Ron slowly let go of the hilt of the "Blood Oath," feeling a wave of dread from the deep-rooted hatred.
Even a brief contact had Moghan's obsession trying to take root in his heart, seeking a seed of anger to latch onto.
"How do you feel?" Uther's apparition floated to his side, silver eyes full of concern.
"More... direct than I imagined."
Ron rubbed his temples, striving to clear the lingering foreign emotions from his mind:
"This level of will imprinting has already surpassed the scope of enchanted weapons."
"A correct assessment."
Uther nodded with satisfaction:
"A true Master Sword will gradually integrate the owner's soul imprint over long use.
They are no longer inanimate objects but living entities bearing memory and will."
The old professor's apparition floated to the next display stand, where a longsword bathed in sacred light hovered:
"This is 'Purge,' once belonging to the paladin Selas."
