The strength in her arm was so out of proportion to her size that it nearly flung Kraft's hand into his face. He pressed down on it by reflex, using five or six tenths of his strength before he managed to match it.
The pressure on her arm was now comparable to what he'd feel when swinging a sword, yet Yvonne had resisted for several seconds without showing any sign of tiring. Even through her clothes and skin, he could feel the taut contours beneath.
Her muscles hadn't changed shape, but they'd lost their suppleness, pulled taut like ropes drawing a full sail. They were abnormally strong. Realizing something was wrong, he quickly released her hand and stopped applying pressure, lest the excessive strain injure her.
"Does it hurt here?" He pressed two fingers into the muscle. Even after her arm relaxed, the tension remained clear in the muscle, as if it had become permanent.
Yvonne shook her head at once. She hadn't felt any pain from a strain; in fact, she was a little puzzled that he'd been so gentle with her during today's examination.
As he examined the rest of her body, he realized this wasn't limited to her left arm. It was happening all over. "Do you feel tense? Like you can't relax?"
She shook her head again. Her hair swished with the motion, and she was clearly as limber as ever—not at all like the person who'd nearly been diagnosed with a stiff neck during his examination.
He knew all too well what it meant when someone's muscle strength was so wildly out of proportion to their appearance. The husks completely drained of organic matter by the fungi were left with only a thin layer of muscle fibers clinging to the bones, barely deserving the name