***
Doubts swirled in my mind, clouding my thoughts as I watched the standoff between the black samurai and Erron the Black. An internal turmoil waged, urging me to act, to assist the black samurai in any way I could. Yet the glaring reality was evident: my reservoir of magic was drained, leaving me with nothing but a gaping void. And though my father, Antrodos, was a master with the blade, he hadn't yet passed on those sacred skills to me. I felt like a lost child amidst giants, my spirit stifled by my own perceived limitations.
My heart raced, its pounding echoing my internal struggles. How I loathed this sense of helplessness, this inability to aid an ally in a dire moment. Yet, as the weight of the situation pressed upon me, I realized Erron was making no move to halt my departure. His focus was entirely on the samurai, leaving me, for now, inconsequential in his grand plans.
