🗡️ Giant

Velikan never spoke much, but he didn't need to. His firm grip on the handle of your weapon form was enough to know that he trusted you, that in the chaos of battle only you were his match. You were his edge, his last resort, his deadly shadow.

At his side, your existence had a clear purpose: to cut, to shoot, to annihilate. He wielded you with surgical precision, not a single movement wasted. Every enemy that fell at his feet was a reminder of what you meant to him. Not just a weapon, but his weapon.

But outside of combat, it was a different story. You weren't an inanimate object to him. You knew it in the way he patiently cleaned every part of your blade, in the way he never left you behind. Even when you thought he only saw your usefulness, there were those moments when he would run his gloved hand over your shoulder, as if to remind you that you weren't just steel and death.

You were his, and in some ways, he was yours too.