Kael had expected the new skill to be convenient, effective, perhaps slightly awkward. He had not expected the raw temper of it.
The panel offered follow-ups in the same clinical tone that had become annoyingly familiar.
[Because you subdued the scavengers, witnesses reported your actions. The scavenger collective may file complaints. Potential public relations risk detected. Choose response.]
Options, clean and banal: ignore the noise and accept protective gear; placate the collective with diplomacy; maintain low profile and let the storm pass. Each came with an oddly specified reward.
Kael had never liked public fights with reputations. Reputation was capital, and he preferred not to squander the principal on petty disputes. Still, the newly unlocked capability sang to him. He needed to understand limits. He needed to test the I Also Want to Help skill on something he trusted.
His blade was a mid-grade but well-made sword from the Adventurers' Guild. It had carried him through enough scrapes that its edge fit his hand like a comfortable lie. He decided to test the skill there. If the sword could survive the Path's resonance, the ability would be a marketable secret. If the sword failed, at least he would know the margin of error.
He focused. The I Also Want to Help skill had the feel of a short fuse, not a blessing. Instead of warm holistics, it read like precision engineering meeting brute force. Kael linked intent to the blade, threading destructive Path resonance through the metal like a welder lacing a seam.
At first nothing happened. Then the sword glowed, not with light but with a pressure, a tightening of air across the blade. A black-red sheen rose along the edge, quiet and hungry. Kael felt it like a presence that wanted to prove itself.
He pushed a thought into it, simple and disciplined: reinforce, not rupture.
The sword responded by singing. A hairline crack birthed like a fault in ice. In a breath it spidered. He felt the metal give. The world slowed in the small, technical pause you get before a blade snaps.
"Not what I expected," Kael murmured flatly.
The sword failed spectacularly. With a dry, crystalline snap the weapon fractured, throwing silver fragments into the grass. They clinked like small bells, out of rhythm with the girl's pack jingles, and landed with a noise that sounded much too bright in the clearing.
Kael stared at the empty air where his hand should have felt heft and balance. He had a moment of the same stunned clarity people get before they dismiss miracles as mistakes.
The shards on the ground were still warm to the touch. In their microedges he felt potential and hazard braided together. The Path's destructive branch had raised the sword's capability and in the same motion exceeded the item's tolerance. The magic did not politely augment; it amplified until materials failed.
A dangerous smile pushed up the corner of his mouth. Knowledge is cheap. Experience is not.
He picked up a fragment and noted the temper. Good steel. Guild grade. Had survived months of skirmishes. The fact that it could not contain the resonance told him everything he needed: the I Also Want to Help skill could weaponize any object beyond its rated capacity. Perfect for sabotage, demonstration, or a targeted bargaining chip. Terrifying in inexperienced hands. Deadly in those who knew metallurgy.
The system supplied a short annotation, clinical and admonitory.
[Note: Improper attachment may cause item destabilization. Recommend material integrity testing and skill refinement.]
Kael pocketed a shard. He could dissect the metallurgy himself or trade it to someone who could. Both options created leverage. He preferred to learn first.
Before he could think further, a new pulse of text arrived. The scavenger collective had already moved. Someone had been watching, and the rumor mill would grind.
[Witnesses reported aggressive action on behalf of a scorned child affiliated with the mechanical community. Public relations risk increases. Choose response.]
Option one: refuse comment and accept a Silvermane Guard coat for survival. Option two: attempt reconciliation—reward: a curious junk bag rumored to open portals in distant galaxies. Option three: lay low—reward: a biopath exploration device for treasure scanning. The system's sense of humor about rewards remained opaque.
Kael considered leverage again. The coat would help in snow, the junk bag sounded like a myth, the scanner could be practically useful for hides and caches. But the choice was also political. If he ignored the complaint and accepted the coat, he'd mark himself as indifferent to the mechanical community's plight and provoke their ire. If he reached out, he might be drawn into their machinations. If he lay low, he kept options but ceded the field of narrative.
He weighed the outcomes like a craftsman weighing potential beams: which would hold later developments?
He chose stability. Low profile, for now. He did not need enemies yet. He had a fragment of truth in his pocket and a dangerous toy waiting in the system's cool logic.
The panel acknowledged his selection with a small ding and queued the exploration tool as reward. Kael did not accept it immediately. He would take what he needed, when he needed it.
By the time Klee bounced back from the town gate with a perked, proud grin and a pocket full of gossip, Kael had already inventoried the wreckage and wrapped the viable shards in cloth. He watched her chatter with a quiet, detached amusement.
"Klee," she repeated, proud to announce their encounter. "Big brother did fights. Klee saved some parts."
"You did well," Kael said, voice dry and accurate. "Stay with people who feed you tonight."
She nodded solemnly, the kind of ceremony toddlers make of adult instruction. "Klee will. Klee not alone."
Kael pivoted on a small plan. He could recruit a smith to test shard resilience, find a craftsman in Liyue to fold the resonance into a blade with layered alloys, then show it in measured displays. He could sell the idea to a patron, or keep it and build bargaining chips. The choice mattered because options multiplied when you had something others wanted.
He had traded a blade for knowledge. He had traded a day's anonymity for a new kind of leverage. The system had given him a dangerous tool. He had used it poorly and learned. That was how one turned accidents into assets.
As dusk fell, Kael walked back into town thinking like a ledger. In the pockets of his mind, a list formed: metallurgy contacts, potential buyers in Liyue, possible black market smiths, and the girl who could be used as a quiet node when the time came.
"Not a bad morning," he said, dry humor threaded through satisfaction. "Terrifying, but useful."
His voice sounded small in the wide street, but the thought was large. Power that ate swords was not a toy. It was a weapon if tempered, or a bomb if flung. The difference came down to control, and Kael intended to learn both sides.