Year's rolled seasons passed like fleeting shadows, each one shaping him is into something stronger
His grandfather training was relentless-strike, dodge, repeat. One morning, exhausted and bruised, our fifteen year old Rivaan snapped.
You old man! You don't even have a heart!.
He shouted, What do you even know about the battle, The grandfather said nothing and simply walked away.
After that all these years Rivaan always sees a thing common in house.
A rusted sword almost at the edge of Corrosion, one day out of curiosity.
He tries to lift the sword, but a strange weight is pressed on his chest.
That sword isn't meant for you Virat said from behind.
Rivaan scowled." Why do you have it old man? You don't even fight!
His grandfather traced a hond over the blade. "This sword has taken more lives than you can imagine, he said quietly. And if in your luck you will see the wrath of that sword.
From that day on, he never touched the rusted sword again.
But Rivaan in back of mind always thinks that this old man is just making tales