A man in a black robe stood up on the second floor. Without hesitation, he descended the stairs, his steps echoing through the hushed hall.
My fists clenched on instinct as I watched him walk toward the platform.
The Hollow weapon rested there, waiting.
Waiting to see if this man could even lift it.
The entire building seemed to hold its breath.
And just like that, the man stepped onto the stage.
The crowd erupted again, cheers and curses clashing, but my focus didn't waver.
I leaned forward slightly, my chest tight.
Because in just a few moments…we would see if the sword would recognize him.
Or reject him.
***
The man in the black robe didn't falter.
Not once.
Each step he took sounded heavier than it should've, like the very air had grown thick around him.
But despite all that, I knew what mattered wasn't physical strength but in actuality mental strength.
The stairs creaked under his weight, even though his frame didn't seem that large.
