The sword continued to tremble in Max's grasp as his feet touched the floor of the Treasure Pavilion, its golden blade releasing a fierce and domineering sword aura that felt alive. The aura spread outward in waves, sharp and resolute, carrying an ancient will that refused to be subdued.
The moment it surged forth, every other weapon within the pavilion reacted as though facing a natural predator. Blades rattled, spears quivered, and even sealed weapons hidden deeper within the hall resonated faintly in response.
The few disciples present instinctively took a step back, their expressions tightening as the pressure washed over them, while even Elder Soren felt his breath grow heavier under the weight of that presence.
Only Max truly understood what that trembling meant.
