The system did not speak immediately.
For the first time since Uniltaron, Nussudle was grateful for that silence.
He sat alone on one of the higher crafting platforms of Home Tree, legs crossed, the partially shaped bow resting across his knees. Sunlight filtered through layers of leaves overhead, dappling the living wood beneath him with shifting patterns of gold and green. Below, the forest breathed—steady, patient, ancient.
The bark Kamun had cut for him lay softened and curved, its shape already hinting at a purpose. It felt warm under his fingers, almost responsive, as if it remembered the hands that had guided it free.
Nussudle exhaled slowly.
Only then did the familiar shimmer appear.
The system unfolded before his eyes—not abrupt, not intrusive, but calm, as if acknowledging that this moment required restraint.
System Prompt Detected
Crafting Opportunity Identified
Recommended Action: Environmental Integration
Nussudle blinked.
He had crafted before—arrows, bindings, simple weapons shaped by instinct and necessity—but this felt different. The words environmental integration lingered, heavy with implication.
"What does that mean?" he murmured under his breath.
The system responded immediately, text flowing downward in steady lines.
Environmental Integration: Combining materials drawn from living ecosystems aligned with Eywa to enhance weapon harmony, efficiency, and spiritual compatibility.
Note: Items crafted using environmental integration exhibit higher resonance with the user's Connections stat.
Nussudle's pulse quickened.
He glanced at the bow again, then out toward the forest. The meaning settled slowly. This wasn't about assembling parts. It was about listening to the tree, to the forest, to the things that lived and died within it.
The system chimed again.
Available Timeframe: Estimated Craft Duration: 48 hours
Recommendation: Gather materials personally to maximise compatibility.
That decided it.
The first day was spent moving.
Nussudle descended from Home Tree before the forest fully warmed, Nova téras remaining above, watchful but uninvolved. This was not a task for the sky. This was something that had to be done with his feet on the ground.
He moved through familiar paths, slower than he would have in a hunt, eyes open not for danger but for signs. The system did not highlight materials directly. Instead, it responded when his attention lingered.
A vine, black as polished obsidian, wrapped tightly around the trunk of a fallen tree. When he touched it, it pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, resilient and unyielding.
Material Identified: Shadowbind Vine
Properties:– High tensile strength– Natural energy conduction– Compatible with weapon reinforcement
Nussudle smiled faintly and carefully cut a length, whispering thanks before moving on.
Later, near the roots of Home Tree itself, he found threads of golden sap hardened into delicate filaments, shimmering softly in the light. They clung to the bark like veins frozen mid-flow.
Material Identified: Auric Resin
Properties:– Exceptional flexibility when heated– Enhances draw efficiency– High resonance with Eywa-aligned materials
He gathered only what he needed.
Nothing more.
By the time the sun dipped low, his hands were stained with sap and earth, muscles aching pleasantly with purpose. He returned to the platform and laid the materials out carefully beside the bow, arranging them instinctively, as though they belonged together.
That night, he did not sleep much.
He worked by bioluminescent glow, softening the auric resin, binding the shadowbind vine into the bow's limbs in slow, deliberate wraps. Each movement felt guided—not by the system, but by something quieter. The bow responded as he shaped it, tension settling evenly, balance forming naturally.
At dawn, the system returned.
Crafting Progress: 41%Status: Stable
Suggestion: Continue integration to unlock advanced crafting parameters.
Advanced.
The word stuck with him.
The second day pushed him deeper.
Nussudle ventured farther from Home Tree this time, following instinct rather than path. He climbed ridges slick with moss, crossed shallow streams where glowing fish scattered at his approach. At one point, he paused beside the remains of an old hunt—a thanator skull, weathered by time, vines threading through its hollow eye sockets.
He did not touch it.
Instead, he listened.
The system remained silent.
Only when he reached a clearing where crimson-leafed plants grew thick and low did it respond. The leaves were dark, almost black at the edges, veins glowing faintly red beneath the surface.
When he brushed one with his fingers, sticky sap clung to his skin like blood.
Material Identified: Crimson Lifesap
Properties:– Organic tensile fluid– High kinetic response– Ideal for flexible weapon strings
Nussudle's breath caught.
He understood immediately.
The bowstring.
He collected the sap carefully, allowing it to thicken naturally before binding it into a long, sinew-like cord. The process was slow, requiring patience as the lifeblood hardened and softened again, pulsing faintly even after removal.
By the time he returned, dusk was falling again.
The system shimmered brightly now.
Crafting Threshold Reached
New Feature Unlocked: Advanced Crafting Interface
The text shifted, expanding.
Advanced Crafting Allows:– Weapon enhancement via effect trade-offs– Material-specific bonuses– Durability, strength, resonance, and specialty effects
Rule: All enhancements require equivalent resource exchange.
Nussudle stared.
Unobtanium for durability.Thanator vocal cords for strength.Rare organs, living components, sacrifices made with meaning.
This was no simple system.
This was a balance.
He let the interface fade and returned to his work.
By the time the bow was complete, the moon had risen high.
Black vines reinforced the limbs, elegant and lethal. The auric resin formed the bow's core, golden and alive, catching the light with quiet power. The string—deep scarlet, almost wet in appearance—thrummed softly when plucked, like a living heartbeat.
Nussudle lifted it.
The bow felt right.
Not heavy. Not light.
Honest.
And somewhere deep within, the system registered completion.
The moment Nussudle finished binding the final length of black vine into place, the system shifted.
It was subtle at first—a faint tremor behind his eyes, a sensation like pressure equalising after a long dive. Then the familiar translucent interface unfolded again, larger than before, its edges sharper, more defined. This was not the simple prompt he had grown used to. This was something deeper.
Crafting Complete: Base Weapon
Established Item: Living Bow (Unassigned Tier)
Status: Stable
Compatibility: High
New Interface Available
The text rearranged itself, flowing outward into layered panes that hovered before him like overlapping leaves. Symbols replaced some of the words—clean, intuitive shapes that conveyed meaning without explanation.
Nussudle's heart began to race.
"So this is what you meant," he murmured.
A new section was expanded at the centre of the interface.
Advanced Crafting — Effect Integration
Enhancements may be applied to weapons through an equivalent exchange effect is granted without cost. Balance must be maintained.
The first list appeared.
Available Effect Categories:– Durability– Draw Strength– Kinetic Transfer– Resonance– Special Traits (Locked)
He focused on Durability.
Immediately, the system responded.
Durability Enhancement:Current: Standard (Living Material)
Upgrade Options:– Reinforced Frame (+100% durability)Cost: Unobtanium (Refined or Raw)
Nussudle frowned.
Unobtanium.
Even among the Na'vi, the metal was rare—dangerous in the wrong hands, deeply reactive to Eywa. The system did not explain how much unobtanium would be needed, only that it was required at all.
"So even the system won't cheat the forest," he muttered.
He dismissed the option and moved to Draw Strength.
Draw Strength Enhancement: Current: Above Average
Upgrade Options:– Predator Muscle Reinforcement (+40% force output)Cost: Thanator Vocal Cords
Nussudle's jaw tightened.
Thanator vocal cords were not something one simply harvested. They were earned through confrontation, through risk, through understanding the cost of taking from one of Pandora's apex guardians.
Each upgrade demanded more than material.
It demanded meaning.
He scrolled further.
Kinetic Transfer:– Improved Arrow Velocity
Cost: Hexapede Tendons (x3)
Resonance:– Increased Eywa Alignment (Improved instinctive accuracy)
Cost: Atokirina Concentration (Ceremonial)
His breath slowed as the truth settled in.
This system was not designed to create monsters.
Every enhancement required something taken from the world—something that could not be replaced easily. If he chased power recklessly, the forest would pay the price.
And Eywa would remember.
He let the interface linger, absorbing every detail, every possibility. Then, deliberately, he closed it.
"Not yet," he said quietly.
The system did not argue.
Advanced Crafting Interface Available Status: Dormant
Note: Weapon may evolve naturally through use and connection.
That surprised him.
"Evolve?" he whispered.
He lifted the bow again, testing its weight, its balance. When he drew the scarlet string back slightly, it resisted with smooth, even tension—no creak, no strain. The auric core flexed subtly, distributing force in a way no ordinary bow could.
It felt alive.
Not hungry. Not demanding.
Patient.
Nussudle exhaled slowly.
This bow was not finished—not truly. It was beginning.
By the time he descended from the crafting platform, the forest was awake.
Hunters passed below, pausing to look up as he moved along the walkways with the bow slung across his back. Whispers followed him—not loud, not intrusive, but curious.
He found Kamun near the edge of one of the mid-level platforms, speaking quietly with a pair of elders. When Kamun saw him approach, he dismissed them with a nod and turned fully toward his son.
"You're walking like someone who hasn't slept in two days," Kamun observed dryly.
"That would be because I haven't," Nussudle replied.
Kamun's gaze dropped immediately to the bow.
He did not reach for it.
He simply looked.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The black vines caught the light, matte and deep. The golden core gleamed softly, not bright but warm. The bowstring—dark scarlet, almost unsettling in its vitality—vibrated faintly with each movement of the air.
Kamun finally exhaled.
"It feels strong," he said, voice low. "Even without touching it."
Nussudle shifted slightly. "It listens."
Kamun glanced at him sharply. Then, slowly, a smile crept into his expression—small, proud, unmistakable.
"Good," he said. "A weapon that doesn't listen is just a mistake waiting to happen."
He reached out then, resting his palm briefly against the bow's limb. The contact was respectful, fleeting.
"This looks like something made by my son," Kamun said. "Not just my hunter."
Before Nussudle could respond, a familiar voice cut in from behind them.
"By Eywa," Eytukan said, whistling softly as he approached. "That puts mine to shame."
Kamun snorted quietly.
Eytukan leaned closer, eyes scanning the bow with open admiration. "If I'd shown up with that at my Iknimaya, they'd have accused me of cheating."
Nussudle smirked faintly. "You still would have missed half your shots."
Eytukan laughed, tension easing from his shoulders at last.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I'd have looked impressive doing it."
The three of them stood there together, the bow between them—not just a weapon, but a symbol.
Kamun did not suggest testing the bow.
He simply turned and began walking.
Nussudle followed without question, Eytukan trailing a step behind, curiosity plain on his face. They moved away from the busier platforms, climbing higher into one of the outer branches of Home Tree where the wood grew thick and strong, shaped over generations into a natural range used by hunters to test new weapons.
The forest opened before them, wide and clear. Tall trunks rose at irregular intervals, their bark scarred by old impacts, embedded arrowheads left where they had landed true or failed.
Kamun stopped and gestured toward a distant trunk marked with faded pigment rings.
"Show me," he said simply.
Nussudle slid the bow from his back.
The moment his fingers closed around the grip, he felt it—the subtle shift in balance, the way the bow seemed to settle into his hand rather than resist it. The scarlet string hummed faintly, alive beneath his touch.
He nocked an arrow.
The system did not appear.
There was no prompt. No guidance. Just instinct.
Nussudle drew.
The resistance was smooth, deliberate, building evenly as the limbs flexed. There was no strain in his shoulders, no uneven pull. The auric core distributed the tension perfectly, and for a fleeting moment, it felt less like drawing a weapon and more like breathing in.
He released.
The arrow flew.
There was no whistle, no dramatic flare—just a clean, decisive motion as it crossed the distance and struck dead centre of the target ring. The impact was solid enough to drive the arrow deep, burying nearly to the fletching.
Eytukan let out a low sound of approval.
Kamun did not move.
"Again," he said.
Nussudle drew a second arrow, adjusted his stance slightly, and released.
This one struck higher, splitting the wood just above the first. The vibration echoed faintly through the branch, a deep, resonant sound that carried farther than it should have.
Nussudle frowned slightly.
The bow thrummed in his hands, responding—not demanding, not pushing—but acknowledging. He felt it clearly now: the weapon was amplifying intent, not replacing it.
He lowered the bow.
"It's… precise," he said slowly. "But not forgiving."
Kamun nodded. "Good. Forgiving weapons make careless hunters."
Eytukan stepped forward then, grinning. "Let me guess—if you lose focus, it punishes you."
Nussudle nodded. "Not violently. Just… honestly."
Eytukan laughed under his breath. "Sounds like Father."
Kamun ignored that.
Instead, he turned his gaze upward.
Nussudle followed it instinctively.
Nova téras was watching.
The great ikran perched above them on a reinforced limb, wings folded neatly against its massive frame. Its head tilted slightly as it observed the bow in Nussudle's hands, eyes glowing faintly in the filtered sunlight.
Through the bond, something stirred.
Not alarm. Not aggression.
Recognition.
Nova shifted, talons scraping against bark as it leaned closer, nostrils flaring as though scenting the air. When Nussudle lifted the bow again, the ikran released a low, resonant sound—deep and contemplative.
Eytukan blinked. "Is it… approving?"
Nussudle exhaled softly. "I think it understands."
Kamun studied the interaction closely. "Weapons shaped with balance often draw the attention of powerful bonds," he said. "They echo one another."
Nussudle lowered the bow, resting its base against the living wood beneath him. The system flickered briefly at the edge of his vision—not as an interruption, but as confirmation.
Weapon Registered:
Status: Bond-Responsive: Performance enhanced when wielder acts in alignment with instinct and restraint.
He dismissed it without comment.
Something about that message felt final.
Eytukan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Well," he said, voice lighter than it had been in days, "if the forest ever turns against us, I'm standing behind you."
Nussudle snorted. "You always do."
They began the walk back in silence, the testing complete. The bow rested comfortably across Nussudle's back now, no longer feeling new, but claimed. Each step reinforced the sense that something irreversible had taken place.
This wasn't just a weapon.
It was a declaration.
That night, as Nussudle stood alone on one of the higher platforms, stars beginning to pierce the sky, he ran his fingers once more along the bow's black vines and golden core. The scarlet string pulsed faintly beneath his touch, warm and responsive.
Power waited within it.
Not demanded.
Not forced.
Waiting to be chosen—again and again.
And as Nova téras settled nearby, the great ikran's presence heavy and reassuring, Nussudle understood with quiet certainty:
This bow would not make him stronger on its own.
But it would never let him forget the cost of becoming so.