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The light on the horizon was drawing closer, threatening to overtake the darkness.
Even the spells cast by hundreds of mages in unison couldn't break through the protection granted by the Winged Protector.
The darkness that had just been summoned vanished instantly.
"Justice!"
A commanding voice rang from the sky as golden light tore through the night, casting a blinding glow over Noxus.
A figure, cloaked in radiant light, descended slowly, like the sky itself was falling, and the earth paused in reverence.
"It's coming."
Darius stepped forward, lifting the massive axe from his shoulder. His voice rang out:
"The Winged Protector?"
"She's a scourge," he growled.
"You slaughtered innocents. You must be judged!"
The cold, emotionless voice echoed from above, like a divine sentence being passed down.
Kayle, The Righteous, raised her sword high and brought it down toward Noxus in a sweeping arc.
Golden energy surged forth, cutting through the air in a wide crescent.
It grew as it flew, expanding until it stretched several meters across.
"Judgment? You think you're a god, Kayle?!"
Darius raised his axe, the iron of his boots clashing against the stone wall as he leaped high into the air.
"Come on!" he bellowed, his face twisted with equal parts rage and thrill.
He met the golden arc with a powerful downward strike.
"Break!"
Boom!
The world shook with the impact.
A deafening shockwave ripped through the battlefield.
The city walls cracked, towers shuddered, and the blast of wind forced the mages to their knees.
The scorched wasteland outside the city looked as though it had been torn apart by a divine plow.
Darius landed hard. The ground gave way beneath him, and he was thrown back, skidding to a halt against a break in the wall.
But the golden arc? Cleaved in two by Darius's axe.
"Good…" Jarvan muttered, exhaling with tension.
Truthfully, he had been the most anxious man on the battlefield.
Kayle's power was overwhelming. Even Darius had to dig deep to counter a single casual strike.
Darius, the embodiment of brute force, could hold his ground for now. But the others?
Mages, no matter how powerful—even with hundreds atop the towers—wouldn't be enough.
Swish!
Another golden blade of light came soaring through the sky.
Darius braced once more, but this time the force was stronger. It slammed him against the wall, leaving him struggling to stand.
"Your leader won't hold out much longer," Jarvan said bitterly.
He had accepted his death but hoped to see Noxus fall first.
"Leader? Darius isn't our leader. Isn't that right, Vice President Swain?"
LeBlanc's voice dripped with sarcasm as she repeated the title, amused.
"Vice President…"
Jarvan's eyes widened as he turned to the tall, robed figure standing silently nearby.
That couldn't be right.
Why were both vice presidents here? Why hadn't Demacia received any intelligence about this?
"What's wrong?" Swain asked flatly.
"Still thinking about Hugues or Alec?"
"No!" Jarvan barked.
"They would never betray Demacia!"
He stood frozen in disbelief.
Trained by the Crownguard family, raised under the Lightshield banner, he had been embedded in Noxus for years.
LeBlanc's smile twisted.
Her voice changed. Her face shifted.
Her form shimmered—and then, standing in her place, was a dark-skinned, middle-aged man.
"Your Highness, we swear eternal loyalty to the Lightshield family!"
The words echoed with conviction—but to Jarvan, they felt hollow now, stripped of the reverence they once carried.
"Hugues?! How is this possible?" Jarvan's voice shook.
His thoughts stalled, paralyzed by disbelief.
"What you see isn't always the truth. Anyone can be a fraud... can they not?"
The figure before him—Hugues—spoke in Jarvan's exact voice. A chill raced down Jarvan's spine.
If this impostor made it back to Demacia in his place... the consequences would be disastrous.
Swain paid Jarvan no mind. The look of horror on his face didn't interest him.
He stepped forward calmly, methodically.
Hum.
Dark, spectral wings burst from Swain's back. Scarlet energy bled from his body, lifting him into the air with an ominous hum.
"Kayle," Swain began, his voice low and commanding, "the so-called Righteous. Revered in Demacia as the Winged Protector. Yet you cling to a twisted sense of justice."
From Swain's body, massive, ghostly crow talons formed and reached for Darius, who still lay battered from Kayle's last strike.
They lifted him effortlessly and placed him back on the city wall.
For someone like Darius, it was a little more than an inconvenience—but it proved one thing: Swain's reach was everywhere.
Swain turned to Kayle, who hovered in the heavens, radiant and still, her golden light billowing around her. His sneer was unmistakable.
"When justice demands a stage and an audience, it becomes little more than theater."
"Demon," Kayle spat.
"Corruption flows through your veins. You are filth—more impure than any mortal before you."
Her holy blade flared, unleashing wave after wave of golden sword energy. The sky blazed in divine light.
Caw!
A storm of crows rose in an unending flock, forming a wall of black wings.
The golden beams slammed into the shield but failed to break through.
The sky split—half drowned in Kayle's radiant light, the other swallowed in the darkness of Swain's crows.
Light and shadow battled for dominion over the heavens.
"Demon? Angel? Evil? Justice?" Swain's voice cut through the chaos, steady and sharp.
"Is that the extent of your understanding?"
He floated motionless, encircled by the roaring storm of crows.
"I've heard something... intriguing," he said, coldly.
"You condemned your sister. In your blind pursuit of purity, you even slaughtered your father."
"Silence!" Kayle's composure snapped.
Fury lit her blade, the brilliance so intense it hurt to look at.
She struck—once, twice, three times—sending wave after wave of divine energy surging forward.
The sky turned to gold, an ocean of searing judgment pressing in, trying to swallow Swain's night.
"Could that be true...?" Jarvan whispered below, stunned.
The secret hit him like a physical blow.
"That's the thing about light," LeBlanc said with a sly grin.
"The brighter it shines, the darker the shadow it casts."
"Even so, Noxus is worse," Jarvan growled, regaining some of his resolve.
LeBlanc chuckled. "Oh, we won't deny it. But we never claimed to be pure. We'll do whatever it takes to make the empire stronger."
Her candor left him speechless.
"We may have our flaws, but the good we stand for outweighs the evil!" Jarvan snapped, though the words rang hollow, even to himself.
Trying to argue morality with monsters was a losing battle. Still, he clung to his beliefs, even as they frayed.
"Oh? Are you talking about your precious Aspect of Justice, who operates secretly? Or your dear father, who brokered deals with mages behind closed doors? Or perhaps Garen, hiding a mage in his own bloodline?"
"Lies!" Jarvan barked, refusing to believe it.
"Then why do you think Garen was recalled to the capital?" LeBlanc asked coolly, as if discussing the weather.
"The empire's reach is vast. One last piece of advice before you die, Prince: Never trust anything too easily."
Her voice was flat. She didn't need to threaten—she believed Jarvan was already dead.
Am I... dying? The thought gnawed at him as he looked to the heavens.
There, Kayle—the exalted Winged Protector—was locked in a brutal struggle against the swarming storm of crows.
Even one hailed as divine could not overcome the abyss alone.
If Kayle couldn't prevail... what chance did he have? What chance did Demacia have?
Despair settled in his chest, slow and heavy, like thunderclouds gathering before a storm.