The announcement regarding Adrian’s personal customization of weapon artifacts was released across the entire sect, reaching every disciple.

Reactions rippled through the base immediately. In the communal areas, disciples gathered in clusters, their voices rising in disbelief and excitement.

“Elder Adrian is customizing weapons? For everyone?”

“That can’t be right. There are over one hundred and fifty thousand of us.”

“The announcement is official. It came directly from the Administrative Hall.”

“But how is that even possible? One person handling all of this?”

Murmurs spread like wildfire, disciples exchanging glances filled with equal parts hope and skepticism. The prospect of receiving a personalized artifact from an elder of Adrian’s caliber seemed almost too generous to believe.

With the sect’s numbers now exceeding one hundred and fifty thousand disciples, it was neither practical nor efficient for Adrian to personally gather information from each individual. Instead, a structured system was established. Disciples were instructed to register themselves within the sect’s local network, updating and expanding upon the data already maintained by the sect.

The registration terminals appeared throughout the base, glowing interfaces embedded into walls at strategic locations. Disciples queued in long lines, some fidgeting nervously while others reviewed their information on handheld nodes.

“What are you putting for combat role?” a young woman asked her companion.

“Scout. I’ve always worked best alone.” The man beside her frowned at his own interface. “Though I’m not sure how detailed to be.”

“The instructions said to be thorough. Elder Adrian apparently reads every profile.”

“Every profile?” The man’s eyes widened, “That’s insane.”

The Crimson Vital Sect already possessed basic records of its members, but with additional input provided directly by the disciples, comprehensive personal data files could be compiled for each individual.

This process allowed for the creation of detailed personal profiles for every disciple. These profiles contained not only their basic information but also critical combat data, including their preferred weapon types, combat roles, and specialization paths. Whether a disciple identified themselves as a vanguard fighter, a rearguard, a scout, an inscriber, or an alchemist, all of it was recorded with precision.

In the Administrative Hall, Elder Varcain monitored the incoming data streams. Rows of glowing projections displayed completion percentages across different districts.

“Outer disciples are responding quickly,” an assistant reported, “Core disciples are being more deliberate with their submissions.”

Varcain nodded, “As expected. Those with more experience understand the value of precision here.”

“Elder, some disciples are submitting multiple revisions.”

“Allow it. Better they provide accurate information than rush through this opportunity.”

As sufficient data began to accumulate, Adrian commenced his work.

The storage facility became his workshop. Adrian stood before a long table where he had arranged the first batch of cleansed weapons, twenty blades of varying lengths and designs, their surfaces unmarked and ready.

He pulled up the first profile on his node. A vanguard fighter named Torvus, specializing in frontal assault. Preferred weapon: heavy broadsword. Combat philosophy: overwhelming force.

Adrian studied the combat recordings attached to the profile. Torvus fought with aggressive momentum, each strike committing his full weight. He relied on raw power rather than technique in a fight.

For such a vanguard fighter wielding a heavy broadsword, Adrian inscribed the Arcane Concept of Gravity, designing the weapon so that it felt weightless during movement, yet delivered strikes with the crushing force of a mountain upon impact.

The mana ink flowed from Adrian’s fingertips, guided by precise mana and willforce control. The symbols interlocked in cascading patterns, each reinforcing the others.

When the inscription stabilized, Adrian lifted the blade. It felt impossibly light, almost floating in his grip. He swung it experimentally. The air barely stirred during the arc.

Then he struck downward.

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The impact crater in the reinforced floor measured two meters across.

Adrian nodded, satisfied, and moved to the next profile.

For scouts who relied on speed and stealth, he crafted sets of daggers imbued with Space and Shadow concepts, enabling their strikes to bypass physical distance or emerge directly from a target’s blind spot.

A female scout named Fyessa received twin daggers. Adrian inscribed spatial compression along the blades’ edges, allowing them to fold distance during a thrust. The shadow concept wove through the hilts, suppressing the weapons’ presence until the moment of attack.

A support cultivator who specialized in defensive formations received a staff embedded with barrier generation. An alchemist who occasionally joined combat received throwing needles infused with corrosion and poison delivery systems. A mid-range fighter received a spear that extended its reach through controlled spatial distortion.

A ranged cultivator received a bow that generated its own spatial arrows.

Each weapon required approximately thirty minutes to complete, but the process extended beyond mere inscription. Adrian first studied the disciple’s data in detail, ensuring a deep understanding of their combat style and needs. He then erased any remaining runic traces from the weapon before crafting and inscribing a personalized structure tailored specifically to the user.

Once completed, the disciple was summoned to test the weapon personally, and if any imperfections or incompatibilities were observed, Adrian would further refine the inscription until it aligned perfectly with the user.

Torvus arrived first, his massive frame filling the doorway. Adrian gestured toward the broadsword resting on the table.

“Test it.”

Torvus lifted the weapon with obvious caution, then blinked in surprise. “It’s… light.”

“Swing it.”

The vanguard fighter moved, his movements fluid and unrestricted. The blade responded like an extension of his arm rather than the cumbersome weight he was accustomed to.

“Now strike that target.” Adrian pointed toward a reinforced training dummy across the room.

Torvus charged, his momentum building naturally without the usual drag of a heavy weapon. When his blade connected, the dummy exploded backward, embedded halfway into the far wall.

Torvus stared at the destruction, then at the sword in his hands. “This is…”

“Yours,” Adrian said simply. “Return to your duties.”

The vanguard fighter bowed deeply, clutching the weapon as though it were sacred, and departed.

Fyessa entered next, moving with the silent grace of her profession. Adrian handed her the twin daggers without preamble.

She examined them, her fingers tracing the nearly invisible inscriptions. “They’re suppressing their own presence.”

“Test them.”

Fyessa vanished into the shadows at the room’s edge. For three heartbeats, Adrian sensed nothing. Then both daggers materialized from empty air, their points stopping a hair’s breadth from his throat.

Adrian didn’t flinch. “Acceptable?”

Fyessa withdrew, her eyes bright. “More than acceptable, Elder.”

Before, Fyessa couldn’t do this. The crimson vital sect’s divine concept had nothing related to do with the concept of shadow, and even her own comprehension of the concept was not at the level of Advanced Galactic Level. But now, using this weapon, she can hide her presence, which would be extremely helpful in combat and her scout missions.

“Good. Next.”

Beyond the primary functionality, Adrian also embedded an additional safeguard within every weapon. A small emergency formation was inscribed, designed to activate automatically when it detected that the wielder’s lifeforce had dropped to a critical level.

This addition came after reviewing reports from the previous war. Too many disciples had died in situations where a single second of escape could have saved them. Adrian refused to let that happen again.

Upon activation, the emergency formation would unleash an unexpected spatial slash toward nearby enemies while simultaneously teleporting the user a short distance away from immediate danger. The detection of allies and enemies relied on logic similar to what Adrian had once used in the Milky Way Galaxy, where the Origin Net identified members of the Origin Clan. Here, the Andromeda local network served the same purpose, allowing the formation to distinguish official disciples of the Crimson Vital Sect from enemies.

The teleportation effect was deliberately limited to only a few meters, sufficient to evade a fatal strike but not extensive enough to strain the weapon’s structural integrity. Adrian understood that the primary Arcane spell inscription and the storage space for essence crystals already occupied the majority of the weapon’s capacity, leaving only limited room for additional formations. Attempting to overload the weapon with excessive inscriptions would cause it to collapse and break under the strain. As such, he carefully balanced the power and efficiency of each component, maximizing effectiveness within strict limitations.

His routine quickly settled into a disciplined rhythm. He would examine the disciple’s data, cleanse the weapon of its remaining runes, inscribe a personalized structure, and finally conduct a practical test with the disciple.

Days passed in this manner. Adrian was able to complete only around thirty weapons per day, as the process demanded immense mental focus and consumed a significant amount of his willforce.

Although the passive recovery spell continuously circulated within his body, it did not render him inexhaustible. His willforce remained finite, requiring him to rest for several hours each day to recover.

When exhaustion finally forced him to stop each day, Adrian would dismiss his work and sit in meditation. The willforce recovery spell worked steadily, knitting his consciousness back together fragment by fragment.

And this also became his personal time. Sometimes he spent it with Aerin, watching her train under Hestia’s relentless instruction. Other times, he roamed the base, observing disciples as they cultivated and trained.

Sometimes, he even guided disciples with the customized weapons, already training under the guidance of Elder Torvain.

Sometimes, he attended sect meetings where Hestia and the elders coordinated war preparations.

Overall, Adrian did not view this thirty count of weapons per day as a limitation. With nearly a century of time available, even a pace of thirty weapons per day would result in more than ten thousand weapons within a single year. Over the course of a decade or two, the entire sect could be fully equipped with personalized weapons tailored to each disciple’s strengths and roles.

As years passed and while Adrian remained immersed in his work, other developments unfolded simultaneously within the sect, particularly within the inscription department.

Lysandra had taken command with characteristic intensity.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep