The training hall within the dark castle was vast enough to contain a small war.
Its black walls rose like part of an ancient mountain, covered in faint violet runes that prevented destruction from escaping beyond their boundaries.
The floor was forged from a dark metal that reflected no light, yet it was filled with countless scars, as though every strike that had landed upon it had left behind a silent confession to the strength of those who once stood there.
At the center of that hall stood Abraham Starlight.
He no longer looked as he once had.
His black hair had grown longer, and his eyes carried a sharp gleam that had never existed before. His body was no longer that of a man worn down by years and regret, but of a warrior who had returned from death with something inside him deeper than life itself.
In both hands, he carried twin swords of light.
