That night, back in the echoing silence of my workshop, the failed spar replayed in my mind. The feeling of being utterly pinned, of all my advanced technology being rendered useless by my father's raw power and experience, was a bitter but necessary lesson. He was right. I needed a bigger stick.
I sat before the dungeon core's pulsing, crimson light, the energy washing over me in silent waves. Kaelus hovered nearby on his red velvet cushion, sensing my contemplative mood through our bond, his usual gentle bobbing stilled.
"Tes," I said aloud, my voice unnaturally loud in the quiet chamber, "show me everything you have on focused energy weapons from my old world's entertainment media."
"Acknowledged, Master. Compiling database of fictional energy-based weapon systems. Recommendation: The blade technology from a certain popular sci-fi movie franchise represents an optimal fusion of portability and destructive capability."
"Exactly what I was thinking." I stood and walked to my primary workbench, pulling out a pristine bar of my custom magitech alloy. "A sword with no blade," I mused, already beginning to sketch designs on a slate with a magically infused chalk. "The hilt contains all the systems the power source, the focusing crystal, the magnetic containment field. The blade itself is pure energy, shaped and contained by runic matrices."
Over the next week, I threw myself into the project with an obsessive intensity that worried even Patricia. The hilt alone required three separate prototypes before I achieved the proper balance and ergonomic feel. The internal systems were miniaturized versions of the same technology that powered my armor, but focused into a single, devastating output.
The focusing crystal was the real challenge. I needed something that could channel and contain plasma-level energy without shattering or burning out. After dozens of failed attempts that resulted in nothing but superheated dust, I finally created a stable, synthetic crystal by combining dungeon core fragments with refined blue platinum, growing the hybrid material in a carefully controlled magical field under immense pressure. The magnetic containment system required adapting my shield technology into a completely different configuration instead of protecting against external forces, it needed to contain and shape pure, volatile energy into a stable blade. The runic matrices alone took days to inscribe, each microscopic symbol requiring a level of precision that even Tes's autopilot found taxing.
Finally, after a week of almost continuous work, the weapon was complete. The hilt was elegant in its brutal simplicity about a foot long, with the slight curve of a katana that fit perfectly in my hand. The grip was wrapped in supple dragon leather, and a circular guard contained the new focusing crystal and primary emitter array. The pommel housed a miniaturized power core. It was the fusion of two worlds' greatest achievements, magic and science united in a form both elegant and terrible.
Bob and George watched from a safe distance as I moved to the center of the workshop's testing chamber. Just as I was about to begin, the workshop doors rumbled open. Master Aldric strode in, looking refreshed from his month-long vacation to his ancestral home in the Adamant Forge-Kingdom of Khaz'Modan. He was holding a large, ornate dwarven stein filled to the brim with a dark, frothy ale that smelled of roasted barley and mountain hops.
"Hah! I leave for one month and you're already trying to blow the place up again, lad?" he boomed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He took a long, appreciative swig of his drink. "So, what trinket have you cobbled together this time?"
He ambled over, his keen craftsman's eyes examining the hilt in my hands. "Hmm. Nicely balanced. Good grip. But where's the blade, boy? Don't tell me you spent a week making a fancy club."
I just smiled. "Tes, all systems ready?"
"Affirmative, Master. Power core stable. Containment field generators online. Focusing crystal charged. Warning: this is a completely untested weapons system. Recommend extreme caution."
I took a deep breath, channeled a trickle of mana into the weapon's activation rune, and pressed my thumb to the activation stud.
VWOOM.
The sound was unlike anything that belonged in this world a deep, thrumming hum that seemed to resonate in the bones. From the emitter at the hilt's tip erupted a blade of pure azure energy. It wasn't a simple tube of light; this was a true katana blade, complete with a defined edge and a sharp, angular tip, all formed from contained plasma that cast the entire workshop in a brilliant blue light. I had even managed to create a subtle, darker core within the blade, a flicker of shadow at its heart that hinted at another famous weapon from the same sci-fi inspiration a black blade that had always captured my imagination.
The blade hummed with barely contained power, stable and beautiful and absolutely deadly. Aldric, who had been in the middle of another long drink of his ale, froze. He lowered his stein slowly, his eyes wide as he stared at the impossible blade of light. He clearly thought it was an illusion, a fancy light-producing device with sound effects.
"Impressive light show, lad," he grunted, trying to sound unimpressed, though his knuckles were white on the handle of his stein. "But can it cut?"
I turned to a thick slab of scrap magitech armor plating the same material my father had dented with his bare hands. With a single, fluid motion, I swung the Plasma Katana. There was no resistance, no clang of impact. The energy blade passed through the meter-thick alloy as if it were air, shearing it in two with a faint hiss and a smell of ozone. The two cleanly-cut halves of the slab fell to the floor with a deafening crash, their edges glowing cherry-red.
PFFFFT!
Master Aldric spat a fine mist of what he considered holy dwarven ale all over the workshop floor. He stared, utterly horrified, not at the display of power, but at the wasted drink. Then his gaze snapped from the bisected metal to the weapon in my hand, his face a mask of disbelief and dawning comprehension.
"By my ancestors' forge..." he whispered. He staggered forward and ran a trembling, calloused finger near the glowing edge of the severed metal, flinching back from the intense heat. "That's impossible." He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of awe and professional outrage. "Lad! What have you done?! This… this spits on millennia of dwarven pride! On the sacred knowledge passed down from the first smiths! You've made steel, mithral, even orichalcum… obsolete! You've created a blade that can cut through anything!"
I smiled, deactivating the weapon. The energy blade collapsed back into the hilt with a satisfied snap-hiss. "I've created the future, Master Aldric."
But I wasn't finished. I held the hilt out and activated another rune. With a soft whir, a series of micro-thrusters, adapted from my Mark V armor, extended from the pommel and guard. I let go, and the hilt hovered in the air, its thrusters keeping it perfectly stable. With a mental command to Tes, it zipped across the room, performing a series of tight, acrobatic turns before returning to my waiting hand.
The implications were staggering. I didn't just have to hold this weapon. I could build several more. I could imagine it now dual-wielding two Plasma Katanas while Tes controlled a dozen more, a swirling whirlwind of azure death.
"A flying sword that can cut through a mountain," Aldric mumbled, sinking onto a nearby crate and taking a shaky, mournful swig from his now-depleted stein. "I need another drink."
The Plasma Katana as I had decided to call it would become the symbol of a new age, the first true weapon of the magitech revolution that would transform Aerthos and, eventually, the entire world. But on that night, holding my impossible blade in the blue glow of the dungeon core, I simply smiled and thought of Lyra sleeping peacefully in her crib.
Let the other kingdoms keep their ancient ways, their dragons and phoenixes and angels. I had something better. I had a bigger stick.