After the meeting with Kris, Lillin darted to the apartment she shared with Nox and his aunt. Her spatial magic voided the need for luggage. She had room for clothing, tools, crafting materials, and a lot more. Knowing Lillin, Nox was sure she'd steal whatever she could on the way. Mou and her neighbors' belongings were safe, but to Lillin, everyone else was fair game. She'd likely get away with it, too. Not many knew about her spatial magic, and even if they did, not many had the means to peek within it.

Meanwhile, Mou took his Artisan’s Arm to her artificer friend. Now that everyone knew about the banishment and how Nox used it, their services wouldn't come cheap. Fortunately, he had his letter of credit from the queen. It wouldn’t just fix whatever damage the tool suffered but would also pay for necessary material upgrades, an additional joint, and two more fingers. Ideally, Nox would’ve liked a new segmented limb with enough pieces to move like a tentacle. Unfortunately, that would cost double if he wanted it to have the durability and agility for combat.

Because of the duel, the Artisan Arm lost parts of its custom rune work. As a result, Nox didn’t worry about his mother benefitting from his ideas. He trusted his etching skills and was sure he could modify whatever piss-poor job they did to suit his needs. Unfortunately, the work would take much longer than the twelve hours he had to evacuate the Golden Isles. Mou promised to send it with the next delivery to Ygg in the guise of the last of his belongings. It would take a month—hopefully less—but Nox doubted he’d get the opportunity to dungeon delve straight away.

Meanwhile, the tournament referee guided him to the queen’s vault. Nox knew she had a more secretive, better-protected space for the trade empire's most valuable, powerful, and terrifying assets. Queen Mercer knew better than to expose such items to her subjects or the public. As far as everyone was concerned, they didn’t exist. Nox only knew of its existence because his father had walked him through it once when he was little more than a toddler. The vault the public knew about contained items that the empire didn’t mind trading. She also dangled the artifacts and materials over her subjects as potential rewards for exemplary performance.

Runescripts covered the building’s interior and exterior, and giant stone statues stood at regular intervals. Rumors said they were golems, but Nox knew for a fact that his mother didn’t have powerful enough mages to maintain and restore such complex enchantments. Large squads frequently patrolled the perimeter and halls, and even larger groups bordered every entrance.

“Remember not to touch anything before offering the accompanying plaque a token,” the referee told Nox once they reached the vault’s entrance.

“I know,” Nox said, showing off his three pill-shaped coins. He fanned them out like a hand of cards. “Bronze for the outer hall prizes, silver for the inner pavilion, and gold for the heart.”

“I’m aware that as the former prince, you’re no stranger to the vault.” The referee stared at Nox with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s merely my job to remind the winner and every runner-up of the system’s parameters. Your brothers are still at the feast, so you’re the first to enter. Make it count, young master. Ygg is a difficult city, and dungeon delving is a dangerous profession.”

“I appreciate—”

“Your father was a close friend,” the referee continued, interrupting Nox. “He’d be proud of the man you’ve become. Please choose wisely and stay safe.”

Nox didn’t know what to say. He only nodded and marched into the vault, leaving the man behind.

Even though most of his mother’s subjects would kill for an item from the outer hall, Nox wasn’t impressed. It mostly contained top products of the empire’s best craft houses and after growing up amongst them, he’d seen it all before. He spotted bottles of rare brews carrying Mou’s emblem. It occurred to Nox that he'd need one of his own soon if he wanted to make it as an independent agent.

Nox had plans for what he wanted for his silver token and an idea of what he’d like from the vault’s heart—unfortunately, he didn’t know which vault housed it and kept his expectations low. However, he had no idea what he wanted from the outermost hall. It had swords, axes, and maces capable of withstanding abusive wielders like Edward and a few rare specimens that could handle practitioners twice as strong as him. Nox cared about none of that. He focused more on the tools. The simple and modifiable runescripts meant he could expand their uses to fulfil other purposes.

Most people with bronze tokens would go for satchels, pouches, and similar containers with spatial spells inscribed into them. They weren’t as potent as Lillin’s magic, suffering from limited storage space. The runescripts required regular mana infusions, and products from the Golden Isles had the lowest failure rates—or so the merchants said, and the Trade Empire’s ironclad patents helped reinforce their claims. Thanks to the company he kept, Nox didn’t need such products.

A pair of fingerless gloves drew Nox’s attention. They combined the Attract and Repel cantrips to produce interesting effects. The right glove lay flat within the display, and a luminous blue stone shone at the palm’s heart. Meanwhile, the left counterpart floated six inches above. The second glove wobbled in the air when Nox tapped the glass case, but the distance between them didn’t change.

The second glove’s magic appeared inactive, making Nox wonder whether the applied cantrips allowed the runescripts to levitate other items and spatially lock them to the glove. If not, he believed his mastery of runes could help him achieve such functionality. He wasn’t skilled enough to count as a journeyman artificer. However, his limitations forced Nox to learn how to push cantrips and adapt spell forms. He had taught himself how to modify premade items to save on cost. The endeavor kept Nox from building notable settings, but the Artisan’s Arm spoke for itself.

Nox was ready to commit his bronze token when he saw a silver glow out of the corner of his eye. The light didn’t emit from the target of his attention but from a neighboring weapon. The object in question was a simple, rectangular, hard-leather case with polished brass buckles. It was as long as Nox’s forearm and no wider than his open hand. The runes covering it were subtle, and the plaque didn’t provide much of an explanation. However, the name told him everything he needed to know.

Portable Adept Alchemy Kit

“You’re worth a silver token.” Nox grinned, claiming the first of his prizes. He knew the product well.

The container housed a limited spatial spell. It was larger on the inside but would only allow alchemy equipment. The kits often came with a compartment for ingredients, too. Lillin’s ability to create multiple pocket dimensions made the product almost redundant. However, Nox’s current concern was economics.

Purchasing flasks, burners, pestles and mortars, and all the other essentials would cost him a minimum of sixty gold. A spatial spell on the case would add another twenty gold coins to the price. If the container included cleansing and sterilizing spells, Nox believed the prize’s value would increase by another twenty gold. Nox’s assumptions were based on the prices on the Golden Isles. Residents received everything at little more than cost. Ygg wasn’t known for its artisans. It had a University with production departments, but they mostly served the military and dungeon delvers. Nox didn’t doubt that good-quality crafting equipment—especially for adept-rank artisans and above—would suffer from an obnoxious markup.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The inner pavilion was half as big as the outer hall. As a result, Nox didn’t have to spend long looking for what he wanted. He marched straight to the section full of brands and accompanying tonics. He walked down the rows, reading the plaques detailing the contents.

Sigil of the Warrior

Sigil of Marksmanship

Sigil of Thievery

Sigil of the Artisan

Sigil of Wilderness Traversal

Sigil of Recovery

Sigil of Smithing

Sigil of Weather Resistance

The vault had several dozen sigils. No one knew their origin, and, as far as Nox knew, all attempts at recreating them had failed. Typically, parents or masters passed them on to their heirs. Occasionally, if both a man and woman had a sigil, children born of their union displayed one of the ancient tattoos or a composite. The queen's people had successfully taken sigils from dying or retired individuals with no heirs and captured them in the brand. Nox believed the tonic contained blood and the originator's arcane essence, too.

Sigil scholars had noticed one consistent pattern. The tattoos almost always passively empowered the body. They either focused on something specific like immunity or qualities relevant to a skillset or profession.

Nox’s Sigil of Immunity made him immune to most natural and alchemy-made toxins. The outline in the second segment didn’t tell him much, but he suspected it had something to do with smoke inhalation. If he wished, he could dedicate the final section to gain a resistance to mind magic or a specific debilitating effect.

Now, Nox wanted something that was relevant to one of his skill sets. He gravitated towards the Sigil of Marksmanship. Since his scarred mana circuits limited his range and he lacked the constitution for melee combat, Nox heavily relied on his archery to fight. He believed it would prove invaluable in dungeons. However, the Sigil of Recovery tempted him, too. Alchemy made curing most wounds trivial. The accumulation of toxins from consuming too many concoctions didn’t concern him, either. However, the sigil could improve his body’s ability to recover from fatigue, exhaustion, and mana drain.

As Nox debated between the two, his eyes also gravitated toward the Sigil of the Artisan. While preparing for the tournament, he had extensively studied the ancient tattoos and believed it would have a lot of overlap with the Sigil of Marksmanship. Both skill sets demanded a steady hand, fast reflexes, and excellent senses. He believed they’d differ when it came to more specific qualities. Marksmanship would likely focus more on keener sight and hearing, while Artisan would prioritize smell and touch.

Living under the Merchant Queen’s rule had taught Nox that money was survival. Magic and archery would keep him alive in dungeons, but he needed deep pockets to learn magic and buy everything necessary for delving. Gold coins would put clothes on his back and pay for shelter and food in his belly. Nox didn’t waste much longer pondering the issue. He used his silver token to gain the Sigil of the Artisan.

First, he downed the tonic and then fed the brand a mote of mana. When it lit up with golden light, Nox pressed the hot metal against his left bicep. It stung as the light flowed from the brand and spread across his skin. When the process finished, he had a new tattoo. It featured a flask wearing goggles in the foreground. A smith’s hammer, a saw, and several other tools fanned around the rounded bottom.

By the time Nox reached the vault’s innermost room, his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. Even though he believed in his chances of winning the tournament, he didn’t expect to get anything more than a silver token. The likelihood of his mother interfering and preventing his appearance in the finals was always high. Nox would’ve happily settled for just a sigil, but now that he had a gold token, he hoped to get his hands on something far more valuable. He only hoped it wasn’t in the secret vault.

A handful of rare and powerful sigils sat just around the entrance.

Sigil of Sniping

Sigil of the Berserker

Sigil of the Bard

Sigil of Supreme Intellect

Sigil of Body Regeneration

Sigil of Leadership

They all appeared more specialized than those available in exchange for silver tokens. However, Nox weaved through them. The space between the display cases shrunk.

“This has got to be intentional,” Nox chuckled, speaking to himself. He half expected Lillin to appear from the shadows with a smart-ass comment. The arrangement felt like a blatant attempt to tempt people and keep them from exploring deeper.

Armor and garments came next. Some full plates had the power to encase the wearer in solid mana steel while leaving them flexible. Others repelled metaphysical magic attacks. Fireballs, frost darts, and lighting strikes against the user would fly wide or have a chance of failing. Some hoods had the power to make the entire body invisible while muting all sounds. A pair of heavy boots multiplied the power of kicks, while others came with sets of wings. Nox ignored them and approached the weaponry sitting at the back of the room.

Specter’s Bow: Consumes the wielder's mana to conjure spectral arrows. They’ll manifest when an arrow is nocked and will follow its path.

Thundering Hammer: Two-handed downward strikes will boom with the power of thunder. The ability consumes mana and the sonic boom’s power scales with investment.

Magnetic Javelin: The javelin will link with its wielder. Using the ‘Return’ command will make it shoot back into the owner’s hands. Meanwhile, the ‘Follow’ command will pull the wielder to the javelin.

Many such weapons sat near and along the back wall. Time had dulled the glass protecting most. At times, peeking through the scratches and stains proved challenging. Some weapons appeared far too powerful to hand out as prizes for a tournament. Others felt more suitable for a silver token holder. Nox noted them but continued to peek inside each display case, often after having to scrub the glass and plaque. His heart dropped as he approached the end.

Then just as he was on the verge of settling, Nox found the object of his desire.

Ratra Bow

The text accompanying the artifact's name was illegible. It appeared as if someone had taken an enchanted dagger to the plaque. The damage to the information felt unintentional. It appeared as if someone had attacked it out of rage. Nox needed no explanation. He knew what Ratra’s Bow could do—or at least some of it. Nox had seen it in action, after all. It made arrows out of the wielder's mana. Nox couldn't be sure whether his memories were accurate, but the projectiles also adopted the injected magic’s properties.

It wasn’t the strongest weapon in the vault’s heart. The Specter’s Bow was far more powerful. In fact, the weapon before him didn’t look like a weapon at all. Instead, it contained a long leather glove covered in mana stones, runes, and spell circles. A six-inch long, two-finger-thick metal rod accompanied it. More minute engravings ran along the length, creating channels and guidelines for mana.

The price and power didn’t matter too much to Nox. It had sentimental value. He was just glad to hold his father’s weapon. Nox had worried his mother treasured it as much as he did and kept it hidden in her secret vault. It wasn’t dangerous or anything worth keeping secret. However, the weapon once belonged to her first and true love—that’s what she used to call him when calling Nox responsible for the death. He expected Queen Mercer to treasure the bow and to ensure no one else ever touched it. Instead, she’d left it in a forgotten corner, available for anyone with a gold token to claim it.

Now, Ratra’s Bow belonged to Nox. He considered it the second part of his inheritance—alongside the Sigil of Immunity. Now that he had both, Nox believed he had a piece of his father with him for the journey to come.

Pallav Ratra wasn’t a warrior. He was a master alchemist and expert artificer who enjoyed personally collecting his materials and occasionally taking his son out to see the world’s sights. Nox remembered his father wearing the glove when they slipped away from the Golden Isles for hours at a time. They’d visit passing canyons, waterfalls, and ancient ruins. The trips were some of his fondest memories. He no longer remembered how many of them were accurate. In many, Pallav’s face was a blur, but Nox still clearly remembered his father’s voice.

“You’ve selected your prizes.” The referee projected his voice directly into Nox’s ear, interrupting his train of thought. “It’s time to leave the vault. Your brothers await their turn.”