"This path of the sword…" Max muttered under his breath, his voice filled with awe and disbelief as he slowly turned his head, taking in the endless sea of blades stretching out around him. "This is… the burial of swords."
It was the only way he could describe it. The landscape was a graveyard, a solemn resting place where countless swords stood stabbed into the bloodstained earth, each one weathered by time yet still exuding a powerful, undying presence. But that wasn't all.
As Max focused deeper, he realized something even more shocking—something that made his heart pound faster. Each sword wasn't just lying there as a dead relic of battle. Each one was alive, in a way, emanating a distinct aura, a will, a profound truth.
And it wasn't mere sword aura either—no, it was more refined, more powerful. It was the trace of concepts. Sword concepts.
