As I let the weight of the moment sink in, Jayla's eyes flicked down to the Luminara, still glowing faintly in my grip. "You're better than I thought," she said, her voice still carrying that competitive edge. "That blade… it's something else."
The glow of the Luminara seemed to pulse with energy as I fought, reacting to my movements and will. When I had struck Jayla, even with minor hits, the blade left a faint shimmer on her skin—an ethereal reminder of the contact, as though the weapon itself imprinted its power on her. It seemed to grow brighter with every precise strike, every calculated move, until it felt like the blade was an extension of my very breath.
Jayla flexed her arm, where a glowing imprint from one of my strikes still lingered. "I've never seen anything like that."
"Neither have I," I muttered, glancing at the sword with renewed wonder.
