Previously, she had been a beautiful longsword forged from obsidian-black metal, her edge permanently stained with a faint blood-red hue etched deep into the alloy itself. From her surface emanated a subtle yet unmistakable aura—one of bloodlust, brutal intent, and silent oppression, the kind of presence that made someone instinctively tense even without realizing why.
But beyond that presence, what had always set her apart was her craftsmanship. Every curve, every line of her blade had been polished to precision, and the forging was so masterful that even someone with no knowledge of weapons would instinctively understand—this was no ordinary sword.
She was the kind of blade whose balance, weight, and detail spoke not just of skill but of obsession, of a blacksmith who had poured everything into her creation.
And yet, for all that… she was still 'mortal'—a weapon forged with mortal materials, shaped by mortal techniques; refined, deadly, perhaps even peerless among mundane weapons, but still shackled by the limits of the mundane.
But now… now things had changed.
The masterful craftsmanship had been partially preserved, with some of it clearly lost, but compared to Sangrelia's new form, it wasn't even worth mentioning.
Sangrelia's blade was now a mix of three colors: obsidian black, bloody red, and a beautiful purple.
The blade remained primarily obsidian black, with the edge still stained bloody red, though that red now extended farther across the blade, subtly encroaching upon the obsidian territory—but that wasn't all. The most noticeable change lay in the beautiful purple veins that lined the blade's length, pulsing with a strange, otherworldly glow that gave her an almost mythical aura.
Even more eye-catching was the hilt; it had changed from its previous black color to a pristine, almost sacred ivory-white wood. It formed a sharp contrast to the rest of the weapon's bloody aura, yet that contrast only seemed to highlight the blade even further.
And last but not least was her aura, which had changed from its previously pure bloodthirsty nature—now, that bloodthirst was not only preserved but amplified, and along with it came a sacred aura emanating from the hilt, which, when combined, gave her a heavy presence that seemed to weigh on the entire room.
Anybody who saw her would understand right away: this wasn't just a reforged weapon, this was something that had changed, fundamentally.
Mikael blinked once, then twice, his expression caught somewhere between ecstasy and disbelief as he stared at Sangrelia's new form, still trying to process the presence she now gave off.
He had, of course, seen her new physical form—after all, he had been present throughout the entire reforging process—but it was only at this moment, as she awakened, that he didn't just see it… he felt it. And that made all the difference.
"Massteeeeerrrrrrrrrr!" a female voice carrying with it a mix of gentleness, shyness, and extreme bloodthirst spread through the room as Sangrelia shot out from her position on the table and flew toward him at insane speed, her sharp tip leading the way, seemingly about to pierce through him in the next moment.
Master Mardoc's expression shifted as he raised his hand, seemingly about to make a move, but Mikael shook his head, signaling that there was no need.
Swish.
And he was proved right when, an instant later, with the sound of air being cut, Sangrelia's form stopped just before reaching Mikael, only a few tens of centimeters from his skin.
She remained in that position for a moment, seemingly frozen, before she began to circle around him like an anxious puppy.
A hint of a smile touched Mikael's lips, as through the newly deepened bond with his loyal sword, he could feel her 'emotions'—a chaotic blend of worry, shyness, shame, and more.
"Hello, and welcome to the world of the living, Sangrelia~" teased Mikael, his expression a mix of joy and mischief.
Shhhh…
The next moment, Sangrelia's blade tilted toward the ground in an almost… sad fashion?
The sight made Mikael distinctly think of someone looking down in shame, not daring to meet the other person's eyes…
And at the same time as this thought crossed his mind, he felt the sensation of shame within Sangrelia suddenly surge.
Instantly, a flicker of confusion passed through the handsome man's mind before he understood, 'Ahhhh, it's that!'
He then slowly extended his right hand and gently placed two fingers on her reforged blade. Sangrelia imperceptibly twitched but remained in her 'pouting' position.
A gentle expression appeared on Mikael's tired visage as he spoke, "You know that I don't blame you for the siphoning process I experienced. I know it was only your instincts acting up, and that you didn't want to hurt me—and I don't blame you. So… liven up!" he finished on a more playful note.
Sangrelia's tip slightly lifted from its lowered position, slowly rising to meet Mikael's gaze, and in the next moment—
"...Sorry… Master." A low female voice, thick with shame, echoed through the forging room.
Mikael didn't respond with words but with action, moving his hand along the length of her blade before arriving at her pure ivory-white hilt, and without hesitation, he took the now reforged sword into his right hand, and then—
HHUUUMMMM.
Another deep hum rippled through the room, but this time it was far louder and more powerful, as from the beautiful reforged sword in his hand, an explosive surge of purple-red power burst outward in an astonishing display.
Only that this time, contrary to earlier, Mikael didn't have the force slam into him, as Sangrelia was awake and had controlled her own eruption of power to evade her Master, but…
The rest of the room wasn't so lucky, as the powerful shockwave reached the other part of the room; some of those areas were undoubtedly durable enough to endure it, but for the smaller objects, it would undoubtedly create disarray by sending them flying and making a mess, even if nothing would be broken because of their inherent durability.
Suddenly, just as the shockwave was about to reach them, and as Master Mardoc, who was quietly watching this display, was about to make a move to protect his forge, Mikael's sharp voice resounded, "Sangrelia!"
The purple and bloody repulsive power instantly froze; for a brief moment, it remained suspended in place, unmoving, before rapidly retreating toward Sangrelia from where it had surged. She absorbed every strand of her own released energy, and soon enough, the room returned to a deceptively calm state, with no visible trace left of her earlier outburst.
"Seriously, you're… something," murmured Mikael as his eyes remained on Sangrelia—and in that instant, he could have sworn he sensed the feeling of a sheepish smile in return.
Sigh.
A small smile curved his lips before he turned toward Master Mardoc and gave a respectful bow, "Sorry for the trouble."
The master blacksmith waved it off without concern, "No problem, it's perfectly normal—a weapon's manifestation at the moment of its creation is expected, and while your sword wasn't forged from nothing, it was still reforged in its entirety, so this kind of eruption is entirely within reason…"
As he spoke, his gaze never left the longsword he had just reforged, and within his eyes shone a glint of admiration and pride that lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he continued, his voice quieter, almost reverent, "This is truly one of my proudest creations—a blend of meticulous craftsmanship and a weapon spirit, merged together to give birth to this magnificent blade…"
He murmured those words as if to himself, seemingly lost in his own world, before a regretful expression crept onto his visage, "It's just a pity that the materials used were too poor, and consequently, it can't truly be considered my best creation—not even in the top three…" he continued, shaking his head slowly, and Mikael could clearly hear him muttering to himself again and again about how "It was a pity," repeating the sentiment as though it physically pained him.
Mikael inwardly rolled his eyes, 'Oh, I'm so sorry I'm not some young master sleeping under diamond-threaded quilts with bottomless pockets, able to toss around Peak Spiritual Foundation materials like candy—I even had to buy them with contribution points, how poor is that?'
He let out a faint sigh. 'Truly, I'm just far too poor, aren't I?' he inwardly added, 'voice' thick with sarcasm.
Though Mikael was inwardly complaining, he knew his 'complains' didn't have much bite, as in truth he was extremely happy with the end result and didn't care about the 'cost' or how 'poor' he was, his gaze landed on the longsword in his hand as he felt the power coursing through him—but before he could analyze it further, he heard Master Mardoc exclaim to himself.
"Damn, what am I doing wasting time!? I should be jotting down these forging insights—this level of craftsmanship deserves to be immortalized in my notebook and etched into my mind!"
With that loud outburst, he practically 'teleported' to a nearby table, where he immediately began scribbling furiously into a well-worn notebook.
Mikael raised an eyebrow in mild surprise at the sudden display, but quickly dismissed it—after all, in the near-week they had spent together, he had already learned that Master Mardoc was more than a little eccentric.
Of course, even that level of eccentricity didn't come close—not even remotely—to matching that of his own Master, Great Elder Jianhai, and as such, it didn't disturb him in the slightest; without wasting another thought on it, he calmly redirected his attention to the longsword 'pulsing' in his grasp.
In that moment, Mikael felt immensely powerful—not because his actual 'stats,' so to speak, had risen, as that wasn't the case, but because holding Sangrelia in his hands gave him the overwhelming impression that he could cut through anything with a single slash.
Of course, he knew full well that this was merely an illusion; the sword wasn't that overpowered—but even so, it was undeniable that with Sangrelia now reforged and vastly strengthened, his combat strength had just taken a tremendous leap forward.
How large was that leap? And what exactly was his current battle power?
Mikael didn't know—and truthfully, he didn't care.
After all, while a boost in battle power would normally be something to welcome, it paled in comparison to the fact that Sangrelia had been successfully reforged without a single issue, and even more so to the reality that her spirituality had evolved to such a point that true conversation between them was now… possible.
And really, when compared to that, what value did an increase in battle power even hold?
His gaze lowered to the sword gently pulsing in his hand, a faint smile rising on his face—one that, for a brief instant, he could've sworn Sangrelia returned in kind. They remained like that for a few seconds, neither of them 'speaking,' yet in that silence bloomed a resonance louder than a thousand words.
Swish.
With a smooth motion, he brought Sangrelia up and sheathed her in her favorite resting place across his back.
Vrmmmm.
Sangrelia released a gentle vibration to express her satisfaction, and at the same time, a soft "Comfortable" echoed in Mikael's ears, the voice calm and faint, yet unmistakably hers.
Author Note:
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Tried to combine the 'baddass' moment of Sangrelia power outburst at the end of the earlier chapter and the moment after where her new form post reforging was revealed with a more 'wholesome' moment where Sangrelia 'talk' for the first time and her spirituality reach higher levels.
Personally I found the interaction between Mikael and Sangrelia to be pretty wholesome and I think it's a good breather and change from the rest of the reforging process…
I would be interested in hearing what you think.
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— End of Chapter —