Atlas stood motionless before Luke, his eyes seeming to be in a trance, and a faint, cold smile appeared on his face.
Luke closed his eyes for a moment, focusing all his concentration on the open palm of his hand. There, he began to gather telekinetic waves, condensing them more and more, until the very air around him began to distort, trembling under the intense pressure.
A vibration, even perceptible to the naked eye, spreads through the surroundings as if space itself twisted in response to the buildup of energy. For thirty long seconds, Luke maintained his focus, forcing the waves to compress even further, squeezing the power to a critical point. The air around him seemed oppressed.
Finally, with a quick, decisive motion, Luke sliced through the air with his hand, releasing the concentrated energy in a silent burst. The accumulated pressure exploded forward, creating an invisible blade that sliced through the space at overwhelming speed. The air split in its path, creating a fleeting trail barely noticeable.
The attack reached Atlas in the blink of an eye, right at the waist, where his serpentine body coiled tightly. The air compressed once more around the impact, and a perfectly defined line appeared at the waist of the gorgon.
The upper half of his body separated from the lower with terrifying precision. Atlas’ torso fell backward, while the lower half collapsed to the ground.
‘Incredible…’ thought Luke, surprised by his power. An attack capable of cutting through mythical bronze, harder than steel. A strong wind rose, scattering leaves and dirt all around.
Luke walked toward Atlas’ torso and noticed his eyes starting to regain their glow. He was coming back to reality.
“What’s wrong, Luke Poe?” Atlas exclaimed, a fierce grin spreading across his face as he coiled his tail around Luke’s right leg and hurled him with great force, sending him flying dozens of meters.
Watching as Luke flew like a kite, crashing through trees in a pathetic state, Atlas’ smile widened, and he began to rush toward him at full speed. It was time to kill and finally end the grudge between the Spellmans and the Poes.
As Atlas charged swiftly and agilely through the forest, he abruptly stopped and looked at his mouth. Blood. His own blood.
‘What the hell?’ Atlas thought, trying to wipe the blood away, but no matter how much he tried, more blood kept pouring from his mouth.
Another strange occurrence made him lift his head and look around. The forest began to crumble before his eyes. The trees and everything around him started to crack as if they were mirrors. Finally, they shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving everything in darkness.
Slowly, his vision began to clear, the images becoming sharper.
“Is that the sky?” Atlas murmured, confused, feeling increasingly weak, as if his strength was leaving him with every passing second.
“Yes, it’s the sky. Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Luke replied, raising his head toward the beautiful reddish moon high above.
‘When did it happen?’ Atlas thought as he looked at Luke.
Atlas tried to stand, but quickly realized his body wasn’t responding as it should. A sensation of paralysis overtook him. As he glanced around, horror and confusion overwhelmed him as he saw his body split in half. He saw his exposed entrails at the end of his torso, and not far away, the lower half of his body, still in its serpentine form.
“How?” Atlas asked everything was so confusing, and he was on the brink of death, so his ability to think was far from sharp.
Luke didn’t respond; he moved his hand toward Atlas’ head. He planned to knock him out and read his memories before the gorgon died, but just at that moment, Edgar stopped him.
“Don’t do it. If you knock him out, he’ll die. He won’t have the strength to stay alive, and you won’t be able to read his memories.”
Luke halted his hand just centimeters from Atlas. Unfortunately, you couldn’t read memories from dead people. Even if they had died just seconds ago, their memories would be gone forever once they passed.
“Be quick. Servants like Atlas probably have security seals so that once their minds are being inspected, they die quickly,” Edgar said, as Luke placed his hand on Atlas’ head.
Luke began reading Atlas’ memories, especially the most recent ones. In just five seconds, he couldn’t read anything more. Atlas’ brain exploded, and even his head was left unrecognizable.
‘Tsch, damn Spellmans,’ Luke thought angrily. It made sense that they would put such safeguards on Atlas, who knew about the demon deals of his masters. Atlas was a high- ranking servant among the Spellmans, unlike Deacon or Amaranth, who knew nothing about the family’s true nature.
“Anything useful?” Edgar asked, and Luke nodded.
“They wanted to revive Crackstone at all costs to steal his demonic book. Elliot coveted that book,” Luke replied with a grimace. If he had known that, it might have been a good idea to catch Atlas red-handed while he had the demonic book.
Though they would have needed Wednesday’s blood, and Luke had already decided he wouldn’t let those bastards touch her.
“That’s dangerous,” Edgar said, frowning. He wasn’t aware that Crackstone kept the demonic book in his crypt. It likely wasn’t known to the Demon Extermination Department. If they knew, they wouldn’t leave Crackstone’s crypt with so little protection. At the very least, they would try to destroy it and confiscate the demonic book.
“Anything else?” Edgar asked.
“It seemed like their primary goal at first was to kill me. There must be a reason,” Luke said with a shrug. What he learned was less than he had hoped.
“We’ve known that since last year. But there’s something different. They want to kill you with great urgency, even risking involving third parties and getting caught. They’re not being patient like they were when your father attended Nevermore. There might be a prophecy about you-it’s very likely,” Edgar commented, a new idea forming in his mind, inspired by the prophecy about Wednesday, Crackstone, and Nevermore.
If Rowan wanted to kill Wednesday because she was destined to destroy Nevermore, the Spellmans might have a similar prophecy. A prophecy in which Luke posed a greater danger or something similar. This made them paranoid about Luke, wanting to eliminate him before he could grow stronger.
“Could be,” Luke said. Just then, he received a telepathic message from Wednesday.
[An annoying fly is trying to rescue Sabrina. Their power is decent; I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold Sabrina much longer. Before she gets rescued, I’ll kill her. Then I’ll kill the fly.]
Her voice was monotone, emotionless as usual. Luke deduced that this “annoying fly” had to be Sebastian. He would be the only one capable of giving Wednesday a fight. Luke wanted to turn Atlas’ body into a ball like he had done with that normie some time ago, but Atlas’ bones were harder than steel, so he left the dead body there. He quickly took off, heading toward Wednesday. He wouldn’t let Sabrina escape. First, he needed to read her memories-maybe there was something useful, though he doubted the girl knew much about her family’s demonic dealings.
Luke flew toward the main courtyard. His fight with Atlas had taken him away from Nevermore’s grounds, but it didn’t take him long to return thanks to his great speed.
‘That was a good fight,’ Luke thought. Though he had only sustained a superficial cut, he felt mentally and physically drained. He wanted to lie down and sleep for days.
From the sky, Luke had a great view of the battle between Wednesday and Sebastian. The courtyard was in ruins-walls shattered everywhere, the fountain destroyed, and everything
scorched.
A few meters behind Wednesday stood Sabrina, completely imprisoned by Wednesday’s
darkness. She was wrapped in a black cocoon, with only her face visible. Her once admired features, beloved by all the students of Nevermore, were now marred-her eyes were gone, and her face was covered in burn wounds.
‘She has no mercy,’ thought Luke with a faint smile. Wednesday was an expert in torture; it seemed she had enjoyed herself before Sebastian arrived.
Despite being a year younger than Sebastian and defending her prisoner from being freed, Wednesday was winning the fight.
[Keep him busy. I’ll attack from above] Luke said telepathically. Due to the intensity of the battle, Sebastian hadn’t noticed Luke flying about twenty meters away, positioned in a blind
spot.
[Fine] Wednesday responded, her expression unchanged so as not to alert Sebastian to Luke’s
presence.
Luke raised his right hand, extending his index and middle fingers. Above these two fingers,
he began to gather an immense amount of telekinetic waves. The energy condensed and compressed until it formed a radiant sphere of concentrated power, clearly visible. The orb pulsed with intense vibrations, emitting a pure white glow.
‘Go,’ Luke thought as he launched the orb toward Sebastian. The orb shot forward at incredible speed, distorting the space around it as it moved.
Sebastian noticed the immense power heading his way and shifted his gaze toward the orb,
which would strike in just a few seconds.
‘What is that?’ thought Sebastian as he noticed the dangerous orb. He wanted to flee, but Wednesday hurled two lethal spears of darkness at him. He had no choice but to shield himself, or his head and heart would have been pierced.
Before the orb struck Sebastian, Luke made a subtle gesture with his hand, and Wednesday appeared beside him. To prevent her from falling, as she was floating in midair, he wrapped his arm around her delicate waist, holding her close.
‘Damn it!’ thought Sebastian as he conjured his most powerful fire barrier.
The orb collided with the barrier, causing a massive explosion. The blast left a gaping hole in
the center of the pentagonal courtyard. The ground caved in and cracked, forming a deep crater at the heart of the area. Debris and fragments flew in all directions.
“You nearly killed Sabrina with all that power,” Wednesday remarked, removing the blindfold from Luke’s eyes before placing her pale hands behind his neck.
“She was far from the center,” Luke justified as he flew toward the large crater where
Sebastian lay, breathing his last.
Sebastian was sprawled on the ground, gravely wounded. His right arm was gone, obliterated by the impact. His face was marred with open wounds and burns.
“I suppose you’re Luke Poe…” Sebastian said with difficulty, coughing and spitting blood. His vision was blurry, but from the footsteps, he could tell there were two people.
“This is the first time we’ve met, Sebastian Spellman. It’s a shame it will be the last,” Luke said, crouching down next to Sebastian, ready to read his memories.
“Now I understand why my father wanted to kill you at all costs,” murmured Sebastian,
growing weaker by the second.
“This time you came out victorious, Poe… However, this won’t end here. The Spellmans will avenge my sister’s death and mine,” he added, accepting his fate.
“Why are you talking as if I’m the villain? You planned this attack, and it backfired on you,”
Luke remarked with a smirk, considering whether he should ask Wednesday to prolong this
bastard’s suffering.
Before Luke could read his memories, Sebastian bit his tongue and died. Silence fell over the area, broken only by the distant growls of the few remaining zombies.
“He chose the suicide route. Smart. Either way, he would’ve died,” Wednesday said, breaking
the silence.
Luke clicked his tongue, and with a flick of his hand, Sebastian’s remaining body began to fold
and crush. Unlike Atlas, his body wasn’t as resilient and couldn’t withstand Luke’s telekinetic
power.
“The body could have been useful for the authorities to identify him. Sebastian is known as the Spellmans’ eldest son,” Wednesday commented.
“I don’t care. With the evidence I’ve gathered, they’ll already be incriminated. I’d rather his body not be resurrected—or worse, with the demonic powers those bastards have. I can give them the blood orb for a DNA test,” Luke said, walking towards Sabrina, his next target.
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