The Nailsmith stood at the edge of the cliff behind his hut, feeling the wind whistle by him. He’d done it. The single greatest blade his hands would ever made. It was pure, a Pure Nail. His life’s work had been completed, and now it was time.

“With a Pure Nail forged, my work in this lifetime comes to an end.”

He heard the Pure Nail’s owner approach from behind, and silently closed his eyes. Why would he shrink away or run now, so close to the end of his long, long mission?

“Do not hesitate. I beg you. Cut me down! I want to taste that blade's exquisite edge.”