Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1246: Anima Armor
Chapter 1246: Anima Armor
[Unnamed Armor]
Rarity: Anima
Type: Soulbound Armor (Incomplete)
Status: Awaiting Designation
[Anima Rarity]
Forged through the unity of mastery, instinct, and elemental will.
Anima-tier creations transcend conventional craftsmanship, drawing not only on technique but on the life force of their makers. They are born when the forge ceases to be a tool and becomes an extension of the soul; when creation, material, and mana fuse into a single pulse.
Each Anima artifact carries its own living resonance, evolving with its wielder and defying replication. The process to create one cannot be taught or repeated; it manifests only when experience, genius, and overwhelming elemental force converge in perfect accord.
Anima-tier equipment is not crafted. It is born.
—
Quinlan’s breath caught as he read those lines.
Anima… He had never heard of this rarity before.
As far as he was aware, rarities went as such:
Junk, Common, Rare, Epic, Legendary, Mythical, Unique.
However, it was important to note that Unique did not necessarily mean that it was the best of the best; just that only one piece of it existed in the world and that its replication was impossible.
For example, if someone found a material that only had enough of it in the whole universe to craft a single piece of gear out of it, then no matter the outcome, the end result would be the Unique rarity.
In a similar vein, Quinlan didn’t quite know what to think of the Anima rarity. The old primordial dwarf who made his Soul Reaper, Björn, crafted Mythic-rarity gear. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think that their creation surpassed the billions-of-years-old dwarf who was the greatest crafter in the history of Thalorind.
Instead, it was likely that just like the Unique-rarity, it fell out of the conventional tiering system of the artifact rarities.
It wasn’t surprising to him to see that they created one such piece, after all, it required a truly outlandish combination: the Mythwright-classed Rykar who blessed them with his centuries of knowledge and experiences as well as giving Quinlan the ability to work without having any smithing related classes, added to it was the generational talent’s excellence in Kaelira’s masterful hammering, all of it fueled and brought together by the elemental furnace, the enigma whose powers even he himself didn’t understand fully.
Be that as it may, Quinlan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in its mouth.
As such, he stopped reading the description and pondering its meaning, instead taking in the sight of their creation.
And what a beauty it was…
The armor before him looked nothing like what was commonly found in armories. The adamantite, the rarest ore known to man, had been reforged so completely that it no longer resembled its natural form.
The surface carried the sheen of oil-slick darkness, devouring light rather than reflecting it.
It was a mean piece of work.
Every curve, every ridge had a purpose. The pauldrons were lean, functional, shaped for movement rather than grandeur. The chestplate held no symbols or engravings. It was the perfect armor for a man who could command shadows but fight just as well beneath the sun.
Quinlan let out an exhale as his eyes, full of excitement, found their way to the skill descriptions.
[Imbued Skills]
[Anima Ward]
Reduces all incoming damage by 25%.
The armor empowers itself to bolster its defensive capabilities by drawing strength from its core essence. Each strike consumed drains its core. When the Anima Ward is fully depleted, the skill enters a dormant state until refueled.
[Mimetic Shell]
Allows the armor to seamlessly alter its appearance and composition at the user’s command. It can assume the form of casual wear, formal attire, or any protective gear the user imagines. Mana cost is negligible for surface-level changes.
An armor that hides in plain sight, shifting between elegance and terror.
[Heart of the Anima]
Passively enhances the wearer’s durability. As long as the armor remains bound and charged, its pulse synchronizes with that of its wielder, becoming an extension of their being.
Vitality + 50
…
“I have no words…” Quinlan muttered. The 50 Vitality stat was an eye-poppingly immense amount. 25% damage reduction on top of it… He’d just become a tank.
An Elemental Mage Warrior Necromancer Slave Master saber-wielding tank…
Though he didn’t quite know how to refuel the armor, it was very short on details there. But that did not dismay Quinlan.
The cherry on top, its second skill, was also greatly intriguing his mind. He couldn’t wait to try it out.
But first, the name.
Kaelira stood near the forge with her palms clasped neatly before her thighs. Her long elven ears twitched in small, quick movements that betrayed her excitement, even as she tried to look composed.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t even blink much, just watched Quinlan and the armor in reverent silence, waiting for his reaction like a priestess awaiting a god’s verdict.
Quinlan’s eyes left the armor, finding her. She stood there the same way she always did: ready to serve, ready to please, ready to put everyone else’s needs before her own. He wondered, briefly, if she even remembered what it felt like to want something for herself.
“What are you waiting for so far away?” he finally addressed the tomboy elf with a warm tone. “Come, check our masterpiece out.”
Her lips parted. “Wouldn’t you like to observe your armor alone, Lord Quinlan?”
But when he smiled – really smiled – she lit up. The reserved elf vanished in an instant, replaced by a girl brimming with joy. She rushed forward and circled the armor, bouncing from one side to the other. Each time the forge light caught on the black adamantite surface, her eyes shone brighter.
“It’s perfect…” she whispered while crouching a little to look closer at the leg plates. “Not a single seam… every line fits…”
Then she stopped, turning back to him. Her voice softened. “Thank you… for letting me be part of this.” She dipped into a bow. “I’m honored-”
Her words cut short when she felt a firm tap against her forehead.
Quinlan’s finger rested there, stopping her from bowing further. “You don’t get to say that,” he said. “This was only possible because of you. You’re not allowed to exclude yourself from the credit of its creation. Understood?”
Her eyes widened, and the corners of her eyes turned glassy, but she smiled through it. “We created something outstanding, didn’t we, My Lord?”
He nodded. “We did.”
Then he reached down, letting his fingers brush against hers before taking her hand fully. He pulled her gently beside him, both of them now facing the armor together with their reflection visible on its dark surface.
“Let’s name it together,” he said.
Her grip tightened around his. “Together…” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.
Their heads turned, and their gazes met.
To the onlookers, Seraphiel, Vex, Kitsara, and Rykar, it looked as if the two were simply staring each other down in eerie silence.
In truth, words were passing between them in rapid succession through [Master’s Link], their voices echoing in one another’s minds.
<What about ’Veluna’?> Kaelira offered shyly.
Quinlan’s expression shifted. His smile twitched, somewhere between amusement and pain. <That sounds like a perfume, Kaelira.>
Her cheeks puffed.
It was Quinlan’s turn. <What about ’Oblivion’s Blazing Requiem’?>
Now it was her turn to grimace. <My Lord, with all due respect, that sounds like something a fourteen-year-old farmer boy who left home to become an adventurer and finally managed to gather enough coins to buy the cheapest leather armor in town would name his gear.>
<… You are always so subservient, but it seems even you can have a sharp tongue on you from time to time.>
<… I don’t know what you mean, My Lord.>
<Sure you don’t.>
And just like this, the exchange continued, bombarding each other with names that the other didn’t quite like.
Her ears drooped at his name suggestions, far too grandiose for her liking. It sounded like someone trying too hard to be badass; it wasn’t natural.
In return, Quinlan felt as if the beast in his pants turned smaller and smaller upon hearing her suggested names, knowing he would feel like a sissy if he wore such a feminine-sounding armor.
But then the elf’s beautiful eyes suddenly lit up. <What about Synchra? Isn’t it good for an armor that has a rarity we have never heard about? Anima seems to be about the armor synchronizing with its wearer on a far deeper level than we ever thought possible.>
Quinlan mulled the name over his tongue. <Synchra, huh… It’s not quite badass enough…>
Seeing the narrowing of the elf’s eyes, he gave it a second chance, saying it again. <Synchra…>
Somehow, he liked it more the second time he said it. <Not too girlish, nor overly manly. The perfect middle ground.>
They turned their attention back to the armor.
“Your name is Synchra.”
At once, the forge stirred.
