Chapter 41 Flight

Ethan knelt alone in his chamber, the room was silent but for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, casting a flickering glow across his hunched figure. His bare back gleamed with sweat, muscles taut as he braced himself, hands pressed to the floor like a man waiting for the lash of a whip.

He whispered the command internally, his voice steady in his mind: Build.

The first spark of sensation was subtle—a faint warmth spreading between his shoulder blades, as if a distant ember had been lit under his flesh. Then came the sharp, biting pain, like needles burrowing deep into his muscles. His body jerked involuntarily, a ragged gasp escaping his lips. The builder nanobots had begun their work, swarming within his tissues like a hive of living metal, breaking down cells and reconstructing them with precision that defied nature.

Ethan could feel them—every single one of them. Tiny machines, dismantling the very fibers of his being. Bones creaked and cracked as the nanobots carved out new pathways, elongating his spine, reshaping his scapulae. The grinding noise filled his ears.

The skin on his back stretched unnaturally, bulging outward as the nanobots manipulated every layer, reshaping tissue like molten clay. Pain seared through him, white-hot and unrelenting, but it was precise, surgical. Blood oozed from his back as new structures began to force their way to the surface. The nanobots absorbed it immediately, recycling it into raw material for the transformation. Ethan's vision blurred for a moment.

Something tore through his skin.

A jagged, skeletal frame emerged first—bare, glistening bone-like structures that jutted out from his back like the ribs of a beast. The nanobots worked furiously, knitting muscle and tendon around the frame in real time. He could feel every sinew forming, every fiber weaving together in perfect synchronization. His head tilted back, a guttural groan escaping his throat as he endured the sensation of his body being rewritten.

The membranes came next—thin, translucent at first, like the fragile wings of an insect. But the nanobots strengthened them with each second, layering them with a composite of reinforced fibers that shimmered faintly in the firelight. Ethan watched in the reflection on the table before him as the wings unfurled, slowly growing wider and more intricate. They were impossibly large, spanning far beyond the reach of his arms, their edges lined with a faint metallic sheen.

White feathers began to sprout along the framework, sleek and razor-sharp, their texture both natural and artificial. They gleamed black in the firelight, each one precisely shaped by the builder nanobots to maximize aerodynamics and durability.

The pain began to subside, replaced by a deep, pulsing ache. Ethan flexed his back instinctively, and the wings responded. They twitched, then unfurled fully with a deafening whoosh of air, the force rattling the objects on the table beside him. The room seemed to shrink around him, the massive wings casting jagged shadows across the walls.

He rose slowly to his feet. The wings folded and unfolded with precision, responding to his thoughts as if they had always been part of him. His body felt heavier, yet balanced, as though the nanobots had recalibrated every muscle and bone to accommodate this new, alien addition.

Ethan turned his head, watching the wings as they flexed. He ran a hand along the edge of one, feeling the sharpness of the feathers beneath his fingertips. The nanobots had surpassed even his expectations—they had created something extraordinary, something both beautiful and monstrous.

He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs like it never had before. The builder nanobots had crafted more than wings; they had given him the means to conquer the skies, to rise above his enemies—literally and figuratively. He smiled faintly, a flicker of awe crossing his face as he whispered to himself, "Evolution...let's hope this is not a tragic mistep."

The night air was crisp as Ethan flapped his wings, each movement sending a rush of cold wind across his face. His wings were large, white, and powerful, their surface shimmering in the moonlight as they cut through the air. It had taken him time to adjust, the weight and span of them unfamiliar at first, but now they felt like an extension of his own body. The rhythm of flight became instinctive.

He soared over Lake Bala, the water below a dark mirror reflecting the stars. The cool breeze tugged at him. He inhaled deeply, the exhilaration of flight rushing through him, his body weightless against the night sky. For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the sensation. It felt freeing, like he was truly untethered from the world below.

Suddenly, a figure on the shore caught his attention. A drunk man, swaying as he stumbled beside the water, unzipped his trousers to relieve himself. His eyes, half-lidded with inebriation, shot upward, and his expression twisted into bewildered shock.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, barely able to keep his balance. "That's a huge fuckin' bird!"

Ethan's wings sliced through the air as he climbed higher. The man's shouts were swallowed by the wind as he left the shores of Bala behind, pushing onward towards east to the border.

As Ethan flew over the vast landscape, he mentally mapped out his route. Target key agricultural regions. He repeated the plan in his mind, grounding himself in his purpose. Cheshire. The Midlands. East Anglia. The fertile soils of the Thames Valley. Each area a piece of the puzzle he would soon infect with his spores. The distance was vast—nearly over 1,000 miles from start to finish—but he could manage. His wings, strong and steady, beat at a relentless pace. If the winds were in his favor, it would take less than a month to complete the circuit. The longer he stayed airborne, the more efficient the spread.

His thoughts sharpened as he flew, the weight of his mission pulling at his mind. The mycelial network woven through his wings pulsed with energy, spreading its tendrils through the feathers, reaching into his skin. When he reached England soil his flaps would release millions of microscopic spores that contained a variant fungus—silent, insidious particles that would settle onto crops and grain storages.