It was time to make a growth weapon.
Reid pushed himself back into the mace. It was much, much larger than Queen's Edge, which meant the level of work inside the weapon would be far greater. There was simply a need for more pathways, more nodes, and more waste flow. He also needed to make everything work without compromising the integrity of the head and flanges that he would need to smash through his enemies. Reid made a mental map of what he wanted to do.
Unlike Sara's weapon, Reid wouldn't be restricted here by the need to route all the energy directly through the handle. He could, technically, fix and upgrade the weapon entirely by himself whenever he needed. In reality, though - Reid couldn't be sure how much energy doing that would actually take, and whether he'd be able to do the upgrades and repairs without Susan or someone else there to heal him through the process. So, he definitely wanted the self-repair and growth style functions he'd made in Sara's weapon - but he could also decentralize some of the same functions.
Reid worked tirelessly and crafted an intricate set of tiny pathways throughout the weapon. It didn't seem to take too long, and he barely felt any fatigue and pain thanks to Susan's healing. With the knowledge from Queen's Edge, he made nearly everything he needed the first time through. There were pockets for marrow, places to break down used resources, and connections to the flanges and the bottom of the grip that would allow it to bleed. Reid made sure to not activate any of the marrow and didn't let the weapon create any blood. He wanted everything to come alive at once this time around. He went back in and reinforced certain areas, rerouted a handful of pathways, but the vast majority of the weapon was looking good.
Reid thought about what else he wanted from the growth weapon. His experience getting cut by his own sword came to mind. Reid wanted to be the only one capable of holding the mace, and he wanted a way to get the thing back if it were ever stolen. He knew from what Sara had shared that bonding would prevent the first issue. When bonded, no one else would be able to properly use the weapon - and Reid expected that as long as his mace qualified as a growth weapon, he would be able to bond to it.
So, it was the second requirement that he needed. If the weapon was ever taken from him, how could Reid get it back, and how would he even find it? In the first days after the Earth's transformation, the system had guided Reid to Sanctuary using a waypoint. Having something like that to find a lost weapon would be a huge help, but Reid was certain there had to be better options. For one, it was a system-controlled thing that he'd only seen once so far. For another, Reid wanted something more accurate - the ping never had any indications of distance, or how to get to the thing.
It would be much better, in Reid's mind, if he could just summon the thing. The system had shifted him to a subspace and then put him back on Earth, which meant some flavor of teleportation had to be possible. Actual teleportation felt a bit out of reach for Reid's skillset at the moment, but it was still worth a try. The start of any kind of teleportation or summoning, Reid thought, had to include a true connection to his weapon. Reid cautiously probed forward, and let intuition guide him partway. He hollowed out long, hair-thin spirals that ran up the entire length of the weapon. They connected at hundreds of different points in the Mace's handle, and then the intuition led him down an entirely different path from what he was expecting.
Reid knew how to manipulate the 'thread' for his strengthening skill to make it perform different actions. And some of the changes Reid had to make reminded him of the structure of the spirals in the weapon. But the spirals didn't want strengthening. They didn't even want his Calcification skill - not by itself, anyway. Reid felt it. They wanted a connection that was beyond physical and beyond a skill. It wasn't about empowerment - the spirals needed something that was part of him and part of the mace, all at once. He pulled back slightly to think.
Reid ran his thumb over the grip's diamonds. The mace started out as a shovel. And why had he made the shovel? For Louis.
Reid had lost him. With the shovel, he'd buried him, like Louis deserved to be respected and remembered. So the shovel, as a weapon - represented Reid's commitment to remember, and to fight. It was a combination of violence and reverence. Compassion, and damnation. After a long time in thought, Reid finally decided to follow his gut. He etched Louis's name and a small outline of a dog into one of the handle's curved diamonds. Anyone else would need a magnifying glass to read it, but Reid could feel the name as his fingers gripped the weapon. It was reverence. It was a promise. Reid held Louis's memory in his hands as surely as he did a weapon.
Reid hesitated, then continued. The future - his future - was defined by growth, need, and protection. He would keep fighting for his wife and his daughter. He wanted to protect his friends and those he was close to. He picked out diamonds, and etched in names. Sara. Susan. James. Mark. Lowell. Even Marlene. Some, Reid loved. Some were friends. Some were less, but still important to him and his growth. They filled their own diamonds around the Mace's grip. Reid held them all in his hands.
Reid rubbed his fingers over the names - and then a realization hit him. Each name he'd carved sat almost directly above one of the hair-sized threads spiraling through the weapon. It was a connection - his connection to the mace.
He pushed energy through his body, and into his right hand. He held onto the ideas of what he wanted the mace to be - what it needed to represent in the front of his mind.
He felt the mental strain - and realized he was only half ready. Reid lifted his left hand to the weapon's grip, and set out to connect to each of the regular vortices. Pain built. His mind complained. He nearly lost hold of the energy waiting in his right hand, and almost lost the grip on the vortices in his left. He needed it all to work. He needed everything to activate at once.
His brain felt like it was being ripped in half and mushed together multiple times every second, like someone mixing up ground beef with their hands.
When the moment of clarity hit him and he saw himself touching all the vortices, he didn't hesitate.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Reid yanked the vortices open while he pushed the swell of energy in his hand down into the spiraling hairs. A second, massive torrent of energy flashed out from Reid's body and into the mace. He felt the swirls energize throughout the weapon's shaft - and then they reverberated. Energy pulsed back into Reid. It climbed through his body, and shot up into his mind.
He felt it form. A two-way connection with his weapon. A link, and a bond. The connection vibrated with a soft hum, pulsed out into him again like a heartbeat, then settled.
The vortices continued to suck down his energy as Reid let himself read the notifications.
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Congratulations! Unique Growth Weapon, [Requiem] Created!
Congratulations! Bonus Experience awarded for producing a unique growth weapon. Bonus experience awarded for creating a weapon above your grade.
NOTICE: This weapon possesses multiple traits.
NOTICE: [Requiem] has successfully bonded to [Reid Calderwall]!
NOTICE: Additional trait unlocked - Smith's Recall.
-
The weapon's information appeared, and Reid read through the trait descriptions.
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Requiem [Legendary]
Rank: F
Traits: Self-Repair, Growth, Smith's Recall, Bonded
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Self-Repair
This weapon is capable of self-repair, either through latent energy stored within the weapon, or through external injections of energy.
Growth
This weapon is capable of growth. Growth may only occur in conjunction with the growth of the bonded individual. Growth may be fueled by latent energy stored in the weapon, or through external injections of energy.
Smith's Recall
As the bonded creator of this weapon, the osteal smith is forever connected to their creation. Whether the original is damaged, destroyed, or lost - the smith may completely recreate Requiem through the use of mana alone. Whenever Requiem is recreated using this method, any existing versions of the weapon are immediately destroyed - even if the recreation fails. Requires sufficient energy, and a clear mind.
Bonded
This weapon is bonded to its owner through the use of simple energy matching. Anyone that attempts to wield this weapon without a matching energy signature will fail. Attempts to identify this weapon will only show the bare minimum level of information, depending on the level of the identifying user.
He'd done it. The mace was bonded to him. It was a growth weapon, and it had intrinsic self repair. Reid could wield it without worry about breakage, and he owned the thing intrinsically. Even if someone just wanted to know what the weapon was, they'd need his permission. Wielding it would be nearly impossible for anyone else. But the true outstanding factor was Smith's Recall. Reid assumed the energy requirements would be high, but he didn't care. He had a way to 'call' his weapon to him like he'd intended. The idea of recreating it from scratch wouldn't have been his first choice, but the more Reid thought about it, the more he enjoyed the idea. He wouldn't need to worry about some flying hazard flinging itself back towards him every time he needed to call his weapon, and it seemed like distance in general would pose no issue. Reid would also get a mint-condition version of the weapon anytime he used the trait - so it was an effective way to instantly repair or re-forge the mace.
After drooling over the traits, Reid shifted focus back up to the weapon's name. He'd workshopped a few of his own options before starting the process, but they all fell away from his mind.
In standard, modern English, a Requiem was a slow and sad melody meant to put people to rest - like a funeral dirge or mass for the souls of the dead. The original word was the Latin equivalent of "Rest" itself - and it had grown in use to define a token of remembrance. Reid squeezed the Mace's handle until the diamond pattern and engraved names dug into his palm.
Requiem was perfect.
#
Reid slowly realized everyone in the room was staring at him. Well, almost everyone. Sara was shaking James by the arm and babbling on about how cool the light show was. Lowell was leaned up against the far wall - and though his eyes didn't drift far from Danny, he was smiling.
When Reid finally broke the silence, he kept it simple. "It worked. It's a growth weapon."
Sara held two fists in the air and half shouted. "YEEESSS. We match! So, dad - what does it do? Can it repair itself like mine? Can it do other stuff?"
Susan handed Reid a water and a protein bar, then uncapped a water bottle for herself. She looked fatigued, but in good spirits. Her shirt was drenched in sweat. Danny was similar exhausted and soaked, but also had a smile plastered to his face. Reid realized his own condition was about the same. He greedily sucked down the liquid before tearing into the bar. His tee shirt was stuck to his torso, and he realized he could see through it. White was a bad choice for weapon work.
Sara continued asking questions until James rubbed his eyes and groaned at Reid. "You could've warned me about the blinding flash of light. I'm going to be seeing stars for weeks."
Reid could tell James was trying to distract his daughter and control the conversation, and he was thankful for it. Reid was exhausted - and while he did want to talk in detail about what the weapon could do, serious conversations were very low on his list of desires right now.
Danny silently walked over, raised his hand, and let out a pulse of healing energy towards James's head. Danny blinked fast, as if realizing what he'd just done, then turned to Lowell. The man put his palms up at the healer. "I'm not here to stop you from healing people, Dan. Just keeping an eye on you."
Danny flashed a timid smile, and then jumped when James clasped him on the shoulder. "Good man. You've saved me from Reid's wicked, evil flashbang club."
Reid painfully swallowed a mouthful of partially chewed protein bar, then pointed the other half at James. "It only lit up once - and it's a mace."
James crossed his arms and leaned into his mock argument voice. "You don't know how often it's going to light up. It might have some trait that makes it flash like a disco ball whenever you swing it over your head."
"That's ridiculous." Reid feigned outrage.
James animatedly waved his hands. "Okay, okay. Maybe it won't flash like a disco ball. But if you're not going to say what it does, at least tell us what name you gave it."
Reid shifted in his seat. "The system called it Requiem. It's fitting, and I'm gonna keep it."
"Requiem? Are you a film major? Are you about to launch an indie flick? That's the most -"
Reid grabbed the handle of the weapon and pushed a mass of energy into the mace. The flanges started to bleed slightly, and it emitted a tiny, faint glow.
"What was that? What did you do?"
"I tried to get it to blind you again. Be thankful it didn't work this time."
"See! I was right! Your club is going to flash like a disco ball! OH!" James's smile turned wicked. "A disco club! YOU MADE A DISCO CLUB!"
Reid brushed a finger over James's name on the grip and smiled.
"I hate you."