Ever since her bloodline awakening, Thea's senses had undergone a complete transformation.
The vague, intangible perception she once possessed had merged with her blood-born spiritual power, forming a faint but steady energy source — something she decided to call mana.
When she channeled this mana into the dagger's inscription, it transformed the raw energy into another form before releasing it.
The consumption on her end was minimal — the dagger itself provided most of the energy; she merely acted as a conduit.
But that little difference — between producing and directing energy — was what separated ordinary people from mages.
Having played countless RPGs, Thea quickly figured out the dagger's function.
It could create a dense sphere of pitch-black fog within her line of sight.
As for the design logic behind it… who knew what the original creator was thinking.
Outsiders couldn't see through it; those inside were blind as well — including Thea herself.
"So basically… a medieval smoke bomb?"
Probably designed for quick escapes.
But with modern technology already providing better smokescreens and heat-vision goggles, this "ancient magic" felt a bit underwhelming.
The black mist only blocked human vision — thermal imaging would still pick up silhouettes.
She tossed the dagger lightly in her hand, spinning it through the air a few times before catching it.
"Other protagonists trip over magic rings and dragon eggs. I get a fog machine. Figures."
To keep her mind sharp, she recopied the scattered fragments she'd memorized from those old parchments, cross-referencing them with the dagger's carvings.
The results weren't great — too few reference points, too little context.
Online searches didn't help either.
There were myths about Merlin and ghosts, Merlin versus yetis, and other nonsense — a total mess of half-truths and fanfiction.
Thea didn't dare experiment blindly; it was one thing for powerful sorcerers to "go mad with mana," but quite another for a rookie like her to blow herself up on day one.
She thought briefly of the Swamp Thing, who'd mentioned the "Lady of Shandu."
But even he'd said she was elusive — an ancient being, possibly immortal, older than Ra's al Ghul by centuries.
If she ever decided to show up, it might be a decade too late.
There were a few magical heroes in this world — Constantine came to mind — but considering his reputation as a walking disaster magnet, Thea decided it was best not to get within ten meters of him.
With no mentor and no clear path, she decided to take it slow.
First, recover her strength.
Then, once her body was back at full capacity, she'd try the "Earth Fruit" the Swamp Thing had given her.
Even while "resting," Thea didn't idle.
If magic couldn't be mastered overnight, then her next focus would be tech — something tangible, improvable.
After all, her enemies just kept getting stronger and weirder.
Magic might take years to master, but technology could be built.
She thought of Shazam — the teenage boy who yelled a word and instantly transformed into a musclebound wizard after being struck by lightning.
"Yeah, no thanks. That's not learning — that's body-snatching with extra steps."
Such "instant power" didn't build foundation; it burned it away.
Those types wouldn't last a day in a proper cultivation world — they'd get possessed before lunch.
Using her good relationship with Batman while it lasted, Thea made a bold request:
"Can I… take a look at your utility belt?"
To her surprise, Bruce agreed.
Finally, she could see the legendary belt up close.
Everyone described it like it was a divine relic, but in truth, its brilliance lay not in mystique, but in design.
Dozens of nanotech compartments, modular gadgets, and precision engineering — elegant, compact, efficient.
What caught her eye most was the nanotech integration.
Batman's nanotech differed from Ray Palmer's: Bruce used it to miniaturize weapons; Palmer used it to shrink himself.
Same origin, different philosophies.
"Figures. The control freak and the scientist — both geniuses, zero overlap."
If Batman ever had to wear the Atom suit, his pride would implode before the armor even powered on.
And Palmer, with his limited combat experience, could never handle Batman's gear.
Still, the belt gave Thea an idea.
Her skateboard had reached its upgrade limit.
It was agile, yes, but against monsters like Bane, it was practically useless.
What she needed now was raw strength.
And she knew exactly where to start — by borrowing a page from the Winter Soldier.
Not literally, of course. She wasn't insane enough to chop off her arm.
Her plan was to replicate the idea, using Batman's nanotech approach.
She drafted the concept on her tablet:
A modular, nanotech-based metal arm system divided into three wearable components — a bracelet, a wristband, and an armlet.
Each piece looked like a normal accessory — feminine, fashionable, inconspicuous.
But when activated:
The ring expanded and rotated, forming a metallic glove.
The bracelet extended into a forearm guard.
The armlet unfolded into an upper-arm plate.
All three segments connected seamlessly, powered by a compact Queen Industries energy core.
Maximum output: 10 tons of force.
She even added three claw slots to the palm — retractable adamantium-style blades.
"Sorry, Logan. I'm borrowing your brand."
The design was born partly out of paranoia — if Ra's al Ghul really was watching her, she wanted to be prepared.
She couldn't walk around with a sword at all times; this was the next best thing.
As for whether to equip one arm or two, she settled on a single, left-side build.
Right arm for archery and firearms — left arm for smashing things.
Practical and efficient.
With the blueprints ready, she brought them to Bruce for advice.
He didn't plan to use the design himself — it clashed with his combat systems — but he was genuinely impressed by her creativity.
Together, they refined the schematics, merging WayneTech precision with Queen Industries' energy research.
The end result: a lighter, faster, more powerful prosthetic arm system.
Batman, however, raised an eyebrow at her inclusion of hidden claws.
"You realize that counts as a concealed weapon."
Thea coughed lightly.
"Well, you know how it is. Sometimes… women's outfits don't have pockets."
Bruce stared at her for a long moment, visibly trying to process that logic.
In the end, he sighed — the sigh of a man too tired to argue with Thea Queen — and gave his silent approval.