Chapter 90: Blades Like Rain
The sky above the temple had begun to clear, violet clouds receding into the fractured dome as if afraid to linger.
Isaac stood motionless.
His eyes weren't on the battlefield anymore—they were focused inward.
The system window still hovered before him, offering its final reward:
[SKILL SELECTION – TIER A]
Confirm Choice: [Telekinesis – Rank A]?
It wasn't glamorous. There were no stars, no divine origin, no mysterious teacher waiting in a memory fragment.
But it was simple.
And sometimes, simplicity was power.
Isaac smiled faintly. "Confirm."
The system pulsed.
[Skill Acquired: Telekinesis – Rank A]
Control the motion of physical objects within a radius of 30 meters. Scales with Intelligence and Willpower. Weight limit per object: 100kg × INT stat. No cooldown. Mana cost: Continuous per object.
A brief spark danced across his fingers. Then it settled.
Isaac flexed his hand and turned his gaze upward.
He still had one more test to run.
Opening his palm, he activated:
[Armament Phantom – Rank S+]
A shimmering sword formed in the air—one of the many legendary blueprints he had recorded during the auction.
The Veyrian Soulfang, etched with shadowlight.
No sooner had it appeared than Isaac created a second weapon—the Skyrender Pike. Then a third: the Gravemaw.
One after another, weapons began manifesting around him.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Mana flowed outward, but it wasn't dropping the way it used to. He felt the drain—but like a bucket filling faster than it leaked.
"[Essence Efficiency – Rank EX]," he murmured. "You're really pulling your weight."
Ninety percent cost reduction.
Every weapon he conjured was now so mana-cheap that his natural regeneration—amplified by his colossal Intelligence stat—was keeping up. He was generating blades faster than he was losing energy.
He held out his hand again.
This time, he didn't catch the weapon.
He simply moved it—with his mind.
[Telekinesis – Rank A]
The first sword twitched in the air, then surged forward with a shriek of metal. It embedded into a distant wall with a burst of force, shaking loose ancient dust.
Isaac exhaled.
Then grinned.
He conjured more weapons. Dozens. Floating in the air like the fingers of some divine armory waiting for command.
The system registered no strain. Mana dipped, but hovered comfortably. His recovery—amplified by his immense base stats—was more than enough to sustain it.
He clenched his fist.
A storm was born.
Dozens of weapons began to spin and spiral around him—phantom swords, pikes, daggers, halberds. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he launched them all into the air.
They rose in unison. High.
Then—he released control.
And they began to fall.
Like rain.
Dozens of blades hurtled downward, their velocity amplified by his will. They struck the stone floor with deafening cracks, embedding into shattered tiles like divine judgment.
"Imagine that," Isaac murmured, staring up at the empty sky. "A rain that cuts instead of cleanses."
He raised his hand again.
Created more.
Fifty phantom swords formed above him, hovering like stars.
He spread his arms. With barely a thought, they shot out in every direction.
Each blade moved with terrifying speed, guided by thought rather than muscle.
Not thrown.
Commanded.
They curved in midair, looped around pillars, struck from blind angles.
Isaac nodded to himself. "[Armament Phantom] gives me the blades. [Essence Efficiency] keeps them cheap. [Telekinesis] makes them fly."
And none of it required lifting a finger anymore.
Behind him, Lira had finally caught up from her short rest. She froze as she saw the hundreds of impact marks in the stone, and Isaac standing alone among vanishing phantoms.
"…What did I miss?"
He turned toward her with a relaxed smile.
"Just a light drizzle."