My father began to walk and sat at his desk, with a serene and observant expression. His gaze settled on Roberto, who respectfully bowed in greeting. Noah simply nodded in acknowledgment. My mother approached and handed the sword to my father. Noah examined the blade carefully, admiring its quality and design.
With expert skill, he drew the blade from its sheath and observed it with bright eyes. "Magnificent, a great sword," he declared with admiration. Then, he drew his own sword, one of Celestial rank, and with a swift motion, he sliced through the air. Noah's sword shattered like butter under Anthony's blade. A small smile of satisfaction formed on his face as he nodded in approval.
Finally, Noah turned his gaze towards Anthony and posed a crucial question: "This sword is bound to your soul, isn't it?" With a serious nod, Anthony confirmed his father's words. Noah then turned to Roberto, with a determined expression on his face.
