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Yves ate sitting on the floor in a narrow alcove of the cavern wall. He could easily create a physical illusion of a chair or simply grab the chair from the nearby table beside his meditation crystal. He could also just sit directly at the table like a normal person. However, against all logic and convention, he preferred to sit here, squeezed into this nook, on the cold ground with his back to the rock wall, his legs bent, and his feet pressing against the opposite side. His bowl rested on his stomach. It was as illogical as it was absurd, but in a peculiar way, it felt different and oddly comforting to view this entirely familiar space from such an unfamiliar and limited perspective. Almost as if, for this brief moment while he huddled there, he was temporarily removed from the world. He could not quite put it into words, because he still had no inclination for the literary arts, but standing always demanded action. And when he sat so impractically, he rendered himself incapable of doing anything. As long as he ate, he did not have to do anything else, because he could not do anything else.
As Yves fiddled with his mashed potatoes, his gaze settled on the three weapons beside him. Along the walls of the hideout, he had stored his collection of magical artefacts. In this alcove, he kept his three lightgiving weapons: a Lightgiver Wand, his Bow of Light, and a Lightning Staff.
In core, you could distinguish two types of wands: Those which amplified a wizard’s spell and those that bore their own intrinsic spells. The Lightgiver Wand belonged to the latter category, living up to its name by conjuring light independently of the wielder's spectral abilities. Yves could infuse it with his own energy in times of rest and then call upon its radiant light when the need arose. It was vital for compensating for his inability to perceive light in the dark.
For the same reason, he had the Bow of Light. This longbow was crafted from materials almost translucent, shimmering like nacre. Its string served as a channel. To draw this bow, the wizard-archer had to transfer his energy through the string. However, unlike the Lightgiver Wand, the bow did not store this energy for later; instead, as the string was drawn back, it wove the wizard's magic into ethereal arrows. Much like the wand's ability to conjure light, the bow manifested razor-sharp arrows, held at the ready for precise firing. Furthermore, these arrows were no ordinary projectiles – they erupted upon impact, adding an element of explosive destruction to their mystical properties.
In terms of rarity and value, this longbow stood as one of Yves' most distinguished and treasured artefacts. Its craftsmanship was close to unparalleled, and it managed to conserve every ounce of energy during the transformation, setting it apart from the many inferior channelling devices that suffered from energy loss. This was a weapon suited for a luminary or a warlord. It was not a weapon for Yves. He did not know how to handle it. Well, he knew how it worked, in theory, but he could not do it. The bow demanded an immense amount of concentration for effective use, and in the hands of an inexperienced archer, it was difficult to aim. In the hands of the not-at-all-experienced archer who had no business even considering himself an archer, it was no more effective than something one could cobble together from a stick and a piece of string. Despite owning it for six years, Yves could count on one hand how many times he had bothered to practice with it. And the only reason that he could still use his fingers for counting was that he had worn very good gloves when the first arrow had exploded in his hand.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
In his defence, both figuratively and literally, Yves was a Lightshifter wizard. When mastered, glass magic was versatile and highly effective, whether for long-distance or close combat, targeting a single adversary or a large group. Atop that, shard constructions were equally potent for defence, serving as formidable shields. Thus, while the bow held remarkable potential for a wizard not disposed towards duelling, Yves could unleash hundreds of shards with a simple flick of his wrist before the next Worldbender shapeshifter or Transcender could even meddle the bow from his back. In short, dedicating time to learn archery had never seemed worth it. Plus, Yves hated lugging around bulky things on his expeditions.
Yves had never intended to wield the bow or any of the other two lightgiving artefacts as weapons. Originally, he had acquired all three as self-sustaining sources of light back when coping with darkness had been his paramount concern for survival. The bow's arrows emitted light when drawn, which Yves could harness. The Lightning Staff had the ability to summon lightning, a power that was both a weapon against his enemies and a threat to himself. It was a means of last resort, and since the common glass wizard had no disposition for elemental magic, there was hardly anyone less suitable to wield it than Yves.
While travelling, he ultimately carried only the wand and two enchanted daggers. Daggers were the only physical weapons Yves could somewhat handle, but even these were just a last resort, in case all his energy was depleted or his magic rendered ineffective by an adversary.
That said, he stored no other weapons here. The rest of the underground chamber, except for the narrow pathways and the central table beside the meditation crystal formation, was stacked with shelves and containers holding books, scrolls, and ancient texts.
For some reason, the lighthouse had also become Yves’ prime storage location for junk artefacts, bunched together in an elongated chest that doubled as a resting spot for Midnight. Done with his potato mash, Yves opened the chest and inspected his trash collection, even though he knew exactly what was in there. In his early days as an artefact hunter, he had fallen for many scams or false hints. He had been young and inexperienced, driven by false pride and unhealthy enthusiasm that frequently led him astray. In his pursuit, he would come across peculiar items, many of which turned out to be either worthless or even dangerous.
Yves' first significantly disappointing discovery was a small, shiny rock rumoured to bestow immortality. After carrying it around for weeks and, just to be sure, even eating it, he came to the stark realisation that the rock was indeed nothing more than a polished pebble. Though he was very absolutely certain that it was just a random, absolutely ordinary stone, it was still here. For decoration.
Another oddity he had stumbled upon was a whistle that supposedly summoned witches. However, the issue he had with this artefact was that no sane wizard would ever dare provoke such an encounter. Thus, he had yet to test it and to this day questioned its authenticity. By keeping it hidden, he was doing the world a favour.
Then, there was a glass orb that was said to reveal visions of the future. All it ever showed him was his own reflection. To this day, he was not sure if the thing was trash or if his trash ability as a seer hindered him from using it properly.
He once discovered a quill that should transcribe dictated text, regardless of the language used. Unfortunately, the writing it produced was entirely illegible. So while Yves wanted to believe that, when provided with ink or ink-like substances such as blood, the quill copied everything that was dictated in its immediate vicinity until the ink ran dry, he did in fact not actually know what it was writing. He knew that it listened. And then it did something.
A year ago, he stole acquired a key with the promise that it could unlock any door. An exasperating period of trial and error revealed that the key only unlocked doors that led to bathrooms. Months later, when Yves delved deeper into his studies of ancient runes, spells, and their respective languages, he came across a vexing revelation. In Byrmir, the word “bathroom” literally translated to “anything room”. So to whoever failed that enchantment, there you have it.
The stupidest thing he ever bought was a necklace that supposedly granted the wearer the ability to breathe underwater. However, the necklace only “worked” for a few seconds. Its massive centrepiece was an enchanted jewel. Once underwater, when in direct contact with the wearer’s skin, this jewel transferred an air bubble of its own size right into the wearer’s lungs. Yves had no clue what the enchanter had tried to achieve, but he had obviously been ignorant of basic humanoid physiology. There was a ridiculously small chance that the necklace was designed for a specific race, but it certainly was not wizards. Yves kept that one as a murder weapon.
There came a point where a heap of trash treasure transitioned from amusing to downright embarrassing, and as Yves rummaged through his Chest of Useless Artefacts, he could not help but feel he had long passed that moment. The fact that this was the largest chest he owned spoke for itself. If Yves bent his legs, he could even lie in there himself. He had tried; that one time when he had felt like a particularly useless tool himself. Yves rose to brush off and sort the clothing he had stored in the adjacent Chest of Disappointing Discoveries, which was filled with similarly dumb and deficient pieces.
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