Wukong's Guidance
His hands trembled on Muramasa's back, and his heart pounded at the changes in the smith's curse. No, it became much more.
Instead of driving non-demons mad, the curse struck anyone wielding his weapons but his subjects—no matter their species—adding a terrifying buff to their arsenal.
His lips curled into a warm smile, joy sparkling in his eyes as he pulled back.
"I consider you family, too." He wiped his wet cheek and nudged Muramasa's chest. "I'll get you more materials soon. Surpass the gods and show me the pinnacle of craftsmanship."
Muramasa nodded and high-fived him, the enthusiastic noise brightening the warehouse.
"Only the best artisan can accompany the man who'll overthrow them." They grinned at each other before Muramasa continued. "You should meet with Wukong. He almost deafened me going on about you becoming his disciple while we spied... I mean, observed Gilgamesh's summoning."