Gambol Shroud.

The multitool from hell. It's not just a katana. It's also a cleaver. And a gun. And a grappling hook. And a ribbon dancer's prop. It's the duct-taped fever dream of someone who saw a knife, a gun, and a shoelace, and thought, "Yeah, this'll work."

Let's start with the sheath of this katana–cleaver–gun–ribbon–grappling–ninja–stealth–leash–whatever-the-hell hybrid.

Blake. You sharpened the scabbard. Let that sink in. You looked at a sheath, a thing designed to protect you from the blade, and said, "Nah, let's make it dangerous." You turned the thing meant to protect your sword into a second, duller sword. That's like wearing a seatbelt made of chainsaws. It completely defeats the purpose! It's the opposite of safety!

And sure, Blake, I guess you could have used it as a blunt-force truncheon if you refrained from sharpening it. A kind of less-lethal option for dealing with human foes. You know, like a person trying to avoid murder charges. But do you ever? Of course not. Because your idea of restraint is: "What if I just cut a little less delicately and just hack at things with a sword-sized cleaver?"

Now, the sword itself.

Classic katana silhouette, very cool, very anime.

However. The one rule... THE ONE RULE! of making a sword is : Don't break the blade's integrity. So what do you do?

You slap a joint right near the hilt, the spot that takes the most force in a clash. Because what better place to sabotage your own weapon? That's a structural failure waiting to happen. It's like you're begging physics to assassinate you mid-parry.

You've created the first sword in history with early retirement built into its résumé.

Don't even get me started on the baby-caliber popgun built into your hilt.

You're facing Grimm, literal nightmare monsters, and your plan is to tickle them into submission? You forgot to give your pea-shooter pistol any power, range, or purpose. That barrel is so short, it's barely more effective than spitting. You couldn't hit the broad side of a Beowolf unless you were already inside its mouth. A strong gust of wind does more damage. That's not combat effectiveness; that's mosquito cosplay. The Grimm don't care. They probably think you're sneezing.

And Blake… sweetie… You put the pointy end of your blade on the barrel, directly facing your eye. Every time you fire, the recoil and the ejection risk jamming the blade into your own skull. One slip and you've just performed the world's first DIY self-lobotomy! Congratulations, you've engineered a stabbing implement that wants to perform eye surgery on its owner. A couple more shots, and you're going to have to rename it Gouged Eyeball Shroud.

But the real punchline? You combined the sword and the gun instead of just carrying both. Why... why, Blake, don't you just carry a separate pistol? Owning a sword… and a gun. Separately. Yes! Two tools. Used at the same time. Revolutionary idea, right?

And then, you wouldn't have to worry about your trigger being in your sword handle, making one sweaty palm slip a potential unintentional kneecap removal while trying to block a strike.

You could've had dual-wield capability, backup reliability, and actual coordination. But no. You welded a popgun onto your sword handle like a last-minute science fair project. You had the option of being effective. You threw it in the trash and said, "No thanks, I'd rather fumble around like a discount anime pirate."

Now let's wrap it up with the ribbon.

You're attaching your entire weapon to your wrist with a glorified shoelace. You are literally throwing your main weapon like the world's stupidest yo-yo at your enemies and hope it doesn't snap mid-battle. This isn't gymnastics, Blake. You're fighting monsters, not trying to win a gold medal in interpretive murder dance.

Nothing says "trained fighter" like giving your opponent a free handle to grab you mid-fight. One yank, and best-case scenario? They rip the weapon out of your hand and/or dislocate your shoulder. Worst-case? It flings you into a tree. Or off a cliff. Or better yet, reeled you face-first into their mouth like bait on a hookdrags.

What's the game plan here? Hope the Grimm are polite enough not to grab the ribbon and swing you around like a ragdoll?

Also, darling, let's be real. It's a ribbon. Not titanium. How long is that ribbon going to last against claws, fangs, or basically anything sharp? One nick, one bite, and suddenly your ninja-chic whip sword becomes a sad, dangling belt of failure.

To sum up, Gambol Shroud is the "Swiss Army knife of bad ideas."

Every feature cancels out another. You've got a scabbard that cuts, a blade that folds, a gun that threatens to stab you in the face, and a leash that makes sure your weapon can be taken away like a toddler's balloon. It's fragile where it should be sturdy, sharp where it should be safe, and weak where it should be deadly. Everything about this weapon introduces a new way for you to either hurt yourself, get disarmed, or simply be wildly ineffective.

It's trying so hard to be versatile that it forgot to be good. It's not multifunctional. It's multi-malfunction. This belongs in an exhibit titled "Why Form Should Never Win Over Function."

Gambol Shroud is a glorified cosplay prop duct-taped together by someone who watched three anime fights and thought they understood warfare. Now be honest, Blake…

Did Adam design this thing?

Because it reeks of edgy form over actual function.

Just like him.