"My resonance is related to sharpshooting, so I picked up a bow!"

The line echoed faintly in the dim, enclosed space of the cabin, where tall glass panels reflected the muted darkness inside, and the refined white-and-gold interior lay subdued under the absence of proper lighting, leaving only a focused glow illuminating the desk at the center.

Behind that desk sat Instructor Garrick, his posture relaxed yet grounded, one arm resting against the surface as the other moved through a stack of papers placed before him, his expression carrying a quiet, persistent annoyance as he read through them one after another.

He picked up a sheet and scanned it briefly, his eyes moving without much interest before setting it aside with a soft tap against the desk, only to reach for the next without pause.

"I chose the spear because it allows me to maintain distance and control the flow of battle."

Garrick’s expression did not change as he read, his reaction limited to a faint narrowing of his eyes before the paper was discarded into the growing pile to his side. Another followed immediately.

"I picked daggers because they suit my agility and allow quick, precise strikes."

There was no shift in his demeanor as he read through it, only a slight exhale before he moved on again, his patience already wearing thin as the repetition of predictable reasoning began to dull even his mild interest.

Then another paper came into his hand.

"I have been practicing with the whip since childhood, as my father gave it to me."

This time, his gaze lingered for just a fraction longer, not out of curiosity but acknowledgment, as though the personal connection held slightly more weight than the others, yet even that was not enough to change his expression as he shook his head faintly and placed it aside, already reaching for the next.

"I chose knuckles because they align with my raw strength and allow efficient close combat engagement, and also because I was somewhat envious of the catmen."

A quiet, unintended chuckle escaped him at that, the sound brief and low as the blunt honesty of the statement caught him off guard, though it faded almost instantly as he returned to his usual expression and set the paper aside, his attention already shifting forward.

Then came another.

This one was longer.

Much longer.

His eyes moved across the lines as the tone shifted entirely.

"...the armor was a gift from someone who wanted to protect me, and while he is often misunderstood by others due to his fierce eyes and the way he carries himself, I have come to understand that he is kind beneath that exterior in a way that most people fail to see..."

Garrick’s gaze remained steady as he continued reading.

"...he cares about his party members, about their well-being and comfort, and even though he may not hold back at times, it is only because he wants them to grow stronger and reach their potential..."

His brows lowered slightly, not in interest but in quiet fatigue.

"...when he gave me that armor, I could truly feel that he wanted to protect me, and although I do not fully understand his reasons, I have chosen to accept it, and no matter what those reasons may be, I will always keep it with me..."

A long breath left him as he leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression flattening into something closer to exasperation than irritation, as though the weight of such sentimentality had done little more than drain his remaining patience.

"...the children of today..." he muttered under his breath, his tone low as he placed the paper aside with a dismissive motion, clearly uninterested in indulging such emotional reasoning any further.

He continued moving through the stack, each paper blending into the next as they offered little variation, their contents brief, simple, and largely forgettable, until eventually his hand slowed as he reached for another sheet that immediately felt different beneath his fingers.

There was a certain order to it even before he began reading, a structure that stood apart from the rest, and as his eyes moved over the page, that difference became even more apparent.

The content had been divided cleanly, each section labeled and arranged with clarity, the reasoning presented not as scattered thoughts but as deliberate, calculated points that followed a logical progression.

Under the heading of the primary weapon,

Weapon Selection: Sledgehammer

Complements my natural strength, allowing maximum force output with minimal energy loss.Extends effective combat range where direct physical strikes fall short.High impact potential capable of breaking defenses and disrupting enemy balance.Effective against armored or heavily reinforced opponents.

A brief pause.

Then his gaze shifted to the second section.

Secondary Weapon: Sickle

Compact and easily concealed, ideal for close-range adaptability.Suitable for surprise or stealth-based attacks.Can be thrown mid-combat to create openings or disrupt enemy focus.Allows for controlled infliction of pain, useful for interrogation and extracting information.

Garrick did not react.

He simply held the paper in his hand, his gaze fixed on it as he read through the contents in silence, the earlier irritation fading into something more measured, more attentive, as though he were weighing not just the words themselves but the intent behind them.

After a moment, he turned the page.

His eyes lowered.

And settled on the name written at the bottom.

Damon Valecrest.

***

The laboratory stood in quiet contrast to the rest of the academy, its structure blending modern design with subtle traces of magic, as translucent panels hummed faintly with embedded runes and soft light flowed through etched lines across the walls, giving the entire space a clean yet almost otherworldly feel.

Glasswork stations, suspended apparatus, and neatly labeled storage units filled the room, though any sense of order was immediately undercut by the state of its occupant.

Damon stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across the space as he took in the scattered instant meal packs lying open across tables, a neglected coffee mug with dried residue clinging to its sides, and clothes draped carelessly over chairs and equipment as though they had simply been dropped wherever convenient.

"Is this your personal lab?" he asked, his tone even, though his eyes lingered a moment longer on the mess than the machinery.

"Mm," Lunaria responded softly from beside him, nodding without concern, as if the condition of the room held no relevance to her whatsoever.

Damon’s gaze shifted again, taking in the surroundings before he muttered quietly under his breath, "Does she live here or what..."

Then, turning back to her, his expression returning to focus, he said, "Can I take a look at the materials now?"

Lunaria nodded again, already moving, her steps precise despite her otherwise absent demeanor, as though once inside this space, her body operated on instinct alone. She navigated through the clutter effortlessly, reaching exact shelves and compartments without hesitation, retrieving several small containers and placing them neatly on the central table.

One by one, she laid them out.

Moon-silk gel.

Seraphex resin.

Velorin crystal composites.

Nymphaeum latex.

Damon stepped closer, his attention sharpening as he began inspecting each sample carefully, his fingers testing their texture, flexibility, and structural integrity with deliberate precision. His expression shifted subtly as he evaluated them not as curiosities, but as components within a system he was already constructing in his mind.

The moon-silk gel compressed easily under slight pressure, its surface smooth and responsive, returning to form without resistance.

High flexibility... excellent surface feel... minimal friction... this could serve as a base layer or coating...

He moved to the next.

Seraphex resin held firm in his grip, yet yielded just enough under sustained pressure to suggest controlled elasticity.

Structural integrity with slight give... ideal for maintaining shape while avoiding rigidity... suitable for core frameworks...can be easily shaped into Dildos and plugs.

The velorin crystal composite caught his attention longer, its faint internal shimmer suggesting energy conductivity as he tapped it lightly, observing its response.

Efficient vibration transfer without heat accumulation... stable... could be integrated into mechanisms requiring motion or oscillation...it might be better than Vibrators back on earth.

Finally, he examined the nymphaeum latex, stretching it slightly between his fingers, noting its resistance and smoothness.

Non-absorbent, easy to clean, consistent texture... durable under repeated use...

His eyes narrowed slightly as the pieces aligned in his mind.

Combination usage... layered construction... outer comfort with internal structure... controlled motion components...

He exhaled faintly, already mapping potential designs.

Feasible... more than feasible...

Beside him, Lunaria stood quietly, her half-lidded gaze resting on him as she watched without interruption, her presence almost passive, as though she had no need to question what he was doing, only to observe it.

Damon straightened slightly, still holding one of the samples as his thoughts continued to move forward, refining, structuring, and planning the next steps.

Just outside the laboratory, where the dim corridor met the faint glow spilling through the partially closed door, a quiet shadow lingered unnoticed, its presence blending seamlessly into the stillness as it observed the scene within for a brief, silent moment before slowly turning away.

As it retreated into the darkness, a low murmur slipped out, barely audible, carrying a note of quiet satisfaction—"I knew I could trust my boss..."

***

"Fine! I agree to your conditions!"