Stories of warriors that are never going to be lost in time

After resisting her body's temptation again, we made our way toward the grand hall of her temple. The structure was built for her and her alone, an extension of her divinity, where only those she permitted to could step foot. 

The walls were not filled with paintings or needless gold but with weapons, each mounted with care and carrying its legacy.

At first glance, it looked like an armory, a collection of masterfully crafted weapons spanning ages. But as I walked further in, I noticed the nameplates beneath each one. Intrigued, I moved closer, feeling a familiar pulse of mana from the inscriptions. When I focused, the names revealed themselves, not just etched but infused into the metal with power, ensuring their stories would never be forgotten.

"These…" I murmured, trailing my fingers just above the hilt of a battle-worn spear.