Born bereft of a true name. Bred through brutality. Tempered for battle. Later grafted with godhood. The sentient tool weaves ruin untold even with just a mild swing of a limb.
Earth, water, air, flesh, bone, shadow, and light are sliced and skewered when the art so almighty is enacted. A star itself is split upon a raised step of power. The gods fear this aberration. The destruction it brings can decimate even the divine and the dammed.
However, has it been given life merely to fashion cataclysm? Or does it serve a higher purpose? One can drown in speculation, only to observe from a safe distance whether it will act with kindness or cruelty at any given time.
[*] It will not understand other beings, primarily the written word and spoken language. This hardship is to be overcome as the story progresses. It may understand a few social cues, more if given time to practice until they are hardwired well in its consciousness.
[*] It will delay plenty of its reactions unless self-preservation and unassailable duties are the goals of what it required to enact upon. Delay can range from a quarter of a second to an hour, depending on the stimulus.
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