“There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.”
Grandmaster Teppokiri bowed deep and long, for he knew this was his final act. The last client. The first carrier of his finest work. Wielder of Tsanpakutō.
Two figures stood in front of the sword smith.
A lord in black robe, his bald head branded with a horrific Octagrammic ward. Cables and implants glistened around his head, his ears had been replaced with metallic audio units and his eyes just reflected everything like quicksilver.
And an apprentice. Dressed similarly, shorter, slimmer, a big hood covering his skeletal face. A blue orb and a fiery spark shone from the cover of the hood. Next to him hovered a carrier sled. The thick dark canvas poorly covered the form of eight knee height containers underneath.
The branded would ask for the eight to be forged into the heart of the meteor. I would make him this weapon. The soul cutter. An Eternal inferno to smite the Alien, the Neverborn and the Witch. Eight months, eight days and eight hours it would take me and it would consume me and end me.
Why? Why would I do this. I would do it because if I would not, someone less, less disciplined, less learned, less committed would try and the creation would consume all and worlds would burn.
Thus the Branded would get the Tsanpakutō, eight infernos raging inside its perfect temper.