Traebus hauled the Nekrium slab into the lab, clearing off one of the massive stone tables as his workbench. He took a deep breath, running his hands over the smooth, impossibly dense metal. "Alright, let’s see what you’re made of."


    He started with the simplest test—direct force. Pulling a sharpened chisel made of magically reinforced bone, he placed the tip against the metal and gave it a sharp strike with a stone mallet.


    Ping.


    The chisel barely left a scratch.


    Traebus frowned, adjusted his grip, and tried again, this time putting more force behind it.


    PING.


    The chisel snapped in half.


    Sparky trilled in what could only be described as mocking laughter.


    "Oh, shut up," Traebus muttered, tossing the useless remains aside. "Fine. Cutting tools are out. Let’s try something a little more… experimental."


    Remembering Sparky’s earlier demonstration, he decided to test resonance frequency. If Nekrium resisted brute force, perhaps it would respond better to vibration. He placed both hands on the slab, channeling a steady pulse of mana into the metal, trying to find the right frequency to make it resonate.


    For a long moment, nothing happened.


    Then, ever so slightly, the slab hummed.


    Traebus’s eyes widened. "There it is."


    Dusk flicked a thought of do not get ahead of yourself.


    Ignoring him completely, Traebus carefully increased the mana flow, trying to match the exact frequency that had allowed Sparky’s energy to separate the stalagmite. The hum intensified, reverberating through the stone table. The Nekrium shifted—not much, but just enough that he knew he was onto something.


    Sparky, seeing what he was attempting, hopped onto the table and sent a controlled pulse of lightning into the slab.


    The response was immediate. The Nekrium shimmered, vibrating more intensely, and suddenly, a thin fracture line appeared on the surface.


    Traebus nearly whooped in triumph. "YES! That’s it! It’s all about the resonance!"


    Dusk flicked a warning thought of or you will shatter the entire thing.


    Traebus waved him off, already reaching for another tool. "Don’t be ridiculous. We just need to fine-tune the frequency. If we can control how the metal responds, we can cut it without—"


    The slab suddenly let out a sharp, piercing whine, and before he could react, the entire lab shook.


    Traebus, Sparky, and Dusk all dove for cover as the resonance built to a climax—and then, just as suddenly as it had started, the vibration stopped.


    A long silence filled the lab.


    Sparky peeked out from behind a storage bin, his frills puffed up.


    Dusk sighed heavily, sending the thought of I told you so directly into Traebus’s brain.


    Traebus groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay. Maybe we do need to fine-tune it a little more…"


    Determined not to let the metal get the best of him, Traebus got back to work. He adjusted his approach, carefully altering the magical frequency he pulsed into the slab, taking meticulous mental notes of the results. He experimented with different levels of mana infusion, gauging the point where the Nekrium vibrated at dangerous levels and where it remained stable.


    Each test led him a step closer to control. By lowering the intensity but refining the frequency, he gradually found a resonance that caused the Nekrium to soften ever so slightly at the edges without setting off another catastrophic tremor.


    Sweat beaded on his brow as he focused, channeling his mana with absolute precision. Sparky flicked occasional pulses of controlled energy into the slab, reinforcing the frequency with his natural electricity. Dusk remained perched on a nearby table, watching with wary patience.


    The moment finally came.


    With one final precisely tuned pulse, a thin but controlled fracture line crawled across the surface of the Nekrium. It split cleanly, separating a thick chunk roughly the size of his palm from the main body of the legendary ore.


    Traebus exhaled, wide-eyed. "We did it. We actually did it."


    Sparky trilled in triumph, hopping in place. Dusk flicked a thought of finally, though there was a clear note of relief in his mental tone.


    Grinning, Traebus picked up the separated chunk, turning it over in his hands. The impossibly rare metal now lay in his palm, fully detached and ready for the next step. He had cracked the first step of working with Nekrium.


    And this? This was just the beginning.


    With the smaller piece of Nekrium in hand, Traebus dove into his work. Unlike the larger slab, the smaller section didn’t seem to give off the same dangerous oscillation effects. It responded smoothly, almost as if it wanted to be worked.


    The more he focused, the deeper his concentration became. He barely noticed as Dusk and Sparky left the lab, their smaller elemental counterparts following them out. The rhythmic pulse of his mana flowed through the metal, syncing with it, shaping it—not through force, but through connection.


    Time lost meaning. Darkness fell outside, but Traebus didn’t notice. His subconscious mind summoned a light orb above the table without a second thought—a remarkable feat, considering every previous attempt had resulted in unintended combustions. But this time? The glow remained steady, illuminating his work without setting the room on fire.


    His hands moved with a purpose he barely understood, guiding the Nekrium as it took form under his touch. The metal shifted effortlessly, like molten silver without heat, coalescing into shapes that felt both familiar and completely alien.


    Morning came, and as the first rays of light seeped through the ventilation shafts, Traebus finally snapped back to awareness.


    He stared at his work.


    A set of rings lay before him. Intricate, flawless, impossibly smooth. They gleamed in the soft daylight, a whisper of something greater than simple craftsmanship.


    His breath caught in his throat.


    He hadn’t consciously decided to make rings.


    He didn’t even remember how he had made them.


    The weight of the realization hit him like a landslide. He had been so lost in the process that he had lost all sense of time, of self, of everything. And yet, somehow, he had created these.


    Then another thought hit him.


    The light orb. The completely stable, non-exploding light orb still hovering in place.


    His gaze darted from the rings to the floating light, then back again. His brain refused to catch up.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "What… the actual hell did I just do?" he whispered.


    Dusk and Sparky peeked back into the lab just in time to see him staring in sheer disbelief at his own work.


    Traebus slowly reached out, picking up the first of the five rings, turning it over in his fingers. It was perfect—not just in craftsmanship, but in a way that defied explanation. The edges were impossibly smooth, the shape flawlessly symmetrical. It wasn’t just well-made—it exuded geometrical perfection, as though it had been sculpted by a force far beyond his own hands.


    "Alright… that’s mildly terrifying," he muttered, squinting at it. "What are you?"


    He had no idea what the rings did, if anything at all. And there was only one way to find out.


    His gaze flicked to his own hands, where eight stone rings rested across his fingers—his personal runic constructs, each carved with painstaking care and tuned to different magical effects. He hesitated, fingers hovering over them.


    Wearing rings had become second nature to him. His own enchanted ones were practical, useful, safe—well, mostly safe. But these? These were unknown. And unknown meant dangerous.


    Still… curiosity gnawed at him.


    With a deep breath, he slid his current rings off, setting them neatly on the table. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he picked up the Nekrium ring and slid it onto his finger.


    For an instant, eternity cracked open before him.


    A vast, incomprehensible something loomed beyond the boundaries of his mind—limitless, formless, and utterly alien. It was knowledge beyond understanding, time collapsing into itself, the feeling of standing at the edge of creation and staring into the infinite abyss of everything that was, is, and ever could be.


    And then it slammed him back into his body with enough force to shatter the reinforced stone floor beneath him.


    The impact sent a shockwave through the lab. Dust and stone chips exploded outward, cracks spiderwebbing through the once-indestructible floor. The air itself warped for a brief second, as if reality had just been forcibly compressed into a single moment.


    Dusk and Sparky were blown clear out of the doorway, tumbling through the yard outside in an undignified heap of startled lizard limbs and indignant screeches.


    Traebus groaned, blinking rapidly, his senses reeling from the sheer magnitude of what had just happened. His limbs felt like they weren’t entirely his for a long, disorienting moment. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath came in ragged gasps.


    And then, the knowledge clicked.


    The ring—


    He understood what it did.


    Not just in a theoretical way. The information was there, implanted into his mind as though it had always been a part of him.


    It was an identification tool. But not just any identification tool. It was beyond anything he had ever seen, used, or even heard of. It didn’t just analyze objects—it comprehended them. It unraveled the essence of what something was, stripping away layers of the unknown and feeding him absolute truths.


    He had thought his runic goggles or identification table were useful before—this was an entirely different level of understanding.


    It was then that he noticed something else.


    He looked down at his hand.


    The ring was fused to his skin.


    "Oh," he breathed. "That’s… probably not good."


    Dusk and Sparky peeked back in from the doorway, covered in dust, their frills raised in sheer alarm. Dusk flicked a mental pulse at him, sharp and questioning.


    Traebus let out a weak laugh, still lying in the cracked remains of the lab floor. "Uh. Good news—I know what the ring does. Bad news—" He held up his hand, wiggling his now permanently adorned finger. "—I think it knows what I do, too."


    Dusk was less than amused. He strode forward with slow, deliberate steps, his frills flared in overt concern. The bond between them pulsed with a sensation Traebus rarely felt from his companion—fear. Not just for him, but of whatever had just happened.


    Sparky, on the other hand, had absolutely taken the wrong lesson from this. The little lightning lizard sprang back to his feet, trilling with excitement, and flicked an unmistakable mental image of being thrown again.


    "Oh, get bent, Sparky," Traebus groaned, rubbing his face.


    He started to push himself upright, but a wave of exhaustion slammed into him like a collapsing mountain. His vision blurred at the edges. The very air around him felt heavier, as if something had pulled a significant piece of him away. He gasped, gripping the edge of a shattered stone table to steady himself.


    Dusk flicked a sharp pulse of concern at him, stepping closer.


    "I’m… fine," Traebus muttered, though he definitely wasn’t. He felt hollowed out, drained—like every ounce of mana had been ripped from him in an instant. The sheer power of the ring had required more than he could afford to give, nearly flattening him in the process.


    He clenched his teeth. "Okay. So, uh… yeah. This thing is insanely powerful—but it eats mana like a starved beast. That was just a small use, and it nearly wiped me out."


    The realization hit him harder than the shockwave that had thrown his companions outside.


    This wasn’t just a tool. It was a force. One that demanded a price he wasn’t even sure he could afford to pay.


    His gaze drifted to the other rings on the table.


    A deep hesitation settled over him. If just one ring drained him this much, what would happen if he put on more? Would they pull mana first? His lifeforce next? Would he even survive it?


    His fingers twitched toward them, curiosity clawing at his mind. He wanted to know. Needed to know.


    Dusk growled low in his throat.


    Traebus exhaled, forcing himself to step back. "Alright. Not making that mistake today."


    The power was too much, at least for now. And for the first time in a long while, he felt small. Like a child staring up at a universe so much bigger than him.


    "I have no idea what I’ve just gotten myself into," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.


    Dusk flicked an unimpressed thought of glad you finally noticed.


    Traebus took a slow breath, centering himself. The rings had power, but he was nowhere near ready to wield them. He needed better tools—ones that wouldn’t kill him the moment he tried to use them. And while Nekrium clearly held incredible potential, working with it right now was a death wish.


    No, for this, he needed something simpler.


    His eyes flicked toward the iron they had brought back from the cave. It wasn’t legendary, but it was reliable. More importantly, it was something he could actually work with without shattering reality in the process.


    Determined, he carefully sealed the Nekrium rings into a stone box, making sure not to touch them again. With deliberate precision, he carved intricate runic wards into the container, ensuring it stayed shut until he was damn well ready to deal with them. He lifted the box, set it onto a high shelf, and exhaled heavily, as if locking the rings away had physically lifted a weight from his shoulders.


    Only when the box was safely put away did he turn his attention back to the lab. First things first—he needed to fix the floor. With a weary sigh, he channeled what little mana he had left and began sealing the fractures his own impact had left behind. The stone groaned as it knit itself back together, but by the time he was finished, the lab looked stable again.


    Now, the iron.


    He retrieved a portion of the metal and set to work, carefully refining it into a new ring focus. His goal was clear—if he couldn’t increase his mana reserves right now, he needed something that optimized what he had. His old stone rings had helped filter and purify primal mana, but they had their limits.


    If he could craft something better—something stronger—maybe he wouldn’t have to fear mana depletion every time he tried something new.


    After hours of careful forging, engraving, and mana-infused shaping, he created a single iron ring—one designed to purify raw ambient mana and make it more usable. Where his old stone rings required three separate foci to do the same job, this one ring did it all at once.


    Holding it between his fingers, Traebus hesitated only briefly before slipping it onto his hand.


    A rush of clarity flooded his system.


    His exhausted body thrummed with renewed energy. The sluggish weight of drained mana vanished, replaced by a steady, natural flow of purified energy. It wasn’t unlimited—not by a long shot—but it was smoother, easier, allowing him to draw in magic without straining his reserves to the breaking point.


    He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.


    "Oh, that’s so much better."


    Dusk and Sparky, who had remained cautiously distant while he worked, flicked curious pulses his way. Even they could sense the difference.


    Grinning, Traebus flexed his fingers. He still had a long way to go before he could properly wield the power of Nekrium, but for now?


    This was a damn good start.


    Feeling emboldened by the success of his iron ring, Traebus decided to shift it to the finger next to the fused Nekrium ring. The moment the iron band settled into place, his mind reeled.


    A surge of raw efficiency flooded his system, so overwhelming that he staggered back a step. The iron ring, which had already been powerful on its own, now felt twice as effective. His mana was purified at an astonishing rate, flowing back into his reserves with unprecedented speed.


    His eyes widened as the realization struck him. Even being in proximity to Nekrium enhances magical constructs?


    The implications boggled his mind. If just wearing an ordinary iron ring next to Nekrium caused this much of an increase, what would happen if he built entire devices with the two metals interacting? Or if he forged more rings designed to enhance specific functions?


    His breath caught in his throat. He had just stumbled onto something massive.


    But theory meant nothing without testing.


    Steeling himself, Traebus turned his attention back to the Nekrium slab. This time, he wouldn’t try to manipulate a large piece—he needed a fragment, a sliver—something he could study without triggering another near-disaster.


    He retrieved one of his sharpest tools, a finely honed chisel, and positioned it at the very edge of the slab. Taking a deep, steady breath, he applied the lightest pressure possible, barely enough to make contact.


    The tool vibrated in his grip.


    Traebus’s focus became absolute. His muscles locked into place as he controlled every minuscule movement, adjusting the angle with excruciating precision. The Nekrium resisted at first, but with patience—and the barest flicker of resonance tuning—the chisel bit in ever so slightly.


    A delicate whisper of metal curled away from the slab, barely more than a shaving, but enough.


    Sweat beaded on Traebus’s forehead. He carefully lifted the chisel away and examined the sliver. It was infinitesimally thin, gleaming with an unnatural sheen, and pulsed with a soft energy that made his fingers tingle just looking at it.


    He exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "Alright," he muttered. "Let’s see what you can do."