Once again, their blades clashed, and the empty sound of "metal" clashing against metal resounded through their "arena." It was a large room, with some tools and objects but mostly empty and featureless. A grey, ugly, and soulless room.
It was as cold as it should be, lacking any features that gave it character rather than being just another generic scene. Zillia despised those design choices when humans could create much richer, more beautiful environments.
Even Soleater, with all its flaws and grudges against her, had a certain taste. Worse than a bad taste was the lack of taste at all. One she could make fun of, the other she could only complain.
If it was bad, she could make fun of it, the same couldn't be said here, it was a blasè hollowness that made her heartache. It ached because she had to give a purpose to the newborn weapon in such a place, but there was no other option.
