Bob took the newly forged longsword from Loa and ran his rough fingers over its blade.
The eight facets felt cold, hard, and smooth beneath his fingertips. Against its dark base, glimmers of starlight and faint blue-violet light occasionally flashed and vanished.
He picked up the strip of magical beast hide he had prepared beside him-the soft belly hide of a Level Four Wind Element magical beast, supple and breathable.
The old blacksmith's hands were steady. He worked slowly, but every wrap fitted snugly against the last, with even tension throughout.
Layer upon layer of hide overlapped around the grip. He finished at the end, securing it firmly with specially made glue and fine thread.
Once he had finished wrapping it, he handed the sword back to Loa.
"It's done," Bob said, his voice carrying fatigue, but also the satisfaction of a burden lifted. "This thing has already exceeded my expectations. Of all the weapons I've made in my life, this is about as good as it gets."
He paused, looking at the blade, dark as an abyss. "Whether it's Saint quality, I can't say. But it's certainly no worse than what an ordinary Level Nine warrior would use. As for how far it can go in the future... that'll depend on your fortune."
"Give it a name, you little brat."
Loa reached out and took it.
The unidentified magical beast hide felt slightly cool and snug in his hand, fitting the curve of his palm perfectly. He turned his wrist slightly and spun the sword in a flourish.
The blade cut through the air with a low sound, not the shrill whistle of metal, but more like some heavy fabric being torn apart at speed. It sliced the air open, leaving a fleeting blue-violet trail of light.
Loa's eyes