Shattered Sanity

Riven started to inspect the halberds placed in the corner one after another, as compared to the enormous number of swords, bows and spears stored throughout the treasury, there were surprisingly few halberds to choose from, with only six resting across the reinforced weapon racks before him.

The first one was called Blue Lightning.

Its shaft was forged from dark blue metal that felt strangely cool beneath his fingertips, while the axe-shaped blade mounted at the top curved backwards like the talon of some enormous beast, with a narrow spearhead extending several inches above it.

Tiny silver inscriptions ran across the entire weapon from top to bottom, occasionally flashing whenever traces of ambient Aether passed over them, while the plaque beneath the rack described it as a Storm-attuned artifact capable of increasing the speed of its wielder’s swings whenever Aether was channelled through the shaft.

Riven reached forward and carefully lifted it.

Immediately, his expression tightened.

’This feels... strange.’

He thought, as although the weapon was not particularly heavy compared to some of the spears and warhammers he had already inspected, its balance felt completely different from anything he had previously handled.

Most of the weight sat near the head.

Whenever he attempted to swing the weapon sideways, the blade seemed to pull his arms farther than he expected, forcing him to tighten his grip simply to stop the momentum from carrying the weapon out of position.

He tried another experimental swing.

Then another.

Neither felt natural.

Back in Ashfang Village, halberds were practically nonexistent.

The village hunters preferred bows and spears, while those responsible for defending the settlement usually carried axes, swords, wooden clubs or whatever practical weapons they could afford.

Even Garron’s training had focused primarily upon swordsmanship, leaving Riven with almost no understanding of how a halberd was actually supposed to be used in combat.

Was he meant to swing it like an axe?

Thrust with it like a spear?

Use the hook behind the blade to pull opponents closer?

He understood that the weapon was probably capable of doing all three, yet that versatility only made it feel even stranger inside his hands.

After several more awkward movements, Riven carefully returned Blue Lightning to its rack.

The second halberd looked considerably heavier.

Its shaft was almost completely black, while the broad blade at the top possessed a dull reddish colour that reminded Riven of dried blood.

According to the plaque, the weapon was called Bloodwake and had belonged to a Dawnriver general nearly two centuries earlier, with its Aether Array allowing the blade to temporarily increase in sharpness after drawing blood from an opponent.

Riven stared at the description for several seconds before picking it up.

This one felt even worse.

The sheer weight of the head caused the lower end of the shaft to rise slightly whenever he relaxed his grip, as although his reconstructed body possessed more than enough strength to wield it, controlling the weapon properly required movements he simply did not understand.

He attempted a downward chop.

The blade struck the stone training plate beside the rack with enough force to produce a deep metallic clang.

Yet the impact travelled straight back through the shaft and into his wrists, causing Riven to immediately loosen his grip.

"No..."

He muttered quietly before returning Bloodwake.

The third weapon was much lighter.

Silverwood formed most of its shaft, while the blade itself was thin and elegant, almost resembling an elongated crescent moon attached beside a narrow spearpoint.

The plaque identified it as Moon’s Edge, an artifact designed for speed rather than raw force.

This one was certainly easier to move.

However, easier did not necessarily mean comfortable.

Riven tried rotating the shaft between his palms before attempting to change direction midway through the motion, only for the blade to wobble awkwardly as his hands struggled to compensate for the unfamiliar distribution of weight.

Had anyone been watching him, Riven suspected that he probably looked ridiculous.

’How exactly does anyone fight with these things?’

He wondered, as mild frustration began creeping into his thoughts.

For several minutes, he moved from one weapon to another.

The fourth halberd could release a short burst of Flame Aether along its blade.

The fifth possessed an unusually long hook supposedly designed to drag mounted enemies from horseback.

The sixth...

Riven hesitated before reaching it.

Unlike the others, there was nothing particularly impressive about the weapon at all.

It had not been placed upon an ornate pedestal.

There was no glowing Aether surrounding its blade, nor any beautifully polished metal capable of immediately catching someone’s attention from across the room.

Instead, the halberd rested quietly against the farthest corner of the rack, partially concealed behind the other weapons as though whoever had organized the treasury had considered it considerably less important than everything surrounding it.

Its shaft was made from some dark brown material Riven initially assumed to be wood, although upon closer inspection, the surface felt far denser beneath his fingers.

Years of use had left obvious marks across the handle.

Small scratches covered the lower half of the shaft.

Several sections had been worn smooth where hands had repeatedly gripped it, while tiny cracks spread beneath the surface without appearing deep enough to compromise the weapon itself.

Even the blade looked old.

Unlike the polished silver and enchanted alloys surrounding it, the metal possessed a dull grey colour, its edge carrying several small chips that suggested it had seen countless battles without ever being completely restored.

Riven frowned.

There wasn’t even a proper plaque beneath it.

Only a small bronze plate containing a handful of faded words.

Unknown Halberd.

Recovered during the Eastern Campaign.

Previous owner unidentified.

Riven stared at the inscription.

"That’s it?"

He muttered, as compared to the detailed histories attached to nearly every other artifact within the treasury, the lack of information felt strangely disappointing.

He almost turned away.

Yet something stopped him.

The same inexplicable sensation that had drawn him towards the halberd section earlier suddenly returned, although this time it felt considerably stronger.

It wasn’t quite a voice, but rather more like a pull.

An instinct buried somewhere beneath conscious thought that quietly urged him to reach forward.

Riven slowly extended his hand.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the worn shaft—

Everything disappeared.

The treasury vanished from his sight.

The weapon racks, stone floor and glowing Aether Arrays surrounding him were replaced by an endless black sky filled with violently twisting storm clouds.

Riven’s eyes widened.

Before him stood a man far more powerful than any warrior he had ever seen before.

The figure towered above the surrounding landscape with long dark hair whipping wildly around his shoulders, while a thick beard covered much of his face and two brilliant green eyes burned beneath his brow.

Lightning danced across his skin.

Storm Aether rolled around his body in waves powerful enough to make the earth beneath him tremble.

And clutched within both of his hands...

Was the same halberd.

Riven could only watch.

The bearded figure stepped forward before swinging the weapon.

BOOOOOOM!

The sky seemed to split apart.

A crescent of lightning tore across the horizon, carving through mountains in the distance as though stone itself offered no resistance whatsoever.

The god twisted the shaft within his hands before driving the spearpoint forward, and instantly countless bolts of lightning converged upon the weapon before erupting outward in a deafening storm that swallowed everything within sight.

Riven’s breathing stopped.

Every movement was impossibly fluid.

The halberd no longer looked awkward or poorly balanced.

Inside the god’s hands, the strange distribution of weight that had frustrated Riven moments earlier suddenly made complete sense, as every swing flowed naturally into a thrust, every thrust transitioned into a hook, and each movement carried seamlessly into the next without the weapon ever truly coming to a stop.

CRACKLE!

Lightning followed every movement, as storm clouds twisted around the blade, and throughout it all, those brilliant green eyes seemed to stare directly towards Riven.

Then—

The vision disappeared.

Riven violently jolted backwards.

"HAAAH!"

He gasped, as the treasury suddenly returned around him.

For several seconds, he simply stood there clutching the halberd with both hands while desperately trying to understand what he had just witnessed.

His breathing had become ragged.

Sweat covered his forehead, neck and chest despite the underground treasury remaining comfortably cool, while his fingers trembled slightly around the worn shaft.

’What... was that?’

Riven wondered, as he slowly raised his gaze towards the ancient weapon still resting within his hands.

Before he could think any further, the voice returned.

"This one..... it’s name is Sky Cleaver."