Then, with the sound of broken crystal, the ruby explodes in a myriad tiny shards which cut your palm, and a crimson glow engulfs your hand. You feel an overpowering pain, as if you had plunged it into a bonfire, as a primordial, unconceibably evil conscience welds itself there. Then your arm raises on its own volition, with all six fingers reaching towards the sky, and a crackling lightning strikes it, surrendering to the Forgotten God’s will. The clash of honor calls; To stand when other falls
God of war, hear my cry; FEEL THE POWER OF MY SWORD!