Meanwhile, Vaelith watched in silence as Bruce brandished his new weapon.
Swoosh-!
Swoosh-!!
Swoosh-!!!
Swoosh-!!!!
Each swing cut through the air with frightening precision, trails of red light flashing with every arc. The blade shimmered in the dim glow of the cavern, its crimson aura pulsing rhythmically, alive—almost breathing. It wasn't just sharp; its hungered.
Vaelith's light flickered faintly, a hint of satisfaction behind the ancient will's tone.
[It's good that you like the weapon. Not that there was ever a chance you wouldn't, after all, it was created by the Mana Heart itself, from the deepest preferences buried within your soul.]
Bruce stopped mid-swing, the blades humming faintly in his grasp.
"From my deepest preferences, huh…" he murmured, his gaze thoughtful.
[This weapon was born from direct solidification of pure mana,] Vaelith continued. [That makes it indestructible to normal physical attacks. Even the fiercest of enchanted steel would shatter before it.]
Bruce's pupils widened slightly. "Indestructible?" He tested the edge with a touch—sharp enough to slice air itself. The reality of what he held began to sink in. This wasn't just a weapon. It was an extension of him—a perfect manifestation of his nature.
[Well, it's undestructible to an extent, And for your information,] Vaelith added, [the weapon is not two but one. It shares a single soul. Even though you wield it as twin blades, they are one entity, bound together in essence.]
As if instinctively responding to those words, Bruce brought both blades together.
Fwoosh—!
A burst of red light flashed between them, and in the next instant, the two scalpels had fused—forming a single, sleek dagger-like Scapels glowing with a deep, pulsing crimson.
Bruce exhaled slowly, staring at it with wonder. 'I knew it… somehow, I could feel it. Even before you said that,' he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 'Maybe that's why I named both as one, instead of two different weapons. It just felt… right.'
Vaelith's tone grew almost instructional, yet oddly gentle.
[To strengthen it, you'll have to let it drink blood of slain beasts. The more it devours, the more its rank will evolve—allowing it to release deeper fragments of its power.]
Bruce ran his finger along the blade, feeling the faint vibration of something eager beneath the surface—an appetite waiting to be fed.
[And another thing, Bruce,] Vaelith said, [since this weapon is directly linked to your soul, it is not limited to a single form. Its shape is bound only by the limits of your imagination. Each transformation carries its own advantages, but remember this: the base dagger form is your truest synchronization. It is your origin—the reflection of who you are at your core.]
Bruce's excitement flared instantly. "So… I can imagine any weapon?"
[Precisely.]
Without hesitation, he focused his intent.
A blinding light flared—and the crimson dagger stretched, reshaping into a long, elegant sword that gleamed with scarlet veins along the edge. Another pulse of light, and it morphed again—this time into a heavy bazooka-like structure that glowed with condensed mana.
Vaelith's voice came through flatly.
[…What sort of weapon is that?]
Bruce grinned. "Something from home."
The crystal dimmed slightly, as if sighing, before choosing to ignore it.
After a few more experiments—testing spears, bows, even an energy staff—Bruce finally willed the weapon back into its original dagger-like scalpels. The twin crimson blades hovered for a moment, before landing perfectly in his hands, fitting his grip like they were made for him, because they were.
He gave them a firm twirl, the red light glinting beautifully off their edges. They felt alive, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat.
And for the first time since stepping into this world, Bruce smiled fully—unrestrained and genuine. These blades weren't just tools.
They were his.
But then, Bruce suddenly blinked, his awareness returning to the present. "Wait… how long has it been?"
[Eight hours…] Vaelith's calm voice resonated softly in his mind.
Bruce's brow furrowed. "Five hours already? Damn." He hesitated briefly, then asked, "You can speak with Sophie, right?"
[Yes, I can communicate with every native inhabitant of this world.]
"Then tell her I'm okay," he said firmly. "Let her know I'll be back soon… and she shouldn't worry my mother and sister with my disappearance."
[Understood.]
The crystalline glow pulsed once in acknowledgment, and Bruce exhaled slowly, relief washing through him. At least Sophie wouldn't panic.
***
Meanwhile in an unknown location…
Sophie stood before a tall, stern-faced man whose silver hair was tied neatly behind his back. His expression was composed, yet the weight of his words carried concern.
"Pardon my insolence, Lady Sophie," he said, bowing slightly. "But why do you wish to go this far… for this... Bruce? If you keep pushing resources and men into this search, your father is bound to take notice. It will raise suspicion."
Sophie's cold red eyes flicked toward him, her tone clipped but resolute. "I don't care, Varek. Don't ask too many questions, just do as you're told."
The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish, Lady Sophie."
He bowed deeply before leaving the room, his footsteps fading into the quiet halls.
As soon as he was gone, Sophie let out a long, weary sigh and sank into her chair.
"Where could you be, Bruce…" she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "How could you just disappear like that?"
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where moonlight spilled softly across the floor. Yes it was already night time.
"I haven't even told your mother and sister yet," she murmured. "But they'll start worrying soon… especially your mother. She's still haunted by your father's disappearance."
She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the ache of worry deep within.
She missed him.
Even Ash, she had grown fond of it as well. Without them around, knowing nothing if their current condition, her heart felt a bit heavy.
That was why she was doing this, pushing herself to search, to act, even if it meant stepping beyond her bounds. Revealing the Reign family's covert agents to enemy factions was practically treason within her clan, something utterly unlike her usual calculated self.
But this wasn't about politics anymore. It was about Bruce.