This was a rare, coveted talent in the history of the Obsidian Golem race—using one's own body to forge weapons perfectly attuned to the soul. Onyx had never dreamed he would possess it.
"A useful ability," Orion critiqued, eyeing the blade. "But the weapon is hollow. Against a heavy-hitter, it will shatter."
Orion wasted no time critiquing the flaw.
"This ability is best used as an augmentation, not a replacement," Orion advised, circling the construct. "Coat a forged steel weapon in this essence. It will enhance the edge, the durability, the weight... the possibilities are endless. You need to experiment with the composition."
He paused, tapping the stony plating on Onyx's raised arm.
"I have a theory, Prophet. As your power grows, this dermal armor will naturally harden. But what if you fed it? If you refined rare ores or star metals into your own body... your resilience could become theoretically infinite."
