Malrik stood with the same serene smile he always wore. Neither dust nor sweat clung to his form, as his solar energy incinerated everything that dared approach him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he worked to steady his breathing.
In his right hand, his katana vibrated in what felt like satisfaction, as though it had long yearned for a battle of such magnitude, and indeed, it had. With a single fluid motion, Malrik sheathed the blade into its scabbard.
Most Wargraves didn't even bother acquiring a scabbard for their weapons, much like Asher, who carried his rapier bare. But Malrik considered himself a true swordsman.
After awakening, he had specifically requested a scabbard and had never once carried his weapon without it, always secured at his waist, a symbol of discipline and pride.
