Chapter 49 - A Strength Worth the Cost.

The rhythmic hum of the hospital's ventilation system filled the silence as John stared at the ceiling. The brief anger felt alien to him, now replaced by the heavy weight of guilt. He had snapped at Evelyn for no good reason. All she did was try to present options for him—and yet, he had let his frustration boil over, using her as an outlet for his own inadequacies.

The weight of the last mission—the losses, the injuries, the sheer helplessness—pressed on his chest like a leaden weight. But none of it excused what he had done. It wasn't Evelyn's fault he couldn't do enough. It wasn't her fault that, in the critical moments, his abilities weren't enough to stop the goblin leader or its horde. It was his fault for not being better prepared.

He clenched his jaw, replaying the moments in his head. When the wall collapsed and chaos broke loose, he had felt like a cornered animal. His shifting attributes had the potential for great strength, but without a weapon that could handle it, what good was it? His sword had broken repeatedly, forcing him to run back to the supply truck again and again during the dungeon break ordeal. Each return had been a reminder of how unprepared he was.

Even in the final fight with the goblin leader, the looming threat of his sword breaking had made him hesitant. His strikes had lacked the force they needed because, deep down, he had been terrified of losing his weapon altogether. That hesitation had cost him—it had cost everyone.

He thought about the other agents. Though their interactions had been brief, he couldn't shake the memories of their faces, their determination… and how, one by one, they had fallen. His heart sank as he remembered their dwindling numbers, the chaos of the fight, and the growing weight of his failure. The prolonged battle had frayed more than just his body—it had left his mind in tatters.

'How do people stay sane fighting day in and day out like this?' John wondered, the question swirling in his mind as he tried to think of how to apologize to Evelyn without sounding like he was making excuses.

The sound of the door swinging open broke through John's thoughts. He turned his head, half expecting the nurse to return, but instead, Evelyn stepped inside. Her expression was calm, though her posture betrayed a hint of tension. She held the same sleek tablet as before, but her movements were deliberate, as though she was holding back.

"Evelyn," John began, his voice low. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

She raised a hand to stop him. "Don't worry about it," she said, her tone calm and steady. "I get it. You've been through a lot. But let's focus on what we can do to make sure you don't feel that way again."

John nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. He gestured to the chair by his bedside. "Have a seat."

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before pulling the chair closer and sitting down. She placed the tablet on the small table beside him and swiped through a series of schematics. "While I was gone, I gave it some thought," she began, adopting a more professional demeanor. "Your talent is unique, John. It's not just about physical stats; it's about adaptability. So, your weapon needs to reflect that."

She tapped the screen, and a 3D model of a weapon materialized, rotating slowly to display every intricate detail. Its sleek, modular design was marked by glowing, segmented parts that seemed alive with energy.

"Isn't it just another sword?" John asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Evelyn smirked faintly. "That's where you're wrong, John." She tapped another button, and the model on the screen shifted, morphing seamlessly from a heavy broadsword into a compact short sword, then into a bow, a pair of dual blades, and various sleek and adaptable weapon forms.

"This is what I'm proposing," she said, her tone steady and professional. "A weapon that can transform between modes: heavy for power, balanced for versatility, and agile for speed. Each configuration is tailored to optimize your current attribute distribution, making it not just a tool but an extension of your talent. Imagine switching between raw strength and nimble precision mid-fight without hesitation."

John leaned forward, studying the design. "It looks... bizarre," he said, his tone laced with skepticism. "Is this even possible?"

"The core mechanism uses advanced rune technology," Evelyn explained, swiping to another schematic that showed the internal structure of the weapon. "It would be experimental, but it's designed to respond to shifts in your attributes. The runes essentially 'read' the distribution and adjust the weapon's configuration accordingly. Heavy mode for strength, agile mode for speed, and so on."

His eyes didn't move away from the tablet, and it brightened with each passing second. "How is its durability and sharpness? How long does it take to change modes? How long can I use it for before needing a better weapon when my stats overall increase? How would it work? How long do I need to wait until I can get it? How much is it?"

"Woah! one question at a time." Evelyn's lips curved into a smirk, seeing John hooked, firing one question after another. "It hasn't been made yet; these questions need to wait. But theoretically, it should serve you effectively until you reach the foundation realm. At that level, the weapon's runes might not keep up with the demands of your stats, requiring an upgrade or augmentation."

"And?" John reluctantly moved his eyes away from the tablet as he rose his head to look at Evelyn in the face. "What is the catch?"

"The cost," she admitted. "Crafting this will require all the points you've accumulated so far, including what you earned during the Blackcrest mission, which was a hefty sum by the way because of all the mischief and damage due to one mistake after another in dealing with the situation. Anyway, the weapon is expensive; it might still put you in a bit of debt."

"How much was that sum from the Blackcrest?" John asked, obviously curious.

"Fifty thousand points." Evelyn answered, waiting for the exclaim. But looking at the unimpressed face of John, she continued, "You know that's a lot, right?"

"Is it?" John raised an eyebrow.

"This is not money. These are points, the only currency to buy anything from the BMI. There are a lot of things that you would never find in the outside world. Including a lot of technologies and trinkets that was made accidentally during experiments."

"Now you putting it this way, it does sound like a lot." John leaned back, his jaw tightening. "So, I'll be in debt if I ask for this weapon to be made?" John's mind lingered on the thought, weighing his options.

"You'll need to take on additional missions aside from the obligatory ones after your recovery to pay it off," Evelyn said, her tone cautious. "But it's an investment in your survival. With this weapon, you won't just survive—you'll thrive."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the weapon's design. Memories of the dungeon outbreak flooded his mind: the goblin leader's impenetrable armor, the feeling of his weapon breaking mid-fight, the helplessness as his body gave out. 'If this is what it takes to never feel powerless again, so be it.'

"Alright," he said finally, meeting her gaze. "Do it. Use the points. Make it happen."

Evelyn nodded, a hint of relief softening her features. "I'll get started immediately. It won't be ready overnight, but when it is, you'll have exactly what you need."

As she stood to leave, John called after her. "Evelyn."

She paused, turning back.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere.

She gave him a small smile. "Don't thank me yet. Wait until it's finished."

The door slid shut behind her, leaving John alone once more. He leaned back against the pillows, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. For the first time in a while, he felt excitement and anticipation to hold a weapon. 'A weapon that adapts to me,' he thought, the words repeating like a mantra in his mind.