The Quartermaster walked over to the row of cupboards, opening them to reveal a huge array of cold steel and wrapped leather. There were hammers, axes, spears, glaives, and more esoteric options like shoge and chakrams.
Then, there were the swords. There seemed to be blades of every shape and size. All the weapons looked plain to Rix's untrained eye, but well-made.
"Alright, kid. What's your poison?" She gestured at the rack. "Got your standard Shanic longswords — jians, mostly. Good for flow, tricky in the thrust." Her hand swept over another section. "Then you've got your Tatsuyan katanas — heavier, single-edged blades, curved or straight, built to cleave. Less finesse, more…emphatic. Most brawlers go for those if they pick a sword."
Rix cleared his throat. "Actually, I'd like a quarterstaff, please."
The woman raised her eyebrows.
"Is that not a good choice?" asked Rix.
She shook her head. "No, I'm impressed. The staff can be a dangerous weapon. It's just an uncommon choice. Most aspiring Martial Souls go straight for a sword."
There was a lot of truth in that. Every boy and girl he grew up with dreamed of wielding a sword. But for a child in the Lantern District, getting access to a reasonable blade was impossible. Even basic steel had a hundred valuable uses, and what blades there were came in far outside his price range. So, despite the heroes in all Rix's favourite stories wielding swords that could cut through boulders or split a hair down the middle, he worked with what he could find. A quarterstaff was basically just a long stick, and that was within even Rix's reach. Over the years, he'd grown very good with the weapon, and while it lacked some of the killing potential of a sharpened blade, he'd never found himself regretting his choice.
"Go ahead and pick your weapon," she said, "but choose carefully. This specific staff you take now will be your actual weapon going forward. It will be what you carry with you into the Fractured Realm and the arena, if you choose to fight there." Again, approval was evident in her voice.
"And it'll live inside of me?" Rix asked. He knew the stories, but it was hard to visualise the idea that there was some other part of him he couldn't see.
She nodded. "In your soulspace, though you won't be able to just access it anywhere like you could if you were free. Prisoners aren't allowed to be armed, except in the arena and Fractured Realm. The tether will stop you if you try to summon it elsewhere."
Rix took her words seriously as he walked the length of the cupboard. There were several staves of differing lengths and weights. He'd always preferred something thinner and lighter on the streets. A staff was long enough that leverage could easily make up for a lack of weight, but out there he'd only ever been dealing with other mortals. In his new life, he'd be battling fadeborn and Martial Souls. Men and women and creatures with constitutions reinforced through decades of mana use. He was going to need a new approach.
"The weapons here are reasonable quality," she explained. "They'll do the job, and they're strengthened to survive most of what you'll put them through, but if your particular staff ever gets damaged or broken, don't worry. It'll restore itself over the course of a few minutes once returned to your soulspace."
"I assume I'm not stuck forever with what I choose now?" Rix asked. In the Chronicles, the Ascendants always wielded some soulwrought weapon of immense power, but he doubted they started out with them.
The Quartermaster shook her head. "You can always upgrade if the opportunity presents itself, though you will be bonded to the aspect of the quarterstaff forever."
Rix picked up a heavy staff of brown wood about two inches thick. Stood lengthwise, it was maybe a foot taller than he was, and it had metal banding around each end to increase strength and lethality. It was significantly bulkier than he was used to wielding, but with his System-infused body, he found himself more than up to the challenge.
He held the staff with a certain strange reverence. It was just an ordinary piece of wood, the kind he'd wielded for years already, but the significance of what was about to happen was not lost on him. The Chronicles were full of warriors that exemplified specific weapons. Jaorin the Night's Edge with his famous jian, or the Iron Phalanx and their mastery of the spear. And now Rix was about to join them, bonding his soul to the concept of a quarterstaff as it was embodied across the universe. It was a profound act, and the first real step on his journey.
He tested the weapon, gripping it in the middle and twirling it around his body in long, lazy loops. The heavy wood felt good in his hands. For the last decade, a staff had been his constant companion in trying to survive, and there was comfort in the way it rolled over the scar on his palm with every movement.
The Quartermaster cocked her head slightly as she watched him. "Well, you don't seem completely inept," she said. "That's something. But that's not always a good thing. You should be aware that anything you've taught yourself will likely be an impediment to your overall progress. Once you bond the staff, you'll need to adopt an appropriate System style, and they're rarely compatible with more homegrown approaches."
Rix frowned. He hadn't been so full of hubris to assume he'd already mastered the weapon, but he had years of experience under his belt. He'd survived battles with men armed with swords and knives and axes, people much bigger and stronger than he. Surely some of that would stand him in good stead?
"Are you sure about your choice?" she asked. "A soul bond is the foundation of your Path, and it can't be changed."
Rix nodded without hesitation. In spite of what she'd said about his existing skills not transferring, the idea of starting from scratch with a blade just felt wrong somehow. He'd come from the street, and a street weapon would carry him to power.
"Okay, then close your eyes and hold the staff in a duelling pose. Feel the weight of it, the texture against your palm. Imagine the sensation of swinging it, the vibration of a clean blow, the sound it makes on impact."
Rix did as he was told. He thought of the many battles he'd had in the city streets, defending himself from rival gangs or simply trying to escape with a meal for the night. For many of the trials he'd suffered, he'd had a staff in his hands.
"When you're ready," continued the Quartermaster, "focus on the sensation of your mana in your dantian. I want you to allow it to flow into the staff."
Rix took a moment to centre his mind. When he felt ready, he reached for his mana. He knew how to move it through his meridians, but the notion of having it flow outwards was confusing. It felt like it required spiritual hands that he didn't have. He experimented, letting his mana move through him. When it reached his palms, he attempted to apply force, pushing it outward and into the wood, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
"Don't try to grip your mana," the Quartermaster said. "Think of it like a river to be gently redirected."
Rix squeezed his jaw tight and refocused, following her instructions. This time, he took a more submissive approach. Rather than wrestling with his mana, he gently wrapped his will around it, guiding it. It felt like handling a live fish, but with great determination, he was able to shepherd the flow of it down his arms and then into the staff.
Almost immediately, he felt something unlock inside him, like a door had opened in some part of his self he didn't even know existed.
[Weapon bond: Quarterstaff]
This text flashed briefly across his eyes, and the staff vanished from his hands. "Bleeding hells!" he cursed, "I didn't realise it would just disappear."
The Quartermaster grinned at him.
"I guess that means it worked, though?" he asked.
"Congratulations," she replied. It was the first time anyone in the prison had sounded genuinely happy for him. "Try summoning it again. Don't worry, you won't get any backlash. I make my room exempt from the soulspace lock when I do bondings."
Not knowing exactly what he was looking for, he reached into himself with his mind, seeking that door he'd felt before. Moving through it, he found a space that somehow felt tiny, yet impossibly vast. A place that seemed to fold in on itself infinitely. Though nothing there had form or mass the way things did in the physical world, he nonetheless knew it was shaped perfectly to fit his staff. Or perhaps his staff fit it. He couldn't tell. The only certainty was that they seemed made for one another.
Hesitantly, he reached inside that space with his mind and then pulled. There was a sense of resistance, and the air around his arms vibrated ever so slightly as he wrestled with the new sensation. After a few seconds, there was a popping noise, and the staff appeared in his hands. A wild grin spread across his face.
"That is so cool!"
He shifted the weight of the staff in his hand a little. While the difference wasn't great, the weapon felt more comfortable somehow. More familiar. It came with it a vague sense of rightness, as though he were a little more himself than he was a minute ago.
She let him bask in the moment for a few seconds, then moved over to touch the System Stone. "Unfortunately, Spiritlock currently only has one quarterstaff style in our licence pool. Foundational Quarterstaff Basics. Come and touch the stone and summon your display again. You should see a new set of choices."
She was right. The section of his display dedicated to weapons had expanded.
[Weapon bond: Quarterstaff]
[Style: Select one from options]
[Techniques: Select two from options]
Rix concentrated on the style prompt first, and the text changed.
[Confirm selection of style Foundational Quarterstaff Basics (Common)?]
"Not the most intimidating style name, is it?" Rix replied, suppressing a grimace.
"Just don't yell it while you fight and you'll be fine."
Despite his joke, he was a little disappointed. Martial Soul styles typically had powerful fantastical names like the famed Dragon Lotus Style of the Lotus Conglomerate, or the Lapping Wave Style of the Shipping Guild. He hadn't expected much from the prison, of course, but this one sounded like something you taught children. Also, it was common — the bottom tier of rarity.
His emotions must have played on his face. "It's not all bad," she said. "Common styles and techniques may not be powerful, but they do have one big advantage over those from a corp or family. They're not owned by any one group, which means nobody can take them away from you."
Rix's eyes widened. "Wait, you can actually lose techniques?"
The Quartermaster nodded. "Most of us don't technically own anything we use. It's all licensed from someone else. Why do you think there are so many powerful Martial Souls wandering around babysitting you lot? A lot of us are bleeding Novas. But they're also disciples of Ironguard Enterprises who own the prison, so they need to do what Mother says, or," she made a gesture with her fingers, like smoke evaporating, "it can all vanish."
"That's crazy," Rix replied. He'd known the corps had a hold on their Martial Souls, but that felt extreme. Almost like a different sort of prison.
She shot him a grim smile. "It doesn't happen often, but the threat is there. I know one woman who was stripped clean for leaking corporate intel to a competitor. She kept all her physical power — they can't take that away from you — but she suddenly didn't know how to use it anymore. Could barely hold a sword without cutting herself."
That sent a chill down Rix's spine. The System had always seemed so magical. A force that could instil knowledge and skills and power directly into its users.
He should have realised that every coin has two sides.
"You make it sound like all the staff are here against their will."
She laughed. "Some are, sure. You'll meet one particularly grumpy example later today. But some of us actually want to be here. If I can help discover and grow even a handful of Martial Souls who have been overlooked, I'll be happy. Like I said, we need all the fighters we can get."
There was a certain foreboding in the way she said that.
The discussion made him feel a little better about the situation, but only a little. The fact remained, power was all he really cared about, and by that metric, no amount of other benefits outweighed having a weak style or techniques. But there was little he could do. Your style wasn't forever. You could always learn a new one. One of the corps in the city, The Cascade Collective, was rumoured to teach its disciples a new, stronger style for every step they made up the corporate ladder.
For now, Rix simply had to make do with what was on offer.
Returning his attention to the style in his System display, he gave a mental nod and the choice locked into place. He felt new knowledge again being born in his mind. He tried spinning the staff once more, but nothing happened.
"At the beginning, you need to concentrate on the style to bring it forward. It's called channelling. Your mind isn't used to it yet. Over time, that'll change and it'll become automatic."
Rix did as he was told, focusing on that new node of thoughts and feelings nestled in the back of his mind. He spun the staff again and was immediately struck by a kind of mental dissonance. It wasn't that the motion specifically felt off, but rather that any attempt to wield a staff while channelling his style was wrong. He hadn't been sure exactly what to expect, but this was more vague, more disconnected than he'd assumed it would be.
"It's like drawing," said the Quartermaster, reading Rix's emotions. "The System gives you the image, but it's up to you to practise until you can recreate it. The more you work, the closer you'll get."
He experimented a little, trying to alter the movement of the staff to get some kind of response, but it was just that dull sense of mental detachment. To be honest, it was underwhelming, but he figured the Quartermaster had the right of it. He just needed practice.
"Got it," he said. He could worry about the finer points of staff combat later. Right now, he had more important things to do.
He had to choose his techniques.