SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

For a long while, the forge was silent.

The chaotic tremors that had once shaken the sea realm, the divine pulses that made coral break and volcanoes erupt — all had begun to still. The golden-blue glow of runes on the forge walls dimmed to a soft hum.

The divine bow floated in midair, its body carved of sea-blessed metal and layered in elemental runes, now pulsing gently… like a heart with its first steady rhythm.

And Kent…

He stirred.

His breath drew in sharply. His eyelids fluttered once. Then opened — clear, calm, and utterly changed.

He had returned from within.

Not as a boy hoping to wield power.

But as a soul who had been tested by fire, ice, and memory… and endured.

Slowly, Kent rose to his feet from the prayer mat. His legs trembled, not from weakness — but from the intensity of everything his spirit had faced. His eyes locked onto the bow still suspended in front of him.

The weapon no longer trembled. It didn’t glow like it once did. It waited.

Quiet.

Proud.

Alive.

Kent stepped forward.

He raised his hand — fingers dirtied from weeks of labor, veins still warm from divine pulse, and palm engraved with faint traces of spirit calligraphy from the trial he endured. With silent reverence, he touched the bow.

The moment skin met steel, the air in the forge shifted.

A breathless, weightless second passed.

Then—

The bow glowed once.

And vanished.

Not into thin air.

Not crumbled or teleported.

But absorbed — drawn directly into Kent’s soul space, like a willing creature returning to its home.

A sharp light pulsed through Kent’s chest, his body briefly surrounded by swirling threads of spirit flame and silver wind. Then… it all calmed.

Gone.

But not lost.

Owned.

Behind him, the old figure of Muni Naga slowly approached. His robe, damp with sweat from days of work, bore burns and ash marks. His hands were calloused, a mix of scars and time. But his eyes — they were glowing.

The ancient forgemaster looked at Kent, then at the empty space where the bow had hovered.

He nodded slowly, the corners of his cracked lips turning upward — not in amusement, but in deep, quiet pride.

“Good,” he said. “Very good.”

Kent turned, still grounding his breath.

“It accepted me,” he said simply.

Muni Naga chuckled, a sound like stone scraping stone.

“It did more than that. It recognized you. It bound itself to your soul like a beast finds its rider, like a spirit finds its shrine.”

“And with that, my work… is done.”

He walked past Kent, placing a hand lightly on the warm surface of the forge — its glow now dull, as if it, too, had completed its destiny.

Then he turned, eyes slightly damp despite the heat of the room.

“In all my life, I’ve forged for sea kings, beast emperors, and even sky generals… but never once did a weapon make my heart feel light.”

“Until now.”

He looked Kent in the eye, voice soft but steady.

“This bow… carries not just the soul of a fallen goddess, not just divine elements or ancestral fire. It carries my name.”

“When people see it tear through heaven and split the arrogance of false kings — they will remember me. Muni Naga, who crafted it with fire, sweat, and silence.”

Kent bowed deeply, offering respect the only way he knew — without flattery, but with sincerity.

“Then your name will be remembered… every time it’s drawn.”

Muni Naga nodded once, firm and proud.

“What about the divine quivers?” Kent questioned directly.

Muni Naga turned, that same proud smile returning.

“Ah, yes. Come see.”

He removed the wrap with care, unveiling three distinct quivers, each pulsing faintly with spiritual light, set side by side atop a glowing stone pedestal.

Kent blinked. “Three? But I only asked for two.”

“You did,” Muni Naga said with a grin. “But I made one more — something… special.”

Kent stepped closer. Each quiver gave off a different sensation — one like steady wind, another like patient silence, and the third… like the breath of something sealed.

Three quivers stood before Kent.

Each glowing. Each utterly unique.

Kent’s eyes widened slightly. “I… only asked for two.”

Muni Naga chuckled, that now-familiar gravel-like sound of amusement.

“You asked for two. But the bow asked for more.”

He pointed to the first quiver. It was tall, obsidian black with silver veins, and a crescent-shaped lip that gleamed with elemental pulses.

“This is your Primary Quiver,” Muni Naga said, stroking the side like a favored beast. “Built to withstand high-impact combat. Holds up to fifty physical arrows and twenty spell arrows, manually placed and categorized by spell type.”

He pointed to the glowing runes etched on the surface.

“These here are Sortai Runes — each tied to elemental categories: flame, frost, lightning, wind. You simply will the name of the category, and it will shift to that storage chamber. Quick access.”

Kent leaned closer. “These storage sections… are they spatial arrays?”

“Not quite,” Muni Naga replied. “They’re folded compression pockets, each sealed by elemental affinity. Spatial arrays are fragile under divine resonance. This…” he tapped the quiver, “will hold steady even if you fire during a storm ritual.”

Kent nodded slowly. “And the arrows? They need to be manually placed?”

“For this one — yes. It’s the warrior’s quiver. You choose what goes in. You know what comes out.”

Then Muni Naga stepped to the second.

This one was a bit shorter, circular at the base, and made of sea green steel fused with translucent cores that shimmered like captured moonlight.

“This is your Natural Reserve Quiver,” Muni Naga explained. “Made from shellbone and living steel. Embedded inside are Mana Stone Wells — self-renewing reservoirs of elemental essence.”

Kent’s brows furrowed in awe. “It generates arrows on its own, right?”

“Yes,” Muni Naga grinned. “Runes along the base — here, here, and here — cycle natural ambient mana and use a condensed binding rune, Mirakai, to form solid spell arrows. They grow slowly, but steadily.”

Kent studied the three glowing cores, watching as a small wind-arrow formed and locked itself into place.

“So… it grows arrows like a tree bears fruit?”

“Exactly,” Muni Naga said. “Keep it close to high-energy zones, and the mana-stone roots will absorb faster. It will always have a few arrows ready, even when you’re out of supplies.”

Kent’s mind was already spinning with tactics. The first for precision and control. The second for survival and regeneration.

But then…

Muni Naga walked to the final one — the smallest of the three.

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