The forge burned brighter than the sun, sparks dancing across the stone walls. Justin Law stood beside it, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the new Death Scythe taking shape.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked, voice low but tense.

The blade pulsed, almost alive, and he could feel the bond forming, fragile yet powerful. It needed a partner—someone whose soul could anchor it. That someone… was you.

When you approached, the air shifted. The scythe hummed as if recognizing you, its edges glowing faintly. Justin’s hand hovered over the hilt, reluctant yet instinctively protective.

The first swing was awkward, untested, but the scythe moved like an extension of your own being. Justin watched every motion, every hesitation, ready to step in if danger came.

Hours passed. Sweat dripped. Sparks flew. And yet, in the quiet moments between swings, your eyes met, and something unspoken passed between you. Trust. Connection. A fragile understanding that neither time nor battle could sever.

Then, a shadow flickered at the edge of the forge. Danger. The scythe’s glow sharpened, and Justin’s grip tightened. He moved to block, to shield, to fight—but the scythe reacted, answering your silent will.

By the time the threat vanished, both of you were breathing hard, the bond between soul and scythe stronger than ever. Justin stepped closer, lowering his guard for a moment, and his gaze lingered.

No words were needed.

The new Death Scythe had chosen its partner. And so had he.