The first step to make the mana blade was the hilt.
Unlike a traditional sword, the blade itself wouldn't exist until mana flowed through it, which meant the handle had to do far more than simply provide something to grip.
It would be the weapon's heart, the core that determined how stable the blade would be, how much mana it could hold, and how cleanly that mana could be shaped once released.
Adam stood over his workbench for a long moment, studying the refined steel ingot resting inside the crafting circle.
He rolled his shoulders once, exhaled slowly, and then fed a careful stream of mana into the array.
The metal responded immediately.
At first it only glowed faintly, but then the ingot softened as if it had been dipped into molten light. It stretched, compressed, and reshaped itself under the influence of the circle until it became a perfect cylinder. Adam narrowed his eyes and adjusted the flow, guiding the transformation with tiny corrections. The center of the cylinder hollowed out next, not all at once but in a controlled spiral, leaving behind a reinforced shell with internal channels branching through it like veins.
Those channels were the most important part.
They would guide mana from the wielder's hand toward the emitter near the guard, where the blade would be projected into existence. If the channels were uneven, the mana would surge in the wrong places. If they were too thin, the flow would choke. If they were too wide, the blade would lose shape the moment it formed.
Adam paused several times to refine the design.
A slight twist here.
A reinforcement there.
A subtle widening near the center to prevent pressure buildup.
He watched the metal carefully as it shifted, making sure every line matched the structure he had imagined in his mind. Only when the internal channels looked exactly right did he allow the metal to cool and harden.
A faint metallic chime echoed through the workshop as the hilt settled into its final shape.
"...Good."
He picked up the unfinished piece and turned it in his hand, inspecting the smooth surface and the precise balance. It was still plain for now, but even without the blade attached, he could already feel the potential in it.
Now came the difficult part.
Runes.
Unlike the tuxedo, these enchantments couldn't merely strengthen or lighten the object.
They had to work together with incredible precision, each one supporting the others without interfering with the flow. One mistake could ruin the entire weapon. Worse, it could cause the mana to backfire the moment someone tried to activate it.
Adam set the hilt back down and reached for his stylus.
A compression rune to condense mana.
A stabilization rune to prevent the blade from collapsing.
A projection rune to force the condensed mana outward into a fixed shape.
Finally, a regulator that would continuously adjust the flow depending on the wielder's output.
He had sketched the layout several times already, but engraving it into the metal was a different matter entirely. Every line had to be exact. Every curve had to connect cleanly. Even the smallest deviation could throw off the balance of the entire array.
Adam began carving.
The stylus scraped softly against the polished metal, leaving behind thin glowing grooves that faded only after the rune lines were fully completed. He worked slowly at first, then with increasing confidence as the pattern took shape beneath his hands. The workshop was quiet except for the faint scratch of metal and the occasional hum of mana responding to his touch.
Hours passed.
His fingers grew stiff.
His wrist ached.
A thin sheen of sweat gathered at his temples, and he had to stop more than once to flex his hand and steady his breathing. Still, he refused to rush. This was the kind of work that demanded patience. If he wanted the blade to be reliable, then every rune had to be perfect.
By the time he carved the final connecting line, his hand was sore and tiny beads of sweat clung to his forehead.
He leaned back slightly and stared at the completed engraving.
The rune pattern wrapped around the hilt in a clean, elegant sequence, each symbol feeding into the next like a carefully designed circuit.
Adam set the stylus down.
"...Moment of truth."
He reached for the small mana crystal resting beside the workbench and slid it into the hollow center of the hilt. It fit with a satisfying click, locking into place inside the casing. Then he sealed the chamber and tightened the final plate over it.
For a brief second, nothing happened.
Then the engraved runes shimmered.
One after another, they lit up in a soft blue glow, the light traveling along the grooves he had carved until it reached the emitter near the guard. The glow pulsed once, twice, and then faded.
Waiting.
Adam wrapped his fingers around the grip and felt the faint vibration of the crystal inside.
"Please don't explode."
He pushed mana into the hilt.
At first...
Nothing.
The weapon remained silent, the runes dark and still. Adam frowned slightly and adjusted the flow, feeding in a little more mana this time.
Then every rune awakened at once.
Blue light raced through the engraved channels, converging at the emitter near the guard. A low hum filled the workshop, deep and steady, like the sound of a distant engine coming to life. The air in front of the weapon began to distort, shimmering as if heat were rising from invisible flames.
Slowly...
A blade emerged.
Not steel.
Not fire.
Pure condensed mana.
It extended nearly a meter before stopping, its translucent blue edge shimmering with contained energy. The blade was smooth and clean, with a faint inner glow that pulsed in time with the mana flowing through it. Tiny sparks of light drifted off the edge before vanishing into the air.
Adam's eyes widened.
"...No way."
He gave the weapon an experimental swing.
The blade cut through the air with a sharp humming sound unlike anything he'd heard before. A glowing trail followed the motion for a split second before fading. The weapon felt almost weightless in his hand, yet there was a strange sense of solidity to it, as if the mana itself had become a physical extension of his arm.
The balance felt odd at first, but after a few practice swings he began to understand it.
"So far..."
"So good."
He shifted his grip and focused on the mana flowing through the weapon.
Instead of maintaining it as neutral mana, he changed its nature.
Warmth spread through the hilt.
The blue blade flickered.
A heartbeat later, brilliant crimson replaced it.
Flames danced harmlessly along the edge without consuming the weapon itself, licking upward in elegant waves before dissolving into sparks. The heat radiating from the blade was intense, but the hilt remained stable in his hand.
Adam's mouth curved into a grin.
"Fire works."
He dismissed the blade and let the mana disperse before channeling energy again.
This time, he visualized lightning.
The crimson glow vanished.
Crackling arcs erupted along a golden blade, tiny bolts snapping into the air around it with sharp popping sounds. The weapon buzzed with violent energy, and the hairs on Adam's arms stood on end from the charge.
"...Definitely don't touch that."
He quickly cut the flow and let the lightning fade.
Another adjustment.
This time he thought of cold, of stillness, of the crisp bite of winter air.
The lightning disappeared.
A chill spread through the room.
A pale blue blade formed, and frost gathered along its edge almost instantly. Tiny crystals formed where the mana touched the air, coating the nearby workbench with a thin layer of ice. The temperature dropped enough that Adam could see his breath for a moment.
"It actually changes..."
He stared at the weapon in amazement.
The runes weren't deciding the element.
They were simply giving form to whatever mana he supplied.
Exactly as he'd hoped.
That meant the blade wasn't limited to one attribute. It could adapt to whatever mana the wielder chose to channel through it, making it far more versatile than a conventional weapon. Fire, lightning, ice, wind, even pure force if he refined the structure enough. The possibilities were almost endless.
Adam slowly deactivated the blade.
The glowing edge dissolved into countless tiny particles of mana before disappearing completely, leaving only the polished hilt resting in his hand.
For a moment, he just stood there in silence, staring at the weapon as if it might suddenly change its mind and fail him after all.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
"This..."
He looked down at the seemingly ordinary handle, now engraved with delicate runes and holding the promise of something far greater.
"...might be my favorite invention yet."