Leo looked at the Sword his father was holding. "Is that a?"
Ryuji answer him. "Hell Blade yes".
Leo just blinked. "Ok, like how did you get it?"
Ryuji answered him. "We went to investigate, after your mission, especially after what you did".
Leo looked at his dad. "Tendo deserved it".
Ryuji srugghed. "Not saying he didn't and I won't lecture you"
He then looked at the Blade. "This Blade is of Ingrid".
Leo blinked. "The Hell knight forgot her blade?"
Ryuji looked at his son. "More like she was in rushed and lost it".
Leo looked at it. "Now, it want a new master?"
Ryuji srugghed. "Yeah, that's why we haven't touched it, so d-"
Leo grabbed and the sword changed, reacting to the Fuuma Demon Mark, The Back Light and Tendril power as it Changed
The moment Leo's hand wrapped around the hilt, the Hell Blade screamed.
Not a sound in the air — a sound in the bones.
Ryuji's eyes widened.
"Leo— let go—"
Too late.
The skull in the guard cracked, its eye sockets filling with black light instead of red. The flames along the blade twisted, turning from infernal crimson to a violent mix of red and abyssal black, like living veins crawling across metal.
The sword reshaped itself.
Spikes grew along the spine.
The edge split into a serrated, organic line — not forged, but grown.
A tendril slid from Leo's wrist into the hilt, fusing weapon and wielder.
Leo didn't look possessed.
He looked… comfortable.
He swung it once.
The air tore.
A pressure wave slammed into the far wall and carved a deep, clean gouge through reinforced concrete like it was paper.
Ryuji stepped back.
"…It accepted you."
Leo tilted his head, feeling the weapon like a new limb.
"No," he said quietly.
"It adapted."
The blade pulsed in his hand, responding to his heartbeat.
Leo rested the Hell Blade on his shoulder.
Black veins faded slightly, leaving a permanent hybrid pattern along the metal.
"Guess she's going to want this back," he said.
Ryuji gave a dry laugh.
"She's going to want you dead."
Leo smiled.
"Yeah. She can get in line."
Here are both scenes, clean and cinematic.
Later
Training hall. Late evening.
Asagi was mid-strike, wooden blade stopping an inch from Leo's throat.
"Again," she said.
Leo didn't move.
He just reached over and picked up the Hell Blade from where it was leaning against the wall.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Asagi blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…What," she said slowly, "is that."
Leo held it up casually. The hybrid metal pulsed — black veins under crimson glow, like a heart beating inside the weapon.
Asagi stared.
Her combat instincts screamed.
That is not a sword.
That is a threat.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"That's demonic," she said. "High class. Not mass-produced. Not modern. Not Fuuma."
Leo shrugged.
"Found it."
The skull at the guard opened one eye.
Asagi froze.
"…It's alive."
Leo rotated his wrist. The blade shifted shape slightly, serrations flexing like muscle.
Asagi took a full step back.
"Leo," she said carefully, "tell me you did not bond with a Hell weapon."
He smiled.
"It bonded with me."
The blade pulsed in agreement.
Asagi pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I leave you alone for one mission," she muttered, "and you come back with a Class-A demonic artifact fused to your nervous system."
She looked up at him again.
"You realize every demon who senses that is going to try to kill you."
Leo:
"They already are."
Pause.
Asagi exhaled.
"…Fair."
She pointed the wooden sword at him.
"No techniques. No biomass. No sword."
Leo tilted his head.
"You're banning it?"
"I'm banning the apocalypse blade from sparring practice," she said flatly.
Then, after a beat:
"…But after training, you're showing me everything it can do."
Hell territory. War chamber.
Ingrid walked in, armor still scorched from battle.
She reached for her back.
Nothing.
She stopped.
Her hand moved again.
Empty.
Her eyes widened.
"No."
She turned, scanning the room like the blade might be leaning against a wall.
It wasn't.
The bond was gone.
Not broken.
Taken.
She could feel it.
Changed.
Her jaw tightened.
"…Someone touched it."
A low-rank demon approached.
"Lady Ingrid, the Succubus King requests—"
"I know what he requests," she snapped.
Throne room of the Succubus King
Velvet darkness. Perfume. Power.
The Succubus King lounged on his throne, smiling like he already knew.
"You lost something," he said.
Ingrid dropped to one knee.
"My Hell Blade has been… claimed."
The room went silent.
That was not a small failure.
The King's eyes sharpened.
"Destroyed?"
"No."
She hesitated.
"It lives. But it has… changed allegiance."
A murmur ran through the court.
The King leaned forward.
"Who."
"I don't have a name," she said. "But the bond is no longer infernal. It is… hybrid. Demonic, yes — but mixed with something else. Something consuming."
The King's smile returned.
"Interesting."
Ingrid's hand clenched.
"I request authorization to forge a new Hell weapon."
He raised a brow.
"Those are not replaced. They are earned."
"I know."
Her voice hardened.
"Then consider this a new trial."
The King studied her.
"And the one who took it?"
Ingrid's eyes burned.
"He is mine."
The King laughed softly.
"Ah. So this is no longer about the weapon."
Ingrid did not answer.
"Very well," the King said. "You may reforge. But understand this — the one who took your blade now carries your mark."
"I am aware."
"And if you fail again?"
"Then I will not return."
The King smiled wider.
"Good. I prefer my knights motivated."
After the throne room
Ingrid walked alone through the infernal forge corridor.
Her chest felt tight.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Anticipation.
She could still feel the Hell Blade.
Not as hers.
But as something connected.
She closed her eyes.
"…So," she whispered, "you're the one who touched it."
A faint pulse answered across dimensions.
Ingrid smiled.
"Good."
Flames rose around her.
"Let's see if you can survive me."
To be continued
Sorry for the short Ch everyone