The Khan's blood blended deftly into the power spreading from the Belisarian Furnace throughout Evan's body, making his muscles begin to... contract.
Yes, for a son of the White Scars, Evan was too bulky. Under the constant pressure of his Adamantium Armor, he had been forced to focus even more on muscle training to maintain his speed. The lanky beanpole who had crawled out of the neophyte tank had become a brawny man. Now, the Khan's genetic power was compressing his muscles.
Muscles like steel were transforming into muscles like adamantium.
Although his frame shrank slightly, his speed, speed, and speed all improved dramatically.
Evan could barely feel the process, because his brain and body were disconnected—a condition even worse than high-level paralysis.
When that power finished repairing Evan's body and his nerves reconnected, a strange sense of unfamiliarity washed over him, followed by even fiercer pain. Every cell clamored for energy.
They greedily consumed everything, absorbing every scrap of energy they could.
The life-support circulation inside his Power Armor began buckling under the strain. The system approached its limit.
The Khan's wound healed at a visible pace. By the time he returned to the table, only a faint scar remained.
He hung the calligraphy he had just finished on the wall behind him, then called to the warriors outside, "Zhamayan Feast!"
The warriors outside, preparing to brace the great doors, erupted in cheers. The phrase meant "livestock stripped of their hides," and also referred to the Khan's court banquet.
Famous chefs had gathered on Terra, and the chef from Chogoris was no exception. Perhaps he had not realized that he was the first person from Chogoris to see the Primarch.
This was a battle, a battle under his command, because...
*Damn it, they eat way too fast! Am I