Det was totally failing at figuring out the sword.

  Okay, that wasn’t being entirely fair to Det. He knew how to change it between its blade and bristle forms. When he tried out the blade configuration against an E-rank training dummy, he’d literally cut the thing in half. Against a D-rank dummy, the effects weren’t quite so profound, but he still left a nasty wound. A C-rank dummy? Well, okay, he could scratch one of those—barely—when he put his weight into it.

  That, though, wasn’t really any fault of Det’s. It was probably just the benefit—or challenge—of going up in Ranks. It did really make him wonder, though, if being C-rank made somebody’s skin that tough. Strong enough to repel a magic Wordless sword? Hell, just stopping a normal sword was impressive enough. Then again, he’d told Bivac—Radiant’s resident village asshat—that the man’s spear wouldn’t even pierce his skin. With the rusty old weapon, and Bivac’s normal strength, it’d been true.

  Looking at the training dummy, Det had to accept this as true as well. It wouldn’t make sense for the Mistguard to includes falsities like that in their training equipment. That would just ReSouled killed.

  Still, just how strong would skin get at B-rank, or A, or hell, at S-rank? Just what kind of punishment could General Vans take without even flinching?

  It was a good question. But for Det, it was an even better goal. That was what he was aiming for. Growth and power. If my body could get that strong, then what will my magic be like? Strong enough to get me home.

  It was a nice reaffirmation of his drive… until his eyes went back to the sword. He still had a long way to go before he was shrugging off magic blows like they were a stiff breeze. His duel against Fourth had more than proven that.

  Time to get back to it.

  So far, he’d been able to figure out how to use it as a sword, and how to transform it into its bristle form. Like that, the blade became thousands of individual strands of hair making up a sword-shaped paintbrush. Problem was, he couldn’t figure out was how the hell it worked.

  No. Maybe that’s not quite right. He couldn’t figure out why it worked. One second it was a perfectly forged blade, like something out of an anime. Metal folded a thousand times, sharp enough to cut through just about anything. Other than C-Rank or above “anythings”.

  If he held the blade just right, he could even see reflections off the ripples in the light, despite the blade itself being pure white. It was like one of those cooking knives he’d bought in Japan with Yumi when they’d taken Nat back to visit her grandparents.

  Locally made, but with eight-hundred years of artisanal history. The blade had been a work of art… and cut grapefruit like nobody’s business. Expensive, totally worth it, and beautiful to look at. The Wordless sword was the same way in its blade form, even though part of Det’s brain insisted it was made out of some kind of polymer.

  Which probably had something to do with the sword’s ability to transform. With a flick of the switch—even when he was watching as closely as he could—he couldn’t catch how a single piece of Wordless ceramic turned into thousands of individual paintbrush bristles. It didn’t make any sense. It was like the damn alchemy. The more he looked at it, the less he understood.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” he said out loud, unable to contain it any longer.

  Luckily, over the sounds of Calisco chasing Tena around the room with explosions, Eriba peppering a target dummy with her alchemy bullseye strapped to its chest, and Weiss pounding on another dummy like a drum with his fists, Det’s voice was barely a whisper. One only a single person in the room seemed to hear, marked by the hand falling on his shoulder.

  “Stop trying to understand Wordless equipment,” Beauty said. For him to use the word so freely, the isolation field he’d set up when he entered the training room had to be pretty effective. “I am told you were a mechanic in your past life, and this mechanical topic probably interests you, but Wordless equipment doesn’t follow the same rules. Unlike alchemy, however—which, rumors suggest may not be your forte—the engineers and technicians who work on things like Wordless mistships swear it is understandable. Predictable. You just have to learn a new set of rules.

  “In second year, you’ll have the opportunity to choose electives. If you’re interested in a class that deals with the mechanics of Wordless equipment, then I would encourage you to join the class on that topic. However, save the curiosity for that time. For now, this year, focus solely on yourself and getting stronger.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” Det said. “And while I appreciate the advice…” He held up the Wordless sword a little higher. “Figuring out this equipment is one of the ways I’m going to do that.”

  Beauty nodded at the counterpoint. “True. I must also admit, you and your friends are the first group of first-year cadets to possess Wordless equipment. A few individuals, like Sage, have legacy items, but it’s not very common. And we do not have classes to teach cadets how to use this equipment until their second year.”

  “When,” Det said, “there’s also the option of the class on understanding Wordless equipment.”

  “Exactly,” Beauty said. “This accelerated class is accelerated for multiple reasons. In some instances, it will be to your benefit. In others… you’ll just have to be patient.”

  Det thought back to the fact he’d been waiting twenty years to get home already. “I can be patient,” he said.

  “Good,” Beauty replied. “Now, tell me about how things are going with your two new pieces of equipment. What have you figured out? Perhaps speaking about it will help with some understanding of it.”

  “Like brainstorming to work through a problem,” Det said with a nod. “Okay, but it’s probably easier to show you.”

  “Showing is usually better than telling,” Beauty agreed. “Proceed.”

  Picking the training dummy he’d scratched—and wasn’t currently getting exploded—Det walked over and turned the setting back to make it an E-rank opponent. As soon as he did, the scratch he’d left on it vanished as the hard-light construct reformed.

  “So, first off, the sword is pretty sharp,” Det said, turning and slashing down as if the training dummy were the shaft of a bamboo tree. Unsurprisingly, the blade cut straight through it, and the top half of the dummy slid off the bottom at an angle. Just like those anime sword masters giving a demonstration. “Against an E-Rank opponent, no problem. Obviously, as I go up, it gets more difficult.”

  Beauty nodded at that. “Not unexpected. Wordless equipment tends to punch above its Rank with skill, practice, and strength. The E-Rank sword should easily be able to fight D-Rank opponents on equal ground. That will help you challenge increasingly difficult emergences and dungeons.

  “Good to know,” Det said, filing the information away. With four pieces of Wordless gear himself, and each of the others having two, that should help tremendously in their next E-Rank dungeon.

  “What’s next?” Beauty prompted.

  “Well, the next point…” Det said, turning his wrist slightly and transforming the blade from the single edge to the thousands of bristles. Immediately, the coloring of the entire thing went from white to black as ink filled it. “In this form…” He pressed another button beside the training dummy, reforming it out of hard light. “The blade doesn’t cut.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  To demonstrate, he turned and struck exactly as he had the first time. Except, instead of slicing the dummy in two, it left a streak of black ink from its left shoulder down to its right hip.

  “Zero damage,” Det said. “I’ve basically only vandalized my opponent.”

  “Hrm,” Beauty said. “So, it is well and truly a paintbrush.”

  “A swordbrush?” Det offered with a shrug.

  “A paintsword,” Sage called from nearby, where he was mentally controlling his small Wordless automaton to viciously punch a training dummy in the knee. That was about all it could reach, but it seemed to be pretty effective against the E-rank opponent.

  Give that thing a crossbow, and it would be ending adventuring careers across the kingdom.

  “Names aside,” Beauty said, bringing everyone back on focus. “The amount of ink you’re able to apply over a large area is both consistent and deep. It does not appear you would need a second stroke.”

  “Not as costly as I’d expect, either,” Det added. “If I were to paint this much, normally with a regular brush and ink bottle, it’d take a lot more ink. I’m not entirely sure why, but even though the entire blade is full of ink, it’s hardly used any of what’s in the reservoir in the hilt.”

  “Interesting,” Beauty said. “So, there’s increased efficiency in using it this way.”

  “A lot of increased efficiency,” Det said. “What I did back on the mistship—before we went into the Radiant dungeon—took more than a dozen bottles of ink. Almost everything we had on the ship. If I had been using this sword then, well, maybe it would’ve only taken one bottle. Two tops.”

  Beauty nodded, clearly thinking back to the multiple paintings Det had created, including the giant serpent that had gone into the dungeon with them. That alone had cost three bottles of ink to sketch out along the deck of the mistship.

  “Does it allow you to do anything else?” Beauty asked.

  “What do you mean by anything else?” Det questioned.

  “He wants to know if you can paint on the air,” Sage said. “You know, magic paintbrush and everything.”

  Det blinked at his friend, then down at the sword. “Do you think it can do that?”

  “Why don’t you try and find out?” Sage suggested, his automaton giving the training dummy’s toe an elbow drop at the same time.

  “Good point,” Det admitted, taking a step to the side of the dummy. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  He took the sword in both hands, turning his intent to painting on the air. If there was one thing he’d learned with his magic, intent was key. If he simply swung the weapon, of course nothing different would happen. But, if he visualized the black line forming in the air, maybe there was a chance.

  Holding the image firm in his mind, Det lifted the sword above his head and swept it down at the same angle he’d used to cut the dummy. Black ink followed the path of the blade, spattering against the wall and floor.

  “Huh,” he said. That hadn’t worked. “Let me try again,” he told the others, once again lifting the blade above his head and focusing on what he wanted to happen with the ink and the sword.

  Taking it a step further, he even tried to push a kernel of his energy through his hand and into the Wordless weapon. Unfortunately, that was a non-starter. Unlike pushing his energy into his paintings, which felt like a natural flow, when he tried to make the kernel exit the palm of his hand into the hilt of the sword, it felt like slamming into a brick wall. It wasn’t going anywhere.

  He held his position, trying the same thing for a few more seconds, but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t exactly like the brick wall he’d imagined a few seconds earlier. There was give to it, just not enough he could brute force. If he had more time to practice with it, maybe he could get his kernels to work with the sword, but definitely not in time for his next attempt. He’d need to shelve that for later.

  “Cadet,” Beauty asked, seeing Det hadn’t moved, “were you trying to get your magic to extend into the sword?”

  “Yeah,” Det explained.

  “Ah,” Beauty said. “E-Rank Wordless equipment normally only has a five to ten percent chance to allow that, unless you have one specifically designed for that function, such as Cadet Sage’s fashionable helmet.”

  At the comment, Det actually looked over his shoulder at the instructor. “Did you just make a joke?” he said.

  Beauty’s lip twitched, but then went back to its usual perfectly neutral expression. “It’s unlikely your weapon will be able to accept your magic,” he continued, completely glossing over the shade he’d thrown in Sage’s direction. “Please give painting the air another attempt.”

  “Sure,” Det said, giving the instructor one more look before turning his attention forward again and to the sword in his hands.

  So, if he couldn’t do it with magic, he would have to do it with focus. Once again imagining the sword-brush scarring the air with black ink—practically engraving his visualization into the space in front of him—Det stepped forward and swung.

  Same result. Spatters of ink flashing on the wall and floor.

  “Nope,” Det said. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

  “At least not the way you originally intended,” Beauty said.

  “What do you mean?” Det asked.

  Beauty’s hand lifted to point at the spatters.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll clean that,” Det started… before he took a longer look at the perfectly straight lines. It wasn’t spatter, exactly. The swings of the weapon had managed to paint something, not on the air where he’d intended, but on the wall and floor. Two perfectly straight lines, side by side, almost parallel.

  “Huh,” he murmured. “That could be useful.”

  Like that, with the sword, he didn’t directly have to strike a surface to paint. Of course, he’d still need to touch it to activate it, but this could have advantages.

  “Something new for you to practice with?” Beauty said, already two steps ahead of him.

  “Yeah,” Det admitted. “I’ll have to work on it.”

  “How well does it function as a regular paintbrush?” Beauty asked. “Do you still need to carry your other brushes and bottles of ink into battle?”

  “It’s honestly a little awkward to paint with normally,” Det said. “The brush is longer than the handle, which is the opposite of what I usually use.”

  “With your ReSouled body and some practice?” Beauty prompted.

  “I could probably get the hang of it,” Det admitted. “Not going to be great for fine work, but for bigger pictures, I think I can get it to function.”

  “Good,” Beauty said. “Now, how about the scroll you got? What does it do?”

  “Like we figured out before,” Det said, “the scroll holds three images, and I’ve got that many already loaded in there. A kitten, a turtle—because Eriba wouldn’t let me do anything otherwise—and a puppy.”

  “Those all seem very intimidating,” Beauty said in his usual flat voice. Then his eyes narrowed. “That kitten…?”

  “No, no, don’t worry,” Det said quickly. “No calamity kittens. I remember the rules.”

  “How about the dog?” Sage asked. “Is it an a-pup-aliptic puppy?”

  “No, it’s not a pup—” Det started, then shook his head. “That was terrible. You know that was terrible.”

  Sage just laughed, turning his attention back to his Wordless automaton.

  “Anyway,” Det said again, “let me just show you.”

  With those words, he flicked the switch on his sword, returning it from brush to blade—though it retained the black edge, interestingly enough—and sheathed the weapon. Then, with his left hand, he pulled the scroll off his right shoulder, the clasp releasing with a gentle click at just the right amount of pressure.

  “While I have to paint the images in order,” Det said, “I don’t have to call them in that same order.”

  A pulse of magic flowed through his fingers and into the scroll, and Det snapped his arm out to the side. The white, Wordless material—similar to paper—unfurled and then hovered in the air, the image of an ink-wash turtle visible plainly in the center. As Det’s magical energy flowed into it, the black ink turned iridescent before finally, two seconds later, forming into a fully three-dimensional turtle, which dropped to the floor.

  At the same time, the Wordless scroll transformed into a cloud of glowing embers that gently fell behind the turtle. They only traveled two or three inches before vanishing entirely, and the scroll reappeared at Det’s shoulder.

  “Go keep Eriba company,” Det said, giving the turtle its purpose. As soon as he finished speaking, the little ink-wash animal turned about and started heading in the woman’s direction.

  Like she had some kind of sixth sense, she was already staring at it and clapping her hands in anticipation of its arrival.

  “The turtle was the second of the three paintings I put on the scroll,” Det said. “I can call them, like I said, in any order.”

  “And can you call the turtle again?” Beauty asked.

  “No. Like a regular scroll, it’s been consumed. I’d have to take the time to repaint it. Or, paint something else to fill its spot.”

  “But now you could call either the kitten or the puppy?”

  “That’s right,” Det said.

  “What happens once you’ve used all three images?”

  “The scroll returns to my shoulder, no problem,” Det answered. “Even when I use the last one, it’s not damaged or destroyed or anything. Thankfully.”

  “Excellent,” Beauty said. “Now, for your examples, you’ve chosen three relatively small paintings. How large of an image could you put in the scroll?”

  “I think the maximum dimension for each section of the scroll is about three feet. Maybe a little bit more. When I fully extended the scroll, it was about ten-ish feet.”

  “Could you fill the entire space with one image?” Beauty asked.

  “No, I tried,” Det said. “It’s got to be three images. Or, technically, I guess I could only put one image in there, but the other two… slots… would be empty.”

  “And how much have you practiced using your kernels to increase the size of your summons?” Beauty asked, going back to something he’d suggested to Det on their way back from Radiant.

  “Uhhhh…” Det said.

  “Then,” Beauty replied evenly, “I believe now is a perfect time to attempt that, while at the same time practicing painting with your new paintbrush.”

  “Swordbrush!” Sage called out.

  “Yes,” Beauty said dryly, “your new… swordbrush.”

  Det looked from the scroll, to the sword on his hip, then over at the training dummy. “Might as well,” he said. “Let’s see how big and strong we can make these things.”