Novel & Cerita Folded Steel Katana

His son Hamada is now the boss of the Yazuka. She explained that the blade is an extension of your body; it moves fluid like water. It can cut through anything and is the purest form of weaponry. To use a Katana is like a dance, graceful yet powerful. I remember what she says and how she moved and I do the same as I was shown.

I ignored him calling me his queen as I marveled at what was inside the box. “Hunji… I don’t know what to say.” I gulped. Tears were brimming, again, as my hand ran over the cool steel. There, in the box, laid a pair of Roman short swords, the Damascus steel folded to perfection and the pattern twisting on the steel like it was infused with magic, the double edges sharp and gleaming. Both blades held engraved inscriptions on each side, in a language I could not read.

I huffed and walked two spaces away. A glint caught my eye, high on the far wall hung a single sword no one had touched… sleek, curved blade, Japanese in style, deadly elegant. I crossed to it and picked it up letting my fingers glide on the blades sharp edge, it sliced through my skin drawing blood. I gasped, eyes widening in shock at its sharpness as I sucked the blood off my finger.“Majestic isn’t it? the katana” Smith strolled to stand beside me“Is that what it’s called?” I pulled my finger out of my mouth not really paying attention to him and just like I expected, the skin had knitted back together. I healed faster than a normal wolf. Always had.

There was a pair of Katana’s sitting under a spotlight on the wall, they looked heavy but I bet I could take it…so I did. I somehow found them as light as a feather but I knew by the sheer size of them they should have weighed me down, as I held them I felt power coarse through my body. The paired Katana had a dark blue leather handle with a two prong pitch fork burned into it…it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, in a cool and dangerous way. I went and stood beside Niklaus and he took an amused look at the Katana before telling me that we would start with the throwing knives.

“For our leader.” Alex exhales slowly. “I didn’t ask to—” “We know,” Eve says. “That’s why they’re yours.” Mazikene unwraps the cloth. The blades catch the early light immediately. They’re a matched pair—slightly curved, long enough to demand respect but not so heavy they’d slow her. The steel is darkened, patterned subtly, like smoke trapped beneath the surface. The hilts are wrapped in deep red leather, worn in just enough places to suggest they were meant to be held, not displayed.