The sword should have felt useless in her hand.
It was rusted, chipped, and cold to the touch.
But as Emily wrapped her fingers around its cracked hilt, something changed within her.
Her vision blurred for a moment.
The chaos of the battlefield faded into the background.
She didn't hear Draghar's pained growls or the clanking of the Guardian Machina trying to stand.
She didn't see the monster charging at her with those jagged claws raised.
Instead, her senses tunneled inward.
Something deep—buried and long dormant—stirred awake.
The broken sword began to shine.
The mana coating it became infinitely sharper.
A shimmering white glow spread from the hilt and danced along the edge.
The cracks vanished. The rust peeled off. The blade reformed.
[Sword Aura.]
The moment it surged out of her body, the monster hesitated. Its snarl wavered. Its momentum slowed mid-charge.
Emily stood up.
No, rose.
The sword was still broken.
But now, it was radiating a deadly presence.
