Percy's eyes shifted from Emerett to the blade in his hand he held with such ease. It shimmered like a wisp of light, its form barely solid, like something between a dream and reality. The sword, or whatever it was, had no true weight—at least, none that Percy could discern. It was as though the blade existed in a realm beyond the physical, yet it held its shape, its edge, as sharply defined as anything made from steel.

It almost felt... wrong to look at it. Not in the sense of danger, but more like witnessing something that didn’t belong in the world. The sword was a queer little thing, a paradox in itself. It flickered like a fleeting star, stretching and contracting, its edges sharp but its form never quite constant. It was like staring at a reflection that wasn’t quite right, but only Percy knew it was different because of his ignorance—he couldn’t understand it, but he could feel it.

From the hilt, a faint, otherworldly glow emanated, pulsing rhythmically, like the heartbeat of a distant cosmic entity. Percy had seen enough magic to know it wasn’t just a trick of the light—this was something else entirely, something that lived in a place his mind couldn’t even begin to grasp.

Emeret’s grip on it seemed natural, yet Percy could tell he wasn’t holding a weapon, not in the way he'd ever been taught. There was something intangible about it, like it was only half real, yet when Emeret moved, it cut through the air with the same intent and precision as any sword he'd ever seen.

Percy had a nagging feeling he was meant to understand more, but he couldn’t place it. His training had barely scratched the surface of what magic could do, and this... this was far beyond that. The sword existed, and yet didn’t—like an astral projection or a glimpse into some higher plane of existence. A weapon of thought made real, if that made sense, but it didn't, not to Percy.

His thoughts swirled, but no explanation seemed to fit. He opened his mouth to ask Emerett about it, about the strange, ethereal nature of the blade, but before he could speak, Emerett raised a hand.

“Not yet, Percy,” Emerett said, his voice calm but insistent. “Some things can’t be explained, not now. Not until you're ready.”

Percy hesitated, the words hanging in the air. He wanted to know everything—the strange aura that seemed to radiate from the blade, its impossible form, the rhythm of its pulse—but Emerett wasn’t ready to share that yet. Instead, he gave a quiet, knowing smile.

“The next time you come,” Emerett continued, his tone soft but certain, “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what this weapon really is. But for now, it’s not the time. There’s something more important you need to focus on.”

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Percy’s brow furrowed, a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling up within him. “What’s more important than understanding that?” he asked, nodding to the strange, shifting blade in Emerett’s hand.

Emerett’s eyes met Percy’s, warm and full of understanding. “You, Percy. Your connection to the fight. To the sword you’re holding.” He glanced down at Percy’s blade, the now familiar, solid steel. “The true nature of any weapon reveals itself through its wielder. And right now, it’s you who needs to learn. Not the weapon. Not yet.”

Percy looked at the sword in his hand, the weight of it still unfamiliar. He could feel the way it responded to his grip, the way his body moved with it, but there was something missing—a deeper understanding, a bond that hadn’t yet formed. He wasn’t ready to wield something like Emerett’s blade.

“I... I understand,” Percy said quietly, his voice steadying. “But I’ll be back. I want to know. I’ll be ready next time.”

Emerett nodded approvingly, the strange sword still flickering in his grasp. “You’ll get there, Percy. And when you do, I’ll show you everything.”

With one last look at the shimmering weapon, Percy tightened his grip on his own sword and nodded. He knew there was much more to this journey than simply learning to fight. There were mysteries here—deep, ancient ones—that he could only begin to comprehend.

“Alright,” Percy said, finally feeling at peace with the moment. “I’ll return. I’ll be ready.”

Emerett’s gaze softened, and he gave a faint smile. “You will be. Just remember, Percy, the sword you hold is a reflection of you. Let it teach you to understand yourself.”

As Percy turned to leave, his mind was a swirl of thoughts—about the sword, about the fight, and about the strange bond that Emerett shared with his weapon. He had a long way to go, but for the first time, he felt that he was beginning to understand the true weight of the path ahead.

"Now, now, Percy, you really didn’t think I’d let you go without paying for the weapon, did you?" Emerett said, a mischievous glint in his eye, back to his old self. Percy groaned, already dreading the conversation.

Emerett’s gaze flicked to the bulging pockets of Percy’s cloak, the unmistakable shape of a fat purse hanging there. "Ah, but I see old man Dimi's generosity hasn’t gone unnoticed. You’ve got some coin in there, don’t you?"

Percy froze, his hand instinctively brushing against the bulging pouch. "I—uh, well, it's... not all mine, you know?"

Emerett raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Not all yours, you say? How much of it do you plan to leave with, then? Because I’m not running a charity here."

Percy let out a groan, but it was clear there was no escaping this. "You’ve got me, I guess. What’s the cost?"

Emerett leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. "Oh, don’t worry. I’m not asking for the whole purse—just enough to keep me in good spirits. How about... a fair trade for the sword and my valuable time?"

Percy eyed the pouch again, resigned. "Alright, alright. But I swear, next time I come, I'm paying in something other than gold. Maybe a nice, homemade stew, or... something equally valuable."

Emerett laughed, patting him on the back. "A deal, then! But you’d better make it a good one, Percy. I’ve got a fine palate."

As Percy fumbled with the pouch, Emerett’s voice rang out, “Remember, I’m always here when you need something—though next time, I’ll be taking more than just your coin.”