As though space itself struggled to endure its existence.
This was no ordinary weapon. This was a Tier 7 sword.
The kingdom's greatest treasure.
Its final trump card.
A weapon passed down through generations of kings.
A weapon so valuable that entire empires would wage war to obtain it.
Charles stood before the pedestal.
For several moments, he simply stared at the blade.
His expression was complicated.
For hundreds of years, it had remained hidden.
Waiting.
Preserved for the day the kingdom faced extinction. And that day had finally arrived.
Charles slowly reached forward.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt—
BOOM!
A powerful wave of sword intent erupted from the blade.
The entire chamber trembled. The sword seemed to resist him. Testing him, and judging him.
Charles didn't move. His eyes remained calm, and hand remained steady.
The pressure continued increasing. The sword intent grew sharper and sharper.
