In terms of artificing, Kene would consider himself average to above average. His vocation had always leaned toward combat spells and the warmage path, a discipline he pursued all the way to the Eighth Circle. In this era, however, he wasn’t quite sure where that placed him by local standards, something to investigate when he eventually visited the capital.

  The blade lay flat on the table before him as Kene’s thoughts drifted back to his lessons at the mage tower, where the bulk of his formal education had taken place.

  Artificing, for all intents and purposes as one of his lecturers liked to put it, was the act of constructing an inanimate mage. A mage who knew only a handful of spells, but could perform those few flawlessly, one hundred percent of the time. The memory drew a quiet chuckle from him, but the logic behind it was sound.

  Take wands, for example. They could reliably produce ranged spells like [Mana Bolt] every single time, so long as they were supplied with power. A living mage, by contrast, could fumble a sequence under pressure, fatigue, or time constraints. The trade-off was flexibility. A wand was forever limited to what had been etched into it, while a human mage could expand their repertoire indefinitely.

  Naturally, the field went far beyond simple tools. Golem crafting, for instance, produced artefacts with limited sentience, often referred to as “artificial mages.” Even these had clear ceilings. A golem’s greatest weakness was not its power, but its rigidity; it could never exceed the tactics and contingencies its creator had anticipated and embedded into its core arrays.

  But the fundamental question remained the same: how did a mundane object become a vessel for magic?

  The most common method involved using inherently magical materials—metals like orichalcum or duneite, organic components such as dragon scales, or cores harvested from elementals. These substances already possessed natural mana circulation, making them receptive to enchantment.

  A mundane object, however, had to be brought closer to that state artificially. Just as mages possessed cores that naturally generated and circulated mana, an object needed a rudimentary equivalent before true enchantment could begin.

  The first step was always saturation. Flooding the object with mana or elemental energy softened its resistance, allowing enchantments to bind more easily and more evenly.

  Unfortunately, due to his atrophied core, Kene could not perform this step himself. That was where Celiel came in.

  “Celiel,” he said, turning to her, “prepare the circle. Use the rune sequence as instructed.”

  Unlike earlier, when she had been wary of the knowledge he provided, she complied without hesitation.

  The array circle bloomed beneath the blade, and the surrounding space filled with mana. A faint blue haze settled over the workshop as the preparatory formation took effect. In principle, the array was simple: it concentrated mana evenly within its bounds while erecting a thin barrier to prevent leakage.

  The blade began to lift, hovering slightly as the ambient mana density increased. Kene glanced at Celiel. Her eyes glowed a muted blue, [Mana Sight] active as she monitored the saturation process.

  Kene himself could not see the flow, but he was intimately familiar with the theory. The mana would seep into the blade’s microscopic impurities first, using them as pathways, gradually forming a rudimentary circulatory network that distributed energy throughout the alloy. It wasn’t unlike cultivation, just imposed onto something lifeless.

  Because the blade was forged from a mundane alloy, the process would take roughly an hour. This mirrored how magical metals formed naturally: buried deep underground, absorbing ambient mana over decades or centuries. Given the right conditions, iron could slowly evolve into orichalcum. Near a volcanic region, it might absorb fire-aspected mana and become Red Orichalcum, particularly suited for fire-based enchantments.

  What they were doing now was merely an accelerated imitation.

  The alloy would not transform into a true magical metal in an hour, that kind of change was supremely qualitative, not incremental, but it would become far less resistant to enchantment than before. For their current purposes, that was enough.

  An hour passed

  “Young Master, it has been fully saturated” Celiel said.

  Kene inspected it, a subtle sheen to it now, “Excellent, this will do.”

  “We’ll move on to stage two. Celiel, memorize this sequence and when you are ready, Orquin and I will assist.” Kene said.

  They both held up Orichalcum tipped hammers.

  Celiel nodded in agreement.

  A good dozen minutes later, she informed them that she was ready.

  Slowly, a rune sequence bloomed atop her palm. What she was doing was constructing the nexus of the artefact, which would act as the “brain” of the artifact, so to speak. It dictated how the enchantments carved into the blade would behave, the situations in which they should be disabled, and the logical order of operations. Normally, such a nexus would be fueled by a magic crystal or a core. Unfortunately, the mines were currently out of commission, and Kene had no reliable way of purifying beast cores of lingering will at the moment.

  Instead, he had written a mana gathering function into the array sequence he relayed to Celiel. It was a small-scale version of the preparatory array, designed to run passively and fuel the blade’s enchantments using ambient mana from the atmosphere. The downside was obvious. In low mana areas, the enchantments would weaken, or potentially refuse to activate altogether if the required power threshold was not met.

  Luckily for them, they would not be campaigning in a mana desert. Otherwise, the weapon would be completely useless.

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  The array compressed into a glowing orb, and Celiel visibly tensed. What she was doing required immense focus, and the strain was evident, but they intended to complete the process as quickly as possible before it destabilized.

  “Embed it now,” Kene said, and she complied.

  The orb floated downward and embedded itself at the blade’s center mass, in the hollow where all the etched runes converged.

  It sank halfway before meeting resistance. Annoying, but expected.

  “After me!” Kene called out as he swung his hammer down. A silvery metallic screech tore through the room as metal met metal. A pulse of mana radiated outward, and the orb seeped deeper, though not fully. A beat later, Orquin struck as well, driving it further in. As Orquin raised his hammer, Kene struck again.

  Celiel was visibly straining, and they were on the clock.

  “You are doing a good job,” Kene said between hammer strikes. “Just hold on a bit longer.”

  Soon the orb was three quarters of the way in. When Kene glanced at Celiel, her eyes were shut tight in concentration.

  “We are almost at the finish line. Orquin, speed up the pace,” Kene said.

  “Yes, young master,” Orquin replied.

  A minute later, the orb fully merged with the metal. Celiel collapsed to the ground as a wave of mana washed through the entire weapon. A moment later, the runes etched into the blade flared with power, then slowly dimmed. They rippled once before vanishing entirely, as though the etchings had never existed at all. This was one of the failsafe enchantments, designed to hide the runes from observers.

  That way, no one could pry into his secrets.

  “We have done it,” Kene said.

  He looked toward the two of them, their eyes burning with anticipation. Kene smiled and picked up the weapon.

  Putting pressure on the hilt, the first enchantment activated, absorbing a portion of his unique mana signature into the nexus to be stored. This allowed him to directly imprint on the weapon. The imprint could be removed by the current owner if the blade ever needed to be passed on, but the failsafe ensured that only the registered wielder could activate its functions, preventing the artifact from being turned against its owner.

  Once the imprint settled, several passive enchantments sprang to life. A thin sheath of mana layered itself over the blade, reinforcing both its edge and overall durability.

  “If you could please,” Kene said.

  Orquin hurried over with a cup of ink and deliberately spilled it along the blade. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the liquid receded as the sword cleaned itself. It was a simple self-cleaning enchantment, but an important one, allowing the blade to shed blood and grime without the wielder needing to tend to it mid-battle.

  The next enchantment was more entertaining, though no less practical. A moment later, the longsword shrank down into a short arming sword.

  Orquin stared, his curiosity barely contained.

  Kene refined the function further, adjusting the parameters so the wielder could decide the blade’s length at will. The minimum was fixed at an arming sword, while the maximum remained the weapon’s original size. He left it set somewhere in between, roughly the length of a standard sword. This would prove invaluable in confined spaces like the mines, where a full-length blade risked striking stone instead of flesh.

  The final enchantment was harder to demonstrate, but no less significant. The weapon’s weight could be altered, reduced to half for ease of use or increased to twice its original mass for devastating strikes. Lighter for speed, heavier for impact, all at the wielder’s discretion.

  Due to the imperfect rune etching from Orquin’s work, the enchantments did not operate at peak efficiency, but that was acceptable. For a first prototype, it was more than sufficient, this blade will be able to easily dispatch a standard tier 2 beast.

  “Good work, both of you,” Kene said. “The first prototype is a success. We’ll make three more copies, then transfer the samples to Knight Merva for her feedback.”

  Celiel winced slightly. She was still recovering and clearly dreaded another round so soon. If Kene could secure access to the crystals in the mine, he already had ideas for automating portions of the process. That, however, would have to wait until after the raid.

  “We’ll take a twenty minute break,” he added, “then continue.”

  ***

  It took most of the day, but the samples were finally complete, wrapped neatly in cloth. Kene had already dispatched a messenger to Merva. Tomorrow, he would personally demonstrate the weapon and its capabilities to her and the guards she selected for the test trial.

  Kene had to admit, the day had been unusually eventful. His thoughts drifted to Ayre.

  ‘I need to meet with him tomorrow,’ he thought. ‘I need to take a direct role in his development.’

  Back in his quarters, Kene cultivated for another hour, falling into the familiar rhythm of cycling mana through his body. He stopped once his thoughts began to wander, the practice losing its edge.

  ‘Is there anything else I could be doing to get stronger?’ he wondered.

  He considered it seriously. He was on track to break through and unlock the second gate near the end of the raid, or shortly after. That alone would grant him a comprehensive boost in power and versatility.

  But beyond that, what other avenues of personal enhancement remained?

  He knew of elixirs capable of reinforcing the body and increasing mana potency, but such things were unavailable in this era. The natural treasures required for them had either been corrupted or were yet to mature. There were also dungeons and spires, places that housed single-use relics capable of permanently enhancing the user or granting unique abilities.

  One infamous example was the draconic dungeon, which contained a dragon core that could elevate a user’s vitality to extreme levels.

  And that was far from the only option. There was also equipment. Enchanted relics, unique items, and specialized trinkets that he could fashion for himself or his subordinates.

  That was where Hiro had found his legendary blade, at the peak of a spire.

  The most decisive enhancement he could pursue would be the assimilation of a Sacred Beast’s essence. The benefits would eclipse all other methods by a wide margin, but Kene knew better than to fixate on it now. Attempting such a feat would require at least Tier 5 cultivation, high-grade equipment, and meticulous preparation. A consideration for the distant future.

  ‘My power isn’t confined to myself,’ Kene thought. ‘It extends to my subordinates and my territory.’

  Ayre, in particular, was less a question of how and more a matter of when. Kene fully expected him to surpass him as an enforcer in time.

  Then there were capable fighters like Merva and Gorjan. He was uncertain how far they could climb the Enforcer path, but by his estimation, reaching the fourth tier was well within reason.

  The mages under his command were another matter. He had already begun refining their magical knowledge, but eventually their raw power would need to increase. Advancing their circles was the most straightforward route, though it required time and sufficient mana density.

  ‘I suppose they could awaken as enforcers and dual-class, like I did in my previous life,’ Kene mused. Mages of this era often neglected their physical conditioning. Even remaining at the third tier indefinitely would grant them a substantial advantage.

  As for increasing their magical potency further, dungeons and spires offered possibilities, but the most notable option was bonding with an elemental core. Doing so granted both qualitative and quantitative improvements comparable to gaining an entire additional circle.

  Such cores only formed in regions saturated with a single elemental affinity, making them exceedingly rare even during the Golden Era.

  Kene had been fortunate enough to acquire one in his previous life, forming a bond with the Flowing Flame Herald, a fifth-tier elemental.

  In terms of his territory, Kene could take further advantage by establishing institutions dedicated to cultivating future powerhouses. He could found the first magic tower, or an enforcer academy, places where talent was identified and refined rather than left to chance. Teenagers could be tested for the quality of their cores or mana veins, then offered paths suited to their strengths, whether that be the arcane or the martial.

  It was an idea worth serious consideration. The thought lingered with him long after the day ended, following him even as he drifted into sleep.