"Chakra, a wondrous power..."
The Tyranid swarm had acquired the power of chakra. For the Great Devourer, which was constantly evolving and consuming, this strange supernatural power—distinct from psychic powers—was undoubtedly a perfect fit. It could make the swarm more versatile and terrifying.
With this power, the Tyranids could evolve at an even faster rate. In fact, the Great Devourer had already begun trying to develop more efficient and terrifying methods of traversing the cosmos, based on chakra's ability to interfere with the physical universe on a massive scale.
However, the more it embraced this seemingly harmless power, which greatly benefited evolution, the more the Great Devourer—the entity that could be called a collective consciousness—began, for some reason, to develop other emotions.
It suddenly felt an urge to believe in something.
"Thank you, Immortal, for teaching me your magic!"
In a dream, a young man clasped his hands in gratitude to an immortal seated on a lotus pedestal, dressed in a blood-red robe and possessing an air of otherworldly grace.
This was a world much like the medieval era.
Geralt had transmigrated into this world. That wasn't the name he'd had originally, but that was all in the past.
Now, his name was Geralt.
When he first arrived in this world, he had been terrified and despairing, because he'd discovered that he had no cheat—he was a transmigrator with nothing to his name.
This world was utterly unfriendly to him. He couldn't even get enough to eat. He sorely missed his phone, computer, and all the conveniences of modern life. To someone from the modern era like him, the Middle Ages were hell.
If he'd transmigrated as a noble lord, that would've been fine. At least he'd have had an estate, a bunch of serfs, and the right