[Unknown POV]
Kuzan had spent the past few days bracing himself for the mental torture that was to come.
This was the final frontier—the last, grueling sprint that would transform his relentless research into something tangible, something useful.
Every tome he had read, every fragment of lore he had painstakingly stitched together about the artifacts before him—their origins, their uses, their legacies—even just recalling it all gave the boy a nauseating headache.
The last few weeks had been consumed with relentless research—poring over every scrap of information, every tome, and every compendium of knowledge he could unearth about the artifacts before him.
Still, knowledge was weightless until put to work.
Now, that moment had come.
The time to put theory into practice.
First, the Sword.
'[Analyze],' he commanded.
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Name: [Sword of Ash]
Description: [Weapon crafted by an unknown individual. The material composition indicates the use of magical runes on the level of a Magi's handi—]
"Just give me the cliff notes," Kuzan interrupted, waving off the cascade of information that began to pour into his mind.
Cliff Notes:
- Generates a fireball from its tip when supplied with mana.
- Durability comparable to that of a steel sword.
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He stared at the weapon, his mind gnawing at the slim chance that it might work.
Kuzan's lips tightened into a thin line as he slowly picked up the blade. Its hilt was cool, almost lifeless, against his palm.
But the moment he did, that ember of hope extinguished.
"Chee." The sound escaped his lips, sharp with irritation.
"Should've known," he muttered under his breath, tossing the sword back onto the table. The dull clang echoed in the quiet room. "A conductor without energy is worthless. Even with runes, it's useless without proper charge."
Disappointment laced his tone; however, there was no time to dwell.
He moved his gaze.
The Shield.
Sitting on the table was a small silver shield, its polished surface gleaming under the room's dim light. At a glance, it looked more decorative than functional.
'[Analyze],' he thought once more, though this time he was quicker to cut to the chase.
"Cliff notes," he ordered before the detailed explanation could flood his senses.
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Name: [Respert's Shield]
Cliff Notes:
- Reflects any physical damage inflicted upon it.
- Durability comparable to that of a steel shield when attacked with magic.
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"Hmm," Kuzan murmured.
However, the shield's intended use and the method Kuzan planned to employ couldn't have been more different. He wasn't looking to defend himself; his goal was to test its limits, and by extension—his own.
His hand hovered above the shield, fingers curling into a tight fist. Muscles strained as veins stood out along his arm, and a wave of heat radiated from the sheer effort of his preparation.
Then, he struck.
"THUCK!"
The sound was wrong—a hollow thud that reverberated unnaturally. His gaze snapped to the shield, and his stomach sank as he saw cracks snaking across its surface.
"Chick, chick, chick..."
Kuzan's eyes widened as cracks spiderwebbed across the shield's surface. The artifact trembled, its once-pristine form buckling under the strain. Piece by piece, the artifact disintegrated, its fragments falling to the floor like raindrops.
Though the artifact might have been destroyed, the value its behavior had just provided him was immense.
Next, the Mirror.
It sat on the table, its surface glowing faintly as if alive. Kuzan had already spent hours studying it, but now was the time for action.
'[Analyze]'
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Name: [Mirror of the Morning Sun]
Cliff Notes:
- Allows the user to store non-living materials in a sub-dimensional space.
- Holds up to 10 cubic meters of items.
- Time flows at the same rate within the sub-dimension as it does outside.
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"Finally," Kuzan whispered, allowing himself a brief smile.
A storage artifact—something he'd long wished for, something he'd envied in the protagonists of countless web novels. To have an inventory of items at his disposal, mobile and limitless in practicality, was nothing short of priceless.
And yet…
"It's not something that can help me right now," he admitted quietly.
Even as he acknowledged its worth, he knew its immediate utility was limited. Still, ideas brewed in his mind for how to make the most of it in the future. For now, it would have to wait.
The Shackles.
His gaze fell on the next item—a pair of night-black shackles, their surfaces etched with intricate magical runes. He had spent countless hours poring over their design, memorizing every curve and line.
The patterns that engraved its set, the materials with which it was constructed.
They were unlike anything he'd encountered before.
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Name: [Unknown]
Cliff Notes:
- Prevents communication with mana.
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Kuzan stared at the shackles, his expression unreadable.
The sheer significance of this artifact, or at least what it represented to him of all people, was beyond words.
"Maybe I can have Azuleth melt these into something more… useful," he mused, tucking the thought away for later.
There was still much to do.
The Crystal.
There was no need for the boy to even consider analyzing it again.
However, his lack of a reaction should not have been misconstrued as disregard—quite the opposite.
It was far too valuable a component for the future to not have been studied by the boy prior.
Without hesitation, he pricked his finger, smearing a bead of blood onto its surface. The crystal split cleanly in two.
He pocketed one half, then called for an attendant.
The maid entered quietly, her steps careful and measured. She kept her head low as she approached the table, her movements betraying her nervousness.
Kuzan handed her the artifacts, one by one. The sword. The shield fragments. The mirror. The shackles. Finally, the remaining half of the crystal.
"Take these to Azuleth," he instructed.
The maid nodded, her hands trembling as she cradled the artifacts.
Thankfully, her reaction was only a symptom of Kuzan's political stature, being someone looked upon favorably by the Queen. As for the artifacts, she had no idea of their value, no understanding of the weight of what she now held. Perhaps that was for the better—if she truly knew the truth, she would no doubt have a heart attack from the sheer stress.
Of course, none of that mattered.
For a while after, the boy's gaze remained fixed on the back of the nervous attendant, as she carried the artifacts and walked toward the door to the hallway of the Palace.
He could see her every small movement, from the smallest twitch of her trembling fingers. He could hear her heart beating quickly, no doubt a result of stress.
From the tiny droplets of sweat hanging from the tips of her neatly combed hair, to her well-kept nails, colored in green.
He could see her.
For all that she was.
Her emotions, her biology, he could almost even perceive the boundary between her inner lines of thought.
Why then did it feel so simple?
Why did it feel so different from before?
Why did it feel like a researcher watching an animal, rather than a man watching an objectively beautiful woman?
Were women so interesting?
If so, why did he not feel like this for Azuleth?
What made her the exception?
And what made her not?
'Does it really matter?' he thought to himself, breaking out of his line of thoughts.
Of course, the boy knew the question was rhetorical. How could it not matter? How could she not matter?
When she was so strong. When she was so brave. When she was so loyal.
How could he possibly run away now, when she had set the stage so perfectly?
Wasn't it the least he could do—to honor her wishes?
Had she not helped him more than anyone? Did she not deserve to be repaid more than anyone?
Did that not mean she mattered more than everyone else?
No matter how many times he racked his brain, no matter the avenues of thought he pursued, even employing the Socratic method, all led to the same conclusion.
Even the Queen's glimpses into the future pointed to the same result.
How could he possibly run from a predestined outcome?
And most importantly, even if given the choice—would he want to in the first place?
The boy shook his head, dispelling these useless lines of thought and instead focusing his mind to something more productive.
'[Status]'