Monika eyed the sword when she spoke, then rested her eyes back on her. She didn't think anything she'd say would help her, not right away at any rate. But it didn't feel right to remain silent and leave, either.

"That doesn't mean it's not your best. A man who lost his arm... He may never fight as well as he once did, but does that mean he is no longer doing his best?"

She hoped that was a good analogy. It was easier to picture with a physical limb, rather than with abstract things such as the soul, magic and the likes. If you lost an arm, your best was obviously going to be less in battle than it had once been, but... It's still your best. You still gave it your all.

"What you've lost isn't a limb. But it's as important to you... You need to tailor your new best around that phantom pain."