Deep beneath the earth, Luke continued descending through the levels of the collapsed mines.
The atmosphere was oppressive, but his telekinetic field kept him isolated and unharmed.
He walked among the ruins of forgotten tunnels and structures collapsed by the underground fire, guided by his domain that allowed him to see the weapon, he was getting closer and closer to it.
Luke’s steps grew slower as he approached the weapon.
“Come on, hurry up! Why so slow?” echoed Edgar’s voice, floating beside him. His spectral silhouette flickered at times, as if the weapon’s proximity was affecting his presence.
Luke turned his head to look at Edgar, “I was observing the scenery…” he replied in a neutral tone, then, after a few seconds of silence, began walking again at a slightly faster pace, though not by much.
These were the last minutes they would share together. Luke knew it. So did Edgar.
Once they were in front of the weapon, Edgar would cease to exist as a conscious presence. He wouldn’t be trapped or imprisoned. He would merge with the weapon. His soul would become part of the legacy the weapon represented.
Though soul weapons are considered sentient entities due to the number of souls sealed within them, that didn’t mean Edgar would be able to speak with Luke or appear like a ghost. It didn’t work that way.
Luke turned into a narrower passageway until he reached a natural cavity. And finally, he saw it, about ten meters away.
The rock, blackened by centuries of heat, rose in the center of the chamber like a kind of natural, improvised altar. And embedded in that rock was the weapon.
A sword.
Its blade was long, dark, and slightly curved, similar to a katana. In the center of the blade, a channel was engraved with ancient runes that emitted a faint glow.
The hilt was matte black, made of reinforced polymer with tanned leather inlays and old spiral engravings. It had a small crossguard shaped like a pair of sharp wings, useful for deflecting attacks without losing mobility.
Edgar had already explained all of this before.
“Its name is… Eclipse,” Luke murmured as he approached the sword embedded in the rock, as if it were the mythical sword of King Arthur.
The name wasn’t just for show. It came from the blade’s dark edge, a dense blackness that seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it.
Beside him, Edgar floated, staring at the blade for a moment, then spoke.
“You already know… but I’ll say it again in case you’re still pretending not to,” he said, not softening his tone. “When I merge with the weapon, you must strengthen the bond so it fully recognizes you. It’s already connected to you, but it needs your blood.”
Luke nodded.
“Just drop a few drops of blood onto the hilt. That’ll be enough. After that, the weapon will know for certain that you’re the heir,” Edgar said.
“I’m the only one left… not much to recognize,” said Luke, turning his eyes from the weapon to Edgar.
“Yeah, I know… but it’s necessary,” Edgar replied with a faint smile.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Edgar said, taking his eyes off the weapon and focusing them on Luke.
He felt the weapon’s call like a constant, firm pull. The fusion was almost complete.
It had been slowly binding for months, just enough to avoid fading completely, but there was no more time left. The bond was about to close.
“Yes…” said Luke, without taking his eyes off the weapon.
“This would be the moment when I say something deep. Something to inspire you, change your life,” Edgar said, pausing briefly. “But I’m not going to. That’s not my style.”
“Good, I don’t like emotional goodbyes either,” Luke replied, glancing at Edgar.
“Still, I think the moment calls for it,” said Edgar, a teasing smile forming on his face.
‘Damn old man… don’t change your mind so fast,’ Luke thought.
“I never imagined you’d make it this far. Not because I doubted you… but because of your circumstances. You were walking a tightrope. You had no foundation, no environment, no protection like your father, your grandfather, and the other heirs… You were born in hiding, raised by Natasha, and found me when you were fourteen,” Edgar began.
“And still, against all odds, you went further than any of them. You exposed the Spellmans to everyone. You turned them into public enemies. And more than that… the outcast world will finally remember who we are…”
“That the Poes still exist. That we’re one of the Six Great Families, and that our heir is the most talented in the history of our continent,” Edgar said, lowering his voice slightly, though the pride in it was impossible to hide.
“No… in the world. Four auras. Not even I saw that coming,” Edgar corrected himself with a laugh, that eerie, half-chilling laugh of his.
When the laughter faded, he went on,
“I’m proud of you, Luke. We’ll see each other again. A long time from now. When you die of old age, you’ll sit with me… and tell me how you rebuilt the bloodline. About your children. What you did with the Poes.”
Luke remained silent, standing tall, his jaw clenched.
He couldn’t stop it, a single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek.
Edgar saw it and needed no more.
He knew Luke well enough to understand that this gesture said more than any goodbye.
And without another word, Edgar stepped forward.
His already faint spectral form dissolved into ethereal particles, which were gently absorbed by the sword in a motion almost ritualistic.
There were no flashes, no tremors.
As if it had always been meant to be.
Luke was alone. Surrounded by the echo of silence and the glow of burning coal that seeped through the cracks in the ground and the walls.
He felt a strange emptiness.
Without another word, he slowly approached Eclipse.
He raised his right hand and created a wide telekinetic dome that enveloped him completely. The heat, smoke, and burning particles were instantly pushed away.
Inside the bubble, the air was clear and clean. It was just him and the weapon.
On his index finger, he focused a fine layer of telekinetic waves, so precise they formed an invisible edge. He made a small incision in the palm of his right hand. Nothing excessive, just enough.
A few drops of blood fell onto the sword’s hilt, and the reaction was immediate. The runes vibrated.
Before any more blood could spill, the wound closed completely. A faint green glow covered his skin, his healing aura had kicked in instinctively.
Luke wrapped his hand around the hilt and pulled the sword.
Eclipse slid out effortlessly, and in that exact moment, it unleashed a powerful burst of energy.
It was pure pressure, condensed and released like a long-held breath, the exhale of something that had waited for years.
The stone beneath his feet cracked. The veins of coal around him dimmed for a moment.
But Luke wasn’t harmed. The energy surrounded him, and recognized him.
His bond with the weapon was now final. It acknowledged him as the heir and head of the family.
And yet, Luke’s expression didn’t change. There was no ecstasy from claiming the soul weapon, no relief.
Any young heir chosen by such a weapon, declared leader of their family, would likely be overjoyed, but not Luke.
His brow was furrowed, his expression tense. His mood was dark.
He lifted his gaze toward the cracked ceiling of the mines. With his expanded domain, he saw beyond.
He sensed presences, and clashes of energy.
There were enemies on the surface. Two factions were battling.
He knew one of the factions belonged to the normies he had sensed earlier.
The other side were undoubtedly enemies. A psychic, most likely a Spellman, since he was accompanied by a demon.
Luke could recognize demons now, ever since his encounter with the lesser demons back at Petropolus Manor.
And he didn’t care how they had found him so quickly. He only knew one thing, they were here for him.
And deep down… that brought him relief. Because now, he had somewhere to unload everything he was feeling.
Luke tightened his grip on the sword, and Eclipse responded.
Along the blade, telekinetic waves began to condense at a faster rate than ever before: denser, more precise.
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