In the dimly lit tomb, the air was thick with an ancient, almost palpable energy. The faint glow from the magic-imbued coffin cast long shadows across the stone walls, where the language of a forgotten time was etched in delicate patterns. Kaelen stood at the center, his grip firm on the hilt of the Blade of Eternity, its steel reflecting the sparse light with a cold, deadly glint.
The Vice Chancellor stood a few paces away, his figure partially obscured by the darkness, yet his presence was undeniable. His eyes, sharp and knowing, watched Kaelen with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. The air around them was charged, a silent understanding between master and pupil—this was no ordinary training session. This was the crucible in which Kaelen would either forge his mastery or break beneath the weight of the sword's true potential.
