Aether stood before the window, his sword resting against the couch he sat on last night, its polished surface catching the light. His fingers traced the familiar fabric of his butler's attire – the crisp white sleeves, the deep crimson vest that had served him faithfully until now. He reached for the clothes, his mind replaying the cryptic message that had appeared moments ago.
"It can turn into anything?" he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.
"Anything—" the text began to respond, its golden letters forming in the air, but Aether gently brushed them away, lost in his own thoughts.
