That evening, Theon made his way to the equipment warehouse.
Unlike other bustling parts of the settlement, the warehouse seemed almost deserted, its exterior looking borderline abandoned. He hesitated at the entrance, but if he focused on the flow of Lu, he could feel the faint, familiar tingle of lightning Lu in the air, one that wasn't natural.
The [Chaos Asura Purification Mantra] had its perks. Beyond its brutal refinement process, it heightened one's sensitivity to natural Lu flows. For Theon, even a single session had honed his awareness like a whetstone against a blade.
Though his ability was still nascent, the difference was undeniable. Ninth-Planar Lu, the refined energy Aricaz wielded and the standard for the mantra, was deeply intertwined with the fabric of existence, far harder to pinpoint than the looser, more noticeable 2nd planar Lu he was accustomed to. So for Theon, sensing 2nd planar Lu was actually quite straightforward.
But here, in the dim silence of the warehouse, something else caught his attention.
Traces of Lightning Lu.
They crackled against the stillness, vivid as a streak of white across a blackened sky.
Theon closed his eyes, letting the faint thrum of Lightning Lu guide him. His fingers trailed along the walls—rough wood, cold metal—until they caught on a nearly imperceptible seam: a small, inconspicuous trigger embedded in the wall. With a gentle press, a hidden door slid open, revealing a staircase leading down.
Trusting his instincts, Theon stepped inside.
Below, the underground workshop roared to life. The scent of molten metal and oil filled the air, mingling with the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel as an orange hue licked the walls. At its heart stood a mountain of a man—a blacksmith, his muscles glistening with sweat as he wrought fury into a glowing blade. Though Theon stood directly in front of the man his presence went unnoticed as the blacksmith continued to hammer away, absorbed in his work.
The hammer's rhythmic clangs filled the workshop, each strike sending up a shower of sparks that danced around Hao's burly frame. He whistled tunelessly between strikes, completely absorbed in his work.
He turned to dip the blade in oil.
Then he saw it. There, barely three feet in front of him, stood a pale-faced youth. Silent. Motionless. Watching.
"SWEET MOTHER OF—!"
His entire body convulsed like a startled bear. The hammer slipped from his grip—CRACK—right onto his boot. Hao howled, hopping on one foot while clutching his toes. "Ghost-footed little shit! Was the heart attack not enough?!" He glared at Theon, face redder than the forge's coals. "You some kind of fucking assassin?!"
Theon winced. "Apologies. Ren sent me. I'm—"
"Oh, I know who sent you!" Hao exhaled explosively, running both hands down his soot-streaked face. Then suddenly paused. His anger flickered into confusion. "...Wait." He glanced at the water clock in the corner, its markings showing well past the appointed hour. "Shit."
Hao groaned, kicking his misplaced hammer across the floor. "That old bastard's trying to kill me through proxy, I swear to—" He stopped mid-rant, eyes narrowing. "Hold on. Even if I forgot the time, my workshop's locked tighter than a virgin's, how the hell did you get in?"
Theon gestured to the wall. Lying to the man making your equipment was never a smart decision. "Your Lightning Lu circuits have a pulse pattern. The third oscillation leaks slightly."
Hao's scowl deepened, then abruptly transformed into a grudging smirk. "You traced the Lu signature?" He barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Ren didn't mention he was sending me a sensor-type." Wiping his hands on his apron, he extended one calloused palm. "Hao. Only blacksmith in the settlement who won't charge you extra for that little stunt."
Theon accepted the handshake. "Theon."
"Yeah, I got that," Hao grumbled, already turning back to his forge. "Just cough next time or I'll test my next hammer swing on your skull."
"Alright, kid. Stand still. Let's see what you're made of."
Hao circled Theon like a sculptor sizing up raw stone, calloused hands measuring limb length and shoulder width with brisk efficiency. "Any special requests? Or you just here for the standard issue?"
Theon thought for a moment. "I'd like my swords to be chained, if possible."
"Chained swords, huh?" Hao raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Not many ask for something like that. Got some fancy technique in mind?"
"No." Theon replied simply. "I just need mid-range options."
Hao barked another laugh. "What a practical man." He rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle and old burn scars. "This ain't no quick job, though. Good steel takes patience."
Theon nodded. "I'll wait."
The workshop roared back to life as Hao began attaching a pair of chains to the twin swords Ren had already told him to prepare. Hao moved like a man possessed, feeding the forge, hammering red-hot metal, quenching blades in oil with a furious hiss. Sparks danced in the air like fireflies as the scent of molten iron and charcoal thickened the room.
Hours bled together until, at last, Hao set his tools down with a satisfied grunt.
"Here." He tossed Theon the finished weapons—twin blades, sleek and lethal, their edges shimmering with a faint blue sheen, each connected to a flexible, durable chain.
Theon tested their weight, swinging them in a smooth arc. The chain snapped taut, then retracted seamlessly. "Perfect."
Hao smirked and shoved a sleek black case toward him. "Armor's in there. Semi-custom. Don't go getting it all banged up right away."
Theon bowed again, deeper this time. "I'll do my best, sir. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't sneak up on me again, kid." Hao grinned, shaking his head.
But Theon wasn't fully satisfied. There was something missing.
"Do you have any long-range weapons?"
Hao raised an eyebrow, glancing at Theon curiously. "You any good with a bow?"
"Not exactly." Theon replied. "I was thinking more along the lines of a gun."
The word landed like a hammer on cold iron. The workshop's ambient heat seemed to drop several degrees.
Hao's expression cycled through stages of disbelief before settling on something between amusement and pity. "Oh kid." He wiped his hands slowly on his apron. "You're greener than I thought."
Theon remained silent as the blacksmith rounded the anvil, stepping close enough that Theon could smell the forge-fire on his skin.
"Listen well," Hao growled, low and deliberate. "Don't mention guns to any blacksmith worth their salt."He snatched a half-forged blade from the worktable, the metal still glowing faintly. This? Channels Lu. Breathes with its wielder." The steel hummed as he passed a thumb along its edge, leaving a trail of shimmering energy. "A gun?" His lip curled. "Just a metal tube that barks."
"They're a headache. Too many moving parts, too much maintenance for what they're worth. And when you're dealing with Lu? Forget it. They're useless to a cultivator. Guns are for people who don't have personal power, who can't unlock the potential of a real weapon."
Theon nodded slowly, processing the information. "But—"
"Guns aren't weapons." Hao cut him off, his tone sharp. "Not in the hands of someone who can wield Lu. At best, they're crutches. Point, shoot, and let the mechanism do all the work. No skill, no refinement. Nothing to master."
Theon's brows furrowed in thought. Guns had been his lifeline for nearly a decade in the old world. Efficient, reliable, and capable of turning the tide in desperate situations. But now, with the introduction of Lu, the same advantages had turned into glaring weaknesses. No growth. No synergy with his newfound abilities.
Hao saw the conflict and sighed, some of the fire leaving his voice. "Look. You want range?" He jerked his chin toward a locked cabinet. "I've got javelins that seek blood. Throwing stars that return to their master. Even a recurve that fires arrows of pure Lu." His eyes hardened. "But I won't waste good steel on something that can't grow with its wielder."
"I get it." Theon said quietly, bowing his head in gratitude. "Thank you."
Hao grunted. "Just put my weapons to good use, and don't come back here asking for a damn gun." He turned back to his forge, muttering under his breath. "Puah... making a gun. Soured my mood."
As Theon stepped out of the workshop, the crisp night air greeted him, carrying with it a coolness that cut through his swirling thoughts. The weight of the new swords felt solid, grounding him momentarily. Yet, the realization lingered—his reliance on guns, once his greatest asset, had now become his biggest handicap.
He glanced at the stars above, their cold light reflecting the enormity of the problem he faced. Giving up guns wasn't just a matter of practicality—it was a shift in his entire combat approach. But the solution wasn't immediately clear.
'What now?'
Learning to craft guns himself was out of the question.
Then bows? But investing time into mastering archery, alongside his current training in techniques and weaponry was also impossible; he would be spreading himself too thin.
As Theon pondered his next move, his communicator beeped, interrupting his thoughts. He quickly glanced at the message.
[Something has come up, it looks like you will be going into a gate faster than planned.]
Another message followed, displaying an address.
[Come to the address that I just sent to your communicator.]