Chapter 33
The sun was setting over the desert. Orange light painted the pyramids in the distance. Eric Savage stood at the edge of the tarmac, the axe wrapped in dark cloth over his shoulder. Jasmine stood beside him, holding a sealed case with the book inside.
The private jet waited. White. Sleek. Unmarked.
" Did you check axe, any hidden danger , are you sure want to give this to our grandson?" Jasmine asked.
Eric looked at the axe. At the book. At the desert behind them.
"The texts said the weapon was made for a bloodline. Ancient vampire blood. The oldest kind, it may be play for destiny that we got this axe of ancient kind."
Jasmine was silent. Then she nodded.
They boarded the plane.
---
Hours passed. The jet cut through clouds. Below, the world changed. Desert became ocean. Ocean became land. Land became the familiar patchwork of Kansas farmland.
Eric unwrapped the axe.
The blade was dark. Not black. Something deeper. Golden veins ran through the metal like rivers of light. They pulsed faintly. Slowly. Like a heartbeat.
Jasmine opened the case. The book was old. Leather. Cracked. Symbols on the cover that moved when you did not look directly at them.
"What does it say?" Eric asked.
"I can only read fragments. The language is older than Egyptian. Older than Sumerian. Maybe older than anything." Jasmine traced a symbol. "This one means blood. This one means divine. This one means awakening."
"And the axe?"
"The axe was made to channel something. A power. A soul. It says the weapon chooses its wielder. Not the other way around. And it was forged for the Vampire Noblesse. The original ones. The living vampires."
Eric looked at the blade. The golden veins pulsed again.
"Then we will see who it chooses."
---
Aaron woke before dawn.
The farmhouse was quiet. His parents still asleep. The fields outside stretched gold and endless under the gray sky.
He showered. Dressed. Ate breakfast alone.
. He Grabbed his bag. Walked to the bus stop.
---
The hallway was loud. Students everywhere. Lockers slamming. Backpacks dragging. The usual chaos.
Aaron walked to his locker. Opened it. Grabbed his books.
Pete Ross appeared beside him. Grinning.
"Aaron! You are back! Where were you, man?"
"Family stuff."
"Must be nice. I spent three days shoveling manure on my dad's farm. My back still hurts."
Aaron almost smiled. "Sounds rough."
"It was. But hey, you missed the big news. Whitney Fordman quit the football team. Just walked out. No explanation."
"Really."
"Yeah. Weird, right? He was the star. And now he is just gone. Some people say he had a breakdown. Others say someone scared him."
Aaron said nothing. Closed his locker.
"Well," Pete said, "glad you are back. Clark is also back"
---
The cafeteria was loud. Trays clattered. Conversations overlapped. The smell of questionable food filled the air.
Aaron sat at the corner table. Clark beside him. Pete across. Chloe Sullivan slid onto the bench without asking.
"You are back," Chloe said. Notebook in hand. Eyes sharp.
"I am."
"Where were you?"
"Family stuff."
---
The hallway was emptying. Students heading home. Buses leaving. Cars pulling away.
Aaron walked to his locker. Opened it. Grabbed his jacket.
Footsteps behind him.
He turned.
Lana Lang.
She stood there. Arms crossed. Green eyes steady. Not angry. Not sad. Just determined.
"Aaron."
"Lana."
"My necklace is missing."
" So, what? Why are you coming to me ? "
"It was my mother's. Her parents gave it to her. It was all I had left." She paused. Her voice cracked. Just slightly. "I have searched everywhere. My room. My car. The school. Nothing."
Aaron said nothing.
"You were there. At my house. That night."
"I do not know what you are talking about."
"I saw you. In my room. You and Clark. I was half asleep. But I remember."
Aaron's face did not change. But inside, he never showed expression on his face.
"You were dreaming," he said.
"I do not think I was."
"Lana. I do not have your necklace."
She stared at him. Long. Searching.
Then she nodded. Slowly. "Okay. I believe you."
She turned. Walked away.
Aaron watched her go. His hand in his pocket. The necklace was there. Cold. Pulsing faintly.
He could not return it. Not yet. Not until he understood what it was.
---
The office was quiet. Glass walls. Dark furniture. A single lamp on the desk.
Lex sat in his chair. Staring at the computer screen.
Lionel Luthor's face filled the screen. Cold. Sharp. Impatient.
"You are still in that cow town."
"Yes."
"The board is losing patience. I am losing patience."
"Then lose it."
Lionel's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
Lex leaned forward. His voice was calm. Controlled. But there was steel underneath.
"I said no. I am not coming back. Not yet."
"You are chasing something. A story. A boy. A mystery."
"Maybe."
"You sound like your mother. She always chased things that did not matter."
Lex's jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.
"Do not talk about her."
"I will talk about whatever I want. Come home. Now."
"No."
Silence. Lionel's face went still.
"You will regret this."
"Maybe. But I will regret it as my own man. Not as your puppet."
The call ended.
Lex stared at the blank screen. His hands were trembling. But not from fear. From something else.
Freedom.
---
He stood at the window. Looked out at Smallville. The small town. The quiet streets. The farm boy who saved his life.
Clark Kent.
Lex had spent weeks investigating. Photos. Notes. Questions. The folder in his desk was thick. But he still did not have answers.
Who was Clark Kent? What was he?
And why did Lex care so much?
Not because of his father. Not because of business. Because of something deeper.
Curiosity. Connection. The first person in years who had looked at him without seeing a Luthor.
He would find answers. For himself.
---
The private jet touched down. Small. Unmarked. The engines hummed. Then quieted.
Aryan and Ashley waited at the edge of the tarmac.
Ashley's plant spirit stirred. She felt them before she saw them. A warmth. A presence. Old and familiar.
The door opened.
Eric stepped out first. Tall. Silver hair. The axe wrapped in cloth over his shoulder.
Jasmine followed. The sealed case in her hands.
Ashley ran.
She hugged her mother first. Then her father. Tight. Desperate.
"You came back."
"We said we would," Jasmine whispered. "We found things. Important things."
Eric held her at arm's length. Studied her face. Inhaled slowly.
"You have changed."
"What do you mean?"
Jasmine stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed. She touched Ashley's face. Then her chest. Her hands trembled.
"You are immortal. Like us. But something else. Something more. Your spark is bright. Brighter than ours."
Ashley looked at Aryan. He nodded.
"The soul spirit," Ashley said. "The awakening. It changed me."
Eric's eyes widened. "You awakened? How?"
"Our son. He awakened us. Both of us."
Eric and Jasmine exchanged a look.
"The boy," Eric said. "Where is he?"
---
Aaron drove up in the old truck. Parked. Got out.
He saw them immediately. Grandfather. Grandmother. The wrapped axe. The sealed case.
His vampire blood stirred. The serpent inside him uncoiled. Recognized something.
He walked forward.
Eric watched him approach. Felt it first. The weight. The pressure. The presence.
"By the ancestors..."
Jasmine looked at him. "What is it?"
"He is not just a vampire. He is something else. Something divine."
Aaron reached them. Hugged Eric first. Then Jasmine.
"You have grown," Jasmine whispered. She kissed his forehead. "Not just grown. Changed. You feel different. Ancient."
Eric unwrapped the axe. Held it out. The blade caught the evening light. Golden veins pulsed.
"This is for you."
Aaron took it.
The moment his fingers touched the blade, the axe reacted.
Golden light flared. The veins blazed. The metal hummed. Vibrated.
The serpent emerged from Aaron's chest. Pale gold. Translucent. It opened its mouth. The axe's light flowed into it. Then back into the axe.
Bonding. Recognition. Awakening.
Eric and Jasmine stepped back. Eyes wide.
" So, it's really made for you," Eric breathed.
"What is it?" Aaron asked.
"We do not know. But the texts said it was made for someone like you. Someone with the old blood. The vampire blood. The Noblesse blood. Someone with blood older than the gods."
Jasmine held up the book. "And this. The book Razor Adg wanted. It has answers. About the axe. About the Noblesse. About you."
Aaron looked at the axe. At the book. At his grandparents.
---
They sat in the living room. Tea on the table. The axe on the floor. The book open.
Eric explained what they had found. The ruins. The axe. The book. Razor Adg.
"He wanted the book for a ritual," Eric said. "A ritual that would bind a soul to a weapon. Create a living weapon. A soldier that could never die."
"
Aaron looked at the axe. The golden veins pulsed.
"The Noblesse," he said.
"Yes." Eric leaned forward. "The book says the axe was forged during the first war. Between the Noblesse and something else. Something dark. The axe was made to kill that thing. But it was lost. Buried. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For someone worthy. Someone with the blood. Someone with the soul."
Aaron picked up the axe. It felt warm in his hand. Alive.
"What does it do?"
"We do not know yet. The book is incomplete. But there are rituals. Techniques. Ways to unlock its power."
Jasmine closed the book. Looked at Aaron.
---
Aaron sat on his bed. The axe leaned against the wall. The book on his desk.
He opened his panel.
Name: Aaron Gill
Bloodline: Devouring Bloodline
Sub-Bloodline: Vampire Primordial (1%)
New Bloodline: Vampire Mutant Bloodline (Variant)
Rakt Race: 0.00000000001%
Soul Spirit: Ah Bhundya Serpent (Nascent, 5%)
Blood Servant: Soul Bound (2) — Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne
New Item Acquired:
Weapon: Axe of the First War (Dormant)
Origin: Forged during the first war between Noblesse and the Dark.
Status: Awaiting awakening.
Requirements: Vampire Noblesse blood. Soul spirit. Ritual knowledge.
He closed the panel.
The axe pulsed. Once. Twice.
Aaron closed his eyes.