The weapon chamber was a cathedral of death, and Jack its newest supplicant.
The air itself felt heavy, saturated with the residual magic of a thousand battles. Each weapon told a story written in steel and sorcery, and Jack could feel their weight pressing against his consciousness.
The enhanced senses that divine lightning had left him with picked up details that should have been impossible.
The metallic taste of spilled blood that no amount of cleaning could fully erase and the whispered echoes of final breaths drawn in the presence of these legendary implements.
At the chamber's heart sat Aurelius, and Jack understood immediately why this man commanded the respect of kings and the fear of kingdoms.
He was beautiful in the way that apex predators were beautiful. Every line of his form spoke of lethal efficiency wrapped in deceptive elegance.
His amber eyes held depths that suggested he had stared into the abyss so long that it had stared back and found him wanting.
