The room was quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Raven stood like a dramatic anime protagonist, the sword raised high, eyes burning with anticipation.
Nothing happened.
Not even a spark.
"..."
Raven coughed into his hand. "Okay… maybe it's just taking a little longer to charge up. Yeah. That makes sense. Epic swords have dramatic timing. Builds tension. Delivers impact."
Still nothing.
The sword did not hum. It did not glow. It did not scream ancient oaths of war.
It just sat there like a depressed butter knife.
Another thirty seconds passed.
Raven gritted his teeth. "Okay, seriously, what the fu—"
"Yo, what the hell you doin', dumbass?"
The sword's voice echoed in his head, sounding personally offended.
Raven blinked. "Huh?"
"Nah, for real—what is this circus act?" The sword snapped. "You said you wanted to test me out, yeah? Then why you just standin' there like a confused possum? You gotta cut somethin', genius. That's kinda my thing."
