The sword was one that exuded no aura, even a sliver. That came with the fact that its mana composition was also being concealed by something. Strangely enough, Avahartus couldn't figure out whether it was a spell or an artefact.
It's as if the weapon had neither identity nor owner, similar to objects that were unusable with magic. Still, it was clear that the sword didn't belong to that dysfunctional group.
However, Avarhatus knew better.
Although the Prince couldn't determine the sword's nature, the aura of its wielder was screaming from a distance. The demon wasn't terrified in the least. Frankly speaking, it was drawn in by how aggressive the individual's aura was. But more than that actuality, the familiarity was what greatly interested Avarhatus.
