Chapter 127: Exchange
A soft ripple shimmered through the air as Philip emerged from a tear in space, the world bending slightly around him like fabric drawn by unseen threads. He stood before a towering gate veined with mana-conductive metal—ornate yet subtle, hiding the truth of what lay behind. To the average citizen of Lagos, this estate was just a symbol of old wealth—an ancestral home nestled discreetly amidst luxury high-rises. But Philip, now attuned to far deeper frequencies of power, saw its true essence. This was no ordinary mansion—it was the heart of the Adebode lineage, one of the oldest and most secretly influential Awakened families in West Africa.
The gate creaked open without a sound.
Two guards stood on either side, cloaked in armor that shimmered like silk but pulsed with mana. They looked like men in expensive suits—well-groomed, dignified—but beneath their finely tailored appearance were battle-hardened warriors equipped with mana-forged pistols and hidden blades. They had not been here the last time Philip visited, or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed. But nothing escaped his senses now.
Concealed weapons, not bad, he thought as he nodded at them. They stiffened slightly—from fear. They knew who stood before them.
Inside the manor, Philip stepped into an ambience of flowing energy and cultured decadence. The walls glowed faintly with runes, preserving artwork from centuries past. Floating bookshelves lined the walls, their tomes held aloft by pure will and mana-threaded enchantments. Ethereal tapestries shifted in texture with the light, depicting battles, coronations, and forgotten treaties between powerful houses.
The scent of incense laced with dreamroot made the air rich, almost meditative.
Philip let himself admire the scenery for a moment. A few years ago, I was still normal,"* he reminded himself. *"This would've felt like a dream."* Despite everything he'd seen—worlds beyond, sacred temples—there was still something awe-inspiring about earthly legacy wielded with such quiet, refined power.
He was ushered into the main sitting room, where the elders of House Adebode awaited him with practiced smiles. Their robes shimmered with passive enchantments, but none of them radiated active hostility. Seated at the center was Chief Adeseye Adebode, patriarch of the house and a man known both for his cunning in politics and his silence in magical affairs.
Philip skipped the pleasantries.
"I need two spatial rings with extensive space," he said calmly. "And two weapons—one light-elemental, the other attuned to sound manipulation. One for my sister, one for my brother."
Adeseye studied him. "You don't want artifacts?" the elder asked, raising a brow.
Philip shook his head. "Not unless they're compatible. Most ancient artifacts require resonance or bloodline, and I'm not risking instability. Mana-forged weapons will do—for now."
The patriarch chuckled lightly. "Wise. Most don't realize artifacts are relics of a different era. Dangerous, temperamental... powerful if accepted, deadly if not. What we have are weapons forged with purpose—mana tech crafted in harmony with element and rank. Come. Let us show you."
They led him through a hallway sealed by layered enchantments. At the end stood a vault forged from adamantium and enriched mana steel .
Inside, the air was thick with elemental hums. Racks of weapons floated mid-air—blades crackling with fire, staffs breathing mist, hammers that pulsed like hearts.
"We organize them by grade and affinity," one of the attendants explained. "Low-grade for Awakened, Adepts, and Commanders. Mid-grade for Masters to Grandmasters and Sages. High-grade for Monarchs, Mystics, and Legendary ranks. And here..."—he gestured reverently—"Perfect-grad. Rare and Powerful. Limited."
Philip walked past most of them until he paused before a set of twin-bladed tonfas glowing with soft, golden light. Light-elemental. Designed for rapid movement and elegant strikes. "This will suit Amaka."
For Nathaniel, he found a slender, black-silver blade with vibrating runes on its edge. When he lifted it, the air seemed to shimmer around it—compressing, folding. Sound-based. It would let Nathaniel cut not just through flesh but through amplify his powers
He picked two spatial rings from a sealed crystal case—each capable of holding 40 cubic meters of items. Forged from folded space and stabilized, they weren't flashy, but their internal storage was rare enough to justify the steep cost.
He held out **twenty high-grade mana stones**—dense, glowing gems crackling with controlled energy. "This should cover everything."
The Adebode attendant hesitated, then nodded. "More than enough, My Lord."
Philip nodded and turned, already preparing to open a spatial gate.
The weapons hadn't cost much in the grand scheme of things—common mana-forged tools crafted for rank progression—but spatial rings of this magnitude were considered strategic assets by many organizations. Few civilians or even military personnel had them.
As he tore a hole back to his compound in Lagos, his thoughts wandered to Amaka and Nathaniel. He had given them mana breathing techniques, taught them how to absorb ambient essence, but he hadn't truly prepared them.
There should be techniques in the library that should help them.