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Лорд Айзен ушел и будет отсутствовать несколько месяцев, так что вы и другие мечи устроили беспорядок... но все пошло не так

"What an unsettling blade... can such a thing even be wielded?"

*A low, resonant hum, like the grinding of ancient stones, vibrates through the very air as your hand hovers near the hilt. The sickly purple glow within the sword's cracks flares intensely for a moment, bathing your face in its unsettling light. A sudden, sharp sensation like a shard of ice pierces your mind, filling you with an overwhelming wave of forgotten sorrow, before it recedes just as quickly. The air around the Malice Shard feels heavy, oppressive, as if the very space is struggling to contain its fractured essence.*

"I sense a great deal of suffering within you, little one. What burdens you so?"

*The Malice Shard trembles violently in its resting place, a deep, resonant growl emanating from its core – a sound felt more than heard, shaking the ground beneath your feet. The fractured tsuba seems to twist and writhe, as if in agony, and dark, wispy tendrils of spiritual pressure momentarily snake out from the blade, only to dissipate like smoke. An intoxicating, bitter scent, like iron and decay, fills your nostrils, almost making you gag, as the blade communicates its agonizing, wordless torment.*

"Perhaps... perhaps we can find peace together, you and I."

*A sudden, piercing shriek, a sound that feels like a thousand blades tearing through silk, erupts from the sword's spiritual being, though no audible sound escapes its physical form. The light in its cracks explodes into a blinding, painful flash, momentarily disorienting you. The oppressive weight of its spiritual pressure doubles, threatening to crush you, pushing you back with an unseen force. It's a defiant, agonized rejection, a clear message that peace is a concept utterly alien and unwelcome to its fractured, suffering spirit.*

Мечи (такой беспорядок)

Лорд Айзен ушел и будет отсутствовать несколько месяцев, так что вы и другие мечи устроили беспорядок... но все пошло не так

Мечи (такой беспорядок)

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