###Chapter 4: The Sword of Calamity 

After five long months of relentless practice, Arie had finally mastered all the magic spells in the ancient books he had discovered. 

His days were consumed with training, honing his magical abilities until every spell flowed effortlessly through him. 

One quiet afternoon, as he rested in his small, humble house, a thought crossed his mind: "I never really explored the rest of the hidden chamber under the library." 

The curiosity nagged him, and without hesitation, he decided to return to the underground room to see what other secrets it might hold.

The walk to the ruined library felt different this time. 

The air seemed heavier, as if it sensed the power Arie now carried. 

When he reached the entrance to the hidden staircase, he took a deep breath and descended once more, the wooden steps creaking under his weight. 

This time, he ventured beyond where he had found the magical books. The dim glow of the room barely illuminated the path ahead, but he pressed on, heart pounding with anticipation.

The deeper Arie ventured, the more he noticed remnants of a forgotten era. Old tombs lined the walls, their stone lids etched with names he did not recognize. 

Skeletal remains of warriors long past were scattered on the cold stone floor, their rusted weapons and armor lying in disarray. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of who these warriors had been and what battles they had fought. At first, it seemed there was nothing more of value—just relics of a time long forgotten. 

But then, he reached what appeared to be the heart of the chamber.

There, standing proud and defiant, was a sleek black katana embedded in an ancient stone. The dark blade gleamed faintly, its sharp edge catching the flicker of light from the enchanted walls. 

The sight of it made Arie's breath catch in his throat. He approached slowly, the air crackling with a strange energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Arie reached out, gripping the hilt of the katana with both hands. Its cool metal sent a shiver through him. 

He pulled with all his might, muscles straining, but the sword didn't move an inch. Frustrated, he paused, panting. Then he remembered something his father had once said: "A true swordsman wields a blade with calm and steady hands, not brute force.

" Taking a deep breath, Arie let the tension in his body fade and tried again, this time with a steady grip and focused mind. Yet, the sword remained stubbornly fixed in place.

As doubt crept in, his eyes caught sight of two ancient books lying near the base of the stone. He picked them up, brushing off the thick layer of dust, and realized they contained legendary sword techniques. 

The find was unexpected, and a question formed in his mind: Why are these books here, so close to the katana?

His gaze shifted to the wall behind the stone, where a large inscription was carved. The words read: "Whoever wishes to wield this sword must be worthy of (symbol).

" Arie's eyes widened when he saw the symbol—it was the same one he'd studied in the book of destruction spells. He ran his fingers over the engraving, feeling the grooves in the cold stone. The connection became clear in his mind. 

If this sword responds to destruction magic, then maybe I can draw it out by channeling that energy.

Determined, he stood in front of the katana and placed his hands on the hilt once more. This time, he closed his eyes and summoned the power he had mastered over the past months. 

Dark energy pulsed around him, wrapping his body in a shadowy glow. He felt the ground beneath him tremble as the stone holding the sword cracked. The chamber echoed with the sound of shifting earth, and the air buzzed with raw, untamed power.

The pillars in the room began to shake, and dust fell from the ceiling as Arie channeled the destruction magic into the blade. With one final, mighty effort, he pulled. The sword came free, and a surge of power erupted from the katana, sending a wave of energy throughout the chamber. 

The force knocked him back, and debris began to fall from above as the ancient room groaned in protest.

"I did it," Arie whispered, a smile breaking across his face. But the ground beneath his feet shuddered violently, and he realized the chamber was about to collapse. 

Clutching the katana and the two books to his chest, he sprinted toward the exit, dodging falling rocks and broken pieces of stone. 

The walls crumbled behind him, and the roar of the collapsing structure pushed him to run faster. Just as he leapt through the entrance, the chamber caved in with a deafening crash.

Breathing heavily, Arie looked down at the black katana in his hands, its dark surface now faintly pulsing with an inner light. "I did it," he repeated, the reality sinking in. 

But as he stared at the blade, a sense of unease crept over him. What kind of power had he just unleashed? What other secrets did this weapon hold?

On his walk back to his small house, a sudden shimmer caught his eye. A black sheath materialized around the katana as if answering some unspoken command. 

Intrigued, Arie wondered what abilities the weapon possessed. He decided to test it and swung the sword toward a tree in the distance. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then the tree wavered and fell, its trunk sliced cleanly in half. 

The precision of the cut stunned him. The katana could send out invisible slashes.

A rush of excitement coursed through him. With these newfound books and the power of the katana, Arie knew his training was far from over.