[It’s very fitting to Mamoru, that there’s a deity that is the god of War and Sand equally. Even though sand is but a humble and unassuming tool, often overlooked by those who seek grandeur in arcane rituals or mystical enchantments, it is still something that ancients would use to sharpen their blades. Bladesmiths honed the edges, stripping away impurities and imperfections, and repetitive motion became symphony, resounding with the essence of their purpose. The sand is a conduit, a bridge connecting the weapon to the vast expanse of the battlefield.
In a way, the swordsman wishes to be no different from the sand. It tested the metal's mettle, wearing away impurities and revealing its true potential.
The invitation couldn’t have come at a better time.]
action. Before. Things.
In a way, the swordsman wishes to be no different from the sand. It tested the metal's mettle, wearing away impurities and revealing its true potential.
The invitation couldn’t have come at a better time.]
Set.
[It’s not a question. Mamoru knows he’s there.]