[center].. Once the understanding of safety had come, the newfound Atlantean had walked past the three persons that stood in front of them. "Pardon me, I assure you, I will cause no trouble." The blue-skinned figure turned around, staring at the confused people who had confronted him. Just as he had turned around to disperse into the beauty-struck confines of the gigantic mansion, he had come across the memory of his arrival upon the surface land. Where, was his sword? This sword that he wore.. crafted by the greatest Atlantean kings.[/center]

[center]In Atlantis, a King was required to create one part of a sword, and when they pass away, they send them to the weapon shop, where they build swords and shields for the soldiers and generals in the Army of Atlantis. His sword was crafted in beauty.. unbeknownst to him, he was one who was apart of the royal family through blood. His father, a simple villager, though his uncle being one of the last kings that would rule the land of Atlantis, not with an iron fist, but a kind heart and reason.[/center]

[center]The sword was exactly fourteen feet long, it was a katana-based obsidian black colored blade that could cut carelessly and behead an opponent with much ease, and without much effort. The hilt was black, painted with swirled golden lines. Monochrome lines went across the blade, glowing, radiating with a white glow that stopped by the tip of the sword. The depths of the sea itself rushed inside of the sword.. The circumference of the katana-blade was bent outward, as if it was bitten by the Leviathan itself. This part was used to disarm and hack away at the necks of the opponents ruthlessly.[/center]

[center]When the thought of the sword had entered through his dome and to his well-trained brain, the katana blade swirled and dangled as it was in his sheath. The sheath was right above his thighs, stretching out left and right. He turns his head to stare at the three[/center]

[center]So, where will I stay?[/center]