To put it bluntly, being able to manifest the crystallized legend that most represents a Heroic Spirit is like solving a riddle after peeking at the answer.
Shane steadied himself and tried to guide and manifest this spirit's Noble Phantasm the way he had with Arash's crimson greatbow.
This time, though, what happened was completely different.
No concrete weapon appeared.
Instead, there was a strange sensation—he felt himself connect to a "concept."
It wasn't a fixed form so much as the embryo of a… "armory"?
On instinct he thought, "sword."
The next second, weight settled in his palm. An ancient-looking longsword was already in his hand.
The blade was long—just under two foot—and cool, dense weight pressed into his grip. Without even looking, the sword's particulars surfaced naturally in his mind.
Blade length: 55.7 cm… Hilt length: 8.4 cm… Blade width: 4.6 cm…
Material: primarily bronze and tin, with trace amounts of lead and iron…
The familiarity felt like the sword was introducing itself to him.
Shane couldn't help lifting it for a closer look.
The pommel had been exquisitely cast into concentric rings, faint orderly circles visible within. The blade was covered in interlaced black diamond patterns, both mysterious and regular. At the guard, a deep blue glass inlay gleamed on the face, and a green turquoise on the reverse. The grip was tightly wrapped in close-woven cord for purchase.
A familiar weight of history rushed his senses.
Shane blinked. "This style, this workmanship… well now— the Sword of Goujian?"
In his last life he'd seen it in museum cases and books too many times to count; he couldn't be mistaken.
But as fine as it was, he felt none of the power that a Noble Phantasm should radiate.
It felt like nothing more than an extraordinarily well-forged mundane blade.
Given the Sword of Goujian's renown, if it were the genuine article, it would absolutely qualify to sublimate into a Noble Phantasm; it shouldn't be this ordinary. So this could only be a fake.
Besides, Goujian and that oceanic, all-consuming fire didn't have the slightest connection.
"Well, at least that rules one wrong answer out," he told himself, face blank.
Even knowing it was a fake, the lifelike reproduction made it hard to put down; he kept turning it over in his hands—finally scratching the itch of never having touched one in his past life.
"Huh."
As he gave it a casual sweep, something felt off.
The sword's "feel" seemed to be subtly changing in step with his will.
On a whim he plucked a hair, held it to the edge, and blew.
The strand parted soundlessly in two.
"Now that's interesting!" His curiosity flared; he focused, testing how far he could push the sword's sharpness.
As his will gathered, the sword's internal structure rapidly recomposed and packed tight. Within seconds, a faint veil of mana light flowed along the edge.
He brought it close to the table's corner—without even touching, a sliver of wood slid off, the cut face smooth as a mirror.
"Sword aura—no, mana effusion?" This time he was truly surprised.
Purely for sharpness and hardness, it was already approaching the material tier of a true Noble Phantasm—only lacking a Phantasm's inherent ability!
Of course, the enhancement had a price. He could feel his stamina and mana steadily draining to sustain the blade beyond mundane bounds.
"But the load isn't bad." A brief check—paired with that inner warm current, he could keep this up for a whole day without trouble.
"In that case…"
He closed his eyes in thought—then they flashed like he'd found a new continent.
His left hand closed on thin air—and an identical Sword of Goujian appeared.
"I get it," clarity clicked into place. "The Saber's 'Noble Phantasm' isn't a specific sword at all—it's the access to that armory!"
He'd produced the Goujian only because that sword left the deepest impression on him.
With the key point clear, he played like a kid with a new toy.
Broadsabers, lances, halberds, war bows, chain whips… weapons of every kind from every era and land came out of the unseen treasury in turn—each strengthened and tested.
Better still, no matter what he drew, it felt naturally familiar in his hands. Not as deep as the way Arash's bow fit him, but far beyond the clumsiness of a first meeting—as if he'd practiced a hundred, a thousand times.
In short, this Phantasm had a huge range of applications, massive potential, and plenty of room to develop.
He still couldn't peg what spirit's legend aligned with such a Phantasm, but he was more than satisfied.
He immersed himself in the wonderful sensation of commanding ten thousand blades until late into the night. Only when his stamina and focus were mostly spent did he lie down, reluctant but content.
No Heroic dream came that night.
Maybe it was the first proper bed since crossing over, but he slept like a rock. Not until noon the next day, when sun through the window warmed the quilt, did he drift awake.
With no Tower whistle screeching, he washed up at an easy pace. He was toweling his face when a heavy knock rattled the door.
He opened it to find Erza on the threshold.
After a night apart, she'd changed into a clean, simple dress; the hem swayed with her restless pacing, lending her more girlish softness than usual.
Worldly-wise as he was, Shane gave a thumbs-up, sincerely: "It suits you, Erza. You look great."
She blinked, a faint flush coloring her cheeks, then her brows knit again as she snapped, "About time you woke up! I've been here four times—the doorknob's broken off."
He glanced at the wood chunk in her hand, then at the smooth hole where the knob had been, and couldn't help a grin.
Not at her strength—but that she'd broken the handle and still hadn't just kicked the door in.
Who knew if that counted as rule-following or not…
"You need something?" he asked.
"Weren't we going to Fairy Tail together?" Her frown deepened. "I'm ready. I've been waiting on you."
"…Right," Shane scratched his head. He'd spent all night testing Saber's kit and completely forgotten. "We did say that, but… I want to stay here two more days."
"?" Her eyes flashed wide—she did not like stalling.
The slack, unhurried version of Shane before her felt like a different person from the tower.
"If we decide on something, we should do it quickly. No dragging our feet!" She reached for his arm, intending to haul him out the door by force.
Still a hothead…
He slipped aside and hurried to explain, seeing the misunderstanding. "Easy, Erza. There's something more important than travel."
He paused, meeting her puzzled look. "Remember the power you unleashed at the tower at the end? I suspect you're one of those geniuses who can awaken magic on your own."
"Self… awakening… magic? A genius?" She froze.
For someone who'd been a slave one day ago, the idea felt far away.
"That's right," he nodded. "Instead of rushing off, let's use this time to tease out your magic. We'll be safer on the road, and you'll get stronger faster."
"And," he added, gesturing downstairs, "Grandpa Rob used to be a mage. He's got experience.
With time on our side—and his help—we'll be far more efficient. Staying a bit also lets us keep him and Millianna company. Isn't that good?"
It wasn't just about developing Erza's magic—Shane had plans of his own. While laying low, he wanted to see if he could tick off Trial: Initiation.
The hardest bit—forming a mutual, heart-deep friendship—was done. All that was left were stable, quality food and lodging. Naturally, he had to try.
~~~
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