"Nah, the change is apparently down to the molecular level, whatever that means. I'm not a science guy," Frederick offered through an almost shy smile. He turned his scimitar arm this way and that, and its smooth surface had a dull gleam, catching the light like unpolished metal. If he concentrated, he could make it become denser, and dark as polished obsidian, so he did that as he walked closer to Kurt. "What that means is it won't break. It's as durable as any sword."
"Here, see for yourself," he added, holding his sword arm out for Kurt to test the edges. "Hit it with your sword, you won't hurt me." Inside, Scion almost wished Kurt would hurt him, to atone for his sins. He was avoiding looking at his upheld arm, fearing he would see the blood dripping from it. Two men were dead by his hand, and perhaps his step faltered, but he made himself keep going. If he hung on to normalcy, it would reestablish itself in his life. He could hear his father's voice inside his head. A Slade never shows the world his weakness. A Slade keeps on going, with his head held high!