Naia had no name for her new sword. It wasn't forged. It grew—from fire, laughter, and all the friends she refused to lose.
It pulsed with light.
Sang when she swung it.
And in the valley of shattered laws, she met the last of the Hunters.
A beast. Made of rules.
"You are an error," it growled.
"Nah," Naia smirked.
"I'm the reason chaos makes sense."
They fought. Light against logic.
Naia bled.
Laughed.
And cut through the beast with one word:
"Joy."
The sword lit the sky. And the valley remembered warmth.
Naia collapsed laughing.
"Guess I'm a blade now."