The next morning, I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in days. The weight in my chest seemed lighter, the fog in my mind clearing as I slowly sat up.
I stretched, feeling the stiffness leave my muscles, and then shuffled my way to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I walked down to the dining room. The house was quiet—eerily so. It felt like I was the only one here.
My parents had already gone to work, as they always did. I'd barely see them, save for the brief exchanges in the mornings when they were rushing out the door. Based on the memories, this was a normal thing.
Mishima Corporation, their empire, was their primary focus, and I was... well, I was just the heir. The piece they had to keep in good condition, polished and ready to step into their shoes one day. The whole situation felt distant, like I was just a cog in their machine.
I sat down at the breakfast table, the usual spread of pastries, eggs, and fresh fruit waiting for me. My stomach grumbled as I reached for the food.
Still, as I ate, the feeling of isolation lingered. I was alone in this massive house most of the time. My parents were too busy, and I had no idea what was really going on in the world around me—especially with the supernatural mess I'd landed in.
Once breakfast was done, I left the empty table behind and wandered back to my room.
I needed to test my abilities more.
The Celestial Workshop was still a mystery.
I sank into the chair in front of my desk, trying to clear my mind. The Workshop. I closed my eyes and reached for it.
It flickered to life almost instantly—familiar now, like slipping into a memory.
This time, I didn't go for something simple.
I wanted to test it. Push it.
A phone.
One I'd design from scratch. Something I'd never even thought about building before.
Normally, that'd be impossible. I had no clue how circuits worked, or how to arrange processors, antennas, batteries. But in the Workshop…
The moment I focused, the knowledge clicked into place. Like someone had dropped a blueprint into my head and whispered, "Here. Use this."
My hands moved before I even finished processing it. Components materialized on the workbench—glass, carbon fiber, microchips, even tools I couldn't name but somehow knew how to use. I built layer by layer: sleek casing, seamless interface, internal systems more advanced than anything on the market. Lightweight. Durable. Efficient.
I didn't just make a phone—I improved it. Designed it. Made it mine.
When I was done, I reached out. The air shifted.
Manifest.
I opened my eyes.
A phone rested in my hand. Cool. Polished. Alive. The screen lit up, responsive, already synced to me.
I stared at it, stunned.
I grinned, feeling a little surge of excitement.
I couldn't help but smile at the possibilities.
What if I could create something beyond ordinary tech?
Something magical. Legendary.
Excalibur.
The name alone carried weight. Myth, legend, magic. A sword of kings.
I pictured it—the golden hilt, ornate and regal. The blade, glowing faintly, shimmering with power. Not just a weapon, but a symbol. A force.
As I focused, something strange happened.
Knowledge began pouring into me. Not in words or textbooks—just understanding.
How to forge a blade, not just physically, but spiritually. The perfect balance of weight and edge. The materials required to hold magic without shattering. The symbols to carve, the runes to etch, the flow of mana through the core of the steel.
Sword-making techniques from ancient times blended with futuristic enchantment theory. I understood the purpose behind every detail—why one angle mattered, why a specific alloy would bind better with energy.
And then came the magic.
Not just vague ideas of "power" but structured knowledge. Circles, arrays, incantations—systems of logic behind the myth.
It was overwhelming… but it made sense. Like the Workshop was feeding me exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.
I kept going, shaping the image in my mind with more precision, more clarity. I wasn't just imagining Excalibur anymore—
I was building it.
And then, I tried to manifest it.
The sword appeared in my mind, but nothing physically materialized. It was like I was on the verge of pulling it into existence, but I couldn't.
Frustration simmered beneath my skin. I pushed harder, willing the sword to appear, but once again—nothing.
I stood up, pacing around my room. Why can't I just bring it out?
A small message popped up in my vision: Manifestation time remaining: 300 days.
Then, like a flicker of understanding,
My ability to manifest wasn't instantaneous for complex items. The simpler items—the mundane tools, the basic everyday objects—those were quick and easy. But things like Excalibur? Sacred Gears? High-tech inventions? They weren't going to pop into existence that easily.
These things needed time.
I stopped the queue. I decided to opt for the short term items for now.
I turned to my desk, my mind swirling with new possibilities. I need to test this.
I focused again, this time on something a bit more magical but still simple. A basic amulet—a protective charm, something that would keep me safe from harm.
A small message popped up in my vision: Manifestation time remaining: 3 days.
It was like a timer, telling me how long it would take to complete the process..
I looked around the room, my heart racing with excitement.
On one hand, I had a virtually unlimited design space for creating whatever I could imagine.
But on the other hand, I would have to wait for anything too complicated to actually appear.
I couldn't help but grin.