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Combine: Mentor’s Pride | T4 Perfect Katana | ID: 238567 | ACC 3 Crafting ID: 238567 A purely decorative piece designed by Wulfrin to commemorate an unbreakable bond. It is a katana, black as the deepest void with a Damascus pattern that mimics a river of lighter greys and blacks. It is outlined all over with golden filigree. In place of the usual mark of Sentinel Armaments is a Phoenix trapped in the coil of a long inky black shadow with two small shards of sapphire. Source: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/19871-f2-r5-appraiser-freyd-aspirations-open/?do=findComment&comment=69783

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A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. What was faced by those that sought them out, these hostiles seemed very malleable and capable of mimicking the arms of their opponents. It is best to assume that the same applies to all of them.

Glancing back to Elda who was trying to lug the massive planter along with her, he cannot help but smile at the kooky notion. "Uh, we can just get the plant and bring them back. That's a little much to be toting around don't you think?" The massive planter easily a foot and a half in diameter and 2 feet tall wasn't exactly an ideal travel companion. Raidou was right behind the girl, taking his robe from the rack and turning it over his shoulders. Pulling it tight around his neck it falls into place, opening the door for Eruda to be let out before closing it up behind him. A turn of the key see

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. In times of desperation, the Spectral Knights seemed to turn feral like a wounded animal. In these final moments, they seemed to unravel and forgo their own self preservation. Perhaps it would be wise to cool such anger.

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. When the creatures become shapeless, it would appear that somber music will persuade their shape to remain solid.

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. Spectral Knights, before they retreated, transformed to take the shape of their enemies. Donning their face, perhaps there are ways to see past such a disguise.

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. Rumor has it that beneath the waves, boats that travel upon its shore will see themselves turned by an invisible force. It would appear that some abnormal barrier is causing them to shift away with damage to the vessel's hull.

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. At night the sky appeared darker, and these corrupt creatures seemed unaffected by it. Within that mask, they converge upon any living thing regardless of stature.

A strange pop-up appears once the Spectral Knight is slain. The Spectral Knights seemed attuned to the dark, essences of the void seem to have reduced effects.

Seafoam bubbles over stones. Lighting crackles over the North Sea, casting brief flashes of red over the water. The coast here is jagged and uneven. Cold rocks, slick with rain, slope sharply into the dark. The sky hangs heavy with constant storm clouds, and the sea is darker still. The spawning of Spectral Knights has ceased. Along the shore of the Black, a scout makes a strange discovery. Past midnight, he sends word to the frontlines. From: Hackman To: Frontlines Was scanning along the edge of the Black. Real quiet out here.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the crystalline lake, casting a peach-gold glow across the mist-shrouded waters. Fondante’s Inferno stood quietly by the shore, its chimney exhaling gentle puffs of warmth into the crisp morning air. Inside, the bakery was alive with scents of honeyed bread, citrus zest, and a hint of char that Bonk swore was intentional, though Ciela insisted otherwise. Ciela stood at the center of it all, whisk in hand, apron tied tightly around her waist, and hair pinned up with a sprig of rosemary. She looked around at the rows of cooling loaves, fresh jams, enc

Back at Fondante’s Inferno, peace settled once again, at least for now. Ciela’s hands found rhythm in the kneading, her soul settling with the rise and fall of warm dough. She baked a new bread, one infused with the faint glow of the reclaimed Bloom and the warmth of Bork’s honey. The result was soft, golden, and just slightly sweet. They named it Unity Loaf. “What's it do?” Wulfrin asked, sniffing a fresh slice. “Boosts HP regen. And morale,” Ciela replied. Bork winked. “Also tastes like not dying.” The trio shared the bread over tea, laughter echoing through the bake

The corrupted mirror-Ciela moved with haunting precision. Every slash, spin, and snarky eye-roll mimicked her own. Bork became the anchor, blocking attacks, absorbing hits, shouting goofy taunts that made Ciela snort mid-dodge. “You call that a roll? I’ve seen muffins do better somersaults!” The laughter helped them break the tension. Ciela noticed a half-second delay in her doppelgänger’s movements, a pattern. She baited a heavy swing, and as the reflection lunged, Bork tackled it from the side with a mighty “BONK!” that echoed through the chamber. Together, they shattered

A new threat arrived, glitches spreading from corrupted Bloom nodes. NPCs freezing mid-dialogue. Towns phasing in and out of visual stability. The Crimson Pike were overwhelmed and understaffed. Ciela and Bork took it upon themselves to investigate a node near the lakeside ruins. There, they found a withering garden, once vibrant and full of herbs, now wilting under a haze of digital distortion. A hacked dungeon portal pulsed red at its center. “We go in?” Bork asked, cracking her neck. Ciela nodded grimly. “We stop this at the source.” The dungeon was nothing like before.

Bork wasn’t good with words. But she was great with loyalty. She helped patch the bakery wall after a mini-boss charge splintered the side. Stayed late polishing mixing bowls until they gleamed like armor. Protected the oven like it was a sacred altar guarded by fire spirits and cinnamon. “You ever think about opening a second bakery?” Bonk asked one night, her hammer resting across her lap like a sleeping pet. Ciela blinked. “Like a franchise?” “Yeah. Ciela’s Combat Cakes. I could run security. Maybe do taste tests.” Ciela laughed, genuinely this time. “You just want unlim

Bork wasn’t her real name, just what Ciela called the hammer-wielding tank after their first dungeon together. A single misclick had sent her hammer flying into a trap door. Bork had laughed so hard, Ciela nearly dropped a tart. From that moment on, Bork was more than a teammate, she was a reliable backup, a boulder of reassurance in the often chaotic world of Aincrad. They hadn’t talked much since Floor 23. Life, quests, and raid prep had pulled them in different directions. But now, as Ciela stirred batter on the bakery porch, Bork appeared like a sunbeam with a jug of honey and a sheep

With only two days left before the Floor 29 raid, Ciela worked nonstop. Her body ached. Her eyes burned. But the final batch of Bloombread was rising. Wulfrin joined her. “You should rest.” “Not yet,” she said. “This is my part in the fight.” Raid gear was distributed. Bloombread packed. Potions brewed. Weapons enchanted. Ciela stepped outside, looking to the skies. “Let’s knead this battle into shape.” Floor 29 was worse than imagined. Toxic fumes. Mire serpents. Flickering terrain. But Ciela’s bread granted stamina and clarity. They cut thr

The Glacier Gardens were as deadly as they were beautiful. Ice paths, frostbite debuffs, and mirror beasts awaited them. Their breath fogged in the air. Ciela’s cookies froze solid. “We need a warming ward,” Bork warned. MisoDoom conjured fire fields with chili-basil baguettes. The group reached a frozen waterfall. Trapped within the ice, four Verdant Blooms. But a Frost Queen guarded them, and she wasn’t pleased. Battle commenced. Ice shards rained down. Wulfrin and MisoDoom danced around her, while Ciela charged up a Bloom Blast, an explosive spell-biscuit.

Ciela examined the black petal. It radiated faintly and gave off no smell. “Corrupted Verdant Bloom?” she whispered. Wulfrin frowned. “Or evolved.” Meanwhile, the Crimson Pike guild faced sabotage. Ore went missing. Bloom samples spoiled overnight. “Inside job?” Bork growled. Possibly. Ciela posted guards and warded the bakery. Her once-safe haven had become a target. She baked protection cookies, yes, really, imbued with minor buffing spells. “We’re going to need help,” Ciela muttered. So she sent out a call to the one guild she never thought she’d con

The Mycobeast was relentless. Every tendril lashed out like a whip. Bork’s potions kept him alive, while Wulfrin darted in with surgical strikes. Ciela focused on the roots holding the Bloom. If they severed the source, maybe the beast would weaken. She slashed and rolled, cutting deeper until the roots shrieked. The Bloom pulsed brightly, and the Titan roared. It lunged, but Bork intercepted, slamming it into a wall. Ciela dove forward, grabbed the Bloom, and pulled. The creature shrieked once more, and exploded into digital ash. The silence that followed was alm

Offering Raidou a nod of acknowledgement, Setsuna's only main goal was to directly deny the very thing these things were seeking. Sometimes there were casualty in battle, but denial of an enemies goals would always win a war. This was no truer here nor in Ladonia moments prior, there was always some overarching risk to these sort of things. Tightening her grip around the handle of her katana, she'd disappear in a puff of smoke. Her enemy were numerous but foolish, so using wits would be the hardest counter to their brash behavior. PH

Ciela assembled her party: Wulfrin, and Bork the hammer-happy tank. They met outside Fondante’s Inferno, packed with gear, and extra cinnamon rolls. “The grove’s too hot now,” Wulfrin said. “We need a new Bloom source.” Bork pulled out a chart. “There’s a cave system beneath Floor 22. Rumors say it feeds the grove’s roots.” “Underground flower hunting. Of course,” Ciela muttered. “Let’s go spelunking for salad.” They traveled through mossy ruins until they found the cave mouth. Inside was damp, dark, and strangely warm. Perfect conditions for something magical… or monstrous

The Head quarters buzzed with energy. Maps, item manifests, and raid blueprints littered the war room. Ciela entered with a satchel full of baked goods and a notebook of ingredient scans. "You’re late," barked Commander Denzik, eyeing her flour-stained gloves. “I brought muffins,” she replied sweetly. That softened him. Slightly. Raid leaders gathered around as she detailed her findings. Verdant Bloom’s effects on stamina regeneration, the ore's trace magic signature, both invaluable for Floor 29’s toxic swamp terrain. "We’ll need twenty units of Bloom by next week," D

Raidou turns to Griswold wishing that he could give the smith an answer. "I dont rightly know but we cannot afford to let these things to reach the warp gate. Its clearly their target." The proof being how they would tear through the walls and ignore everyone inside, sometimes even rushing through on all fours like wild beasts. Given how ruthless and unconcerned about their own bodies they were, it would appear they were some facsimile of a greater entity. A commander of the npc forces would break into their conversation, drawing Raidou's attention. "They are gaining strength on the north side