Kyrian remained standing before the four weapons for several moments.
The shop was silent. Only the faint spiritual hum emitted by the weapons broke the tranquility of the store, an almost imperceptible sound that seemed to come from the depths of the metal itself.
Each weapon seemed to sing its own song, a subtle melody that only those with refined perception could hear.
The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced across the polished blades. The sun's rays reflected off the metallic surfaces, making each weapon shine with its own unique brilliance.
He slowly reached out toward the longsword with the violet blade.
His fingers touched the hilt, wrapped in dark leather, tightly braided to provide a secure grip. The feeling was familiar, comfortable. Like an old friend he had not seen in a long time.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, a thin stream of Qi began flowing through his meridians.
