{One week later}
It was at times like this, when my mind and body were overrun with fatigue, that the reality of being a frail young teenager actually dawned on me.
Even as I clenched Zarvrioth tightly, I couldn't muster enough energy to swing it once more, the pristine opaque blade glistening in the absence of dirt, its black surface thoroughly blocking the passage of rays the sun cast.
I huffed once more, feeling my soaked tunic detach from my chest, entirely drenched from all the sweat, as I swung the blade at thin air again. The longer the sword was in use, the heavier it got and the more innate mana it consumed.
The principles governing the sword was barbaric; a single user entitlement, with only Sandra's third eye powerful enough to activate the sword.
Meaning in order for me to master Zarvrioth, I needed to master Sandra's third eye and I couldn't do that because there was no documentation that supported the mastery of the eye.
