Chapter 69: My Weapon

I looked up. The old man still loomed above, watching like a king surveying his domain.

"Oh?" His gaze flicked to me, curiosity laced in his tone. "Was your skill so simple that you finished this early?"

I hesitated. What I had just witnessed felt anything but simple. It was dangerous, deadly even. I knew well enough the risk of pushing all my internal force at once.

Yet he continued to stare, as if peeling back every layer of my existence with his eyes.

"Spiritual Weapon… it's been so long." He sighed, looking past me as if recalling something distant. "You will have until everyone wakes to practice. Be quick, the next trial will begin as soon as they do."

Offering advice now? His mood swings were getting ridiculous.

As if reading my thoughts, he muttered, "Time changes many things."

Then, just like that, he turned away, dismissing me entirely.

"Luna?"

Silence.

I guess she got a reward too. Though, I had no idea how a plant was supposed to use someone else's memories.

Not my problem.

But that… Spiritual Weapon.

A technique that allowed me to create and summon a blade at will.

I had felt the process, experienced it through him. I had a good idea of how to achieve it. But this body? It wasn't as refined as my real one. If I made a weapon using this form, could I reforge it?

…Doesn't matter.

This reward was already insane. What else could I gain if I continued?

And if I did, I'd need every ounce of extra power I could get.

I took a slow breath, stretching my arm forward, preparing to gather everything this body had to offer.

I replicated the process I had witnessed, channeling the force into one point.

More.

More.

Purple energy flickered from my form, shimmering like fractured light.

Then, the strain set in.

The effects of using every last drop of my internal strength began to weigh on me.

But I forced myself to stay awake, pushing past the cold embrace of whatever waited beyond.

The real challenge began now.

Control.

Exerting my will over the energy in this state was unlike anything I had done before.

It was similar to forming a core inside my body, but also… not.

Here, everything was foreign. The energy didn't flow naturally; it fought back. The air itself was dense, thick with interference. Other energies clashing, pushing, pulling, trying to scatter my own like a tide against sand.

But I could do this.

I had done it before inside my body. I had felt it in the memory.

Focus.

The handle first.

It took time, but there it was.

I stole a glance. A hazy, barely-there form, floating just in front of me.

Good.

Next, the guard.

More effort.

Success.

Now, the blade.

Something inside me responded, pulling the energy inward. The weapon felt real, like an extension of me, whole and complete.

It w—

Pain exploded through my chest.

I lurched forward, coughing, my entire body shuddering as the weapon shattered in my grip.

A breath. Then another. My vision blurred for a second, consciousness wavering.

Every ounce of effort, wasted.

Gone in an instant.

Yep, I was missing something.

I had no idea what, but I was sure everything was going perfectly fine up until now.

A sigh echoed from above.

"Honestly, boy. What are you even doing? Did you learn nothing from that memory?"

I looked up, still catching my breath. "What more could I have learned? There wasn't much besides you making the weapon and killing some poor kid."

The old man paused at that, his gaze drifting and distant.

"Poor kid?" He muttered, as if rolling the words over in his mind. Then, with a shake of his head, he forgot it entirely. "I can't remember. There have been too many."

His eyes snapped back to me.

"The technique is not difficult." His voice was calm, steady, but carried weight. "But a weapon is not something you choose so flippantly."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Why did you pick a sword?" he pressed. "What was unique about the way you formed it?"

I didn't answer.

His gaze lingered a second longer before he sighed again. "Think harder… but recover first. It shouldn't take long."

I gave a slight nod and forced myself to refocus.

I gathered the scattered force, pulling it back into this strange body.

I then came to a realization.

This 'circuit' system may not have moved on its own, but it had an undeniable advantage over my Grand Channel.

It didn't just absorb energy, it trapped, molded, then refined it all on its own.

Where my Grand Channel relied on circulation and quantity, this system captured the energy like a vice, transforming it before letting it move through me.

More effort? Yes.

But in a way this was a factory for internal force.

Good. More tim—

"AHHHHHHH!"

I jumped to my feet, scanning the area for the source of the scream.

But… nothing. No one had moved. The only reaction came from the old man, who gave me an odd glance before returning to his usual indifference, staring at well, nothing, I guess.

A brief word cut off my search.

"Sorry." Luna's voice rang in my mind, small and sheepish.

I exhaled, shoulders untensing slightly. Of course it was her.

"What the heck? What happened?"

"...Nothing."

Oh, no, she was not getting away with that.

"Seriously. Why the freak-out?"

"It's—you try living in a plant's body for years, then suddenly getting tossed back into your old one. It's… jarring."

Wait. Years? She spent years in a human body? I was only in there for a few minutes.

"You alright? What'd you learn?"

"I'm fine now," she assured me. "I learned a transformation technique… and experienced it. I don't think I can use it the same way since I'm not like you, but I'll find a way to make it work."

I nodded to myself. "Alright, practice up. I plan to keep going, and having you is a big advantage. Figure out whatever you can."

"Alrighty." She sounded more confident now, and with that, our conversation ended.

I let out a breath and turned my attention back to my problem.

Why a sword?

I guess because that's what I saw in the memory.

But… it's not like I had ever used one.

I fiddled with a dagger before. Ugh, nope, not digging that up. Bury that memory way waaay deeper.

Until now, it's always been a beat down with my fists. Power behind a punch, occasional ranged attacks, which were also from my hands.

So… something on my hands?

That would feel more natural. Maybe that's what I was missing.

No rush to experience the nausea again, but no choice either. Let's try.

I steadied my breathing and visualized something that would work.

Something sturdy. Not just knuckle guards, like a cestus, but something more.

Gloves.

No... gauntlets.

Yeah. I could work with that.

Alright same process as before. Pull the energy out.

Good.

Now, shaping. I suppose if they extended up my forearms, they'd offer more protection. Wait… do I have to make two? Would splitting them weaken the structure?

I flexed my fingers instinctively, hesitating.

Well, one of my arms is a tree…

No. Having both would be better.

Swords could chop through tree arms, but maybe not energy-forged ones.

Flexible at the joints. Last thing I want is my hands cramping from being locked in a fist. I needed mobility, fingers able to move, a palm that could open and close.

I split the force evenly.

Elongate.

Harden.

Not too much.

A sharp pang of resistance surged forward. The energy suddenly fought against my will. My lack of control showed itself all at once.

AGH! Dang it, too firm!

The structure locked up, stiff and unyielding.

I scattered the essence before it collapsed on its own.

Okay. Reset.

Thankfully I was not so far gone that I couldn't start again. The energy was still within my control.

This time slowly. Carefully. I let the energy breathe, shaping it with more patience.

Perfect.

Now, the moment of truth.

With my hands trembling and consciousness barely holding together, I extended both arms.

It felt... natural. They slipped on like, well, gloves. The energy melded seamlessly from my elbows to my fingertips, fitting like a second skin.

Like lost pieces of myself finally returning, not something new, but something I had always been missing.

Then, just as effortlessly, they vanished, retreating into me. Still there. Still mine. Just intangible, waiting to be called again.

"This is incredible."

"Hm?" Luna's voice cut in, distracted.

"Nothing." I shook my head, still feeling the lingering weight of my new weapons. "I think I'm ready for what's next. You need anything?"

"Just time," she said. "I'll be focusing now, so don't get us killed."

"Roger."

From the memory, I already understood how to summon them again. Just like any technique, it was a matter of guiding the energy and pushing it outward. Like magi—or cultivation I guess.

I took a breath and glanced around. Callum and the others' faces scrunched in deep concentration. Scattered throughout, some groups were trapped in the serenity of the dreamlike memories.

There was still time.

I summoned my spiritual weapons again. They materialized instantly, glowing with my power. But there was a problem.

These things devoured my internal force like it was their favorite drink. I wouldn't last more than a few seconds if I kept them active. And fair enough, most fights didn't last long anyway, but if one did...

I needed a solution.

This body required constant, manual energy circulation. Now, I just had to layer another task on top of that. Absorption while moving. If I could pull that off, prolonged combat would actually be possible.

I was just about to start practicing when a voice cut in.

"Welcome back!"

The ghost's voice boomed across the space, his gaze sweeping over us.

"You now have two options. Continue," He flicked his hand, tearing open a fissure in the rift. "Or return." Another wave, and a second portal split open in the void.

Callum stood next to me. "What're you gonna do?"

He didn't seem directly hostile, which was nice. I mean, really, I had zero investment in whatever war was going on here.

"I'm going to continue," I said.

He nodded. "With your strength, it should be fine… even if you are a Bloodless."

There it was again. Bloodless. I seriously needed to figure out what that meant.

Callum turned to his crew. "The rest of you, return to the family. Tell them the news. Share the rewards."

Then, without another word, we walked in the opposite direction.

I glanced at him. "Do you have any idea what's next?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought about something. Then finally spoke. "Historically? Battle."