The summoner took a moment to appreciate the warmth of the crafted ring on his finger. Fenrir and Evan had talked at length about whether this kind of mana manipulation was possible. They had concluded that the theory was sound. Mana is always changing — adapting — like how water can mold itself to fit within a small vial or fill an ocean. The same was true for mana — more or less. The trick was shaping the container, the monster core, without damaging the integrity of the core or corrupting the mana within it.

Once the container is shaped, then mana itself has to be given direction. A purpose. Raw mana — like the mana within all monster cores — is like metal without form. A block of steel could be used to bash someone’s head in, but it killed much more effectively if you shaped the steel into a sword first. But you could just as easily turn that bar of steel into armor that protects someone, or a plow used to feed families. Raw mana is molded in much the same way. All you need is the knowledge of whatever phenomena you are trying to get the mana to recreate, and a way to modify that raw mana.

Evan pulled a dozen monster cores from the ring and spread them on the ground in front of him. He looked over them as he tried to form an idea of what he wanted to do in his mind. He had a limited amount of mana, which hampered his ability to manipulate the mana and core in complex ways using his [Black Mana Threads]. He also only had access to low-quality monster cores which meant that the strength of the phenomena he was trying to recreate wouldn’t be very potent.

Black strings of mana floated from the tips of his fingers as he activated [Black Mana Threads]. He used the strings to gather the cores into a straight line before fusing them together, forming a single rod-like core. The mass of cores expanded and contracted as Evan shaped it into the crude form of a sword. He kept the width of the blade even as he worked, making sure that the tip and the sides were sharp enough to cut through steel. The hilt of the blade formed the shape of a cross and he attached one of the cores in the shape of a circle as a pommel to the end of the grip.

Sweat dripped down from his forehead and into his eyes, but he stayed focused on the blue blade in front of him. The blade shifted and relaxed as Evan removed imperfections from the crude weapon until he was satisfied.

He took a moment to catch his breath as he inspected the weapon. The sword was about two and a half feet in length from tip to pommel. He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the blade and managed to draw black blood. He smiled as he laid the blade back on the ground and re-activated [Black Mana Threads].

Shaping the raw mana within his [Ring of Holding] into an interdimensional space turned out to be easier than trying to turn the sword into an interdimensional object that could appear and disappear with a thought. After a bit of discussion, Fenrir guessed that it was a result of his experience as a dungeon core. Dungeons were born inside their own small plane of existence so over the centuries he had gained a pretty decent understanding of how these pocket dimensions worked. Evan had access to that knowledge through his connection to Fenrir, making it easier to restructure the mana to the correct conformation.

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Unfortunately, neither of them had any experience with making objects appear and disappear. They tossed around different ideas until the shadow knight rose out of the ground. The knight kneeled in front of Evan and a series of images filled the space in his mind that he shared with Fenrir and the other shadows.

His vision shifted after a moment and then he was looking out of the eyes of his shadow. Time seemed to fast forward as the shadow glided across the floor of the hall, inspecting a number of smaller rooms filled with books and more overturned furniture. Eventually, it reached a set of large wooden doors with an image of a sleeping dragon carved into the wood. His vision blackened for a second and the next moment he was back in his own body.

Evan smiled at the kneeling shadow and placed a hand on its helmet. “You have done well. Now rest.” The shadow bowed before it slid up his arm and into Fenrir.

An idea struck him as he watched the shadow disappear. “Fenrir, is there any limitation on what you can hold within yourself? Does it have to be a magic beast?”

The core began to speak — but then paused as realization dawned on it. “No, as long as it is the shadow of a core — what the shadow is — does not matter,” it whispered in excitement.

Evan returned his gaze to the blue blade in front of him and activated [Black Mana Threads]. The ten threads of black string spun around the sword until it was fully encased. The summoner closed his eyes as Fenrir guided him through the process of extracting the shadow of a core.

An hour passed as the dungeon core and summoner worked together until the blue sword burst into a cloud of dust. In its place stood an ethereal, shadowy copy of the blade. Evan picked up the sword and was surprised by how light it was. He took a practice swing at one of the pillars and the blade cut through the stone like it was paper, embedding itself halfway through the column. He tried to pull the sword out, but it was lodged so deeply in the pillar that it wouldn’t budge.

With his hand still on the black sword, he willed it to return into Fenrir. The blade shifted as it transformed into a shadow, rode up his arm, and disappeared into his body. He willed the blade to return and a fraction of a second later the black sword materialized in his hand.

Evan grinned as a familiar translucent screen greeted him.

[Item - Sword of Shadows]

[Mana]: 0 / 600

This sword was created from twelve low-grade monster cores. The shadow of these cores was extracted leaving behind a shadow copy of the blade. The sword can be summoned and dismissed whenever the caster chooses. The entire blade was crafted from monster cores, which allows the user to infuse it with mana that can be drawn from at a later time.

He took a second to fill the shadow blade up with mana before dismissing it.

Fenrir sent him an image of an enormous black wolf — stretching and yawning as if waking up from a long nap. “Let us continue the hunt.”