The days passed without incident.
The Artifact Refining workshop remained in its usual state of controlled chaos—heat-warped air shimring above open forges, hamr blows ringing in steady, tallic rhythm, soul-force matrices casting layered glows as students tried to force essence into stubborn, ordinary matter.
Bright entered with his fused katana in hand, the weapon that had served him faithfully but was increasingly inadequate for the capabilities he’d developed. The blade had been an astounding innovation back in Grim Hollow—a combination of a standard sword and one with an extending chanism that his fusion talent had transford into sothing novel.
But now it felt... transitional.
Novel isn’t the sa as refined, Bright thought, turning the sword in his hand, as he studied its inadequate edge alignnt, balance and stress lines along the fusion seam. This was a solution born from pressure. Not a weapon built for where I’m going—only for where I was trying not to die.
Hendricks stood at the central forge, his massive hands manipulating white-hot steel with precision that seed impossible for soone his size. The instructor’s scarred shoulder flexed as he worked, demonstrating a technique that transcended re physical strength—this was a type of mastery developed through decades, an understanding that ca from countless failures transford into systematic excellence.
"Morgan," he said without looking up. "You’ve been thinking about weapon designs."
Bright blinked. "Sir?"
"I can literally see it in how you’re holding that katana," Hendricks went on. "Used to grip it like an extension of your arm. Now you’re carrying it like a tool you’re about to replace boy."
Since the ti back from the shroud, Hendricks had grown a little closer to his students. It was a small class to begin with, but proximity like this didn’t co from size alone — it ca from Sparkskhire.
Most of them had looked over the edge at their first school assessnt. Had felt that cold, gut-deep realization of just how easily they could fall to their deaths. After that, the distance they once kept between themselves felt... pointless. Fragile.
So they sat up more. Spoke more. The invisible walls they’d carried for their first days at sparkshire quietly ca down, brick by brick, replaced by the unspoken understanding of people who had all stared into the sa abyss.
And Hendricks, whether he ant to or not, was now inside that circle.
Perceptive, Bright noted. He reads body language the way I read spatial positioning.
"Yes, sir," Bright said. "The fused katana served its purpose. But my capabilities have evolved beyond what this design can complent. I need a weapon that expresses my full capacity — not just sothing that provides generic combat utility."
Hendricks didn’t look up from the forge at first. Sparks breathed upward in slow bursts as tal shifted beneath his hamr.
"Good," he said at last.
Only then did he lift his gaze.
"Most students cling to old weapons out of comfort. They try to force outdated tools to serve their new power. Familiarity feels like loyalty — but in combat, it’s just hesitation dressed up as sentint."
Hendricks set his current project aside and gestured Bright toward an empty workbench. It was already prepared — soul-force compatible parchnt laid flat, essence-reactive inks resting in shallow dishes, and asurent tools etched with sigils designed to detect dinsional distortion.
"Before forging begins, design must exist," Hendricks said. "Not a vague idea. An actual blueprint. One that accounts for material behavior, soul-force integration channels, and enhancent matrices that amplify the user’s abilities instead of resisting them."
He wiped so tal dust from his hands, as his attention was fully on Bright now.
"Most failures happen here," he continued. "People design weapons based on tradition, aesthetics, or what worked for soone else. That’s how you end up fighting your own tool."
He tapped the parchnt once.
"Start with the fundantal question. What does the power you possess actually require from a weapon?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Not what sounds impressive. Not what convention suggests.".
"What does your specific capability demand from the object ant to embody it?"
Bright settled at the workbench.
For a mont his thoughts tried to reach for Enhanced Cognition — then corrected. That was Adam’s core, not his.
What he had was different.
Spatial foresight unfolded naturally, mapping the workshop’s dinsions in layered depth — surfaces, angles, empty volus, unseen spatial tolerances. His awareness arranged the room like a structure he could step between rather than rely stand inside as all Peripheral distractions faded.
What do the facets of spatial manipulation require?
Conventional weapons assu a linear engagent, Bright reasoned. A blade extends along a single axis. A spear thrusts through a straight vector. A bow sends force along a ballistic path. All of them are designed for fighters bound to ordinary space — separated from opponents by a fixed distance, and forced to cross that distance physically.
His fingers hovered above the parchnt.
But I don’t occupy normal space anymore.
Absolute Void Physique lets exist partially outside physical dinsions, let’s teleport within my spatial awareness range, and let’s a dinsional barrier filter what reaches .
The realization settled deeper.
A weapon built for conventional combat doesn’t serve that state of existence. It doesn’t express what I’ve beco. It doesn’t amplify my advantages — or address the limitations unique to fighting across distorted space.
"You’re thinking too hard," Hendricks said, watching Bright’s expression shift through layers of analysis. "Stop designing in theory. Start with what you actually do in a fight. What movents feel natural? What ranges do you default to? How do you really engage when your cores are active?"
Bright exhaled and closed his eyes.
mory replaced imagination.
The spider Crawler in the Shroud.
The Lesser Crawlers during deploynt.
Academy combat sessions.
Not as stories — as motion.
He didn’t advance.
He appeared.
Spatial awareness never showed him a path — it showed him positions. Optimal points of control, angles of advantage, and zones of threat avoidance. His danger sense filtered them, and Absolute Void Physique let him occupy whichever point he chose.
He was never where opponents expected. Never attacking from the angle they prepared to defend.
Combat, for him, wasn’t about crossing distance.
It was about selecting where the fight happened.
"I fight from impossible angles," Bright said slowly, shaping the understanding as it crystallized. "I appear in positions conventional combat doesn’t account for. I strike from locations normal movent can’t reach."
"Good," Hendricks said with approval , not praise. "That’s your capability. Now — what weapon serves a fighter who can appear anywhere within a certain range? Who attacks from angles physics doesn’t permit?"
Bright’s thoughts moved faster now.
Not a long blade.
Extended reach was aningless when he could simply occupy the correct distance. A four-ter edge offered nothing he couldn’t achieve by repositioning.
Not a heavy weapon.
Anything requiring committed swings assud stable footing and preparation ti. He needed sothing that functioned the instant he arrived — no wind-up, no recovery window.
Not ranged.
Spatial manipulation already solved distance. Bows and thrown weapons duplicated an advantage he inherently possessed.
I don’t need reach.
I need lethality at the exact point spatial awareness selects.
"—You look like you’re trying to design a weapon through sheer ntal force," a voice said dryly.
Bright opened his eyes.
Celestine stood at the adjacent bench, red hair tied into a practical braid, her own design layout arranged with almost surgical precision. Noble education showed not in arrogance — but in systems.
"That’s adorably ambitious," she continued, "but rarely effective."
"Just working through so requirents," Bright said. "Trying to match the weapon to my ability instead of defaulting to convention."
"Mind if I offer my perspective?" she asked — already moving closer. "Noble houses archive centuries of attempts at pairing tools with unusual abilities. Saves ti not reinventing the failures."
Bright studied her briefly.
There was no edge in her posture. No performance. Just a practical collaboration.
She’s helping.
"I’d appreciate that," he said.
Celestine pulled a stool beside his workbench, and the change in her was imdiate.
The bright, lightly teasing girl vanished. In her place sat soone trained — posture straight, movents economical, attention precise. This was the version shaped by tutors, ledgers, and legacy.
"From what I’ve observed in the training matches, your situational awareness is extrely high," she said, already sorting through her materials. "That creates specific design constraints."
She produced a thin stack of treated sheets bound at the edge with silver thread.
"House Aurin employed an expert with similar capability two generations ago. Father made study the docuntation because understanding our client capabilities improves our say in equipnt contracts."
She spread sketches showing various weapon attempts—failed designs that had tried to serve the spatial combatant, each iteration revealing what didn’t work and why.
"See this one?" Celestine pointed to an elegant blade with built-in teleportation matrices. "They tried making a weapon that enhanced spatial displacent. A complete failure. The user already had the displacent capability. Adding it to the weapon just created a redundancy that drained essence without providing any benefit."
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