"That's the Caladbolg!" said Lexel as he rushed into her benchwork. Seeing that the famous sword already had cracks in it made his heart sink a little bit. He was just given the thing, and now... boom, it's in her hand.
"What?" Anthierin asked. She raised her hammer once more. Every hit she had against the sword was infused with refinement. The cracks were healing with each hit, but it took a lot of energy out of her. Sweat had begun to gather around her forehead, and despite her steady movements, the exhaustion was becoming apparent in the way her shoulders moved.
"Well, nothing," Lexel shrugged. "I just thought that I could play with it longer. Turns out, you get to it first."
Anthierin crossed her arms. She returned her gaze toward the weapon on her bench. The gaze of disappointment. "This sword won't be able to handle your power much longer. Since when did you learn how to use a sword anyway? I thought your fist was the main thing."
