Kael pushed through the entrance of the Weapon Hall and found himself in a vast space—vaulted ceilings, weapon racks stretching toward the horizon, the constant shing of metal being drawn, tested, returned. Students crowded the aisles, all of them carrying the same metal tags he had.
He'd expected chaos. Instead, the hall operated with mechanical efficiency. Students approached specific sections based on their tag color, selected from predetermined options based on their reward tier, and registered their choices at the reception desk near the exit.
He moved through the Tier 3 section with practiced ease. His Essence Trace wasn't active—the ability was useful but draining, and he didn't need it here. Instead, he relied on touch and instinct, running his fingers along weapon shafts, testing grips, feeling for balance.
His daggers were fine. Tier 3 shadow-steel, matched pair, still sharp despite everything he'd put them through. He felt no need to replace them.
