Hah. Indeed, a child of man cannot comprehend the meaning and value my blade possesses!
'Tis the great blade of bone only us demonkin may hold,
a mass of curses and grudges incomparable with the likes of swords made by iron!
Not made of steel tempered by fire of hell,
this is made of the bones of us demonkin, the firmest and most solid above land.
Several hundreds of days it was tempered, and look,
'tis now a first-rate sword, swung beneath the moonlit night with demonic aura drifting about it.
Fufu. Very well. I shall allow it. Tremble in fear of it to your heart's content!