Balrog’s ears twitched slightly at the mention of knives. He wasn’t as quick to react as Citadel, taking a moment to consider the options. Sparring would teach him immediate skills, something useful in battle, but a knife? That could be a tool, a weapon, something with long-term value. He liked the idea of having something tangible to carry, something he could rely on beyond his own strength.
His obsidian eyes flicked from Wylan to Citadel, seeing the excitement in his brother. Finally, after a quiet pause, Balrog nodded in agreement. “A knife,” he said softly, his voice steady but firm.
He didn’t explain his reasoning, feeling it unnecessary. Wylan had given them a choice, and Balrog’s mind was already running through the possibilities. A knife could be more than just a weapon, it could be a symbol of his growing strength, a mark of his transition into manhood.
