“This was your father’s Plasma Sword. He wanted you to become a Space Cavalier, like he was. But your Uncle thought it was too dangerous.” The old man gave the boy the weapon, and with a push of a button, the blade was sheathed in crackling energy. He swung the it a few times, experimentally.
“Well, lets get started,” the old man said, readying his own weapon. “We’ll start with some light sparring.”
“What, with live blades?”
“Of course. That is the way of our order.”
“How did my father really die?” The boy asked.
“Training accident,” the hermit said.

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