Wrath

"W-What is that...?" Kozue muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the grotesque sight before her. The others, too, stood frozen, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. None of them had ever seen anything like this before. This was beyond unnatural.

The sword in the woman's grasp was an abomination—a horrific fusion of steel and flesh. Its surface pulsed as though it were alive, veins bulging beneath the sickly, skin-like texture. Three twisted faces were embedded along its length, their expressions contorted in agony. Their mouths gaped open, as if caught in an endless scream, while their hollow, lifeless eyes radiated a malice that sent shivers down Kouhei's spine. The very sight of it was enough to churn one's stomach, an unnatural fusion of steel and living tissue that reeked of something deeply sinister. The very air around it felt wrong, thick with something vile and suffocating.