Unlocked at Character Level 80
A sword, 5 feet in length, weighing as heavy as three thousand catties. The ebony blade is covered in cracks and the tip is broken and lost.
Amid the countless wars, she wielded this sword and, alongside her comrades and disciple, battled her way into the vast ship, decapitating the wolf-like head of the borisin Warhead. She also climbed the sky-piercing flying citadel, clipping the wings of the Feather Guards. She fought the iron cavalry of the Houyhnhnm, sealing all the riders of the six-legged steeds into prison... Whichever way her sword swung, no abomination could escape death or imprisonment.
She had never expected she would point this sword at her lifelong friend.
She gasped, barely holding her wounded body together. Far away, deeper in the delve, there came the anguished roar of a dragon, as if pleading for death.
She watched as the arrogant craftsman fell into the mud, and walked up to him like a wraith.
"I should kill you first... but you will have your own torment to bear for all eternity..."
She pointed the broken sword at the high elder.
"Impossible. The Preceptors said... The blood of my race and the soul of my ancestor should have created another high elder. All this... It shouldn't be like this."
"If your death can return everything to how it was, I would do it... But you need to tell me right now where that dragon's weak point is."
"The top of its head..."
The half-draconic abomination swam through the air in blasts of lightning. Its body, enough to swallow the very horizon, sundered yet another floating isle. Its wails were as loud as the clamors of a thousand clashing swords.
She felt her Core Esse boiling, like a ripe wheat grain about to burst out of its husk and swell to infinity.
She saw herself trapped in childhood nightmares again. The ominous planet is swallowing her overhead, and she, but an insect, cannot even struggle.
The woman tore off a spread of black silk from the edge of her skirt and covered her eyes.
The thunder struck. She leapt up with her sword towards the draconic abomination.
In a dreamlike illusion, she felt her flesh surpass its limits, beginning to disintegrate. It was as if innumerable silken threads bound her, taut across every limb and bone, each one slicing through the last vestiges of her consciousness, bit by bit.
Suddenly, she heard those words:
"I will cut down even the stars in the sky."
At that moment, she finally grasped the sword she had been seeking all this time.
It was a sword that can transcend all restrictions. It was a sword she had been familiar with for years.
It was not forged from any ordinary iron, but condensed from a shaft of sharp ice. It glowed with a dim light, as if it was a strand of moonlight held in the wielder's hand.
A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, and weighs nothing.