Grenades were thrown and we titans charged into the fray. Fist of Havoc followed Fist of Havoc, but in the end only I remained. The sword hung, mid-air, revolving slowly like an artificers’ museum display. I seized it, admiring its strength while fearing its deadly origins. And as I looked upon the weapon with mixed emotions, the familiar cry of the swarm sounded from the mouth of a nearby cave. Those claws of black glass had returned. I turned to meet them, sword in hand, and readied myself for the coming slaughter. And revenge. (Prologue end. Main story soon)