“Oh.” Lith could swear he heard the Staff sighing in relief. “Sorry, Mom.”

He turned around, just to see Ragnarök peeking from around the corner of the Forge’s door, with what he could only describe as worried gemstones on its crossguard.

“I won’t hurt you either.” Lith said. “It will be no different from when you went from War to Ragnarök.”

“Another name? I like this one.” Ragnarök half sighed, and half groaned. “Why so fickle, Master?”

“Your name will remain the same, and so will your body and its design. As Solus said, we’ll just put you in a nicer suit.”

“Like this?” The angry blade’s scabbard shapeshifted into a black-tie attire.

“Sort of.” Now it was Lith’s turn to groan. “Now please, trust me and let us go back to work.”