Meanwhile, Vaelith watched in silence as Bruce brandished his new weapon.
Swoosh-!
Swoosh-!!
Swoosh-!!!
Swoosh-!!!!
Each swing cut through the air with frightening precision, trails of red light flashing with every arc. The blade shimmered in the dim glow of the cavern, its crimson aura pulsing rhythmically, alive, almost breathing. It wasn't just sharp; its hungered.
Vaelith's light flickered faintly, a hint of satisfaction behind the ancient will's tone.
[It's good that you like the weapon. Not that there was ever a chance you wouldn't, after all, it was created by the Mana Heart itself, from the deepest preferences buried within your soul.]
Bruce stopped mid-swing, the blades humming faintly in his grasp.
"From my deepest preferences, huh…" he murmured, his gaze thoughtful.
