Thalion reappeared in the tutorial, the weight of new power pressing faintly against his skin. He had just spent an unimaginable fortune on the best materials for his armor and blade, and though he had tried to pry more secrets from the voice of the system, it revealed little. The only hint it gave was regarding the Fear Pillar: that he would need to cut deep into his chest. Beyond that, the system remained silent like an unyielding wall of stone.
With nothing more to gain, Thalion had devoted his remaining ti to practicing his skills, especially movent techniques. He hadn’t made great progress, but every step counted, even a shallow stream, drop by drop, could carve a canyon over ti.
Now, at last, it was ti to finish his armor and blade. Afterward, he would turn his focus to the pillar and to the Tidecaller Serpent. He doubted there would be ti for much else.
The material he had purchased, at the staggering cost of eight million credits, was called Mana-Bathed Onyx. Thalion wasn’t sure what to expect, but the system’s voice assured him it could be integrated into armor the sa way as other materials. To his surprise, the process proved far simpler than he had imagined.
The onyx ca in blocks, smooth as river stones, and when he hamred them into the shape of small plates, they shimred faintly like embers beneath water. It wasn’t ordinary material. It was designed to rge seamlessly with finished equipnt. All he needed was a rough shape, and the onyx would slide into place and fusing on contact, as if hungry to belong. High-tier magic had crafted this wonder, the kind no mortal could hope to replicate, like the strange spatial enchantnts woven into the tutorial’s buildings.
For Thalion, it was perfect. In the tutorial, every saved hour was worth a life.
The first scale-like plate took only ten minutes. He pressed it against the plating on his arm, and with a soft vibration, the two fused together, smooth and seamless. From the outside, nothing changed but Thalion could feel the difference. His armor pulsed faintly, like a beast breathing in its sleep, stronger and tougher than before.
Eight hours later, his armor and sword were fully fused with the Mana-Bathed Onyx. Only one task remained: placing the prepared, far more powerful crystals into their empty slots.
This was the part Lucan had insisted on witnessing. No surprise, given how much of his own work was bound up in the explosive blood runes. Thalion had gone all out as well, weakening his human body by pouring vast amounts of essence blood into the armor’s runes and pathways. It left him pale, hollow, and shaky, but the equipnt would be stronger for it. His essence would recover with ti, but the armor would only be built once. Better to sacrifice now, when the fire of the tutorial still burned, than regret weakness later during the coming system quests.
He began with the sword. The crystal he had prepared now held five tis the strength of its predecessor, though still weaker than the gems ant for his armor. His armor, after all, included his mask and the black robe, both reforged and integrated. The alchemists had excelled, sharing rune combinations far better suited for stealth than the shabby enchantnts his robe once held. Until now, the robe had been little more than cloth. It ripped apart in every battle, saved only by the self-repair runes stitched into its seams. Those runes were like tireless healers, ensuring the armor always recovered, no matter how broken it beca.
Thalion was eager to see the results.
Lucan was especially delighted when Thalion added a tiny explosive rune to his sword. It was a manual trigger, small, controlled, but deadly. Otherwise, the blade would function normally.
Thalion placed the sword within the formation circle, its runes glowing like veins of molten silver. He handed the red crystal to the chanical arm, stepping back behind the protective barrier. When these crafts completed, they always unleashed shockwaves. Violent bursts of energy that warped steel and shattered stone. Even Lucan now carried an arm covered in repair runes, ensuring it would twist back into shape after each blast.
Together, they watched as the chanical arm lowered the glowing crystal into the sword’s hilt.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the sword began to hum. Quiet at first, like a whisper in a cathedral, but steadily rising. Louder, sharper, until the vibration filled the chamber. The hum built into a roar before erupting in a thunderous shockwave that rattled the formation’s shields, making them shiver like glass under hail.
Lucan whistled, grinning. “What a beautiful sword. Tell , Thalion. Do you think we could build a bomb just by dropping crystals into weapon sockets?” His tone was playful, but his eyes glimred with the kind of curiosity that wasn’t entirely joking.
Thalion didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze shifted to the notification flickering on his status screen. The sword had already bonded with him, even though he hadn’t touched it. Probably because of the vast ocean of essence blood he had sacrificed in its forging.
The blade humd faintly in the circle, as if alive, waiting for its master’s hand.
The Blade of the Blooded Templar (Ascendant)
Forged from extraordinary materials and tempered with essence blood, the Blade of the Blooded Templar was more than a weapon. It was hunger made steel. Spells that struck its edge would be devoured, their mana swallowed and funneled into the wielder like rainwater channeled into a deep reservoir. A single wound from its edge would fester, refusing to close. With every cut, the blade drank greedily, bleeding the enemy further while strengthening the hand that wielded it. It was a sword bound to willpower itself. The user’s thoughts could guide its movent, and skills channeled through the blade would bloom with amplified force, especially those born of blood. To touch it without being its maker was to invite disaster. The sword does not allow another master.
Thalion’s grin widened as he read the description. This was more than he had hoped for. The rarity exceeded even his expectations.
With a single telepathic command, the blade shot from within the protective formation, slipping through the mana-shield as if it were no more than mist. It landed in his hand, obedient and alive. He gave it a few test swings. The weight was perfect, balanced, not too heavy, not too light, like it had been waiting for him all along. Testing its true power would co later, once the armor was complete.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Lucan’s eyes widened. “How did it pass so easily through the mana-wall? That shield was built to withstand catastrophic explosions.”
Thalion gave a faint smirk. “It’s made to destroy what mana builds.”
Without wasting more words, he strode into the center of the formation and began setting up the armor. This ti, three chanical arms were required. He handed them three blood crystals, each one pulsing faintly, like beating hearts torn from their hosts. The arm they had used for the sword still hung bent and crooked, in need of repair, but Lucan had ten more. In minutes, everything was in place.
Thalion eagerly stepped out of the circle. His sword had turned out perfectly. If the armor succeeded as well, he would be beyond satisfied.
The shield closed around the formation, and the arms descended, lowering the crystals into their sockets all at once.
“You know,” Lucan said as they waited, his voice casual but his gaze fixed on the work, “without a spatial ring, you’re going to need a sheath for that sword.”
Thalion blinked. “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that. Do you have one here?”
Lucan chuckled. “I’ve got a standard one, sure. But do you really want sothing ordinary for a blade like that?”
“My ti is limited. I can’t forge one myself right now. Can you tell one of the smiths to do it?”
“Of course. Should be simple enough. Oh, and I’ve heard more blood crystals are on the way. Let take the blade, asure it and make so notes.” Lucan extended his hand.
Thalion let the sword glide through the air toward him, then froze as mory jolted him. The last line of its description slamd into his mind like a hamr.
“Oh, shit... wait, don’t touch it!”
Too late. Lucan’s finger brushed the blade.
His scream tore through the chamber as blood was sucked from his hand, drained in an instant. Thalion recalled the sword imdiately, but the damage was done. Lucan collapsed, clutching his shriveled hand, groaning in agony.
“Gods, Lucan, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about the warning that no one else can touch it!” Thalion knelt beside him, guilt weighing heavier than the sword itself.
Lucan gritted his teeth, downing a health potion with a shudder. “No problem. Just... damn... that hurt. Worse than having your teeth drilled with a rusty nail.”
Before Thalion could respond, a deep thrumming sound filled the chamber. The three crystals had locked into place. The armor floated above the ground, humming with power, light rippling across its surface like molten tal beneath ice. After twenty long seconds, the energy burst outward in a shockwave that rattled the mana-shield, making it tremble as though a giant’s fist had struck it.
Lucan’s pain was forgotten in an instant. His eyes lit up. “Oh, what a masterpiece. Go, claim it!”
He didn’t need to say it twice.
Thalion shifted into mistform, darting across the room. His excitent betrayed him, and he overshot the armor, flying past like an arrow loosed without aim. At least he didn’t smash into the wall on the far side. Lucan gave him a puzzled look, but Thalion ignored it, hurrying back.
All embarrassnt lted away the mont his fingers brushed the armor. The hum resonated through his bones, a living force recognizing its master. As the pieces slid into place across his body, a new notification blood before his eyes, words carved in light, promising power.
Bloodforged Armor of the Blooded Templar (Ascendant)
An armor forged by the Blooded Templar under imnse pressure, quenched in essence blood and bound by will. This was no re armor. It was a second skin, a fortress wrapped around flesh. Against even the most devastating strikes and spells, it would hold firm, and if ever damaged, it would nd itself instantly, like a wound closing before the blade could cut deeper. Every blood-skill cast through the armor would surge to terrifying new heights, their power sharpened into killing blows. With but a thought, the Blooded Templar could twist those spells into volatile detonations, blood itself exploding upon contact with the enemy like a crimson star going supernova. The armor included a mask that hid the Templar’s face, and a black robe seamlessly woven into its design. Both mask and robe shimred with crimson runes, etched from the Templar’s own essence blood. These runes did not rely decorate. They cloaked him, obscuring him from sight. With this armor, prey would not sense the hunter until his blade was already buried in their hearts.
Thalion could feel the difference instantly. It was exhilarating to be back in full armor. Yet sothing unsettled him. The na. Blooded Templar. His class was the Sanguine Archon. So why did the system call him this? The words lingered in his mind like a riddle whispered in the dark.
He threw a few punches into the air, the gauntlets whistling like knives cutting wind. He leapt, rolled, and twisted, testing its weight. The armor clung to him perfectly, flowing with his movents like water poured into the shape of his body. It was glorious.
“This is… aweso,” Thalion muttered to himself, elation rising in his chest. With this armor, his enemies would break themselves against him like waves against unyielding cliffs.
“How do you like it?” Lucan called out, still standing unsteady on his feet after his earlier ordeal.
“This is incredible! Thank you for everything. You’re the best.” Thalion’s voice brimd with joy as he drew his new blade, slicing the air with a few experintal swings. The blade sang, and in harmony with his armor, it felt like destiny wrapping around him. If only he could master his bloodline, everything would be perfect.
“Hey, Thalion,” Lucan called again, grinning, “it’s actually kind of hard to see you. Those runes on your coat and mask? They’re working. The only thing I can make out are your eyes, glowing red, like embers in the dark.”
That caught Thalion off guard. He froze, genuinely surprised. Until now, no one had ever remarked on his concealnt. The old runes he’d carved into his black robe had been crude, barely functional. But these, these were different. They wrapped him in shadow like a hunter’s cloak, leaving only those burning eyes to betray him.
Against true powerhouses on New Earth, it wouldn’t an much. But against anyone below his level, it would be lethal. He could already picture it. Kael, Kai, Sylas falling before him, never knowing death was near until the very last mont.
The thought made his blood stir with anticipation.
User Comments
0 comments from readers