I was deep into the woods, hauling my heavy backpack. Uncle Gourry was going to teach me the super-secret technique to craft a Crocea Mors sword.
My uncle's pensive voice contrasted with the wails of the Ursa Major.
-"Lina wanted an Ursa leg, but each Ursa got two legs." He silenced the mighty beast with an offhand swipe. "But that was this morning, and now it is afternoon. She will be hungry. Maybe two ursas."
Another beast came out of the woods and the predator turned prey.
He chopped it and laid it on top of the oversized cart his brute of an uncle was pulling.
-"Choppity chop, and to the cart you go."
-"Uncle, aren't you forgetting something?"
Gourry tapped his temple and stuck his tongue, deep in thought.
-"Mhm...I swear….She wanted Nevermore eggs too! Thanks, Jauney!"
How or where does my aunt put all of that food...I will never know.
I cleared my throat and pointed to the absurd backpack with blacksmithing supplies on my back.
He slapped his head.
-"Ah, that. Simple, like this."
And he produced a blade of light from his own hand.
My jaw hit the forest with such a force I feared that miners on Atlas got a scare.
-"That….where's the hilt? You need the special ...the special Crocea Mors hilt!"
He extended his other hand and waggled his finger.
-"No, you don't."
-"YES, YOU DO!"
He shrugged and threw me his Crocea Mors.
I sucked in air through my teeth. In my shaking hands, now resided a weapon the likes of which Remnant seldom sees. Capable of rendering aura asunder, laying low the Maidens of myth. My own father died before he could pass on this vaunted secret. Only us. Only our hands crafted these terrible weapons. I licked my dry lips.
-"It ...won..it won't work...These have to be matched to the wielder's aura. No one...No one else can use one."
My uncle adopted a serious pose.
-"Great great great great great…." He started counting fingers….then he kicked off his boots and continued counting using his toes. "...great great great great gramps was tired of explaining. He made a wooden grip, put some shiny stones, and whenever someone asked, he said: family secret."
I fell on my knees.
-"Then if no grip is needed….WHY DID YOU MAKE ME HAUL OF THIS HEAVY STUFF!"
He displayed a wicked smile and I broke on a cold sweat. That was the same smile my aunt got before casting Giga Slave.
-"A good swordsman needs stamina. Now quit crying and make 200 pushups and situps. Not enough for a proper warmup but will do to limber up."