The False Crimson, an A-tier artifact, lay shattered on the ground, its power extinguished. Lord Sapphire stood frozen, the broken hilt clutched in his hand, his face a mask of utter despair. Herald, impassive and utterly dominant, had just completely shattered him.
Then, something in Lord Sapphire snapped. His eyes, previously wide with horror, glazed over, replaced by a wild, unfocused madness. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and a thin line of foam appeared at the corner of his mouth. He dropped the broken hilt, his gaze darting wildly across the carnage of his fallen guards. His hand, trembling, reached down and snatched a discarded sword from the ground – a common guard's blade, dull and insignificant compared to the power he had just wielded.
