Thane narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. The glow pulsed—a pale shimmer seeping from beneath the carved wood.
That looks like loot. Thane stepped closer. His own clothes were a disaster— soaked through with cold sweat, vomit, and his unfortunate loss of bladder control.
With a sigh, Thane slid the flail off his shoulder, where it had been resting, and set it gently against the floor. The spiked head thudded softly against the floorboards, the chain giving a lazy clink as it coiled in a loose spiral. For all its menace, the thing had grown oddly familiar in the last few hours. He had almost forgotten he was holding it, despite the weight. Still, not exactly helpful when trying to lift a wardrobe.
He rolled his shoulders, braced his stance, and slipped his fingers under the edge of the heavy wardrobe. With a sharp breath and a grunt, he heaved—only to find the wardrobe lifted far more easily than expected. The sudden surge of strength caught him off guard. The massive piece of furniture flew back, leaving his grip, and crashed onto the decaying canopy bed behind him.
The wood groaned once, twice—then gave way in an explosive collapse. The floor beneath the bed disintegrated, splinters and dust erupting into the air as both wardrobe and bed plummeted straight through with a deafening crash. A storm of broken beams and rotted boards thundered into the darkness below, echoing through the hollow manor like a gunshot. Thane staggered back, heart hammering, eyes wide. "Well," he muttered, coughing through the cloud of dust, "guess I'm stronger than I thought." He crept forward and peered down through the gaping hole, watching fragments settle amid the wreckage below. "Sorry, house," he added, not sounding especially sorry. "Didn't know my own strength."
Thane bent down, brushing aside dust and fragments of rotted flooring to retrieve the torn up bundle of cloth wedged beneath where the wardrobe had once stood. It shimmered faintly, not with glamour but with quiet confidence—as though it knew it was important. He picked it up carefully, the fabric strangely supple and cool despite the stagnant air around him.
Guess it pays to look under furniture now.
He muttered, "Identify," and the SYSTEM obligingly responded:
[Regal Inclination of the Chosen Heir (R.I.C.H.)]
Type: Light Armor
Rarity: (Unique)
Description: Full-body coverage spandex-like cloth. It can change colors, including rendering parts of itself invisible. When all the pieces are worn, they mesh together into a single suit. Once fully equipped, it cannot be removed until the wearer dies.
Dimensions: N/A
Requirements: Level 1
Set Bonuses:
Wearing one piece: Nothing. If you can't afford more, you're too poor to own it.
Wearing two pieces: Congratulations, you're now poor and stylishly mocked.
Wearing three pieces: You clearly left one at your mistresses—go back and get it.
Wearing four pieces (full set): Bonuses unlocked (Note: if durability falls below 30%, only the repair enchantment remains active until fully restored):
Stay Cool – Always the perfect temperature, no matter the weather.
No Scratching – That one itch you can't reach? Gone. So are all the others.
Frictionless – No chafing. Even after your fourth helping of roast duck.
You're Clean – Hygiene's a lifestyle, not a burden.
Odorless – You'll never smell bad again. Unless you want to.
Bathroom Portal – Nature calls. You answer. Reality cleans up.
Maid Free – The armor self-cleans and self-repairs. You're above chores. [Mana Cost: Variable]
Color Me Pink – Or any color. Change it with a thought. [Mana Cost: 10]
Holes – Want to eat without stripping? Make a mouth-hole. Need another kind of hole? We don't judge.
[system hint set armor:]
[This set armor is unique in the way its bonuses work as pieces must be worn to work. Normally set armor works as follows: Each piece of gear has a specific bonus attached to it. That bonus will work without wearing the full set just at a reduced capacity. Example, you have a pair of boots that give you a 100% increase to movement speed. The set armor has four pieces total. You only have one out of the four pieces so the boots only give you a quarter of the bonus. Alone the boots would give you 25% movement speed, add another piece the boots grant 50% and so on.]
Thane stared at the SYSTEM message, lips parting slowly. "What… the heck did I just read?"
He lifted the fabric again, turning it over in his hands. It sparkled faintly, silk-smooth and faintly stretchy. It looked like something a cartoon superhero might wear—if that superhero was a bored billionaire with no filter and no shame.
His brow furrowed. Wait... it can't be removed until I die? That gave him pause. Permanently bonding magical spandex to his body wasn't exactly in his five-year plan. Is it going to fuse to my skin like some cursed fashion parasite?
He held the cloth up to the light, sighing. Then again... magical armor that never needs washing.
He looked down at the grime-caked tatters hanging off him, then back at the suit. "I… guess I'll try it on?"
With a resigned shrug and a wary eye on the half-collapsed floor, Thane stepped into a shadowy corner of the master bedroom. The air hung heavy with dust and old rot, but it was at least private enough for what came next. He peeled off the remains of his clothing—glued to him with sweat, and stiff from dried vomit. The shirt made a wet shhluck as it came free from his back, and his pants assaulted his nose as he kicked them off.
"Good riddance," he muttered, grabbing the foul bundle and lobbing it toward the yawning hole left by the wardrobe. They tumbled end over end and disappeared into the darkness below with a wet-sounding splat that made him wince.
"Then, taking a breath, he knelt beside the torn, shimmering black fabric—four tattered pieces that looked more like discarded scraps than armor—and began the slow process of figuring out which ragged edge went where. After a moment, he identified what had to be the remains of the pants—judging by the rough leg holes and unfortunate breech tears—and slipped them on first."
The moment the fabric touched his skin, the remaining pieces twitched—then slithered up his legs and torso like living cloth, wrapping around him with eerie precision. It slithered over his skin like poured silk, clinging snugly but not uncomfortably. The moment the final seam locked in behind his neck, the armor shimmered faintly with a soft chime. It felt… breezy. Seamless. Weightless. Like he was wearing nothing at all.
A heartbeat later, blinking messages began to overlay his vision.
[R.I.C.H. Armor Repair Process Initiated]
[Error:No mana detected in wearer – Repair Unable to Activate]
[Error:Insufficient magical capacity (INT/WIS too low)]
[Searching for alternative energy source…]
[Solution Found]
[R.I.C.H. Armor Set will now draw ambient mana from environment until full durability is restored]
Thane watched the string of errors scroll past with an expression somewhere between alarm and awe. A moment later, the fabric began to softly hum, absorbing specks of light that drifted lazily through the broken windows like glowing dust motes.
He glanced down at himself. The armor no longer shimmered with age or dust—it was clean, vibrant, tailored to him like it had never known another wearer. For all the ridiculousness in its description, the craftsmanship was undeniable.
"…Okay," he breathed, flexing his fingers. "That's actually kind of cool."
Then he noticed the fit. The armor clung to him like a second skin. Not in the heroic, comic-book way—more in the I-shouldn't-have-skipped-cardio kind of way. It didn't hide anything. Not the slight paunch he'd picked up from a year of comfort eating, and working at a computer desk most of the day. He was comfortable with his body—had no problem with it really. But he wasn't the type to wear grey sweatpants in public.
At least it's supportive – but man would I pay good money for a cup. Just imagining his new flail swinging around wildly, hitting him in places it really shouldn't, made him flinch. If that thing tangled in the wrong direction, he'd be singing in a different octave.
He shifted uncomfortably, still adjusting to the second-skin sensation. A part of him—small but persistent—wondered if putting the armor on had been a mistake. Too tight. Too clean. Too something. But then a spark of curiosity cut through the unease.
Wait… what else did this thing do again?
With a flick of thought, he brought the character interface back up.
[R.I.C.H. Light Armor – Integrated Functions]
[Stay Cool – Always the perfect temperature, no matter the weather.]
[No Scratching – That one itch you can't reach? Gone. So are all the others.]
[Frictionless – No chafing. Even after your fourth helping of roast duck.]
[You're Clean – Hygiene's a lifestyle, not a burden.]
[Odorless – You'll never smell bad again. Unless you want to.]
[Bathroom Portal – Nature calls. You answer. Reality cleans up.]
[Maid Free – The armor self-cleans and self-repairs. You're above chores. (Mana Cost: N/A)]
[Color Me Pink – Or any color. Change it with a thought. (Mana Cost: N/A)]
[Holes – Want to eat without stripping? Make a mouth-hole. Need another kind of hole? We don't judge.]
Might as well test some of this out.