Hilt

Luke still bared a soft smile.

The blades curved in abstract forms, akin to their holders, the blades coated the man from head to toe, leaving no space for linear movement.

More hunters piled into the room, they held a distance of metres.

Luke let out a chuckle before extending his hand to one of the blades.

"DONT" the voice rang out, Luke continued his movement, his grip now encased the range of the sword, it cracked slightly before completely shattering under the pressure, Luke's hand remained pale for he didn't even apply pressure of any degree.

The holder pulled back and distanced himself, he held up his blade, for what used to be a fine crafted weapon was now just a hilt.