By the fire, the old ones say,
A darker mode is on its way,
Where every fang and claw and breath,
Brings only silence, only death.
No flame can scorch, no frost can bind,
No lightning crack the cursed mind.
No blade will pierce, no hammer break,
The ground will quake, the heavens shake.
In Chaos’ grip, the monsters laugh,
Immune to wrath, immune to staff.
The Lords of Hell, reborn, enraged,
With power raw and unassuaged.
The bosses loom with eyes ablaze,
Their health a wall, their strikes a maze.
The bravest fall, the prayers decay,
No hero walks the light of day.
But listen close, ye wanderer bold,
Not all is forged, not all is told.
A rumor stirs, a whispered jest…
“Perhaps it’s real… or just a test.”
So sharpen steel or stay your hand.
The Chaos calls…
but may not land.
The Standard of Heroes will be tested.