Ethan stood silently in the center of the cavernous chamber, gently running his fingers along the newly refined, smoothed edge of his black sword where the deep fractures had just bound together.
"What exactly was that, Crul?" said Ethan, communicating directly through his consciousness.
[That wooden toy contained the compressed, pure intent of a true sword master, along with a hidden martial inheritance,] said Crul. The ancient voice chuckled darkly deep within his mind. [The simpletons of this pavilion thought it was just a failed relic, but your blade knows how to harvest the finest meat. Here, take it. It belongs to you now.]
