Blade Summon

In the sanctum of their training space, Ragna assumed a role beyond that of a mentor; he became the weaver of shadows, the harbinger of arcane knowledge. As Alex stood at the centre, a canvas for the impending revelation, Ragna's eyes glowed with the intensity of ancient wisdom. 

Ragna's form seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows as he prepared to unravel the intricate art of summoning. The room's ambient lighting played tricks with his silhouette, heightening the mysterious aura that surrounded him. A soft hum carried his words, a prelude to the arcane knowledge he was about to bestow upon Alex. 

"You see, Alex," Ragna began, his voice a melodic undertone that resonated with the shadows, "summoning the wolves is a dance between your will and the abyssal essence. It's about tapping into the primeval forces that course through your veins, the very fabric of your being intertwined with the shadows."

He paced slowly, the dim light casting an animated dance upon his form. "To summon the wolves, you must become one with the abyss," Ragna continued, his words weaving a narrative of convergence. "Feel its pulse, let it synchronize with your heartbeat. Picture the wolves in your mind, visualize their essence merging with yours." 

 The air itself carried a hint of the wilderness, an intangible shift denoting the convergence of realms. 

"Summoning the blades is akin to this dance, Alex," Ragna continued, his gaze locking onto Alex's. "But with the blades, you must become the conductor, shaping the very fabric of darkness into lethal extensions of your intent." 

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "Imagine the blades in your mind's eye, see them as an extension of your will. Picture the edge, the curve, the very essence of their deadly grace. Then, with a gesture, command the shadows to conform to that vision." 

 "It's not just summoning, Alex; it's commanding. The blades are an extension of your will, a manifestation of your determination to shape the very darkness that dwells within you." 

He gestured towards the abyssal energy that lingered in the room, a pulsating force responding to Alex very essence. "Feel the energy coursing through you. It's not a separate entity; it's an extension of your will. The blades you summon will bear the imprint of your determination, a manifestation of your control over the shadows."

Ragna raised his hand, fingers outstretched as if conducting an ethereal symphony. Slowly, the ambient shadows gathered around his fingertips, swirling with an otherworldly grace. "Watch closely, Alex. This is how you beckon the abyss to yield its secrets."

The shadows obeyed Ragna's command, coalescing into a compact, obsidian blade that hovered in the air. Its edges gleamed with an ominous lustre, a testament to the potency imbued by the summoner's will.

"Now, it's your turn," Ragna declared, his gaze fixated on Alex. "Empty your mind, let go of doubt, and extend your will into the darkness. Feel the resonance between your intent and the abyssal energy."

Alex closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The room seemed to respond, the shadows embracing him like an old ally. He extended his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he sought the connection with the abyss within.

The process was a delicate dance between concentration and surrender. Ragna's voice became a guiding thread, leading Alex through the intricate steps of this arcane ballet. "Imagine the blades as an extension of your very soul. Shape them with the determination that burns within you."

As Alex delved deeper into the abyssal connection, a subtle vibration coursed through his being. Shadows converged around his outstretched hand, responding to the call of a fledgling summoner. The room pulsated with an unseen energy, anticipation hanging in the air like a prelude to an otherworldly performance.

With a burst of focus, Alex willed the shadows to take form. Slowly, a single obsidian blade materialized, mirroring the one crafted by Ragna's expertise. The air crackled with the manifestation, the blade hovering as a testament to Alex burgeoning mastery.

Ragna's eyes gleamed with approval. "Control is power, Alex. But remember, the dance has just begun. Each blade you summon is a reflection of your journey. Now, let the shadows become your allies, and the abyss your arsenal."

Ragna, the seasoned master, imparted the essence of summoning blades to Alex, the burgeoning pupil. The initiation began with the simplicity of names – a declaration that resonated through the void, compelling the very shadows to mold into weapons. Ragna, with an air of authority, invoked the name "Fury," and in response, his blades manifested with an ethereal swiftness.

Alex, however, stood at the precipice of naming his own weapon. The weight of choice lingered in the air, and he deferred the decision for a moment of inspiration. The training, now in the crucible of practicality, shifted to the test of sharpness. Ragna, the master of blades, took the lead.

In the ice-laden expanse of Hyousetsu, Ragna's blades cleaved through the crystalline boulders effortlessly, leaving a trail of shattered ice in their wake. His movements were a ballet of precision, and the resonance of each strike echoed in the frozen air. The blades, named Fury, danced with a grace that mirrored their master's expertise.

For Alex, the journey into sharpness was riddled with challenges. The blades he summoned faced adversity – breaking upon impact or proving too blunt for the task at hand. Frustration began to flicker in his eyes, a tempest of uncertainty that threatened to engulf his budding abilities.

Ragna, sensing the struggle within his pupil, saw an opportunity for a transformative revelation. With an understanding gaze, he fuelled Alex's anger – the ember that burned within him, stoked by memories of those who had marred his past. As the flames of wrath consumed him, Alex summoned a blade of unparalleled sharpness, naming it "Storm."

The resonance of Alex's invocation echoed through the ice-laden landscape, and as Storm materialized, lightning crackled in the sky, a testament to the blade's ferocity. With a single strike, Alex felt the difference – the blade cut through the ice boulders with an ease that transcended his earlier struggles. The air reverberated with the power of Storm, a manifestation of the tempest brewing within Alex.

The lesson was clear – the names weren't mere labels; they were conduits for emotion, catalysts that could elevate the sharpness and strength of the summoned blades. As Ragna looked upon his pupil, Storm in hand, he saw a glimmer of realization in Alex's eyes – a realization that the art of summoning blades was not merely a mechanical act but a harmonious dance between intent, emotion, and the very shadows that answered their call.

Ragna, his enigmatic aura never waning, bestowed upon Alex the next challenge – to forge a weapon of his liking, infused with the essence of his choice, and to summon it with the same mastery that he had displayed in the summoning of Storm.

"Alex," Ragna's voice carried both encouragement and expectation, "what weapon speaks to you? What form embodies your intent?"

As Alex pondered the question, a surge of emotions, memories both bitter and sweet, welled up within him. He recalled the pain, the betrayals, and the moments that had shaped him. From this maelstrom of emotions, a vision emerged – a beautiful scythe with an orange blade that seemed to dance with the hues of a raging fire, a handle adorned in a delicate balance of black and white.

"Oblivion," Alex declared, bestowing upon his creation a name that resonated with the haunting echoes of his past. The syllables hung in the air, a resonating explosion erupted, dispersing the mist of Hyousetsu. The shadows themselves quivered in acknowledgement of this new creation.

But it wasn't just the scythe that bore the weight of Alex's intention. A transformation unfolded within him, an eruption of crimson flames that enshrouded his body. His eyes, now glowing with a fiery crimson, reflected the inner fire that had fuelled the creation of Oblivion charged with determination.

Ragna nodded in approval, acknowledging the significance of the moment. "Now, Alex, let your weapon embody the pain, the strength, and the resolution within you. Slice through the boulder, and with every strike, let it be a testament to the forging of your own destiny."

Alex heeded the command, drawing upon the reservoir of emotions that fuelled his determination. With Oblivion in hand, he swung the scythe with a fluidity that belied its apparent weight. The orange blade cut through the boulder like a scorching comet, leaving a trail of fractured rock in its wake. Alex continued his assault, the scythe moving effortlessly, as if an extension of his very will.

When the onslaught ceased, a deep cleft marred the ground, testament to the newfound power coursing through Alex's veins. Ragna observed silently, his eyes reflecting both approval and a hint of something unspoken – a recognition of the journey that lay ahead for the apprentice who now stood as the architect of his own destiny.