A young Xenovia Quarta watched the unknown stranger for what seemed like hours, but in reality it had been only 10 minutes.

The man was in a small clearing near a similarly small lake, the perfect spot to hone her skills with the blade which she would be doing if the man hadn't been there, however that wasn't why she was glaring at him.

At his feet where a dozen or so Holy Swords and even Demonic swords as well as a spear.

A eastern blade that seemingly promised blood shed.

The spear that generated nothing but bloodlust.

But their dark nature was completely overshadowed by the blades the man was was most near too.

A ornate blade with gold and blue hues that emanated a powerful energy that made the two clearly demonic weapons look second rate when it came to power, it was half buried into the ground unlike the other weapons that where strewn across the floor, signaling the man had more respect for the blade than any other.

On the floor next to it was a blade with blue in the crossguard and was far less decorates, meaning it was more proper for combat and did not lose out to the other blade in power.

A blade with black down the middle was present on the floor, it was cut in half and wasn't filled with the same torrent of energy the previous two.

The last sword was dropped like the rest but it's sharp edge caused it to dig into the ground and point up but to the side. The blade was black and gold, and strangely familiar to her.

The man was in a white and black hoodie and was focusing on the golden magic that he was using to form a shape similar to a sword.

Was he a Blacksmith? Alchemist? Mage? All three? It would explain the weapons on the ground, But they where far too powerful for people to have forged, and so many as well.

While she was lost in her thoughts, the man had stopped, took a breath, then calmly called out to her.

"Excuse me."

Xenovia froze, unfroze, panicked, calmed down, then walked out with a blade in hand.

"Eh-hmm Who are you, why are these Holy Swords thrown across the floor as if they were trash? Why do you have demonic weapons on church grounds? Why are you here? Are you a devil?" She questioned, not giving him time to actually anwser any of the questions.

He had his hood up and it was near sundown, so his features eluded her but she could tell that he was flustered by her questions. Probably because she was guilty of something.

"ah well...you see..." He began. Xenovia Glared at him to continue.

"I didn't really think too much about it but I guess it is kinda disrespectful, isn't it." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

"You see, I was trying to make a different blade but needed to see what would happen if i made others first here. I was so focused on the other sword I neglected the weapons I did make." Xenovia's glare didnt change. "Well...the sword is very special, it was used by someone very special to me." At this Xenovia calmed down, he was not lying, but he was still suspicous.

"How did you make these swords? Are you a alchemist or a blacksmith?" She inquired. The man stiffened, but relaxed as a swirl of energy surrounded him.

"You could say im a alchemist, but you could also say im a blacksmith. Im really just a good faker" He said with a slight smirk.

"wha-"

"XENOVIA!"

The girl in questioned stiffened like a deer in headlights, how did she find her so quickly? She though she had at least half a hour left but it hadn't been even a fourth of one!

The man quickly raised his hand towards the weapons but before he raise his hand towards the holy weapons around them, he very suddenly vanished.

Xenovia blinked. How did he...was it all a illusion? The disappearance was sudden and there was no flash or noise, its as if he never existed.

The blades behind her had also disappeared, causing further quesrions about her psyche to rise.

But the ones near her remained

"Xenovia." The voice of a mature woman or In Xenovia's opinion, The voice a Entity In the shape of a mature woman, calmly called to her as it entered the clearing. Pure fear had laced itself into Her every being as the entity walked over to her calmly, like the eye in a storm that threatened to close and envelope her.

"Where. We're. You." The entity known as Griselda Quarta asked with a sickeningly sweet voice that promised destruction unless given a adequate response.

Xenovia had been gone for hours, which also translated to having missed the gifting of Durandal to HER for hours

"I-I-I... well I uhh... there was a...Blacksmith...smithing...things" Xenovia stuttered.

Griselda's attention had turned towards the blades and for a brief moment, she was utterly shocked, for a brief moment.

"Who was the 'blacksmith' that 'made' these? Ask Griselda, her thoughts diverted to a more pressing matter.

"He was a man who was using magic to create holy weapons." Xenovia quickly supplied wtih answer that did little to calm

Griselda's thoughts, in fact, they went into overdrive. The Vatican would need to be informed of these Swords, She could already tell that surpassed any Light sword that the church mass produced and even the Durandal that Xenovia was deemed the natural successor of.

"We should take these with us and inform the rest of there existence. Then you can finally finish the ceremony." 'suggested' Griselda, letting it be known that Xenovia was still not safe. She handed over a wrapping used to hold Holy Swords, allowing them to be moved but not properly used.

As Xenovia gulped, She grabbed the gold and black sword and lifted it from the earth, but she paused.

Why did she feel as if this blade was special to her? While she pondered this a quiet but noticeable grunt caused her to turn her head.

Griselda was pulling with all her might, but the gold and blue blade was not budged in the slightest. The ground around the sword was unmoved and it almost seemed like a act, if it weren't for the strained grip and visible veins in Griselda's hands that indicated another unknown force was at hand.

Looking back towards the blade in her hand to reduce the chuckles that threatened to escape and promote to threatening her life, She realized just why the blade was familiar.

Of course, it was Durandal.