Eo drifted in his hidden sanctuary, the surrounding water thick with his lingering bloodlust. He had spent countless attempts trying to refine the mist, to mold it like muscle, but its nature resisted him. Unlike his own shifting body, which adapted fluidly, the mist remained elusive, unwilling to take form beyond the illusions he had observed.

  But something had changed.

  The battle between the berserk creatures had shown him something crucial—density mattered. The way bloodlust hung thick in the water, clinging and suffocating, made him reconsider his approach. If mist was too light, then he needed to weigh it down.

  So he tried again.

  Eo released his bloodlust slowly, letting it seep outward instead of exploding. At the same time, he willed the mist to stay close, to wrap around him rather than scatter. The moment they met, a reaction occurred.

  His form shuddered as an unfamiliar force spread through him. The mist, so soft and fluid before, suddenly thickened. The bloodlust, once a mere extension of his will, instead compressed inward. It was as if the two forces were fighting—no, merging.

  Then—a surge.

  The mist twisted unnaturally, coiling along his tendrils like it had gained weight, like it was no longer just mist. The bloodlust, which had always acted as a pressure against others, suddenly imploded inward, densifying, hardening.

  Eo’s entire being trembled as his instincts flared in warning. Something fundamental had changed inside him.

  He extended one of his tendrils, expecting to see the usual smooth, shifting mist-like extension.

  Instead, he saw something new.

  The mist no longer drifted—it had solidified. It was thin, sharp, gleaming like liquid metal. Not water, not mist, not flesh. Something between all three.

  Eo flexed, twisting his limb. The sharpened form responded instantly, slicing through the water with ease. He reached out to a nearby rock, tentatively pressing the tip of his altered tendril against it.

  The moment he applied pressure—

  CRACK.

  The stone split.

  Eo recoiled.

  His entire being pulsed with realization.

  This was not bloodlust.

  This was not mist.

  It was something new.

  He focused inward, analyzing the reaction that had occurred within his body. His kind—polymorphs of water—thrived on adaptability, but this transformation was beyond simple shape-shifting.

  The mist had been too light. Bloodlust had been too raw. But together... they had created something denser, something tangible.

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  Eo moved, testing his newfound ability. He extended his limb further, willing more of the mist and bloodlust into it. The transformation was instantaneous—his tendril lengthened, forming into a serrated edge, pulsing between a liquid and solid state.

  This was no illusion.

  This was a weapon.

  The thrill of discovery coursed through him, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed to push further.

  Could he control the thickness? The sharpness? The flexibility?

  He coiled his tendril inward, willing it to return to its original form. The hardened structure dissolved, turning back into its misty nature. Then he focused again, this time compressing the bloodlust even further.

  The result?

  The tendril reformed, but thicker. The edge wasn’t just sharp—it had weight behind it now.

  Eo twisted it through the water, feeling the distinct difference. This wasn’t just a simple attack anymore—it was a technique.

  A method of killing.

  And it was his.

  Excitement flared inside him, but so did caution. This new form—this condensed mist blade—was powerful. But it required delicate control. If he compressed too much, the mist hardened too quickly, losing flexibility. If he loosened it too much, it became weak, barely stronger than water.

  Balance.

  Eo exhaled slowly, retracting his sharpened limb, allowing the mist and bloodlust to disperse once more.

  This was the first step.

  But it was far from the last.

  Eo remained still, his form pulsing in the water as he examined his latest creation. The sharpened mist, fused with his bloodlust, was something entirely new. It felt like a natural extension of himself, yet also foreign—an evolution that neither his instincts nor his knowledge had anticipated.

  But there was more to uncover.

  He twisted his tendrils, forming them into the same blade-like shape, but this time he focused on something different—control.

  The first time had been raw, instinctual. The reaction between mist and bloodlust had surprised even him. Now, he sought refinement.

  Eo compressed the mist again, forcing his bloodlust to weave through it more evenly. The transformation occurred, but this time, it was smoother. The shape didn’t just solidify; it settled into its new form without resistance.

  He struck forward, slicing at the water itself. The movement was cleaner than before, the sharpened edge cutting through the currents as if they weren’t even there.

  He pushed further.

  Extending a second tendril, he repeated the process, but altered the ratio of mist to bloodlust.

  The result was different.

  This time, the blade did not become rigid. Instead, it remained flexible—whiplike—but with a razor-thin edge. When he swung it, it did not merely cut—it shredded.

  Fascinating.

  Eo experimented more, alternating the density, the distribution, the flow of mist throughout his form. He realized he could shift between these new states at will, choosing between an unyielding edge or a more fluid, lacerating form.

  It wasn’t just about strength—it was about adaptability.

  This was what had been missing before.

  Balance.

  Eo turned his attention to a nearby rock formation, one covered in layers of hardened coral. It had withstood the currents and pressures of the deep, a natural fortress.

  He approached, coiling a mist-blade around one of the jagged protrusions.

  Then, he squeezed.

  At first, nothing happened. The solidified mist held, pressing against the structure but not breaking it.

  Eo narrowed his focus.

  This time, he did not simply maintain the form—he pulsed the bloodlust.

  A vibration ran through his limb, and suddenly, the edges of his mist-blade tore through the coral.

  Eo recoiled, stunned.

  The force hadn’t been direct. Instead, the bloodlust had caused the blade to oscillate, vibrating at such a frequency that it had bypassed the rock’s natural resistance.

  A cutting edge that did not just slice, but ruptured from within.

  That was different.

  That was dangerous.

  He coiled inward, processing the discovery. If he could sharpen, thicken, flex, and now even vibrate his mist-formed blades, then what was the true limit?

  He didn’t know.

  And that excited him.

  This was only the beginning.