As soon as Arran touched the jet-black sword, he felt the condensed Essence within it react to his skin. Surprisingly, it seemed to withdraw from his touch — almost as if the weapon was afraid of him.

Arran frowned at the odd reaction, but he did not let it deter him. He clenched his jaw, then grabbed the sword's hilt and pulled it from its rack.

Several moments passed without anything happening, and Arran began to wonder if something was wrong. The sword was supposed to feed on his Essence, yet instead, it seemed to be shrinking away from his touch.

With a thought, he moved some of his Shadow Essence toward the weapon, then forced it into the sword's hilt. Perhaps that would entice the Living Shadow to feed.

There was no immediate response, but after a second or two, Arran felt a faint pulling sensation. It was only barely noticeable, but it was enough to draw a thin strand of Shadow Essence into the Living Shadow, where it promptly vanished.

The taste of Essence seemed to have emboldened the Living Shadow, because only a single breath later, the rest of the Essence was drawn inside and consumed.

Again he sent some Essence into the weapon — slightly more, this time — and again the weapon seemed to hesitate before accepting the gift and consuming it.

This repeated for several times, and Arran could not help but smile in bemusement. |The whole situation seemed more akin to using food to win the trust of a stray dog than trying to gain control a powerful artifact.

Arran continued to feed the sword through the days that followed, slowly growing more familiar with the object and the power within. And if the Living Shadow didn't exactly seem comfortable with him yet, with every meal it grew slightly less hesitant, consuming the Essence more quickly and eagerly.

After two days of this, enough of Arran's Shadow Essence had entered the weapon for him to Sense it.

By now, he was pouring as much Essence as he could into the Living Shadow. That was nothing compared to the weapon's own power, but it was enough for him to gain a connection to it. And through this connection, he became aware of just how much power the blade held.

He had known the Living Shadow contained a vast reservoir of Essence, of course — after countless thousands of years of absorbing Shadow Essence, that was to be expected. But now, he began to realize just how vast that pool of Essence was.

Compared to the ocean of Essence within the weapon, his efforts over the past days barely amounted to a single drop. And while that was just barely enough for him to Sense the weapon, it was nowhere near what he needed to control it.

Still, he continued undeterred, continuously gathering as much Essence as he could and pouring every last drop of it into the weapon.

Steadily, the connection between Arran and the weapon grew stronger. And after another two days had passed, he began to feel that there was something more to it — something beyond the vast sea of Essence it held.

The weapon was more than just concentrated power, he realized — it really did hold some sort of rudimentary consciousness. It devoured the Essence he fed it eagerly, but it still seemed slightly fearful of his touch.

Anxious to learn more of this, Arran stood up from the ground and held up the sword, then gave it a few quick swings.

At once, his eyes widened in delight. It was as if the weapon somehow knew what he required, as if it remembered the movements of battle. Rather than resisting his control, as Arran had feared, the sword appeared eager to be wielded. Each swing Arran made, the sword strengthened, amplifying the power of his attacks.

"You're learning to control it?" Karanos asked, his eyes studiously following Arran's movements.

"I think so," Arran replied. "When I use it, it's like it strengthens my strikes."

"Good," Karanos said. "But our time runs short. Focus on concealing its Essence — with the weapon in its current state, we have no chance of escaping."

Arran responded with a nod. He knew Karanos was right — as it was, the pitch-black blade was like a mass of impossibly dense Shadow Essence. And if the Remnants in the city could detect Shadow Essence, a weapon like this would be like a beacon in the night.

For them to escape, he would have to make the weapon conceal itself. And for that, he would need to increase his control over it.

He spent another day practicing sword strikes as he continued to pour Essence into the weapon. Before anything else, it had to grow accustomed to his control. And since both Arran and the weapon were familiar with battle, this was the easiest way to achieve that.

After a day, Arran decided it was time to move forward. While he would've preferred to have a month — or even a year — to strengthen his bond to the weapon, there simply wasn't enough time for that. He needed to conceal it, and he had only days to achieve that goal.

The task seemed almost impossible, but there was nothing for it but to try. The only alternative was to leave the weapon behind, and Arran had no intention of abandoning a treasure as powerful as this. He set his jaw and got to work, determined to succeed.

As expected, the challenge proved a difficult one. While the sword had been easy to control when wielding it, controlling its Essence proved far harder.

It wasn't that the weapon resisted his control. Rather, it was as if the sword did not understand what he wanted it to do — as if he was trying to teach a dog how to write.

Had more of his Essence been inside the weapon, it would have been easier — then, he could have exerted enough control to force the matter. But right now, he could only nudge the weapon and hope that it would follow his lead.

Yet the weapon appeared eager to please him, and even if it had some difficulty understanding what he wanted, he made steady progress.

After three days of constant practice, he could more or less conceal the weapon's dense Shadow Essence. The result wasn't nearly as good as he wished — and occasionally the concealment failed — but if the Shadow Essence had earlier been like a beacon, now, it was more like a campfire.

"It's not good enough," Karanos said, his expression troubled. "But we'll have to chance it. We've run out of time."

"If you give me another day—" Arran began. With another day, he might at least stop the concealment from randomly failing.

"We don't have another day," the mage interrupted him. "We should have left the city weeks ago, truth be told. But it was too valuable an opportunity to pass up — and even now, it's worth the risk."

"Are you sure it's worth it?" Arran asked, casting a hesitant glance at his sword.

No matter how much he valued his new weapon, he would rather leave it behind than face certain death. A treasure like this could save his life a hundred times over in his own world, but that was little use if he didn't make it back alive.

"I am," Karanos replied firmly. "Now let's be on our way. You can improve your control further while we travel."

"All right," Arran said, relieved and worried in equal parts. While he was glad he would not have to relinquish his treasure, he hoped he would not have to pay too high a price for keeping it.

He moved to belt on his new sword, but then, a mass of shadow suddenly shot out from the wall, soaring toward him.

Instinctively, he parried the attack with his sword. Yet although the parry was successful, the mass of shadow enveloped his blade, covering it in dense darkness.

It took Arran a moment to recognize what was happening, and when he did, his eyes went wide with shock. The dark mass was consuming his sword.

"No!" he cried out, but it was already too late.

The dark mass had fully consumed his blade, and he felt his connection to the weapon vanish abruptly. A second later, the mass of darkness changed shape, and Arran stared in astonishment at what he was holding.

Where the flawless arming sword had been moments earlier, there now was the vicious executioner's blade that had hung on the wall. Large and unwieldy, it had a fearsome aura — even more so than before it consumed Arran's sword.

At once, Arran tried to drop it, but the sword somehow clung to his hand, seemingly unwilling to be abandoned.

And that wasn't all. The Shadow Essence that Arran had poured into the arming sword was now inside the executioner's blade, and through that, he could Sense the power it held — as well as the consciousness that resided within.

The executioner's blade was vastly more powerful than the arming sword had been, Arran Sensed, the amount of Essence within it incomparably larger. And where the arming sword had been like a timid but loyal dog, the executioner's blade was more like a vicious wolf, as cunning as it was savage.

"It ate my sword…" Arran stared at the blade with wide-eyed bewilderment.

"That's not possible," Karanos replied, his expression every bit as astonished as Arran's.

And yet, possible or not, it was clear that was exactly what had happened — the executioner's blade had enveloped Arran's sword and consumed it whole, leaving nothing behind.

"You'll have to leave it," Karanos said in a tense voice. "We have to leave, and we can't travel with… that."

"I'm trying to," Arran said, "but it won't let go."

A deep frown on his face, he reached for the blade with his left hand, hoping that perhaps he might forcefully pry it away. There was no question in his mind of keeping this weapon — it was far too strong for him to control, and he had no way to conceal it.

Yet before his left hand reached the weapon, it suddenly changed shape once more. In just a fraction of a moment, the oversized executioner's blade shrank into the shape of the arming sword — a perfect copy, but one with a viciousness the original had lacked.

Moreover, as it shrank, the intense darkness of the material faded away. Within seconds, the Living Shadow turned into plain steel. Had Arran's Shadow Essence not allowed him to Sense its true nature, the concealment would have been perfect.

"You can control it?" Karanos asked, his voice unsteady with shock.

"I can't," Arran replied. "But… I don't think it wants to be left behind."