' June tried to pick up the pace once more, but a unique roadblock presented itself to him: air time.

The time he spent in the air between strides had swiftly shortened as technique slowly corrected itself since the beginning of his sprint, but no matter, the fact that he had to spend time in the air felt like a dire loss of pace, of efficiency; his Dreamer affinity to his body allowed him to be a physical genius, but all that genius provided him was a sense of inadequacy in his form. Regardless of that, he was still making time compared to the hundreds of convening perpetrators.

His body was purely attuned to his Will; his slurry body lacked muscles and the action potentials needed to activate them, even the oh-so necessary neurotransmitters that let his woven synapses think. In the place of action potentials, muscle, cartilage, and bones, his Will was what held him together and allowed him to use his own body; in fact, the more that he thought about it, the more apparent the realization of his Will's importance dawned on him.

'It's a shame that Flesh-Shaping prevents me from gaining muscle naturally.' He found it somewhat funny that he still found humour in his current conundrum, as if he— June's eyes darted to his wrist; the bracelet began flashing. In the next instant, he heard chirping… The spirits had found her! He was getting closer to finding her… To finding Lilia, finally!