Apollo gazed intently at Old Man Aragon, his eyes conveying everything.
"Alright," he said as he took out an exquisite box that appeared to isolate their senses and imprison the sword's energy within.
"Are you ready?"
"Hmm."
As Old Man Aragon steadily opened the box, a bright blue glow erupted, accompanied by a burst of cold, chilling aura that spread from the box, freezing the entire room and covering it with a layer of ice.
Before them appeared a beautiful, icy silver sword with blue veins, its sharp, curved blade seemingly capable of cutting through anything. They could feel the unique sharpness and chill emanating from it.
The sword was neither too big nor too small; it was the perfect size for him. It showcased the meticulous craftsmanship of Old Man Aragon, who had noted every detail of Apollo before creating this flawless blade.
"Hold it, and tell me how you feel."
