I observed as everything around me distorted, enveloped in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions. When I finally regained composure, I found myself in a training field, with my father staring at me intently. His words echoed in the air: "Draw your sword."
My father's words resonated in the training field, filling the air with a palpable intensity. Just as I was about to draw my sword, I remembered that my mother still had it in her possession. With a quick gesture, I directed my gaze towards where the training swords were in a corner of the room.
Focusing my mind and will, my dark aura began to emanate from my hands, forming fine threads of shadow that extended towards the training swords. With a subtle whisper, the sword materialized in my hands, as if responding to my call.
