Major Sigil of Destroyer Slaying catches the light in twin bands of amber and frost, a small oval of tempered obsidian set in a ring of bronze filigree. Its surface is satin-smooth, like a coin worn by tide-swept fingers, yet the edge holds a whisper of grit, as if the stone has weathered a thousand skirmishes. Inside the sigil, pale runes flicker when a lantern’s flame leans close, blue threads pulsing softly as if a captive current has been bottled beneath a seal. The lore carved into its back speaks of a harbor foundry where sailors and smiths joined forces after a behemoth from the deep—what mariners call a Destroyer—cast its shadow over a quiet day of trade. When the sigil is bound to a weapon, the air around it warms just a fraction, and the metal seems to settle into the wielder’s grip as if it had always belonged there. In action, the Major Sigil of Destroyer Slaying feels less like a tool and more like a companion in a dangerous partnership. It does not shout for attention; it waits for the moment when a Destroyer’s plated hide glints with malice and the fight tilts toward the edge of ruin. Then the sigil releases its quiet oath: a surge of force that threatens the beetle-gray armor with a breakthrough they did not anticipate. A well-timed strike, empowered by the sigil, can crack through thick chitin and bone, and a split-second after the strike, a bright, brief aura blooms, urging the wielder onward. It rewards patience and precision—strokes that bend fate rather than merely trade blows. Those who carry it through a campaign against the sea’s nightmares learn to read the rhythm of a Destroyer’s rage, to anticipate the braced lunges and the surge of tail-sweeps, and to let the sigil’s current guide their hands toward the killing cut. The weapon’s legend travels beyond the battlefield and into the lanes where traders and tinkerers blend stories with price. In the bustle of the Saddlebag Exchange, merchants lay out glinting wares on cloth that smells of salt and oil, and the Major Sigil of Destroyer Slaying sits among them like a compass point. A buyer tests its weight, checks the patina around the bronze setting, and tilts the obsidian surface to catch the tavern light. Prices drift with the tides of demand and the sigil’s own remembered deeds; a pristine example can fetch a fine, respectable sum, while a more time-worn piece might change hands for a smaller handful of copper or a promise of future trade. The talk around the stalls is always the same: a blend of memory, risk, and potential, the sense that a single sigil can tilt a night’s narrative toward a hard-won victory. And so the Major Sigil of Destroyer Slaying remains more than an object. It is a story you carry into the dark—a reminder that the sea’s old ghosts still seek to teach courage, and that some echoes of myth can be found in the simple, practiced grip of a weapon held steady against the next great threat.