Leonel turned, his sniper rifle vanishing. The slight sound of a blade sharpening resounded, but what was truly baffling was that Leonel's spear hadn't touched a single thing.
The sound echoed once more, and then again.
It felt like one was watching a master at work, a blade slowly gliding against a whetstone gently. The blade slowly gained an edge of its own, the slight flicker of the master's wrist bending it to his will.
The leisurely expressions of the approaching Rankers grew serious when they heard this sound, but it only seemed to continue.
SHING SHIING SHIIING
Pick up the blade. Gently apply pressure. Glide it back. Lift it up and repeat again.
SHING SHIING SHIIING
The water slowly dripped from the whetstone and the blade, falling to the ground in delicate droplets.