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Closing the journal with a soft thud, I set it down carefully on the flat stone beside me. The fire had died to embers, just enough light to illuminate the small workspace I’d cleared near the tree.
Stretching out my legs, I reached for the bundle I’d placed earlier and untied the rough cloth, revealing the collection of bone-blades I’d gathered—both the prized ones from the elite and the lesser ones scavenged from the standard creatures.
Lifting the Elite’s blade first, I held it up against the dim glow of the embers. The quality difference was almost laughable when compared to the standard monster bones. The Elite’s blade was massive, nearly five feet in length, the pale white of its surface marred by an eerie greenish tint. Delicate vein-like patterns of green criss crossed its surface, giving it an otherworldly appearance.
“Not bad,” I murmured, running my fingers along the edge. The surface was unnaturally smooth, almost like polished stone, and yet the blade’s edge still retained a wicked sharpness. I could already feel its potential.
Beside it, the standard bone looked pathetic—dirty white with a faint yellowish tint, rough and uneven in its structure. Sure, it could be useful for something small, but it wouldn’t hold up in a proper fight.
“Yeah, no contest,” I muttered, setting the inferior blade aside. “Elite it is.”
I leaned in closer, examining the patterns on the elite blade. The veins weren’t just surface-level—they seemed to run deep, like they were part of the bone’s structure itself. The green hue almost pulsed under the light, faint but alive, as if the weapon itself was brimming with dormant energy.
“What were you, exactly?” I asked aloud, though the blade, of course, gave no answer.
Shrugging off the question, I focused on the task at hand. I wasn’t just here to admire these things; I needed weapons, real weapons, ones that wouldn’t shatter the moment I faced something stronger than a pack of grunts.
First, I started with the primary blades. Picking up the raw elite bone, I began shaping it carefully, using a sharp stone to carve and refine its edges. The bone’s structure was surprisingly cooperative, the material yielding just enough to be worked without splintering. It was like it wanted to be crafted.
“Alright, focus,” I muttered to myself, turning the blade over in my hands.
The first step was reshaping the curve. The raw form was jagged and uneven, so I smoothed out the edges, turning it into a more elegant, sickle-like curve. A weapon like this needed precision, something sharp enough to cut through hide but light enough to maneuver in tight quarters.
It took time—more time than I’d expected. Sweat beaded on my brow as I worked, the repetitive motion of carving and shaping becoming almost meditative.
"Not bad. This might actually look decent when it's done," I muttered as I held the first blade up to the light.
The result was striking: the blade gleamed pale white, the green veins now forming a more pronounced pattern along its surface, like creeping vines frozen in motion.
It had a balanced weight, too—not too heavy, not too light.
Satisfied with the first blade, I moved on to the second. This one followed the same process, though I took care to give it a slightly different curve, ensuring it would complement the first blade rather than mirror it.
Dual-wielding was risky, sure, but if I played it right, these weapons could turn the tide in a fight.
Once the blades were done, I turned my attention to smaller gear. The leftover scraps of the elite bone wouldn’t go to waste—not when I needed every advantage I could get.
Using the thicker sections of the bone, I began crafting bracers. They weren’t pretty, but they were functional, designed to protect my forearms without restricting movement. The green veins added an unintentional flair, making them look far more intimidating than they had any right to be.
“Bone bracers,” I said aloud, testing the fit on my arm. “Not exactly high fashion, but they’ll do.”
Next came the shin guards, shaped from the broader pieces of bone. These were trickier, requiring more precise carving to ensure they didn’t dig into my legs when I moved. I strapped them in place using strips of leather scavenged from my old pack.
By the time I was done, I was beginning to see a full set come together—primitive, sure, but functional. The bone’s natural durability meant these pieces could take a hit, maybe even deflect a blade if I was lucky.
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Finally, I used the leftover fragments to craft a set of throwing knives. These were small, jagged, and crude, but that was the point. They didn’t need to be pretty; they just needed to fly straight and hit hard.
I gathered the materials, spreading them out on the flat rock in front of me as the embers of the fire cast long, flickering shadows across the clearing.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. These weren’t the ideal primers for proper enchantments, but they had their uses. The monster remains, especially those from creatures with strong life forces, tended to hold residual energy—enough to enhance the process, if not perfect it.
“Could’ve used more,” I muttered, my gaze drifting to the blades resting beside me. “Would’ve killed for some boss blood. Acidic monster’s too.”
I shook my head, pushing away the regret. No point in dwelling on what I didn’t have. What mattered now was making the most of what I did.
The blades were ready. After hours of shaping, sharpening, and balancing their weight, they felt like extensions of my own arms, lethal and reliable. But raw weapons weren’t enough anymore. I needed something more—an edge, quite literally.
I picked up one of the energy crystals, holding it up to the light. It pulsed faintly, a weak but steady glow that seemed to hum against my palm. Closing my eyes, I channeled Exira, feeling the familiar warmth flow through me and into the crystal. The glow intensified briefly before dimming again as I extracted its essence, pulling out the raw energy trapped within.
The process was delicate, requiring careful focus. Too much force and the crystal would shatter, its energy dissipating uselessly into the air. Too little, and the essence wouldn’t be pure enough to bind.
“Steady,” I whispered, narrowing my focus.
When the essence finally separated, it hovered in the air before me—a faint, shimmering wisp of light that pulsed softly like a heartbeat. Carefully, I guided it toward the blade, the motion slow and deliberate.
Next came the blood.
I retrieved elite monster blood I’d collected earlier. The smell hit me immediately—metallic, pungent, and thick with latent power. It wasn’t as potent as the boss or acidic monster blood I’d failed to secure, but it was still strong enough to serve as a medium.
Pouring the blood over the first blade, I watched as it spread, coating the surface in a deep crimson sheen. The liquid seeped into the shallow grooves I’d etched along the blade’s length earlier, forming a network of channels that almost seemed alive under the dim light.
"Good enough," I murmured, though the faint disappointment lingered.
Grabbing the finely ground bone powder I’d prepared, I dusted it over the bloodied blade, letting it settle into the grooves. The powder acted as a binding agent, its texture gritty and rough against my fingertips. With Exira guiding me, I traced lines into the blade, letting the energy flow through me and into the weapon. The etchings were random at a glance, but each line served a purpose, shaping the enchantment one stroke at a time.
This method was crude—basic, even. Lower-tier enchants often were. But sometimes, simplicity was enough.
I closed my eyes, slowing my breathing as I entered a state of pseudo-attunement. The world around me faded, replaced by the pulsing rhythm of Exira flowing through my body.
“Sharpness,” I whispered, forming the first intent. Aciem.
The thought solidified in my mind, a singular focus that resonated with the blade in front of me. I could feel the edges of the weapon responding, almost vibrating with anticipation as the intent began to take root.
“Bone as the catalyst.” Ossis.
The material itself became part of the enchantment, its essence binding to the Exira in a way that strengthened the weapon’s foundation.
“And finally…” I hesitated, my focus sharpening further. “…Unbreaking.”
The final intent carried weight, its meaning settling into the blade like an anchor. The energy I’d channeled rushed into the weapon, filling the grooves and lines carved into its surface.
The blade began to hum softly, the sound low and resonant, as though it was alive.
When I opened my eyes, the weapon gleamed faintly, its veins of green pulsing in time with the rhythmic thrum of power. It was done.
I repeated the process for the second blade, though it took more effort this time. My muscles ached, and sweat beaded on my forehead, dripping into my eyes as I worked. The strain of channeling Exira for so long was beginning to take its toll, but I pushed through, driven by necessity.
By the time the second blade hummed with the same quiet power as the first, I was spent. My hands trembled as I set it down, the exhaustion hitting me all at once.
“Done,” I muttered, leaning back against the tree with a sigh.
Reaching for my water flask, I took a long drink, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. My entire body felt heavy, the kind of fatigue that settled deep into your bones.
The night had fully fallen now, the clearing bathed in shadows save for the faint glow of the blades and the dying embers of the fire.
I leaned over, carefully placing the blades side by side. They looked lethal, even in the dim light—twin arcs of pale white streaked with green veins, their surfaces etched with intricate patterns that practically radiated power.
“Proper bad boys,” I murmured, echoing the thought from earlier with a tired grin.
Sliding down to the base of the tree, I let my eyes close, the sounds of the forest blending into the faint hum of the enchanted blades.
Sleep came quickly, pulling me into its embrace as the world around me faded into silence.
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