For a few moments no one spoke.
The twin swords rested in Ethan's hands and their golden crimson glow reflected faintly across the forging chamber walls in shifting patterns. The heat from the forge had not fully settled yet but the atmosphere in the room had changed completely. It was no longer tense and pressing. It felt heavy in a different way, the kind of heavy that comes after something significant has been finished.
Rathlos was the first to step forward.
His eyes were fixed on the blades and for once there was no sarcasm in them and no doubt either. Only disbelief sitting plainly on his face as he looked at what was in Ethan's hands.
"You actually did it," he muttered.
Otlo walked closer as well with his steps slow and careful, as if he was afraid to disturb something that deserved more respect than a casual approach.
"This is not just a weapon," he said quietly, his eyes moving along the length of the blades. "It feels alive."
