The quartermaster nodded briskly, then turned his attention to the four Depravitas’s bodies. His experienced gaze swept over them, pausing for a few monts as if evaluating their physique and temperant.
"Could you tell a bit about your preferred fighting styles?" he asked. "I want to get the right weaponry for each of you."
"I am a lightning-and-fire spellcaster," Jormungandr replied first. During his last major conflict on the Monsoon Continent, he relied extensively on his World Snake transformation. However, using that form in the Land of the Three Calamities would create a massive target—sothing extrely dangerous given the caliber of enemies they might face. Therefore, he would return to his caster battle style.
"I fight hand-to-hand," Ouroboros added in a confident tone. "I focus on pure lee, relying on my fists and legs." He, too, had decided against assuming his large wolf form. In this brutal land, mobility and precision could easily an the difference between life and death.
"I’m also a lee fighter," Fafnir chid in, his voice resonating slightly with a dragon’s growl. "I concentrate on my claws." He could have wielded weapons; thanks to his A.I. Chip, he could learn their intricacies swiftly. Yet, the Depravita of Envy believed using his own body gave him a broader range of strikes.
The last to speak was Vlad. Over the years, the young man had cycled through various combat styles. In one phase, he’d wielded a halberd stolen from angels. Later, he’d relied on his fists after the halberd was destroyed in a battle against a mutated Divine Avatar. Now, he took a mont to deliberate, recalling the forms that had served him best.
"I use a sword," he stated at last. The Depravita of Wrath possessed exceptional skill and dexterity with bladed weapons. Still, he had not found a blade sturdy enough to handle his burgeoning strength during the last couple of years. He hoped that the Sage-tier armory of the fortress would finally solve that issue.
Oliver nodded thoughtfully, entering a few commands on the glowing crystals at his desk. A faint hum indicated that the fortress’s logistical system was processing his request. Monts later, a young woman arrived, carefully carrying four small space rings. She handed them to Oliver with a respectful bow, then departed without a word.
"These are your standard kits for Brigadier Generals," Oliver said, distributing one ring to each Depravita. "Inside, you’ll find armor and weaponry aligned with your stated preferences. Please confirm that everything ets your needs."
Eager to see what they had received, Vlad, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir each focused on the ring they held. A flicker of spiritual perception later, broad smiles broke out on their faces as they took in the contents. Without further delay, they each equipped their armor, curiosity fueling their quick movents.
The Brigadier General’s Armor turned out to be predominantly white, an unassuming color that might have symbolized purity or unity within the Golden Sky Fortress. For Vlad, the set adapted flawlessly to his fra, fitting like a second skin. He could feel the armor synchronizing with his body as though it were an extension of himself, granting him enhanced mobility while also allowing for an unimpeded flow of internal energy.
Ouroboros and Fafnir donned almost identical sets, similarly noticing how the armor molded itself to their physiques. Though the design looked standard—likely mass-produced—it clearly wasn’t lacking in protective enchantnts. Each piece gave off a faint glow, evidence of carefully inscribed runes beneath the surface. Even if it didn’t have any flamboyant uniqueness, it made up for that with raw defensive power.
Jormungandr alone did not receive a suit of plated armor. Instead, he pulled out a white robe from his ring. Though it looked far more delicate than the gear the others were wearing, he sensed a complex sh of magical matrices woven throughout the fabric. With each breath he took, the robe seed to respond, slightly augnting his energy reserves. Defensive enchantnts laced its threads as well, allowing it to trigger protective spells of the Sage Tier if he were struck.
’A robe of this quality is hardly fragile,’ Jormungandr thought, slipping it on. Indeed, it might not match the raw, physical sturdiness of the armor, but it offered a different kind of protection—one better suited to a spellcaster’s needs.
With their armor in place, the group moved on to the next items in each ring: specialized weapons. This was the mont they had truly been waiting for—Sage-tier armants that could complent their abilities.
Vlad drew out a slender black sword. Its length matched the span of his arm, and it radiated an ominous, razor-sharp aura. Just by gripping the hilt, Vlad could feel the synergy between his energy and the sword’s material. He had no doubt it could slice through even the hardened flesh of a Voroe Sage.
"Finally," Vlad murmured, swiping the blade experintally through the air. The motion was fluid and crisp, leaving a barely perceptible trail of dark energy in its wake.
Jormungandr found a small orb in his ring, barely the size of a child’s fist. At a glance, it looked unremarkable, a smooth dark stone etched with fine patterns. Yet, a closer inspection revealed swirling storms of lightning and fire contained within.
Jormungandr’s eyes widened with anticipation: by channeling his spells through this orb, he guessed he could boost the destructive power of his lightning-and-fire assaults by at least thirty percent. It was exactly what he needed to bridge the gap between standard spells and the cataclysmic might of his World Snake form—without risking the transformation itself.
Ouroboros and Fafnir each retrieved a pair of gauntlets from their rings. In addition, they uncovered matching greaves designed for the lower legs. Lifting a gauntlet up to his face, Ouroboros could see how the tal segnts would fit snugly over his arms, the claws at his fingertips protruding through reinforced tips.
Fafnir, likewise, tested how smoothly the claws on his gauntlets extended and retracted. Both pairs ca paired with bladed greaves, perfect for delivering powerful kicks or swift knee strikes. Together, these accessories could significantly elevate their already formidable close-combat prowess.
The four Depravitas exchanged glances, and they could read one another’s excitent—along with a certain bloodthirsty eagerness. Had they possessed such equipnt when battling Olivion, the three-headed minotaur Voroe Sage, they felt that the fight would have ended far more quickly. Of course, they remained level-headed enough not to be blinded by their new gear. They knew there was more to explore in their rings—so they turned their attention back to the leftover items.
Sifting through the spatial storage, each found two smaller objects: a strange badge covered in runes and a magic crystal that glowed faintly with encrypted data. Vlad and the others took them out simultaneously, studying them with curiosity.
The badge turned out to be a personal identification token linked solely to its bearer’s energy signature. No one else would be able to use it, effectively preventing forgery. Emblazoned on each was the emblem of the Golden Sky Fortress, along with the specific rank and na of the Depravita in question. The runes woven into the badge likely transmitted signals to the fortress, providing location tracking or imdiate identification in case of an ergency.
The magic crystal served an even broader function, apparently granting the user ntal access to a vast compendium of fortress codes and guidelines, but that was far from all.
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