“Dexter,” Sim said.

  Her voice cut through the air like a bell, clear and commanding. The playful energy evaporated, replaced by something dense and unspoken. Even Quinn felt it, the sudden weight of her tone pressing down on the space between them.

  Dexter straightened.

  Quinn and Emily turned to him, both sensing the shift. Sim’s expression had hardened—more serious than either of them thought she should be.

  “For you,” she said, her words deliberate, “I have something truly special. A weapon that matches your essence… your strength… and your role within this team.”

  Dexter’s grin bloomed instantly. He stood taller, puffing his chest with visible pride, his eyes gleaming like a kid on Christmas morning. This was it. His moment. The birth of Dexter: The Arcane Wrecking Ball. The Techno-Warrior. The Mana-Fist of Destiny.

  He leaned forward, barely able to contain himself, mentally preparing for what he was sure would be the ultimate weapon.

  He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “please be an infinity gauntlet, please be an infinity gauntlet.”

  Sim raised her hand and Dexter looked up. Mana swirled into a radiant orb, glowing with a power that almost sang. The energy pulsed like a storm barely contained, wild and beautiful. Dexter’s breath hitched, his mind racing through endless possibilities.

  The light condensed further, shrinking into a small, solid shape. Sim extended her hand, the object floating between her fingers, as though it held the weight of entire worlds. Dexter reached out eagerly, his hands trembling with excitement, and grasped it.

  Dexter took the object, his fingers brushing the cool surface as the glow slowly faded. He stared at it, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze in place. What he was holding… was a pen. A simple, matte-black, click-top ballpoint pen.

  Dexter blinked.

  His face remained locked in an expression of utter disbelief, his eyes flicking between the pen and Sim, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, searching for words.

  Emily tilted her head. Quinn raised a single brow.

  Dexter finally spoke, his voice a whisper of betrayed hope. “Wait... is this a... pen?”

  “Yes,” Sim replied evenly. Her tone was so neutral, it looped back around to comedic. “I sensed your enthusiasm when I gave Quinn his sword. I wanted to give you something… mightier.”

  Silence.

  And then—Emily snorted. Loudly.

  She tried to hold it back, failed miserably, and broke into uncontrollable laughter. Quinn followed, doubling over with a deep, honest belly laugh.

  “Oh, come on,” Dexter groaned, his face sliding into a deadpan stare of pure betrayal. “Seriously? A pen? We’re doing the whole ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ shtick? That’s what we’re doing now?”

  “Of course,” Sim replied, unbothered. Her expression didn’t shift an inch. “It’s a time-honored adage.”

  Emily collapsed against Quinn, gasping for air. “Dex… your face,” she wheezed. “You looked like you were about to get Green Lantern’s ring and then—bam! Stationery!”

  She dissolved again, barely coherent.

  Dexter scowled, holding the pen up like it might bite him. He twirled it with exaggerated disdain. “This better not be it,” he muttered, glaring at Sim. “I mean, sure, I’m all for irony, but if I’m supposed to walk into battle wielding office supplies, I’m out. I draw the line at weaponized Post-its.”

  Quinn and Emily couldn’t stop laughing. Quinn leaned on his shield for support, wiping away tears from his eyes. “Careful, Dex. You might poke someone’s eye out.”

  “Sure, laugh it up,” Dexter grumbled, flipping the pen between his fingers. “I’m sure I’ll strike fear into the hearts of my enemies with this. Beware, for I wield the dreaded Ballpoint of Doom!” Tremble before my signature!”

  He made a dramatic flourish, as if ready to throw the pen away. But before he could let go, it pulsed in his palm.

  A faint hum of mana reverberated through his body. The pen glowed brilliantly, its form dissolving into light, expanding like a starburst. Metal twisted and reformed, glowing circuitry etching itself into the surface. When the light faded, what hovered before Dexter was no longer a pen—but a pair of sleek, high-tech bracers, gleaming with a combination of mana and technological sophistication.

  Dexter blinked, staring as the bracers hovered in front of him, their surface rippling with threads of glowing circuitry. A low hum pulsed from within beating in time with his own heart.

  His brow furrowed. The skepticism hadn’t vanished, but it was wobbling now, replaced with something closer to curiosity.

  “You’re giving me… bracelets?” he asked, his tone caught somewhere between impressed and what is happening right now.

  Then the world seemed to narrow. Dexter’s vision tunneled in, drawn toward the bracers as though they were pulling his focus. Everything else faded—the sounds, the light, even Sim’s radiant form. All that remained was movement—thousands of microscopic parts shifting in perfect harmony, forming something that looked solid, but felt… fluid.

  His eyes widened. “Wait... are those nanobots?” Dexter asked, his voice tinged with awe and growing excitement as the realization hit him—the true power that lay locked within the bracers.

  “Yes,” Sim said, nodding once. Her voice was even, calm—almost clinical. “These bracers are constructed from mana-infused nanobots. The same nano-bots that gave you and Quinn your mana channels. They’ve been repurposed to amplify your technomancy. These too are soul weapons. Once they merge with your mana, only you can use them.”

  Dexter’s hands hovered beneath the bracers, fingers twitching. As he reached out, the nanobots reacted—rippling with sudden motion, their form adjusting midair. They didn’t fall onto his wrists so much as flow onto them, wrapping around his forearms with liquid precision.

  He inhaled sharply.

  The moment they touched skin, he felt it—connection. The bracers pulsed once, syncing with his mana like they had been waiting for him. Their surface shifted gently, adapting, aligning with his thoughts before he could even finish forming them.

  “Whoa,” Dexter whispered. “I can feel them. It’s like… they’re alive. And they’re listening.”

  Dexter’s hands hovered beneath the bracers, fingers twitching with anticipation. The moment they made contact, the nanobots seemed to come alive, responding to him. A ripple of movement traveled across the surface, the metal shifting and adjusting as if the bracers had a mind of their own.

  They didn’t slide onto his wrists so much as flow onto them, wrapping around his forearms with liquid precision. The bracers pulsed with energy, syncing perfectly with his mana and adapting to his every thought. The connection was instantaneous, like a missing puzzle piece snapping into place.

  Sim’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. There was pride in her expression—and patience. As if she’d seen this moment coming all along.

  “Precisely,” she said. “These nanobots are not just tools. They are an extension of you. With your technomancy, you can command them. They’ll morph, shift, and adapt to your intent—shields, weapons… even full-body armor.”

  Dexter’s eyes widened. His grin stretched ear to ear. “Wait—you’re saying I can turn these into… anything?”

  Sim’s tone softened, a gentler undercurrent threading through her words—almost maternal. “Your imagination and mastery will determine their limits. They’re designed to amplify your creativity, Dexter. Not just respond to it. With them, you can craft technology in real time.”

  She paused.

  “They’re your arsenal.”

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  Dexter looked down at the bracers, his fingers flexing. The nanobots shimmered and shifted, pulsing in rhythm with his mana like they were responding to his very thoughts. A thrill surged through him.

  Quinn stepped closer, his expression equal parts curiosity and mischief. The bracers rippled under his gaze, their surface dancing with arcs of light—alive with promise.

  “So… genie bracers, huh?” Quinn said. “What’s next? You gonna grant us three wishes, or do I need to start rubbing the wrist?” He made a ridiculous rubbing gesture, tapping the bracer.

  Dexter shot him a mock glare. “Careful. One of those wishes might involve turning you into a garden gnome.”

  Emily snorted, adjusting her bow. “Just don’t overload every electrical system we pass. I’d like to finish a mission without triggering a city-wide blackout.”

  Dexter rolled his eyes, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “No promises.”

  As the connection finalized, Dexter’s grin stretched ear to ear. Pure joy lit up his face.

  “Oh man,” he said, practically vibrating with anticipation, “I am definitely gonna have fun with this.”

  He took a deep breath, centering himself. Then he focused.

  The nanobots responded instantly. The metal shifted—smooth, fluid—unraveling from his forearms in gleaming ribbons. The nanobots flowed across his torso, down his legs, wrapping his body in motion. In seconds, they reformed into a sleek black-and-silver suit. The design was minimalistic but striking, emphasizing agility and speed over bulk. Energy pulsed faintly along the seams, a soft, glowing blue that radiated mana, an elegant testament to his newfound power.

  His jaw dropped. He turned, flexed, twisted his arms. The suit moved with him—seamless.

  “Okay… this is officially the coolest thing ever,” he breathed. “I feel like Black Panther meets Iron Man.”

  Sim nodded, calm as ever, though a flicker of approval touched her features. “The nanobots are adaptive. They will shield you, enhance your speed, strength, and reflexes. They’re reactive to environment, programmable in real-time. And as your technomancy grows, so will they.”

  Dexter raised a hand, palm open as he watched the nanobots ripple across his palm. “I can hear each one of them,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I can feel every movement, every shift. It’s like they’re reading my mind.”

  Quinn folded his arms, eyeing Dexter’s armored form with a nod of approval. “Gotta hand it to you, Dex. That’s next-level tech. You’re basically a walking Armory now.”

  Sim’s voice cut in—firm, but encouraging. “They’re your first line of defense. Your role, Dexter, is to shield and protect this team. The nanobots will ensure you can withstand assault while retaining the flexibility to strike back.”

  Dexter’s grin returned, stretching wide. “So… I’m the tank?” he asked, pride unmistakable in his voice.

  “Precisely,” Sim replied, her tone flat but carrying the quiet weight of approval.

  Dexter flexed, and with a thought, the armor retracted—sliding seamlessly back into the bracers in a liquid cascade of light.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I should’ve known Sim doesn’t mess around. These things are awesome.”

  Emily chuckled, shaking her head. “Just don’t let it go to your head. I can still outshoot you with one eye closed.”

  Quinn stepped up, clapping a hand on Dexter’s shoulder. “Told you. Sim’s got a sense of humor—but she delivers.”

  Emily wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. “Yeah, but I’ll never forget your face when you thought that pen was it. Priceless.”

  Dexter shot her a mock glare, but his grin gave him away. “Laugh it up. Just remember—these bracers? I’m basically unstoppable now.”

  “Glad to see you’ve come around,” Sim said. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something else behind it—dry amusement, sharp as ever. “Now let’s see if you can live up to the might of the pen.”

  Dexter snorted, shaking his head. “Touché, Sim. Touché.”

  Sim’s avatar stepped forward, a soft glow radiating from her form. There was gravity in her presence—like she was preparing to impart something final. Something foundational.

  “There is one last ability I’ve embedded within each of you,” she said, voice calm but resonant. “Inside your systems is an astral pocket—a personal storage space, tethered to your mana. You can store weapons, armor, and any items you acquire. They’ll remain accessible at will—freeing you from the burden of carrying them physically.”

  Emily tilted her head, intrigued. “So we can just… stash gear anytime? Like a magical inventory?”

  Sim nodded, the faintest smile touching her lips. “Precisely. It’s intuitive. Seamless. As natural as moving your hand. Anything bonded to your mana can be stored and retrieved with a thought.”

  Dexter’s grin stretched wide. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

  “Try it,” Sim said, gesturing gently with one hand.

  Quinn went first.

  He exhaled slowly and focused. His Mana Blade shimmered—then dissolved into light, vanishing as if swallowed by the air itself. He waited a heartbeat, then summoned it back. It returned in a flash of blue, humming in his grip.

  He studied it, smiling quietly. “That’s… incredibly useful.”

  Emily didn’t hesitate. She focused, and her bow vanished, a flicker of mana dissolving it into the ether. A second later, she recalled it, the ethereal string snapping into place with a soft thrumm. Her cloak followed—stored, recalled, and resettled around her shoulders without a wrinkle.

  “Very convenient,” she said with a nod, already running tactical scenarios in her head.

  Dexter, never one to be outdone, gave a casual flick of his wrist.

  The nanobots unraveled, flowing off his skin like liquid light, dissolving into the ether. With a thought, they returned—reforming around his arms with surgical precision. He grinned, flexing his fingers.

  “Okay. This is officially the coolest thing ever.”

  Sim’s avatar flickered gently. The circuitry coursing through her form pulsed brighter, as if preparing for something more.

  “There is one final gift,” she said.

  Her tone shifted—deeper, more resolute. The room fell silent. Even the artificial stars above seemed to dim in anticipation.

  She looked at each of them in turn, her expression knowing.

  “Your physical transformations and mana abilities have made you powerful. But to truly excel in battle—to move with precision, agility, and control—you need more than strength. You need understanding.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Wait… are you saying—?”

  Sim nodded once. “Yes. I will embed within each of you the cumulative knowledge of every combatant, strategist, and martial artist in recorded history.”

  Dexter’s jaw dropped. Then his grin returned—twice as wide, tinged with wonder.

  “So… instant Bruce Lee? Matrix-style ‘I know kung fu’?”

  Sim’s voice remained steady. “More than that.”

  She stepped forward, the light in her chest core glowing brighter.

  “This is not a downloaded file. Not muscle memory or memorized patterns. It is integration. Your instincts will shift. Every strike, every step, every movement will flow with mastery—as if you’d trained for lifetimes. You’ll fight like dancers, strike like grandmasters, and react like tacticians who’ve studied every battlefield.”

  She turned to Quinn, whose brow furrowed as his mind raced.

  “And this... knowledge,” he asked quietly. “Is it permanent?”

  “Permanent,” Sim confirmed, her voice unwavering. “You’ll know how to strike for maximum effect. Where to defend. How to move with your environment, not against it. How to anticipate, read, and dismantle your enemies—before they even make their move.”

  Sim paused, the glow of her eyes intensifying. A subtle shift passed through her—like a ripple of ancient memory rising to the surface.

  “But there’s more,” she said, her voice deepening—no longer just calm, but profound. “I will also grant you the knowledge of human and animal physiology. You’ll understand how the body moves... how it breaks... how it heals. Every muscle, every nerve, every vulnerable point will be clear to you.”

  Her gaze swept across them, luminous and steady.

  “You’ll know where to strike for maximum effect—and how to protect what matters. And more than that... you will gain the ability to analyze your opponents in real time. Read them. Anticipate them. Exploit their weaknesses. Control, not brute force, will define your victory.”

  Dexter let out a low whistle, eyes wide. “So we’re about to become walking martial arts encyclopedias with Terminator vision? Fight like Bruce Lee, move like Cirque du Soleil? Sign. Me. Up.”

  A flicker of amusement crossed Sim’s features. Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “You’ll have more than that, Dexter. Every movement, every form will become instinct. But this gift must be guided by discipline. Let it inform you—don’t let it define you.”

  The room fell silent. Even the hum of the pocket dimension seemed to fade.

  The trio exchanged glances, then—wordlessly—they summoned their gear into astral storage, clearing their minds for what was coming. Feet apart, eyes closed, bodies still. A quiet surrender.

  Sim raised her hands.

  Light enveloped them. The glow wasn’t overwhelming but comforting, like a warm embrace. It wrapped around their forms like a mantle, sinking into skin, into thought, into soul. The knowledge came not as a rush, but a rhythm. A procession. A kata of understanding.

  Movements unfolded in their minds—strikes, stances, breathwork, counters, holds, momentum shifts. It was like remembering a dream they hadn’t lived... and now suddenly had. Their limbs tingled with knowing. Their breath slowed. Balance deepened. Posture aligned.

  An ancient language, once forgotten, now spoken fluently within.

  Emily moved first.

  Her posture shifted without thought, settling into a stance of perfect balance—rooted, fluid, precise. Every joint aligned. Every muscle knew its place.

  “This… is incredible,” she whispered, awe soft in her voice. “Like I’ve always known how to move like this.”

  Quinn stood straighter, his breathing deep and controlled. His eyes flicked across the room—not seeing the space, but mapping it. Every angle, every motion, every response. A combat matrix laid bare before him.

  “It’s like I can see the entire battlefield,” he murmured. “Every possibility. Every outcome.”

  Dexter rolled his shoulders, letting the flow guide him. His limbs felt weightless, tuned. Every motion hit the mark before he even completed it.

  “Oh, man,” he said, grin spreading wide. “I feel like a superhero. This is insane.”

  Sim’s voice cut through the awe like a grounding current.

  “This knowledge will allow you to move as one with your body,” she said. “Use it wisely. Together, you are stronger than any one of you alone. Protect each other. Anticipate danger. Become masters of your movements. With these skills… you will have no equal.”

  The light faded. Dexter’s grin widened.

  Unable to resist, he recalled his bracers and watched as they morphed effortlessly into a sleek staff. The glowing surface pulsed with energy, resonating with the same power that now thrummed through his veins.

  He twirled it once, then With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to Quinn, his grin widening.

  “So,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s see if that download really did the trick.”

  Without warning, he swung the staff with full force, aiming directly at Quinn’s head.