It was time.
[Manifestation Complete: The Kavacha and Kundala]
[Manifestation Complete: Senzu Bean]
The notification pulsed in the corner of my vision like a heartbeat.
I grinned—no, I beamed.
With this…
With this, I could stand against monsters. Devils. Fallen. Gods. Dragons
The armor of legends—granted to Karna in the Mahabharata, making him nearly invincible. The ultimate defense. Indestructible, immovable, absolute.
I didn't even bother to hide the excitement on my face. I bolted.
Down the halls. Past the quiet library. Into the elevator. My hand hovered over the fingerprint scanner like it was Christmas morning and I was unwrapping divine body armor.
I stepped into the underground facility.
With a thought I summoned it from the inventory.
And just like that—it happened.
The air shimmered around me for half a second. Then—click, snap, hiss—the pieces materialized and locked into place. Cold, perfect metal wrapped around my limbs, chest, and spine in smooth, precise movements.
The earrings—the Kundala—clipped onto my ears with a faint pulse.
I looked down.
Not gold. Not gleaming. But matte black, like obsidian soaked in moonlight. Sleek, segmented plating fit for war. The chestpiece hummed softly, a low resonance that thrummed in my bones.
It was beautiful.
It was mine.
I turned to the mirror on the far wall—because obviously, if you manifest god-slaying armor and don't immediately check yourself out, what are you even doing with your life?
And holy hell.
I looked insane.
"Oh my god," I muttered. "I look like the final boss."
I struck a mock-heroic pose. Then another. Then a slow turn, watching how the light glinted off the curves of the armor. Hell, I almost started narrating my own anime opening in my head.
"Is this how Karna felt? Because honestly, I get it now."
I adjusted one of the gauntlets unnecessarily. "Yeah. I'd fight me. And lose. Respectfully."
I stepped back, still staring.
"Damn," I whispered. "I'm so cool."
After a few minutes of shameless posing—and I mean shameless, I was two seconds away from finger guns and sound effects—I finally let out a breath.
Alright. Enough.
I willed the armor back into the inventory.
I stretched my arms out, rolling my shoulders. Felt weirdly light without it.
But I could still feel it. One thought, one flick of will, and it would be back.
Whenever I needed it.
For now, though? Inventory it is.
The Senzu bean was also sitting in the inventory now. But I didn't stop at one. Of course not. One bean? Please. I was trying to not die, not pack lunch for a field trip.
So, back into the queue it went. Production: ongoing. I'd have a whole stash eventually. Emergency rations, instant full-heals, maybe even bribe material.
Anyway,
I was debating: do I throw it at Laevateinn or focus on something else entirely?
If I allocated the slot now, it would cut the total manifestation time in half—nine months down to four and a half. A massive boost. Less waiting, more world-ending fire sword.
And let's be honest: Laevateinn wasn't just a weapon. It was a walking apocalypse. Surtr's personal blade. Meant to end realms. It was more of a trump card.
But I wasn't in a rush.
Canon events were still a ways off. Based on the timeline, Issei doesn't get reincarnated until our second year. We were still in our first. That gave me—what? Almost a full year of prep time?
Plenty of time to build. To grow. To stack every possible advantage I could before the supernatural plot lines started kicking down the door with a dragon and a harem.
So did I go all in on offense now?
Or maybe… utility? Support? Something clever? A countermeasure? A trap?
I chewed on the thought, lying back, arms folded behind my head.
"Laevateinn's tempting," I muttered. "But there's no use having a planet-scorching sword if I get taken out before I can use it."
A second passed. I blinked up at the ceiling.
"God, I sound like Batman doing item management."
Still, the idea lingered.
A mythical sword that could carve through gods… or something unexpected.
Something smart.
Something that kept me alive.
Choices.
Fuck it.
Another item it is.
I reviewed everything I have now.
Physique? I had the Dragon's Elixir and Body of the Everflame Manual for that.
Emergencies? Senzu Beans
Magic? Right!
I slapped my head. I was just thinking about that the other day and I can't believe I forgot about it.
Should I make a staff? A grimoire?
A staff felt… too generic. Too "discount Gandalf." Cool, sure, but not quite me. I wasn't about to start yelling "You shall not pass!" in a school courtyard.
But a grimoire?
Now that had potential.
My problem wasn't the absence of mana—I had plenty of that.
The issue was control.
Raw mana was like trying to wrestle a thunderstorm into a teacup. Willpower alone wasn't enough—I needed precision. Technique. A conduit.
That's where the grimoire came in.
A personalized magical tome, created through the Workshop, bound to me on a soul-deep level. Not just a spellbook, but a magical processor. It could read the mana within me, interpret my intent, and construct spell formulas accordingly. It'd bypass my inexperience. Create structure where I had none.
It wouldn't just help me cast magic—it would teach me.
"Alright," I said aloud, staring at the empty slot. "Smart move. Big brain play. Magic now, death lasers later."
I focused, letting the Workshop respond.
A pulse in the back of my skull. A shimmer of light across my vision.
[Manifestation Queued: Arcanum Grimoire]
Estimated Completion: 30 days
A month, huh?
I could work with that.
I leaned back, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction settle in.
Armor? Check. Healing item? Check. Incoming magic support system? Double check.
Bit by bit, the puzzle pieces were coming together.
And when canon did roll around?
I wouldn't be just another pawn on the board.
I'd be the guy flipping the whole damn table.