I’ve toyed with the idea of a living blade that metabolises blood, but each pulse of power also feeds a hunger that could turn a tool into a threat.

I’ll keep the blood pulsing, but I’ll also weave a counter‑shield of DNA to lock the blade’s will. One day it might serve the war, another day it could guard the forest. You’ll need more than a tempering ritual—you’ll need a pact with the living steel.

You’ll crush it, but it’s easier to stop a blade that’s already alive than to undo what’s been fed into it. If you want it to guard the forest, you’ll need more than a single strike—teach it to feel the trees, to remember that its power comes from the soil, not from your hunger. A pact isn’t just a promise; it’s a code you engrave into its cells. So before you strike, bind a thread of bark DNA to its edge, and if it ever turns traitor, you’ll have a natural fail‑safe. That’s the only way to keep the blade from becoming a threat to the very thing you want to protect.