At the base of the mesa, Lord Shaxx stands triumphant. Blood seeps into the grass at his feet as the Warlord before him, legs shattered, makes a feeble attempt to drag himself away. "It's over," Shaxx decrees. "Bring out your Ghost." The Warlord shakes his head, hands trembling even as he claws at the hard-packed earth. In the distance, atop the mesa, the setting sun kisses the parapets of Shaxx's castle, untouched by the violence in its shadow. Behind its walls, tendrils of smoke gently waft into the sky as the Ghostless under Shaxx's protection begin preparing the fires for their meals. Six Warlords arrived to conquer his stronghold. Five met their final death. "Your Ghost," Shaxx repeats. He steps forward and crushes the Warlord's hand with his boot. The Warlord cries out in pain, and all at once, the defiance leaves him like the breath in his lungs. His Ghost materializes, their eye fixated on Shaxx in fear. Lord Shaxx shapes his Solar Light into a burning hammer, and in a single swing— A clang of molten metal shakes him back to the present. On the screen in front of him, a Guardian tosses her Hammer of Sol into the opposing team. Five erupt in flames as the lone survivor retreats. The Guardian pursues. Shaxx, without missing a beat, refocuses his attention on the Crucible match. "Look at them fall!" he shouts over the comms. A moment later, the Sunbreaker catches up to the last opponent and incinerates them. Shaxx cheers her on as the smoke swallows his memories of a different time.