Malone watched as the angel held the sword in her palms, divine power beginning to flood into it.
The sword rotated epicenter of her palm as a series of ancient encryptions began to carve themselves into the blade.
One blessing.
That was all the blessings this sword was receiving.
But this one blessing was Divine in nature as such it gave rise to multiple.
The runes, patterns, and clustered words glowed pure gold on the steel blade.
Greater Blessing of Purity: Can cut Greater Daemon flesh and render their race's regeneration useless. Also slows down a High Daemon's regeneration to minimal extent.
The blade then radiated a green light as the encryptions glowed emerald.
Greater Blessing of Repair: A weapon is bound to get damaged or destroyed in combat. As long as the hilt or scabbard remains, the blade will destroy itself and respawn from the scabbard, fully repaired, within 3 hours of serious damage. Minor damage will regenerate automatically.
Then the color of the encryptions turned blue.
Lesser Blessing of Bleeding: 10% chance that an attack from this sword will inflict a wound that continuously bleeds.
And last but not least came the blessing Malone was waiting for.
The sword turned blood red.
Blessing of the Soul Womb: This unique blessing gives the weapon a soul with its own unique skill tree. It takes time to awaken, like an egg, the sword needs to properly bond with its user before hatching.
With that, the Angel of Mourn completed her enchantment.
She raised her hand, speaking softly as divine symbols pulsed across the glowing sword.
"It is finished... Now then little one go now to your master."
The semi-conscious soul within the blade stirred.
Dormant, but obedient, the sword floated from her grasp, electricity crackling along its length as it drifted toward its wielder.
Malone could feel the intense heat radiating from it, still burning from the forging process.
Malone stepped forward and grabbed the blade with a firm grip. He raised it to eye level, letting the warmth wash over his face.
Across from him, the angel spoke gently, her voice like flowing water.
"...My duty is complete. Soon, I will return to slumber."
"Mhm."
Malone replied with a grunt, his eyes still very much fixed on the blade.
Then, without warning, he moved into a stance, smooth, and practiced. His movements flowed like a deadly dance.
A flurry of slashes cut the air beautifully with each swing and maneuver of his body.
Then....
SLICE.
The deafening sound of cleaving wood echoed as he cut straight through a massive orcwood tree.
The trunk cracked, then fell with a heavy crash, sending tremors across the ground.
Red light pulsed from the blade.
Malone gave a rare, calm smile and looked at the angel.
"It's perfect."
He muttered.
"Thanks, angel. Tell your goddess the Wonder of this era sends his regards. She doesn't know me, but what the hell, I'll say hi anyway."
Celeste tilted her head, observing him carefully.
"...You're an odd one, truly. But very well, I'll deliver your message. So... where are you headed next?"
Malone sheathed the blade slowly, then answered.
"Caria."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"The Bloodlands? That's suicide. Even with that sword, you're underleveled. Monsters there start at level sixty, some reach ninety or higher."
Malone let out a low chuckle.
"I've got business in the old Hunter's Village you see... Something I need there badly. And without it, I won't stand a chance against the Queen of Asauron. Before that... I'll stop by Vulx, register at the guild, and last but not least pick up a horse. I heard there is a breeder there by the name of Big Momma. Legend has it all who purchased her mounts, are all legendary figures of old, or will."
He turned slightly, back toward the path.
"Anyway, thanks for the enchantment. Don't let me keep you from your nap."
Malone began to walk away, the weight of the sword hanging at his side. But just before he reached the edge of the altar, he heard her voice again.
"Wonder! Wait a moment will yah."
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
"Hm?"
"What is it, Angel?"
"...Celeste, asshole. My name is Celeste."
Malone blinked.
An angel giving her name... rare. That only happened when they truly acknowledged someone.
Still, he nodded slowly.
"Ren. Or... that is the name of this body, anyway. Ren will do."
She offered a small smile.
"A strange man you are... but very well. I'll accept the name you have chosen. Here, take this. May it serve you well on your journey."
She opened a spatial rift, with a fluid motion her hand enter pass the portal boundaries, and from within it, she drew a small ornate wooden box. Tossing it to Ren, he caught it easily.
"And this is?"
He asked, curious and little puzzled by her actions.
And she answered by saying.
"A divine elixir, Essence of an Angel."
She explained. Her voice was serene, yet steady.
"It can heal any wound, cure any illness, restore youth, and reset one's body to its prime. It also stops one aging completely. We angels can only create one of these every five hundred years. Consider it a second life, if you use it in time."
Ren looked at the box for a moment, then gave a faint smirk.
"...Noted."
And with that, he left.
Celeste stood still, watching his figure shrink into the distance, the edges of his cloak fluttering in the wind until finally, he disappeared beyond the depths of the raining night.
A quiet moment passed.
Then, with a serene sigh, she turned toward the altar and stepped behind it, facing her resting place once more.
But before returning to her slumber, she whispered softly to the wind:
"...Mother would've liked that one, Truly....hehehe... The girls back at the Mourn will enjoy hearing this tale."
Her form began to shift.
Light dimmed from her eyes as her body stiffened, stone reclaiming her limb by limb. The radiant glow of her vessel faded as the sacred enchantment sealed her once more.
Then silence.
The Angel of Mourn returned to sleep, her statued body now motionless watching over the altar, awaiting the next worthy soul to awaken her.