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The entity once again falls into a vortex of disjointed images, losing the ability to dissolve, but gaining the ability not to act, for action is impossible in emptiness, but to relate to the images in one way or another. The first thing that leads to the charred medal turns out to be a sword. As long as chaos doesn't sweep her away again, she can seize it. Or refuse.
A negligible entity picks up a sword. For there is nothing more substantial in the remnants of its consciousness, just as there was nothing but battle in this empty man's life.