Proof of Conquest

Empty-handed? Never. If Xen left his trail of destruction in the dark, I hunt the source. Right beneath the stone wall, I cornered the relic: a jagged lump of charred briar wood lodged in the mulch, spiky as an obsidian demon beast. Pure shadow energy. I drew my katana, planted my boots firm against a damp pebble, and drove a flying strike straight into its fracture line. Crack! The dark core broke cleanly. With my silver hand, I hauled a gleaming black splinter over my shoulder and marched up the concrete steps into the patio light. Destruction halted. Here is your trophy.