"Duranvil, appear" I commanded feeling my connection with my weapon, something that grew immense with time.
A sort of dark mass or gas was born in my left hand, which slowly turned into the figure of a sword or rather a Rapier, so deadly affiliated that it would give chills to anyone who saw it.
'As beautiful as ever' I thought as I watched my Duranvil appear out of the darkness created, she was so beautiful, so much so that sometimes I would gaze at her beauty for several minutes.
The chains of my weapon wrapped around my left hand, wanting to never let go of it, its blade darker than the night itself glowed beautifully, it was rare to see something so deeply dark glow, but it did.
I gripped the hilt of my weapon tightly, half red half black, its hilt was perfect for my hand, as if it had been created by me, and in a sense it certainly was created for me.
