“Hmph. So the little Fernandes came to collect what he asked for,” said Magnum, with that crooked smile of someone who knew he’d once again beaten an impossible deadline.

  He pulled away a dark cloth, revealing a curved shield. The surface was black and polished — as if it had swallowed the light of the moon itself. When Lukas lifted it, a jolt ran through him: it wasn’t heavy. On the contrary, it molded perfectly to his arm, light and firm, as though it had been forged for him since birth.

  “Adamantium and obsidian,” said Magnum, tapping the rim with his hammer. The sound echoed like a contained thunderclap. “Fused in lava at five thousand degrees. Only a Primordial of the Moon could refine adamantium without turning it into dead weight. Any other blacksmith would’ve shattered the forge trying.”

  Lukas smirked, admiring the work. “Cunning as always…”

  “That’s not all.” Magnum took another bundle, longer, wrapped in a black cloth. When he uncovered it, a weapon appeared — a club of elegant lines. The rounded head looked like a raindrop about to fall, the shaft smooth to the touch, perfectly balanced. It was clear that on impact, it would strike like thunder.

  “Obsidian on the body, adamantium at the core,” said the primordial, pride hidden beneath his tone. “When it hits, no one will remain standing.”

  Lukas raised the weapon, testing the weight, and murmured in Latin:

  “Clava Regina Caeli.”

  “The Club of the Queen of Heaven.” His voice echoed, naming the weapon as if giving it life.

  Magnum’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t comment, but a small hmph of approval escaped his throat.

  Lukas placed a heavy pouch on the counter. “Fifty for the deadline, a hundred for the materials… and ten more for what I really want to hear — the story of your people.”

  The blacksmith fell silent for several seconds. Then his eyes gleamed coldly, like full moons.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Long before the kingdoms, before mana, aura, or cultivation… there were the Lunars. Skin as pale as moonlight, eyes like the ocean, hair white as snow. The first elves of this continent. Feared for our curved blades — the Blades of the Moon. Beneath the night shadows, we could wipe out entire armies.”

  He sighed, and his tone darkened.

  “But pride blinded us. Humans learned. They stole. They studied. They created monsters from our secrets. What we thought eternal turned to ash. The Eastern Kingdom rose — and when it marched on our forests, we couldn’t resist. Women taken, children chained, men slaughtered. We heard our own screams used against us.”

  Magnum spat on the floor, fists clenched.

  “That’s humanity’s greatest talent, boy — to evolve, always. And we were reduced to dust. Perhaps something remains in the Crescent Moon Forest. But don’t be fooled… if you find them, you won’t see allies. They’re not like the elves of the Seasons. They’re beautiful — far more beautiful than any elf you’ve ever seen. But they’re poison wearing a smile. They’d kill you the first chance they got.”

  Lukas stayed silent, absorbing every word as he gripped the shield.

  “Here in the South, I stay,” Magnum continued. “Your father gave us protection and freedom. The Fernandes are an exception. Except that filthy one, Dariam…” His eyes flashed with disgust. “Still, I’d rather live under my forge’s shadow than taste again the humiliation of losing everything.”

  Lukas lifted his head. “I’ve never seen a Lunar. They say they don’t exist anymore.”

  Magnum chuckled. “Good one, boy. Keep saying that… handsome, charming, legend of the forge.” He mocked, but there was respect behind the words.

  Lukas smirked. “Alright then. See you around, Magnum. I know you’ll move your shop again soon. But if I ever need you…”

  The primordial reached into a drawer and pulled out an ancient parchment, covered in nearly faded runes.

  “Take this. It’s a magical scroll from a lost age. Write on it, and I’ll know. I might even reply. It renews itself, so don’t worry about running out. But don’t bother me, kid. I’m only giving it to you because you’re… different. I saw no prejudice in your eyes. And you look just like your father.”

  Lukas took the parchment, adjusted the shield on his arm, and tucked the club beneath the other. “Thank you, Magnum.”

  “Now get lost,” said the blacksmith, already returning to his glowing hammer. “I’ve still got grudges to forge.”

  Lukas left the forge, the distant sounds of the festival still echoing behind him.

  But in his mind lingered a certainty: the moon still holds secrets… and not all of them are made of light.

  End of Chapter 29