To the reaches of the underworld.
It was as though every great being had sensed that this moment was extraordinary.
However.
The Young Wizard himself had not realized it.
Ian transformed into a Raven and soared freely through the skies above Helheim for a while, intoxicated by the sensation of weaving through the clouds. His black feathers trembled softly in the wind, gleaming with a metallic luster. The wind howled through his plumage, and every beat of his wings brought a fresh, wondrous experience.
It was a feeling that neither a magic broom nor a flying cloak could compare to.
Humans were born with an indescribable longing for the sky, and at this very moment, Ian was living out that longing. He could keenly sense every subtle change in the air. Wherever his eyes reached, the world seemed magnified countless times, its tiniest textures and movements all appearing with perfect clarity.
"Magical Creatures really are extraordinary!"
Ian slowly flapped his wings. The hands that had once belonged to a human had now become a pair of wings, and he felt that unfamiliar power flowing through his blood.
The feeling of soaring through the skyline left him exhilarated, almost making him forget his original identity. For some reason, it also gave him an intensely bewildering sense of familiarity.
As though everything was meant to be this way. That was why Ian adapted so quickly to his current state. This special Animagus body was incredibly powerful. To put it in terms anyone from his homeland could understand, he could feel that every flap of his wings produced speed no less than the Great Sage Equal to Heaven turning a somersault.
No.
Strictly speaking, each flap of his wings had the same effect as Wukong turning a somersault—one hundred and eight thousand li.