His mind traversed back to a memory; him passing through the market offerings on the Awakened Platform, where he'd once seen a blade that caught his eye.
A dagger, curved like a crescent moon, its edge black as midnight, its hilt bound in red cord.
He thought of it now, and the sigils on all five fingers blazed like fresh-forged brands. Lines of blood shot out from each fingertip in perfect unison. They met in the air before his hand, swirling and merging into shape.
The crimson form solidified almost instantly, cooling into hard steel, becoming the same curved dagger he had imagined, every detail perfect down to the last stitch of cord on the hilt.
However, it had no properties of an actual artifact, meaning it had no rarity. It was an item outside the conventional system.
It rested in his palm, still warm.
