Rise of the Wretched! (1)
When the sword was forged anew, its shattered bits drawn together by attractive swirls of energy that gathered at the very center of their orbit, it almost seemed as though nothing about the weapon would change.
The shards of steel arranged themselves neatly, forming a thick, lime green blade of approximately 1.7 meters. A hilt was swiftly formed with a cylindrical shape layered in gold, a pretty image of a woman embossed on it cleanly. It was her long hair that had much detail, visibly spinning around the hilt to reach its guard, while the woman's face remained vague, but dignified.
As the new Mythical grade weapon fit in Skullius' grip, its full likeness brought into perspective, one couldn't help but be torn on whether Demion's Dance was a katana or a falchion. Some would argue that it was both.
The Hybrid Luman himself didn't care what it looked like. Rather, he was preoccupied with how it felt when its fullness finally attached and bonded to him formally.