Wuxie tilted the DreadBlade upward with a casual flick of his wrist. Its obsidian edge hummed, shadows whispering off it like smoke trying to escape. He lifted it just enough to catch the glow of the fire, then pointed lazily at it as though showing off a trinket.
"You mean this thing? Sorry, it just followed me home."
The guardian's molten eyes narrowed, slits of crimson buried deep in a helm-like visage of flame and steel. The heat intensified, forcing the nearby marble to sweat and hiss.
"Do not jest, child. That blade is forbidden. A relic of ruin, forged to devour kings and nations alike. Its bearer is destined either for greatness… or destruction."
The words struck like an oath carved into stone, the kind that once might have terrified lesser men.
Wuxie only gave a half-shrug, his lips quirking in amusement, as though he had heard this lecture before in ten different variations.
