The shadows crept stealthily toward Edmond's hand, their dark tendrils weaving through the air like silent serpents in the dimly lit room. As they converged, they materialized into a sleek pistol, its form emerging from the inky blackness with an almost ethereal grace. The weapon's polished, obsidian-like surface gleamed faintly under the harsh overhead lights, drawing the wide-eyed attention of everyone present, the guards with their fingers hovering near triggers, the council members frozen in mid-conversation, and even the flickering shadows on the walls seeming to pause in reverence.
Edmond had channeled one of his newfound abilities, Umbral Dominion, to forge this weapon, the one he was most accustomed to handling from his days of desperate skirmishes against the trolls. It felt natural in his grip, an extension of his will, cold and unyielding yet perfectly balanced.
