The Purpose of the Blade

Kraii turned away slowly, his movements stiff and deliberate, as if every shift of muscle still carried the deep ache of hours spent pushing his body beyond its comfort zone. Sweat continued to bead along his jawline and glisten on the dark, damp strands of his onyx hair, which clung to his neck and shoulders. He adjusted his grip on the wooden staff, his fingers wrapping around the worn surface until his knuckles whitened, drawing comfort and stability from its unchanging weight. Then, after a long pause, he looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes sharp and unyielding, holding a quiet challenge that cut through the golden haze of the late afternoon.

“Why are you training with sword techniques?” he asked, his voice remaining flat and steady, stripped of anger but thick with skepticism and unspoken doubt. “Didn’t you say you’d become a justice fighter? Or something of that nonsense? Swords cut off heads.”

The words hung heavy in the still, warm air of the training ground, sharp and unvarnished, laying bare what Kraii saw as a clear contradiction in Zack’s choices. To him, the title of “justice fighter” carried with it a promise of protection, of order, of resolving wrongs without falling into the same destructive patterns as those who caused harm. Yet a sword was not a tool of diplomacy or mercy; it was a weapon forged for one single, undeniable purpose: to wound, to disable, and to kill. No matter how gently it was held or how noble the intent behind it, its nature remained unchanged.

He shifted his stance, the damp fabric of his sleeveless black shirt pulling tight across his lean, wiry frame, outlining every line of muscle that had been built through relentless repetition and sheer will. Dust and sweat left streaks across his skin, marking the evidence of his struggle, but his posture remained firm, rooted in the belief that guided him. “You stand there and lecture me about using what the world gives us, about how Archē and its tools are just part of life, but look at what you’ve chosen to master. You claim you want to defend the innocent, to stop cruelty, to build something better. Yet every single day, you spend hours refining how to swing that blade, how to strike faster, how to drive its edge deeper, how to bypass armor and defenses to reach flesh and bone. What kind of justice is built on something that ends lives so easily and permanently?”

Kraai turned fully now, facing Zack directly, his dark gaze locking onto those striking red‑maroon eyes without wavering. “A sword does not ask questions. It does not listen to excuses, it does not weigh the difference between a mistake and a crime, and it does not give anyone a chance to make amends. It only obeys the strength behind the arm that holds it. One wrong move, one moment of anger or fear, and it can take away a life that can never be returned. Once it cuts, there is no undoing what has been done. No apologies, no second chances, no going back.”

He nodded toward the dark steel resting against Zack’s broad shoulder, his expression unimpressed and unwavering. “You say I am being stubborn, that I am limiting myself by refusing to rely on Archē. But what about you? You speak of high ideals, yet you reach for the same instruments of violence that have been used by tyrants, raiders, and soldiers for as long as history has been written. You wrap it in words like ‘duty’ and ‘protection,’ but at its core, it is still just a tool for destruction. If your cause is truly meant to bring peace and fairness, why does it depend on something that can only solve problems with blood?”

His voice remained calm, but there was a quiet intensity rising in it, the weight of his own beliefs driving each word home. “Swords cut off heads. That is their design, their function, their only true purpose. You can train for a hundred years, you can swear oaths and set rules, but you cannot change what the blade is made to do. So tell me plainly, Zack, how does learning to kill make you a champion of justice? How does mastering a weapon that ends lives bring safety or hope to anyone? Are you really fighting for something better, or are you just using a different name for the same old way of settling disputes?”