When Fantasy Glitches

Magnus stood with his arms folded, leaning against the edge of one of the many desks scattered across the Research Station buried deep within Eveline's library. All around him stretched an endless sea of knowledge. Strange orbs of light floated lazily through the air, phasing through everything—including people. They cast a soft glow not only over the central platform but also across the other floating platforms, each one connected by winding staircases that twisted like a maze in every direction.

"You didn't think that was worth mentioning?" Magnus asked, clearly annoyed.

"Part of my plan, in case things went south, was to kick up enough of a scene for one of the professors to come bail me out."

He was referring to something Eveline had conveniently forgotten to mention: that nearly every Master-level staff member at Takerth Academy had already been sent out.

Eveline, standing a few paces away, just shrugged. Her grin was wide and unapologetic.

"I was busy. Besides, it was a boring summons," she said, like it was no big deal.

"Some rogue mages are stirring up trouble using the storm they created for cover. The Academy sent out professors and students to track them down. Honestly, I don't know why they didn't just send me or Zedem... though I'm glad they didn't. I would've had to put my research on hold."

Celia, who had been quietly sitting in a chair she'd pulled from the desk beside Magnus, had been about to chime in—until Eveline's words finally sank in.

"Wait—what did you just say?"

Magnus turned too.

"The storm outside? That's magic? Is that why it's lasted this long?"

"Hmhm. Judging by the scale, I'd wager it's a ritual—not a standard group-cast spell," Eveline mused, completely nonchalant.

Celia frowned.

"But... why would mages even want to create a storm like this? It's been getting worse every day. One of my windows shattered when I went home to check on it."

"Who knows," Eveline answered, barely giving it a thought. She kept going without pause.

"I understand the general mindset behind rogue mages. When you're chasing answers, even the shadow of the Ten Great Magic Academies can feel too restrictive. So they break away. But what questions are they asking? That's impossible to predict. Curiosity takes endless forms." Rogue mages—those who refused to accept the limits imposed by the Academy—often abandoned order entirely, willing to betray everything in pursuit of their craft. The issue was that the rules they broke were often there for good reason, and unlike more disciplined mages, they cared even less for the structure of normal life.

"But enough about that," Eveline added cheerfully.

"Our dear Magnus is about to embark on a harrowing mission. We shouldn't burden him with such trivialities."

As much as Magnus wanted to argue, he had to admit she had a point. The raid was today. The soldiers taking part had already gathered and were making their way to the various entrances leading into the sealed waterways, where Nightshade had made their base.

"Right..." Celia murmured, clearly agreeing, though something else seemed to be on her mind.

Magnus caught the shift in her mood. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, but before he followed up on it, there was something else he needed to address. He hadn't come here just to chat. In fact, he'd already been ready to leave, the image of where he needed to teleport locked in his mind. But then, Eveline had called him here at the last minute. That interruption had led to him asking about the professors and the class suspensions—but now he knew those questions probably weren't why she'd summoned him.

"So," Magnus said, turning back to Eveline, "are you going to tell me why you called me here?"

That drew Eveline's attention back as well. She clapped her hands together, her grin never fading.

"Ah, right! As I was saying—since you're about to go off and do something risky, and I won't be able to interfere unless things get truly dire... I have a gift for you."

At the sound of her clap, something flickered into existence beside her. A wooden armoire, nearly as tall as Eveline herself, teleported out of thin air. It had a simple, clean design with two large, hinged doors at the front.

"This is the gift?" Magnus asked, staring at the plain piece of furniture.

"Yes!" Eveline beamed.

"I spent quite a while on this set, so try not to wreck it too fast, alright?" She snapped her fingers, and the armoire's doors swung open with a soft thump, revealing the gear inside.

Inside, nestled in a thick, padded lining, was what Magnus could only describe as a full equipment set. The padding was shaped like a human silhouette—his silhouette, in fact. The size and height matched him perfectly.

Where the hands would be rested were two sleek pieces of gear that were somewhere between ornate gloves and gauntlets. They were clearly designed for movement, leaving the fingers exposed while covering the back of the hand. The base material looked like fine leather—or something close to it—and atop it was an angular piece of metal that would sit on the back of the hand up to the wrist. It had a flexible bend and a dual tone of deep gold and black. Along the knuckles sat tiny red gems, no larger than grains of rice.

The metal gleamed even under the floating lights of the Research Station. At the center of the metal piece, a larger red gem had been shaped into a smooth Möbius strip, seamlessly set into the black-and-gold plating.

Above the gauntlets, where the arms would be, were a pair of bracers. Unlike the gloves, they had no metalwork but matched the design with the same dark leather-like material. Immensely complex runes were etched across them, in the same pattern Magnus often saw on magical artifices.

Near the neckline of the display was the final wearable item: a black chain necklace with a single, circular gem hanging from it. The gem was dark as obsidian, framed in an elegant golden trim.

And then, mounted on the inside of the armoire door, was the last piece.

A sword.

It was roughly a meter in length, with a double-edged blade. But unlike the other pieces, Magnus couldn't even begin to guess what it was made from. Stranger still, the entire weapon seemed to be forged from a single mold—no seams, no welds, nothing. The silver of the blade gave off a soft, matted shine in the light, and the only interruption in its flawless form was the runes engraved down the center of both sides.

The blade ended in a sharp, angular crossguard. The handle was simpler than he expected, but the colors matched: black, gold, and silver.

"What... is all of this?" Celia murmured, her earlier gloom now replaced by awe.

"Like I said, it's a gift for Magnus," Eveline answered.

"But when did you even have time to forge it?" Celia asked, frowning—only to notice Eveline giving her a strange look.

"What do you mean? You saw me making them, didn't you?"

Celia blinked. Confused at first—until a memory flashed in her mind from a few days ago.

"Wa- Wait. Are these...?"

"Correct!" Eveline chimed, her usual passive grin twisting into something far more excited. A soft giggle bubbled up from behind her lips—too sharp to sound harmless.

Magnus, meanwhile, was completely out of the loop.

"Wait, what's going on?"

Eveline took a step forward, spreading her arms wide like she was about to make a grand announcement. Her head tilted back as she spoke.

"The very first of their kind, created by yours truly! A fusion of true vampiric essence and magical artifices!" Her head lowered again, locking eyes with Magnus, her expression lit with pride and a touch of madness.

"I call them Noscrafts. Officially, too—since I'm the one who invented them. All thanks to the vampire cores you collected for me. And I must say, I'm very, very pleased with the results. Since I no longer need them for research, I decided to use them in one final experiment. What you see before you... is the result. Aren't they beautiful? It's been so long since I've created something so... new. A delicate blend of runesmithing and the virtual brains of creatures who can shape the physical world—without ever being affected by spirit suppression!"

Magnus blinked, trying to keep up with the flood of information. When he finally found his voice, he pointed toward the Noscraft gear.

"Hold on... are you telling me you made these out of the vampires I brought you?"

Eveline's eyes flicked between Magnus and her creations before she gave a matter-of-fact nod.

"Mmhmm. Why? Oh—if you're feeling squeamish, don't be. As I told Celia, I practically lobotomized them. I had to heavily rework their brains to make them compatible with the artifices. I assure you, their pain ended once I got the configuration stable. Well, for the Hierarchs at least. As for the Nightborn you brought me, I used them as a stabilization agent. You see..."

She kept talking, but Magnus had already stopped listening—his expression locked in stunned disbelief. Celia didn't look much better.

You know... I really have to stop forgetting how completely insane she is.

Eventually, Eveline's rambling came to an end.

"Now, enough stalling," she said, clapping her hands once.

"You're on a time crunch, remember? Go on, try them on. I'll explain how they work while you do."

Magnus was still speechless. After a moment, he let out a long sigh and glanced at Celia. She could only shrug, shaking her head like she wasn't any more prepared for this than he was.

"Fine..." He muttered.

Stepping up to the armoire, Magnus reached for the gear and began putting it on, starting with the gauntlets. They were even lighter than they looked—cool and warm all at once, like they somehow met in the perfect middle.

As he worked, Eveline started her breakdown of how the Noscrafts actually functioned.

"They're based on magical artifices and connect directly to the wearer's mind, which is the most efficient interface. Traditional artifices stay dormant most of the time to slow down spirit-induced deterioration. Some have basic mana-drawing or self-repair functions. But mine? My Noscrafts are far more advanced. They don't need any of that. The catalyst materials I used to make them store enough mana on their own. Even if you used them to a reasonable extent every day for years, they wouldn't be worn down too much."

Magnus had just finished fitting on the gauntlets when Celia, ever the eager learner, spoke up.

"But how? I thought spirit suppression scaled exponentially over time?"

Eveline beamed, clearly pleased by the question.

"You're absolutely right. The more grand the spell, the more attention it draws from the spirits—so you need heavier countermeasures. But in this case, the Noscrafts don't actually use much magic themselves. I'm using the Nexus of the Hierarchs as an interface. Their job is to take the mental commands from the wearer and translate them into executable orders for their virtual brains to interpret. It's such a low-effort process, mana-wise, that it barely triggers the spirit suppression effect at all. Especially when idle."

She paused just long enough to let it sink in before adding, "Which means Magnus could use them tens of thousands of times before seeing any real wear."

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Both Celia and Magnus—now putting on the bracers—looked genuinely impressed.

The magical artifice Magnus normally relied on had multiple built-in systems just to prevent rapid degradation. It was supposed to last a year under regular use, but at his current pace? A month, maybe less. Eveline's Noscrafts weren't just better—they were in a league of their own. Because vampire abilities, unlike magic, were considered natural by the world's rules, they didn't provoke spirit suppression at all.

"Of course, there are limits," Eveline went on.

"Even Hierarchs only have so much energy, especially after you destroyed most of their bodies and left me with just the Nexuses. But I found a workaround. By encoding structures from basic materials—air, earth, small fauna into their minds, they can recharge themselves. All they have to do is passively break down their environment and convert it into usable energy."

She gestured loosely as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That process also defines their range. Just like a vampire reaches out with their energy body to act on something, so do the Noscrafts. When fully charged and stretched to their limit in a single direction, they can reach several kilometers." A good way to picture it, she explained, was like an invisible aura around each piece of gear. Normally, the field was tight—condensed to the form of the Noscraft itself, though not enough to be visible. But depending on the ability being used, how far the target was, and its size, that field could stretch in one direction or radiate outward, touching anything within range.

Eveline tilted her head, her expression shifting into a slight frown.

"Sadly... turning them into tools meant stripping away their intelligence, which really hurt both the control and versatility of the original Hierarch abilities. I did consider leaving their minds intact, but unless their virtual brains were constantly rewritten, they'd always resist."

"You might be the only person I know who's actually disappointed she couldn't enslave a conscious mind into a piece of equipment," Magnus remarked dryly.

As he spoke, he clipped the black necklace around his neck—the last piece of the Noscraft gear set. He still felt a little uneasy wearing items crafted from the essence of enemies he had personally helped capture.

That said, Eveline did have good taste in design. He had to give her that.

Catching his look, Eveline's frown melted back into a grin.

"Ah, so you do like the design. Good. I figured you wouldn't want anything bulky. Your body's already tougher than nearly any armor out there, so I kept them sleek. You could walk around in public wearing the whole set, and people would just assume it's jewelry."

She stepped a little closer, hands clasped behind her back.

"None of them have official names yet, but each piece is based on the abilities of the Hierarchs you defeated."

With that, Eveline raised one hand and conjured a small ball of ice using a bit of ice elementrix. Then, pointing at the gauntlets with her other hand, she explained:

"The gauntlets are based on the third Hierarch you captured—the one who could control the temperature of anything they touched. The closer the target, the more efficient the effect. Naturally, I used highly heat-resistant materials to keep the gauntlets from destroying themselves. But just a heads-up: without the Hierarch's mind behind it, the effect isn't very precise. It could just as easily affect you as it could the target. Though, given your tolerance for heat, I doubt you'll have an issue." She tossed the ball of ice toward Magnus as she spoke, who easily snatched it from the air with one hand.

He had already toggled the Command Console and its internal scripts earlier, allowing the Noscrafts to sync to his mind. With the connection active, he could feel how each piece worked. With a single thought, the ball of ice began to hiss. Steam poured from his hand as the sphere rapidly shrank, the newly melted water bubbling before it evaporated entirely.

"Whoa, that's fast," Celia said, wide-eyed.

"How hot can you make it go?"

"Hm... well, as long as there's energy to burn, I think I can keep raising the temperature indefinitely. If I want to avoid draining the core, though, there's probably a fixed rate I can increase the temperature at," Magnus replied.

"And I'm guessing it costs more energy the hotter I push something. Lowering the temperature would be the opposite—basically stealing heat." He had methods to generate heat and cold, of course. His fire and ice elementrix could create similar effects when he fine-tuned them. But they never lasted long. The moment he stopped actively channeling them, the spirit suppression effect would kick in, forcing the world to revert to its natural state even faster than normal thermodynamics would melt his ice or redistribute the heat of his magic.

That wasn't the case with these gauntlets.

With the gauntlets now explained, Eveline moved on.

"You'll have plenty of time to experiment later, so let's keep going. Next up: the bracers," she said.

"As you might've guessed, these were forged using the essence of the fourth Hierarch you brought me. From what I've observed, his power allowed him to generate and manipulate viruses and diseases—almost any variety, really. The only catch is that he couldn't create them from nothing. He had to convert either his own energy or some kind of organic matter into a contagion."

She gave a little shrug, grinning as she added, "So, no turning rocks into viruses. The environment has to support life, like, say, the inside of your enemies."

That last part made her chuckle, but Celia winced.

"Um... please don't test that around me," she muttered.

"I really don't want to get sick."

Magnus gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. I already tried it on myself. Luckily, I've got a strong immune system."

"And now," Eveline continued, "that brings us to the final item. Celia, I actually need your assistance to demonstrate this one. Would you mind grabbing that metal tool Magnus gave you to protect yourself?"

She gestured off to the side—and with a blink of light, a door appeared out of nowhere beside Celia.

Celia jumped at the sudden appearance, nearly falling out of her chair. For a moment, she blinked, confused, until she realized what Eveline meant.

"Oh, right. I'll go get it." She stood and headed through the door into Magnus's dorm room. A moment later, she returned, holding the Desert Eagle in her hands.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked, walking back toward them.

Eveline beckoned her forward.

"Nothing complicated. Just shoot him."

"Huh?" Celia blinked, startled. She looked up at Eveline, confused.

Eveline placed her hands on Celia's shoulders and gave her a gentle push forward.

"It's fine. The necklace will protect him."

Magnus chimed in as well.

"Besides, it's not like a gun can hurt me anyway."

"Well... alright, if you say so." Still unsure, Celia slowly raised the gun, keeping the proper stance Magnus had taught her. After a brief moment of hesitation, she squeezed the trigger.

The deafening bang echoed through the Research Station. Celia flinched from the recoil, still not used to it—but what she saw next completely distracted her from the tingling in her hands.

A small, pellet-shaped object—the bullet—was creeping toward Magnus at a snail's pace, like time itself had slowed just for it. And then, it simply stopped.

Magnus looked at it floating there, then reached out and plucked the bullet from the air like it was nothing.

"So the necklace absorbs kinetic energy?" He mused, turning it over in his hand.

"Interesting..."

And now, he understood.

That explained why the fifth Hierarch's ability hadn't worked on him before. Back then, he'd been using [Self Body Puppetry] across his entire body. Any attempt to drain kinetic energy from him would've naturally failed against the Command Console.

As Magnus muttered to himself, Celia stood frozen in place, her face slightly flushed. Eveline, seemingly without thinking, had started gently patting her on the head—like she was praising her on a good job. It was embarrassing, but Celia wasn't entirely sure if she should move.

Eveline, however, had already shifted her focus back to the topic at hand.

"That's right. It's a fairly simple ability—not exactly combat-oriented—but defensively, it's perfect against physical threats. If you keep draining your opponent's kinetic energy, you can lock them in place. And projectiles? Strikes? They won't touch you unless the necklace fails to drain them fast enough."

Magnus nodded in agreement with her.

That's definitely a solid addition for me. Most of my defensive options either rely on magic or just tanking hits with my body... and I can already think of all the ways that could go horribly wrong one of these days.

With that thought, his eyes turned to the last piece of Noscraft gear—the sword, still resting quietly in the armoire.

He walked over, reached out, and took it in hand. As with the others, the connection between it and his mind formed immediately.

"But wait…" Magnus said, holding the blade up so it caught the Research Station's light.

"I only captured three Hierarchs for you. So what's this one?" He had never been big on using weapons. Sure, he'd used things like Rokshaata before, but when [Self Body Puppetry] moved his body with absolute force and precision, most weapons couldn't keep up. Nothing forged from normal materials could survive being swung by him for long.

Eveline tilted her head at the question.

"What about Heiman?"

Magnus lowered the sword slightly, frowning.

"I killed Heiman, though."

"Oh, but did you?" Eveline asked, a sly smirk curling at her lips.

He had no reply to that. Not because he believed her, but because Eveline being cryptic was a nightmare to argue with. She giggled in response and, finally taking her hand off Celia's head, turned her attention back to the blade.

"Well, regardless of how dead he is, I can assure you that the sword contains his abilities. Or at least, some of them. His skill set was incredibly versatile—practically a blend of all the Hierarchs' powers, if he chose to use them that way."

She stepped aside, gently pulling Celia with her to create space between them and Magnus.

"But," Eveline continued, holding up a finger, "without his mind to anchor it, I couldn't tap into the full range. So I chose the most useful aspects for you. That sword has three core abilities."

"The first ability," Eveline began, raising a finger, "is Heiman's power to destroy the molecular bonds in physical matter—effectively letting you disintegrate anything solid."

She snapped her other hand, and with a flash, a massive boulder—easily weighing a ton or more—materialized directly above Magnus.

It began to fall.

Without any dramatic flourish, Magnus raised the sword and swung. He didn't feel any resistance—no impact, no pressure. The blade passed through the stone like it was air.

The boulder split cleanly in half, a single razor-smooth line dividing it vertically.

But he wasn't finished. He flicked the sword again, and both halves crumbled—first into fine dust, then further still, dissolving into particles too small to see.

Magnus let out a low whistle, eyeing the blade, still pristine. Not even a scratch.

"That… was insane," Celia said, wide-eyed. She wasn't even sure what she had just witnessed.

Magnus felt the same.

"Well, shit. That really is Heiman's ability..." He had no idea how Eveline got her hands on it, but there was no denying it—that disintegration effect was unmistakable. Just one part of Heiman's horrifying mastery over matter and easily one of the deadliest.

Eveline, clearly delighted by their reactions, raised a second finger.

"Of course, like the necklace, the sword's disintegration field does have a weakness—speed. If something moves too fast for the ability to disintegrate it first, it can get through. But that aside, even when it's condensed, that field makes the blade capable of cutting through practically anything physical. It's arguably the sharpest sword in the world."

She paused, letting that sink in before continuing.

"Now, for its second ability. Even with the limitations I mentioned earlier, I managed to retain some of the technical features of Heiman's skill."

Magnus already knew what she meant. Through his link with the sword, he focused—and the weapon began to shrink. From a meter-long blade, it was shortened by half in a heartbeat. Another thought, and it returned to full size.

"The material making up the sword can be reshaped freely," Eveline explained.

"It can change form as long as there's enough mass to support it. There's a limit to how much material it can absorb—again, thanks to the virtual brain modifications—but within that limit, you can manipulate it however you like. And as a bonus?"

She smirked at Celia before continuing.

"The sword is effectively indestructible—as long as it has energy and Magnus wills it."

"Wait, what?" Celia turned to her, stunned.

"That's right," Eveline nodded.

"As long as Magnus doesn't allow it to be altered, it resists all change. No bending. No breaking. No damage. Not unless something truly exceptional is involved. Some very specific spells, maybe. Or, of course... glitches."

"Huh." Magnus didn't say more—but his thoughts were already racing with the possibilities. Like Eveline said, it wasn't absolute. If the sword ran out of energy, if it was hit with high-tier magic, or if something affected it on the source code level, it could break.

But those were rare cases.

What mattered was that, for all practical purposes, it wouldn't.

And more importantly, even if Magnus swung the sword at beyond-mach speeds with the raw power of [Self Body Puppetry], the blade wouldn't shatter on impact. That had always been the reason he avoided using weapons before.

But now that restriction was gone.

"And what about its third ability?" Magnus asked, finally lowering the sword and turning his attention back to Eveline.

Raising her third finger, she answered, "Simple, really. I also embedded the vampire's method of canceling magic into the blade. I figured it'd be useful for someone like you."

She smirked a bit before continuing.

"It's a crude method, I'll admit—but effective. As long as the target spell doesn't have built-in countermeasures, it should collapse most tangible magic on contact."

Hearing that, Magnus decided to test it for himself. With his free hand, he summoned a sphere of pure mana and let it hover in the air in front of him. Then, with a flick of the sword in his other hand, he sent a pulse of energy through the blade as he swung it. The sword cut through the sphere without even touching it physically. A chaotic surge of energy tore through the spell's structure, unraveling its formation in an instant. The mana sphere shattered into faint, glimmering particles before disappearing completely.

"Oh, I can get used to this…" Magnus muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I'll take that as you liking your gifts?" Eveline teased.

"Absolutely," he replied, flipping the sword in his hand and resting it against his waist.

"Definitely worth all the trouble I went through hunting down those Hierarchs." In response to his thoughts, the sword began to shift—its makeup flowing like liquid metal. It shrank, forming a sleek sheath around itself, and a band materialized around his waist to hold it in place.

Eveline clasped her hands together.

"Good. It's only natural that I prepare something for my one and only student."

She turned away, brushing invisible dust off her clothes.

"In any case, now that you have your gifts, I've got things to attend to. I'll be keeping an eye on you during the raid—but do try not to die." Her words should have sounded sincere. But coming from Eveline, they felt more like a passing afterthought.

Before Magnus or Celia could say anything, she vanished—teleporting away to who-knew-where.

And so, only two remained on the Research Station, with the suffocating silence of the library pressing in from every side. Celia was the first to break it. She walked over to one of the tables and set the Desert Eagle down with a soft clunk.

"Well... I wasn't expecting that when she called you here."

Magnus raised his hand, looking down at the gauntlet and bracer now wrapped around his arm.

"Me neither. But honestly? Compared to the other reasons she's dragged me in here before, this one's actually useful. So I'll take it."

Celia let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so…" Her voice trailed off. The smile on her face slowly faded, replaced by something more serious.

"So you're heading out now, right? To deal with Nightshade… and Zeth?"

She met his gaze, and he nodded with a steady expression.

"Mm. Though something tells me you've got more on your mind."

Celia's fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her skirt as she nodded.

"It's something I probably should've told you a long time ago. Honestly, probably the moment you first mentioned Zeth. But it's not a particularly good memory. And I don't want to dump it on you right before you're about to do something so dangerous. So, can I tell you when you come back? Is that okay?"

Magnus looked at her for a moment, then smiled gently.

"Of course. After everything you've listened to me complain about, you can tell me anything."

Hearing that, Celia's grip relaxed. A soft, grateful smile touched her lips. Without another word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quiet hug.

"Be safe," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Magnus returned the gesture, placing one hand gently on her back.

"Well, since you asked," he murmured, "I guess I don't have a choice."

They stood like that for a long, quiet moment. Then Celia slowly pulled away, meeting his eyes one last time.

Magnus gave her a wink—then vanished, teleporting away.