Forged Destiny [Book 1: Ch. 8]

"Ugh," I grit my teeth as the Grimm's huge claws struck the shield, forcing my arm back and sending pain rocketing up my shoulder. Fetid breath washed into my face, red eyes glaring balefully down on me. Bracing Crocea Mors against the back of it I pushed forwards, trying to keep the larger beast from knocking me to the ground.

A black blur passed beneath my right arm, a hooded figure appearing there before a sharp blade was forced up and underneath the Grimm's arm, piercing into its armpit. It roared in agony, staggering back and letting off its attack at the same time. I'd have liked to follow and cut it down but it was all I could do to fall back and rub my shoulder. Blake had it either way, leaping into its guard and cutting across the throat in one quick motion.

[...]

We'd been travelling like that for the past hour or so, switching between Yang and myself on the front lines once or twice since. This was just the latest in another fight against the Grimm, although now my aura was around fifty per cent or so

[...]

It was a long sword, with a hilt that was a hand and a half, the blade a good forty inches or so. It seemed to gleam in the light of the torch Pyrrha now held, a light silvery sheen.

[...]

Better than my current one for sure, with a subtle focus in endurance. It was a good sword, forged from crucible steel. Definitely a step up on Crocea Mors… which was a bit of a blow to my ego to be honest.

—Forged Destiny [Book 1: Ch. 8]