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He stepped back slightly to the side, allowing her an unobstructed view of the stone tablet.
"Mark these words, for they are of the heavens: Magic holds great power, but it is not to be wielded lightly. One wrong turn, and ruin shall follow—fires that never die, storms that never cease. Beware it, and ban its misuse! Lastly, beware the gods, for the essence of their power is magic itself!"
The woman's voice was laden with emotion as she read the inscription aloud.
The Noxians' reaction to the prophecy was subdued, but the representatives from the other kingdoms shifted uncomfortably.
Ezreal noticed their responses and felt a flicker of doubt. Why had Ryan altered the original message?
Such warnings wouldn't resonate with Noxians at all. Who in Noxus cared about the threat of disaster? If anything, the stronger and more volatile magic was, the more fervently they would pursue it.
Magic wasn't technology—it was an innate force, a gift of birth.
And what of these "gods"? The prophecy likely referred to the deities dwelling atop Targon.
Ezreal had only encountered faint mentions of them in historical texts. Their deeds were unremarkable—or at least, so the books claimed.
Was this an attempt to discredit the gods? Or worse, a prelude to war with the beings of Targon?
Ezreal muttered his musings under his breath, glancing warily at the masked woman.
"You are truly a learned scholar," he said with measured politeness.
"But we are mere translators—we don't yet understand the true meaning of this warning or prophecy."
He suddenly understood why another person had been called in.
The next phase would require a far deeper explanation than he could provide.
"Gods... the Aspect of Justice... magic... This reminds me of something curious," the masked woman murmured as though lost in a memory.
"Did you think of something, ma'am?" Ezreal leaned closer, straining to catch her words.
"It's nothing," she replied, shaking her head. But her voice was tinged with sadness as she continued,
"I was only wondering... if the essence of every god's power is magic, does that mean the existence of gods is inherently flawed?"
Her tone was soft, yet the weight of her words sent a shiver through Ezreal.
For a fleeting moment, he entertained a terrifying thought:
'Could she be a god lamenting her own existence?'
Ezreal shook his head, dispelling the idea. No, that was impossible.
Noxus had no gods—only the might of the empire.
But still, her audacity unsettled him. Was the empire truly preparing for war with the gods?
Ezreal swallowed hard. Maybe it wasn't too late to flee.
"This is merely a prophecy unearthed in Oshra Va'Zuun," he said cautiously.
"We cannot yet grasp its full meaning. But we felt it was necessary to share this discovery with the world."
The masked woman fell silent, and Ezreal exhaled in relief. At least the war wasn't starting now.
If the empire sought to challenge the gods, it would first have to undermine their influence. Weakening their grip was a logical first step.
Ezreal composed himself, his nerves replaced by a surge of confidence. He plastered a charismatic smile on his face and addressed the crowd:
"Runeterra is filled with endless secrets waiting to be uncovered. As the President of the Council once said, humanity has overcome countless adversities, building brilliant civilizations. While some of these civilizations have been buried beneath the sands of time, it is our duty to unearth them."
"This," he declared, gesturing grandly, "is the purpose of the Explorers' Guild: to uncover hidden histories and solve ancient mysteries. If this prophecy holds any truth, we will surely find more evidence to support it."
He paused, letting his words hang in the air before delivering the final, resounding statement:
"All for the prosperity of Noxus! All for Runeterra!"
Ezreal's impassioned speech ignited the crowd, drawing cheers from the Noxians below.
With the Explorers' Guild officially established, recruitment began in earnest.
Samira was the first to join, her enthusiasm as fierce as ever. One by one, the others followed suit, rallying behind Ezreal and his vision for discovery.
In addition to the stone tablet, many other antiques from Va Zuan were presented as well.
Ezreal eagerly recounted the tales behind these relics, encouraging everyone to observe, take notes, and capture photographs. Occasionally, he even posed with the artifacts for those interested, adding a personal touch to the experience.
Amid the excitement of recruitment and storytelling, he failed to notice one peculiar detail.
The masked lady had vanished without a trace, as though she had never been there at all.
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The Floating Castle — The Mage Tower, Top Floor
Ryan dismissed the watery image shimmering before him with a wave of his hand. Rising from his seat, he walked to the window and gazed toward Demacia.
Through the crisp blue skies, he imagined two pairs of wings stretching wide over Demacia—one black, the other white.
The black wings were bound by chains, ghostly and almost transparent. In contrast, the white wings shone brightly, like the radiant sun, casting their protective glow over the kingdom.
At his side, Syndra approached, her steps slow and deliberate. Her silver hair framed her dark robes, a striking contrast to Ryan's black hair and white robes.
Together, they formed a perfect balance of light and shadow.
The two stood silently, side by side, their eyes fixed on the distant land of Demacia.
"The stage is set," Ryan said softly, his tone contemplative.
"Let us hope it unfolds as we envision."
Syndra's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile.
"Even gods have their twilight. Why shouldn't we slay them if the gods can fall?"
Black magic surged around the floating castle, its dark aura intertwining with the ethereal blue sky.
Slowly, the entire floating city ascended higher, its brilliance stark against the contrast of shadow and light.
"Darius will arrive on the battlefield soon," Ryan continued calmly.
"The prophecy will spread rapidly, and the Black Rose will ensure it reaches every ear."
"If it were up to me," Syndra said softly, her voice laced with quiet disdain,
"I would drive this castle directly to the capital of Demacia."
Ryan shook his head slightly. "That would place us against not one, but two, three, perhaps even four powerful foes. That Stone doesn't fully neutralize us but still weakens our power."
He gestured toward his desk, and a silver-white stone flew into his hand, suspended in the air by his magic.
Channeling his immense power into the stone, Ryan watched as it absorbed the magic hungrily.
The more he poured into it, the more it trembled, cracks forming along its surface.
At last, the stone shattered into tiny fragments, falling lifelessly to the floor.
"I understand," Syndra said, her tone steady and her expression calm.
She extended a hand toward the window, her slender fingers closing as if grasping the world itself.
"A mage relies on wisdom rather than raw talent. Timing, terrain, alliances, strategy, tools, and even unforeseen chaos must bend to our will."
Ryan smiled approvingly but did not turn from the view. His gaze remained fixed on Demacia as he spoke.
"We need time to grow. To ensure this, we must wage a war that strikes fear into the hearts of all who witness it. A war that demonstrates the empire's might beyond question."
"And in that war," he added, his voice cold and unyielding, "the empire's full strength will be unleashed. The gods themselves will tremble before us. As for her... she is not even a true god."
The setting sun sank below the horizon in the direction of Demacia, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. Slowly, the light faded, and darkness began to reclaim the world.