It was a black spear. This spear was quite unique in its design because both sides of the long shaft had a sharp tip.
The body of the spear gleamed and almost felt organic, yet there was a strange wrongness to this weapon, and at the same time, a familiar rightness.
It felt divine, like an absolute truth many would be forced to face. He felt the inevitability of its nature.
Damon knew this sensation all too well. This was death, straight up.
It was death given physical form.
"What… what is this…" Damon whispered.
Lazarak seemed to chuckle, yet his tone was anything but happy.
"That is Mutuwa… death. It is a spear made from a single strand of the goddess's hair and imbued with my essence… my repose."
Lazarak glanced at Damon.
"This is what you have been looking for, hasn't it? This is it. This is what death looks like."
Damon was silent. He had a feeling this was something that could truly kill him. Even deathless might not save him from this spear.
