Id spares the weapon a thoughtful look. So Noctis is pretty much a walking arsenal. That must be convenient. Just from a glance, it's in far better repair than the hunk of metal he picked up — though something about it doesn't seem all there.

Before he can comment, Noctis has already disappeared and reappeared where he'd thrown another weapon. He shelves the thought, rushing forward and swinging the blade around when a limb comes bearing down toward him. The sword easily cleaves the tentacle where it makes contact, spilling blue blood on the planks below as the monster howls.

"Not bad." His words are swallowed up by the noise, but he doesn't mind it. Instead, he maintains his momentum, striking the monster with swift, brutal swings of the borrowed weapon, his own energy surrounding the blade in an indigo so vivid it appears electrified.