There once was a loyal sword in a story unknown to you, hidden in the shadows of its master’s life.

This sword wielded itself in the darkest recesses of its master’s shadow.
It bore the blood of hundreds, cutting down countless enemies.

The sword’s master used it without hesitation.
The sword, which desired no payment, was nothing more than a tool, perfect for unrestrained use.

The sword wasn’t a fool.
Knowing full well it was being exploited, it still nodded in acceptance, comforting its master’s sorrows and struggling to lead them toward a better path.

When the master fell during trials, it became their cushion, lifting them up.
When no escape was possible, it became their shield, guarding them from harm.

The sword pointed its blade at those who opposed its master.
It struck down those the master despised.