Nilor swung at my head, another perfect blow, I was doomed. Only, somehow, I wasn't, yet again. He had missed every swing. And it wasn't a skill issue. I certainly wasn't blocking, and though my equipment was powerful, it couldn't do this.

We both paused a moment, processing what was happening. He finally spoke in tired tones. "Can I have, just like, a hot minute."

"You know I like hot, go for it."

He chuckled, then stepped to the door and held out his blade. "What do you think you're doing?"

The blade glowed a dark blue.

"No, we went over—"

The blade suddenly had a red spiral.

"Don't you take that tone with me!"

The blade grew spikes and turned pure black. I had a sudden urge to roll my eyes, though I wasn't sure why.

"I will melt you down, don't test me!"

This went on for a few minutes before I finally just drew my sword and stabbed Nilor in the back. His blade clattered to the ground, somehow even blacker and spikier.

"What was that about?" Nightlark, my own blade, asked.

"Beats me. You know this sword?" I picked up it up.

"No, looks like a baby, though," Nightlark said.

"Pfft, whatever, old man," a nasally voice said.

"Ah, of course." I chucked the sword aside toward my trash can. "Gotta hate teens."

"So, we got another quest lined up?" Nightlark asked his usual question.

Maybe you just gotta hate talking swords.