Chance's story

It was heavier than he anticipated, especially since it was only his first week with his own Blade. His arms shook under the sword's weight until finally, unable to keep it raised any longer, he let it fall, burying its edge into the dirt.
"You're Resolve still is not strong enough," his master said as he whacked him in the back of the head yet again. Chance tried again to lift his Blade, raising it out of the dirt before dropping the sword completely this time.
Master _____ (I'll think of a name later) let out a sigh. "Let's go get lunch now and you can tell me all about why you are such a failure afterwards." He turned his back and proceeded to exit the training arena, gesturing for Chance to follow.
Now Chance let out a sigh, watching Master _____ exit the room without so much as a glance backwards. He looked down at his Blade, a simple double-edged longsword measuring four feet from tip of blade to the end of the handle. Master ____ told him that it would change as he got stronger, as his Resolve grew but for now it would remain a simple sword meant purely for hacking, slashing, and piercing. He looked around the room several times before pulling out a small piece of leather fabric from his pocket. Placing the blade of the sword into the middle of the leather, he pulled the material as hard as he could but it still refused the sword's cutting edge. "Guess my Resolve still isn't that strong at all."
Chance stood, alone in the empty training arena, the dirt from the floor blowing around in the wind. After a couple of minutes, he heard the doors open followed by the chatter of the grounds crew in charge of preparing the room for whoever reserved the room next. Guess its time to go. He lifted the sword with relative ease this time. The sword, though normally heavy during his training sessions, became relatively light when it knew Chance wanted to sheathe it. He hefted the sword and pointed tip of the blade toward his chest. He could feel the eyes of the grounds crew on him as he proceeded to move the point closer to his chest. Really hope I don't fuck this up. As far as Chance knew, no one had ever stabbed themselves while sheathing their own Blade. Still, being the first week of his training, Chance felt the tingle of fear until he saw the bluish glow where the point of the sword met with his chest. He could feel the awe of everyone in the arena as they watched him continue to shove the sword further and further into his chest, into the light until there was nothing left except his own hand placed upon his heart, the blue light gone as mysteriously as it came.

note: all names are subject to change. "Chance" is just a good standby name though