He drew the long sword at his waist in a slow, unhurried motion.
The moment steel cleared the scabbard, the sky shifted colors as though dawn and dusk collided. The weapon was entirely silver-white, its blade slim, its edge as thin as a cicada's wing.
Golden runes, intricate and unfathomable, crawled along the metal, each rune giving off a chilling sword intent.
"This sword is called the Dragonslayer Sword," Lucian said. "My Master granted me this high-grade immortal weapon."
His fingertips brushed the blade. "Since receiving it, I've never used it in the lower realm. Dying beneath it today is your good fortune."
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