There was a large table in the center of the room, carved from rich mahogany and polished until it gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier above. Around it were seated and standing several striking figures, each possessing a distinct presence that made the air feel charged with meaning. Anastasia Hoshin sat gracefully in her pristine white dress, the hem embroidered with subtle silver patterns that caught the light as she shifted. Her loyal knight Julius stood at her right hand, stoic and vigilant as always, his sharp eyes calmly observing every detail in the room. In a dimly lit corner, the towering figure of Halibel stood like a statue, radiating silent strength. Beside him was a man in his late forties, wearing a finely tailored outfit that hinted at noble heritage. His posture and calm expression exuded a quiet authority that made his identity clear even before introduction.
Behind them, two individuals cloaked in thick, travel-worn garments stood motionless. Their hoods were pulled forward, obscuring their features in shadow. Each of them held a box—one intricately sealed with arcane symbols, the other plain but clearly heavy with importance. The atmosphere was hushed, tense not with hostility but with the gravity of what was to unfold. This was no casual visit—it was a meeting of deliberate purpose, the kind that might mark a turning point in more than one life.
For a fleeting moment, Subaru's gaze met Halibel's. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange lasting no more than two seconds, yet carrying the weight of unspoken history. Perhaps it was mutual respect. Perhaps the echo of battles past. Whatever it was, it manifested in a subtle nod from both men—an acknowledgment steeped in more than mere politeness.
Breaking the silence with elegance, Anastasia rose from her seat, a gentle smile curving her lips. "Subaru-kun! What a relief to see you safe. Welcome. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. Allow me to introduce someone very dear to me—my uncle, Ricard Hoshin."
Subaru stepped forward, offering a courteous bow. "I'm Natsuki Subaru. Accompanying me are Rem, Meili, Elsa, my contracted spirit Beatrice, and my sister—Natsuki Hikari. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we can foster goodwill."
Hikari mirrored his bow with quiet grace, while the others followed with their own respectful gestures. For a moment, the room held its breath. Not in hesitation, but in recognition—this was more than a simple exchange of names. The people in this room represented factions, beliefs, and intentions that could shape the future.
Ricard took a step forward, the wooden floor creaking faintly beneath his polished boots. He removed his hat with a slow, deliberate motion and offered a slight incline of his head in return. His hand came to rest on the carved handle of the long cane he carried—a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, its surface adorned with patterns worn soft by years of use. It was no mere accessory; its presence spoke of tradition, of memory, of leadership weathered by time.
"To finally meet the young man who led the effort to liberate Banan from the grip of the Witch Cult... It is a privilege, Natsuki-dono," he said, his voice rich with authority and sincerity. "Anastasia-chan has spoken of you at length. What touched me most was hearing of your reunion with your sister. That small joy amidst the storm—may it never be taken from you."
Subaru, along with Beatrice and Hikari, took their seats in the finely crafted chairs across from Ricard. The cushions were thick and inviting, the wood carved with floral motifs—yet none of them relaxed. Behind them, Elsa, Rem, and Meili remained standing, their posture firm and alert. Elsa's eyes flicked subtly between every figure in the room, her body poised like that of a blade still in its sheath, but ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Even in the midst of diplomatic formality, she carried herself like a hunter who had never left the battlefield.
Subaru smiled gently, bowing his head once more. "You flatter me, Ricard-san. But I don't believe I did anything extraordinary. Anyone in my shoes would have made the same choice. When there's no other path, you walk the one that lies ahead."
Anastasia tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as if studying the deeper layers of Subaru's modesty. "Subaru-kun, let's not pretend. You didn't just walk forward—you fought and survived against two Sin Archbishops. No one else has achieved that. Not even the strongest in our land. This was no mere coincidence or twist of fate."
Ricard gave a solemn nod, supporting her words with a weight of his own. "Indeed. Your deeds saved countless lives. And for that, as a representative of Banan's people, I would like to offer you a token of our gratitude—not only as a gesture of thanks, but as a mark of the alliance we hope to build with you."
He lifted a hand slightly, and the two hooded attendants stepped forward. One of them held out a box—wrapped in lush purple velvet, its edges lined with delicate gold embroidery. The other remained still, clutching the sealed container.
Ricard turned his gaze back to Subaru. "Anastasia-chan informed me that your weapon was completely destroyed in your battle with the Sin Archbishop of Greed. Considering that, I had this new weapon forged specifically for you. May it serve not only as an instrument of protection, but as a symbol of resilience. I hope it lends you strength in the days ahead, and reminds you that you are never without allies."
The lid of the ornate box the maid carried was slowly lifted, revealing its contents with a sense of reverence. Nestled within was a pair of daggers, forged from luminous, shimmering moonstone that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. Each blade had been masterfully carved, with meticulous etchings running along their length—fine grooves designed to channel and conduct pure mana with optimal efficiency. The edges of the blades emitted a soft, pale light, giving them an ethereal presence.
The hilts, a sleek and elegant fusion of blackened silver and onyx, were works of craftsmanship in their own right. They bore swirling patterns, and at their base, faint inscriptions glimmered—short verses etched in an ancient, long-forgotten language. These runes pulsed subtly, hinting at enchantments woven into the very core of the weapons.
"These daggers were forged from a rare and powerful variant of moonstone," Ricard began, his tone calm but proud. "It has unmatched mana conductivity, a trait few materials possess. Julius-san described your combat style to me in detail, so I commissioned these blades from the most skilled blacksmith in the Banan region. Not only are they incredibly light and easy to wield, but they are also extremely resilient. When properly attuned to the user's mana, they resonate—creating a reaction that enhances both speed and impact."
Subaru leaned forward slightly, captivated by the blades. His eyes reflected the soft glow of the daggers as he studied them. The energy they radiated was tranquil, like moonlight on still water, yet beneath that calm exterior, he sensed dormant power waiting to be awakened. A weapon not just of craftsmanship, but of purpose.
Yet his gaze drifted, almost pulled, to the sealed box that rested just beside it. Unlike the open container, this one remained tightly shut, and from its edges leaked a dark, oppressive energy. It was subtle, but unmistakable—a wrongness in the air that set his nerves on edge. Hikari's cheerful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a tense silence. Rem, too, stood stiffly, her expression sharpening into wary concern.
Raising a hand slowly, Subaru pointed at the sealed box. "What about that one? There's something off about the aura it's giving off... It doesn't feel natural."
Ricard, unsurprised, allowed a small, knowing smile to cross his face. "I thought that might pique your curiosity. That particular weapon is... different. It's sealed for a reason. Not because it's dangerous—though it is—but because its nature defies simple explanation."
The room seemed to dim as Ricard straightened slightly, placing more weight on his cane. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of memory and legend.
"This blade was entrusted to my ancestor, Alec Hoshin, nearly four centuries ago by none other than the Great Sage himself. At the time, it was said to be one of the Ten Great Power Blades—artifacts of immense magical potential. But unlike the others, this one was different. Darker. More elusive. The energy at its core doesn't resemble traditional mana. In fact, many believe it comes from beyond our world... from a plane of existence we've only glimpsed in nightmares."
He let the words hang for a moment before continuing. "Throughout the centuries, countless warriors have tried to wield it. Some collapsed instantly. Others were flung backward, as if repelled by an invisible force. None succeeded. And as the years passed, its aura changed. It grew colder. Angrier. It began to resemble the miasma of a witch—a corruption that seeps into the air and lingers in the soul."
Subaru instinctively stepped closer to Rem, unsettled. The calm, inviting mana of the daggers was a stark contrast to the oppressive aura now weighing down the room. Hikari narrowed her eyes as she too sensed the unnatural presence, while Meili, seemingly overwhelmed, took an unconscious step away from the box.
Ricard went on, his gaze focused on Subaru. "I once considered giving this sword to Julius-san. He is a noble warrior, skilled and disciplined. But... it rejected him. Not just metaphorically. The blade lashed out—it actively denied his touch. I believe now it is not a weapon to be chosen by a wielder. It is a weapon that chooses its own master. And perhaps, that master is in this room."
He gestured silently to Julius, who approached the sealed box with solemn determination. His boots echoed against the floor as he stopped before it. Taking a deep breath, he began removing the arcane seals, one by one. Each talisman he peeled away seemed to thicken the air. The flow of mana in the room grew erratic, like a stream diverted by unseen forces. Curtains fluttered despite the stillness. The flame of a nearby candle dimmed and flickered wildly.
Finally, the last seal broke with a faint hiss.
The box creaked open slowly, and in that moment, the aura trapped within burst forth like a tidal wave. It swept through the room in an instant, heavy and suffocating. The weapon inside lay nestled in a bed of crimson velvet: a sword, gleaming with a deep, almost blood-red metallic hue. Its surface was not smooth, but veined with thin, shadowy lines that pulsed intermittently, as though something within was alive.
The hilt was unlike any other. Carved in swirling patterns that shifted when stared at too long, it bore a symbol at its center—one that writhed like a serpent, never still. It hummed faintly, the sound more felt than heard, like a voice whispering just beneath the threshold of perception.
Subaru froze. A sudden chill laced his spine. Somewhere, buried deep in his consciousness, a whisper called out to him. He couldn't understand the words, but the intent was clear: this sword was bound to his destiny.
Julius exhaled slowly, his face composed but wary. With precise, measured movements, he stepped forward and reached for the blade. The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the room fell deathly silent.
Then, as if provoked, the sword responded.
A pulse of cursed energy surged through the metal. Thorn-like protrusions erupted from the hilt and drove themselves into Julius's hand. Blood welled at the points of impact as he clenched his jaw against the pain. The sword had not simply rejected him. It had punished him.
And yet, even as the blood dripped to the velvet lining below, the blade seemed to stir anew—its whispers louder, its pulse stronger.
And all eyes turned to Subaru.
Julius recoiled with a sharp grunt, clutching his hand in pain. Blood trickled freely between his fingers, vivid crimson staining the polished marble floor below. His breathing quickened, and a tense murmur ran through the room. One of the cloaked attendants sprang into action, robes fluttering with urgency. Kneeling beside Julius, the attendant whispered a spell under his breath, summoning a gentle yet radiant glow that enveloped the wounded knight's hand. The bleeding halted almost instantly, but the tension in the room only thickened.
The silence that followed was stifling, as though the very air had turned heavy. Everyone—Subaru, Elsa, Rem, Hikari, and Beatrice included—stood rooted in place, their eyes locked onto the sword. It shimmered faintly, a pulsating light flickering beneath its darkened surface. Shadows curled along its edges like tendrils of smoke, as if the weapon itself was breathing. The dark energy it radiated seemed alive, humming faintly in a tone only barely perceptible, yet felt in the chest like thunder in the distance. The atmosphere resembled the ominous calm before a lightning strike.
Ricard broke the silence, his voice deep and deliberate. Turning toward Julius with a look of regret, he then shifted his gaze to Subaru.
"As you can see for yourself, Natsuki-kun... this sword is no ordinary artifact. It is no longer something that can be wielded with mere strength or skill. It has become something else entirely. It demands a bearer it deems worthy—someone it will accept willingly. That is why I offer you a choice. The chance to try. If it recognizes you, then—and only then—will it be yours."
A flicker of memory stirred in Subaru's mind, sudden and vivid. He could hear Flugel's voice once more—distant, cryptic, yet unforgettable: "One of the five cursed relics that still exist in this world... It destroys the weak-hearted, consumes the wavering, but grants immense power to those it acknowledges."
As those ancient words echoed in his mind, Subaru's lips curled into a crooked, almost reckless smile. A subtle shift in his eyes betrayed his resolve. "Of course I'll try," he said, his voice steady.
The response triggered an immediate reaction. Hikari rushed to his side, her eyes wide with panic. "Nii-nii! Please, don't do this! You saw what happened to Julius-san! What if it goes worse for you?!"
Rem was quick to follow, her footsteps light but urgent. Her expression was filled with concern, hands clenched tightly at her sides. "Subaru-kun, this is too dangerous. You don't need to prove anything. We're here for you. There's no need to take this risk."
Elsa remained still, like a statue carved in tension. Her violet eyes narrowed as she studied Subaru in silence. Beside her, Beatrice folded her arms, her gaze sharp and calculating. She said nothing, but her presence spoke volumes.
Subaru lifted a hand gently to calm them, his expression soft yet unwavering. "I understand. But this is something I have to at least try. I won't force it. If the sword rejects me, I'll let it go."
Taking a long breath, he stepped forward. Each footstep echoed through the chamber like a countdown, carrying the weight of tension and anticipation. The sealed box on the table shimmered with faint magical light, the velvet beneath it slightly rippling with unseen energy. Subaru paused before it, then reached forward. His fingers closed around the hilt of the sword with purpose.
Unlike with Julius, the sword did not resist. There was no violent backlash, no lash of force or burst of dark magic. Instead, the aura of the weapon shifted. The chaotic energy began to swirl inward, harmonizing with Subaru's own presence. It was as if the sword were inhaling, tasting the soul that held it. The black mist slowed, then steadied. The oppressive air lightened, if only slightly.
Before Subaru's eyes, a familiar translucent screen appeared, glowing with pale light:
[DING!!]
Cursed Weapon "Duskveil" - Synchronization Complete
All Requirements Met:
- Possession of a Cursed Heart
- Holder of Authority
- Experience with Death
Subaru stared at the blade with a deep, almost reverent fascination. The hilt no longer felt alien—it felt warm, as if recognizing him. The immense power once masked as menace was now something else: a steady pulse, like a second heartbeat. The sword had accepted him.
Ricard let out a long, slow breath, the sound breaking the silence. Then, with measured grace, he began to clap. The applause echoed through the hall, slow and deliberate.
"Congratulations, Natsuki-dono. The Cursed Sword: Duskveil—one of the Ten Great Power Blades—is now yours. My ancestors believed this weapon would one day choose a new master. It seems that day has come, and that person... is you."
Subaru bowed, gratitude and a strange intensity gleaming in his eyes. His hand rested firmly on the sword's hilt, unwilling to let it go. "Thank you for this honor, Ricard-san. I will carry this gift with the respect it deserves."
But deep within, a whisper lingered—eager, insistent. "I want to test it... I want to know what it's truly capable of."
Anastasia stepped forward, her tone light but her eyes watchful. "Thank you again for coming, Subaru-kun. Please, allow me to escort you."
As Subaru moved to sheath the sword at his waist, a thought struck him. His steps halted, and he turned back to Ricard.
"Ah, before I forget—Ricard-san, would it be alright if I also took those daggers over there? I have a feeling I won't be fully attuned to this blade for a while yet."
Ricard blinked in mild surprise. Then, after a moment of contemplation, he chuckled heartily. Subaru's eager, intense expression reminded him of Anastasia's when she was younger—unpolished ambition burning behind clear eyes.
"By all means, Natsuki-dono. Take them. They are yours now."
And so the ceremony came to an end. Subaru, Beatrice, Rem, Hikari, Elsa, and Meili offered their thanks to Ricard and Anastasia and exited the hall with quiet dignity. Yet, despite their composed expressions, a single unspoken question lingered in each of their minds:
What will Subaru do... now that he holds Duskveil?
Elsa approached Subaru with swift, purposeful strides, her boots barely making a sound as they hit the ground. There was a glint in her eyes—not of surprise, but of quiet satisfaction. A strange, gleaming light danced in her gaze, the kind that suggested an old hunch had finally been proven right. She halted just a step away from him and tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a subtle, knowing smile.
"Honestly," she murmured, her voice laced with a faint amusement, "I had a feeling you'd be accepted by that sword. There's something about your aura... it's soaked in death. That sword would feel right at home with you. I can sense these kinds of things."
Not far away, Beatrice sat cross-legged atop a small bench, a thick leather-bound book balanced on her lap. She paused mid-page, her fingers resting lightly on the parchment, and chimed in with her usual matter-of-fact tone. "Betty sensed it too, in case you were too dense to notice. That sword reeks of the same scent you carry. It's not a coincidence, it's compatibility. It was always going to choose you."
Subaru gave a small, sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, two smaller figures came charging up to him with fierce determination burning in their eyes.
"Onii-chan!" Hikari shouted, stomping her foot as she clenched her fists tight. Her voice trembled with frustration. "If that sword had hurt you even a little more... I would've destroyed it! Shattered it into pieces! Ground it to dust! I swear, I won't forgive anything that dares to harm you!"
Meili was right behind her, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrows drawn together in a deep scowl. "Subaru-nii, if that blade touches you again, I won't hesitate. One swing. That's all it'll take to break it. You matter more than some creepy sword."
Their synchronized declarations caught Subaru completely off guard. For a moment, he was speechless—then he burst into laughter. It wasn't forced or strained; it was genuine, full of warmth and affection. Their words, while intense, came from such an honest place that he couldn't help but be moved.
"Alright, alright," he said, chuckling as he held up his hands. "You two are dangerously adorable. It's a little scary, but also kind of sweet. But seriously, I'm okay. I promise."
The tension in the room began to melt away as laughter and light conversation returned. The group, now less burdened by the earlier intensity, made their way toward the inn they'd been staying at. For a while, they walked in silence, their footsteps echoing softly across the stone path that stretched ahead. The sky above had taken on a soft hue, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, casting long golden shadows behind them.
Subaru slowly let his pace fall back, allowing the others to move ahead as he maneuvered closer to Rem. With a quiet glance toward her, he lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Rem... there's something Elsa and I need to do. It's important. I can't explain everything right now, but I will later. I promise. For now... could you keep Hikari and Meili busy? I need to make sure they don't follow us."
Rem's blue eyes turned to meet his, her brows twitching ever so slightly. She wanted to ask questions, to probe further, but something in his expression made her stop. The calm resolve in Subaru's gaze reassured her. Whatever he was walking into, he was prepared. And so, she simply nodded.
By the time they arrived at the inn, the streetlights were starting to flicker on, casting soft glows across the cobblestone. Hikari, Meili, and Rem stepped inside without further protest, though Meili continued muttering under her breath. Hikari, meanwhile, turned at the doorway to shoot Subaru one last glare—a sharp, silent warning that she would not forget this.
Subaru and Elsa exchanged a wordless look and slipped quietly down a side street, away from the inn.
Elsa glanced back at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched and a teasing smile dancing on her lips. "So... dragging me off into the night? Are we calling this a date, Subaru?"
He grinned and gave a casual shrug. "Call it whatever you want. Half a date, maybe. The real reason is a promise I made yesterday. Remember Hal-san? The shinobi? He said he could train us. I think... this is a rare chance we shouldn't waste."
Elsa's expression brightened immediately. The prospect of training didn't weigh on her like a chore—to her, it was an invitation to revel in chaos and control, to sharpen instincts and dance on the edge of danger. "You said shinobi? Shadows, blades, stealth, deadly techniques... this is going to be incredible. I live for this kind of thing. And sharing the experience with you? Even better."
They continued walking under the twilight sky, the road leading them through winding alleys and over narrow bridges. Soon, the path opened up into a wide clearing surrounded by trees and low fencing—the training ground Halibel had told them about. The scent of sun-warmed earth and faint steel filled the air. It was a place meant for grit, sweat, and discipline.
The training field was simple, yet refined. A wide, open expanse of hardened soil stretched before them, bordered by hand-built wooden fences. The setting sun cast golden light across the terrain, creating long shadows that stretched like grasping hands.
In the center, two figures were locked in a fierce sparring match. One was a young man in his twenties, tall and broad-shouldered, with pale green hair tied back into a loose tail. His swordsmanship was fluid and sharp, each movement purposeful, refined by countless repetitions.
Opposite him was a striking young woman with cropped, golden hair and a compact, muscular frame. Her outfit was minimal and tactical: tight wrappings across her chest, leaving her toned midriff exposed, and light trousers tucked into boots. Her eyes burned with intensity, and every step she took was charged with energy. She moved like a coiled spring, agile and ready to strike at any moment. The way her fists and feet flowed through the air made her resemble a warrior straight out of an action manga.
Subaru and Elsa paused at the edge of the field, silently observing the duel. The clang of steel and the thud of impact reverberated across the arena. There was something magnetic about the way the two fought—a balance of aggression and discipline, like predators testing each other.
Subaru folded his arms, exhaling softly. "They don't hold back, do they?"
Elsa smiled, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "No... and that's exactly what makes it beautiful."
As Subaru and Elsa scanned their surroundings with careful, alert eyes, they noticed a faint trail of smoke curling up into the afternoon sky. Following it, their gazes settled on the far edge of the training ground, where Halibel sat in his usual fashion—perched comfortably on a worn wooden stool. The older warrior's posture was as relaxed as ever, one leg casually draped over the other, and a cigarette held loosely between two fingers. He exhaled slowly, releasing a stream of smoke into the warm air, completely unbothered by the intensity of the day or the presence of others. To Subaru, who carried the weight of expectation and tension on his shoulders, Halibel's demeanor resembled that of a man who had already fought a thousand battles and had nothing left to prove.
As Subaru and Elsa began walking toward him, an odd blur flickered in the corner of their vision. In less than the blink of an eye, Halibel vanished. He reappeared an instant later—now directly in front of them. There was no sound, no indication of movement. Just the lingering smoke curling from his lips, as if he had never moved at all.
"So, you came after all, Su-san," he said with a sly smirk, his voice a disarming mix of sarcasm and fondness.
Subaru bowed slightly in his usual respectful manner. "Hal-san, it's good to see you again."
Elsa gave a slight bow as well, her gestures quiet and elegant.
Halibel chuckled low in his throat. His eyes, sharp and golden, twinkled beneath the falling light. "I figured you'd show your face eventually. But not this soon. I gave it three more days at the very least. Looks like I lost that bet."
Subaru shrugged with a wry grin. "You know how it is, Hal-san. Wounds are just temporary inconveniences. If I rest too long, I'll go soft."
Spinning the cigarette between his fingers with practiced ease, Halibel gave a half-nod. "You came here for the sword. I can see it in your eyes. Smell it on you, almost."
Subaru scratched his cheek, a little sheepish. "Well... you're not wrong."
It was then that Elsa spoke up, her tone casual but curious. "Then why did you take the twin daggers, Subaru?"
Reaching beneath his cloak, Subaru pulled out the two shining daggers and offered them to her. "They're for you. I thought they'd make a good placeholder until we can get that fan-dagger hybrid made. These aren't exactly what you asked for, but they're a solid start."
Elsa accepted the weapons with a faint smile and walked off a bit to test them. She twirled and slashed lightly in the air, her movements smooth, her form precise. The blades cut the air with minimal resistance. She tested their weight and balance, silently evaluating them. Halibel observed her for a moment out of the corner of his eye and grinned faintly. "Ah, to be young," he murmured, a fresh puff of smoke trailing from his lips.
Subaru stood beside him, his gaze distant. Though Halibel didn't look particularly aged, something about him—the wear in his posture, the depth behind his eyes—carried the weight of decades. He seemed older than time.
"So, what now, Hal-san?" Subaru asked, shifting his attention back.
Halibel took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, snuffing it beneath his boot. "First, I want to see how you fight. You used daggers before, didn't you?"
Subaru nodded and called forth Duskveil. With a sudden flash of reddish-black light, the cursed sword materialized in his hand. It thrummed with energy—alive and heavy, yet oddly familiar. The air around it pulsed, growing colder.
Subaru looked at it thoughtfully and muttered, "I kind of wish this thing was a dagger."
The moment the words left his lips, a strange ripple danced across Duskveil's surface. The blade darkened visibly—not a mere change of light or shade, but an internal reaction. The corruption seemed to pour from within the sword, like ink blooming in water. Thick, dark mist rolled out, surrounding it in a suffocating shroud. An instant later, a surge of icy cold crawled through Subaru's arms. Gasping from the sudden shock, he let go.
The sword never hit the ground. The black mist caught it, spun around it like a living thing, guarding it. The shadows grew thicker, pulsating with a rhythm not unlike a heartbeat. Halibel's relaxed demeanor shifted—his eyes narrowed, posture tense. He watched the transformation in silence.
Then, with an almost organic shudder, the swirling darkness burst outward. Two distinct shapes fell from the heart of the mist—first blurred and indistinct, then clearly defined. Twin daggers, forged from the same obsidian-like metal as Duskveil, floated downward, spinning gracefully before landing softly in the dust.
Subaru stared, wide-eyed. The cursed sword had split itself—no, transformed itself. This wasn't a random occurrence; it felt deliberate, almost... sentient.
He crouched, picked up the daggers, and examined them. As his fingers wrapped around the hilts, a jolt of energy passed through him. Cold yet strangely intimate. The weight, the shape, the aura—they all felt like Duskveil, but honed, refined. The air around them was still, expectant.
"Did you know it could do this, Hal-san?" Subaru asked in a hushed voice.
Halibel shook his head slowly. "No. Ricard wasn't wrong. You're the only one who's ever truly wielded it. Whatever it's doing now... it's responding to you. I've never seen anything like it."
Subaru's thoughts raced. His mind spun with possibilities. He had thought of Duskveil as a weapon, a tool—but what if it was more than that? What if it was a reflection? A companion? A force that evolved alongside him, adapting to his needs, his desires?
"I have to talk to Flugel about this..." he thought, his grip tightening around the daggers. This was no ordinary weapon transformation. This was a sign—of his growth, of the journey ahead, and of the dark, hidden potential still waiting to be uncovered.