The days passed without incident.
The Artifact Refining workshop remained in its usual state of controlled chaos—heat-warped air shimmering above open forges, hammer blows ringing in steady, metallic 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 mechanism that his fusion talent had transformed into something novel.
But now it felt… transitional.
Novel isn't the same as refined, Bright thought, turning the sword in his hand, as he studied its inadequate edge alignment, 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.
