A single question stormed through Ethios's mind.
How in the world am I supposed to become a sword?
He glanced at Alexa with a hint of confusion.
"How so?"
Alexa exhaled slowly. She knew ordinary explanations wouldn't work here. Ethios had never once heard of how the Akimo fought, so she decided to give him a practical demonstration.
She raised her hand high. A magical seal appeared upon her palm—circular in shape, surrounded by ancient Akimo inscriptions, glowing in a deep, dark blue.
Ethios's eyes widened in awe, only for his astonishment to deepen further.
At the center of the seal, something strange began to form, as if the seal itself were a gateway to another dimension. Moments later…
A blade emerged from within. The edge of the sword slipped out first, then, little by little, the entire weapon followed, until at last the sword fully manifested from the glowing seal.
It was breathtaking. Its hilt gleamed white, adorned with intricate crimson patterns. At the end of the grip hung soft, dense black fur. The blade itself was slender and razor sharp, polished so finely that Ethios could see his reflection in it as though gazing into a mirror.
Down the center of the blade stretched a peculiar line of black, from hilt to tip, its meaning unknown to him.
As his thoughts swirled, Alexa's lesson continued.
"This is the Sword of Kaito," she said. "One of the most renowned blades of the Siren clan. It was discovered at the very founding of our people, by King Shanis the First."
She turned to Ethios, her gaze steady and serious.
"Do you know how a warrior chooses their weapon?"
Ethios swallowed nervously, answering with hesitation.
"Not really…"
Alexa smiled faintly, then looked down at the blade in her hands.
"The truth is… the warrior does not choose the weapon. The weapon chooses its wielder."
Ethios listened intently, trying to grasp her words.
She continued.
"Do you know, Ethios? Long ago, the Akimo revered the weapons they carried. They believed each weapon held its own essence, its own personality, its own desires. They never treated them as mere steel, but as extensions of the soul."
She sighed softly before going on.
"Whether or not their reverence was justified, their perspective was not entirely wrong. A weapon chooses its bearer, not the other way around. A true warrior must first send his soul into the blade—make it a part of his very being. Only then might the sword accept him… or reject him. This, of course, applies to all weapons, not only swords. Remember: never treat a weapon as if it were nothing more than iron."
Ethios nodded as though he understood, though much of it still eluded him.
"How do I do that?" he asked.
Alexa stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"That, you must discover on your own. If I tell you how, then I will have forged the bond with your weapon—not you."
Ethios frowned slightly, hoping for guidance, but deep down he knew she was right.
She stepped back, lifting the sword once again.
"This," she said, "is the meaning of become the sword. You must make it inseparable from yourself. Bind your soul to its essence. Let it flow through you. Only then… will it decide whether to accept you or not."
Ethios gave a quiet nod, uncertain but willing to listen.
Alexa's gaze shifted toward a nearby tree. With a sudden, fluid motion, she swung the sword. The strike was swift and precise—so effortless that the tree fell in a single stroke.
For a heartbeat, Ethios could hardly believe his eyes. She had felled an entire tree with one motion.
"It cut down the tree in an instant," Alexa said calmly. "But that is all it can do, if you treat it as a mere sword."
Ethios tilted his head, unsure what she meant. She intended to show him.
Closing her eyes, she let the black line down the blade flare to life. Strange glowing runes appeared along it, shimmering in dark blue light.
Gripping the hilt with both hands, she pulled the sword far to her left side, her voice firm and commanding.
"Ethios. Stand behind me."
Without hesitation, Ethios obeyed.
Alexa drove her foot deep into the soil, bracing herself. Then, with immense force, she swept the blade in a wide arc—from the far left to the far right.
A brilliant blue crescent erupted into the air before her. Time itself seemed to freeze for a single breath. Then—
The arc surged forward with terrifying speed, splitting the air apart. It expanded as it traveled, stretching until its edges touched both ends of the lake. Water exploded into the sky, along with countless creatures, flung helplessly into the air.
The shockwave tore across the ground, ripping trees from their roots. Alexa stood firm, unmoving against the storm, holding Ethios steady at her side.
The boy's eyes widened in horror as waves of water, shattered wood, and flailing creatures rushed past. Yet what shook him most was not the destruction itself—but what came next.
The crescent blast reached the mountain across the lake. Without resistance, the peak split in two, sliced cleanly as though it were butter. A storm of dust and stone thundered toward them.
And still the arc pressed forward, vanishing into the horizon. Moments later, an earth-shattering explosion erupted in the distance. The ground trembled violently beneath their feet. For a brief while, the entire world glowed in blinding blue, before a wave of force rolled back and struck them. Ethios staggered, clutching his stomach as if his insides were being torn apart.
Then silence.
Only the echoes of devastation remained—the quiet aftermath of chaos. The air was thick with dust, the lake torn apart, the forest mangled.
Ethios could do nothing but stare in shock. Was his mother truly this powerful? Were there others among the Akimo who could match her? And if so… what would happen if such beings clashed?
He turned, trembling, to find Alexa gazing at him with a warm smile.
"Become the sword," she said gently.