"Demacia is going to be interesting for a while."
Ryan glanced at Jarvan's back, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
His gaze shifted quickly to Morgana.
"Welcome to Noxus, Lady Morgana," he said, his voice tinged with quiet amusement.
"It is my honor to serve the Empire," Morgana replied, her tone calm and unwavering.
Her smile was soft yet calculated, as if she had fully embraced her new role.
Kayle cast a scornful glance at her sister, who now stood in stark contrast to her once-defiant self.
Morgana's submissive posture stirred Kayle's disgust, but she held her tongue.
Above them, Ryan and Syndra began to ascend. The black sphere imprisoning Kayle rose with them, trailing dark energy as it floated.
The fortress loomed overhead, climbing higher into the sky, its presence undeniable.
The battlefield below fell into silence.
Only the scars carved into the earth remained, evidence of the fierce clash that had unfolded.
Morgana, still wearing her enigmatic smile, walked toward the Immortal Bastion.
A thought echoed in her mind: If I cannot walk the earth, what use are these feet?
Her justice had changed. No longer about divine wrath—it was now about understanding.
She would walk the shadows of Noxus, explore its depths, unravel its truths, and forge a justice shaped by its nature.
"Looks like it's over," Garen muttered from his position far outside the city.
He watched as the last golden glow in the sky faded into emptiness.
There was doubt in his voice, but deep down, he already knew the answer.
Demacia's Winged Protector—Kayle—had fallen.
Her unwavering ideals had often clashed with Demacia's laws, yet she had always fought for its soul.
And now, she had been effortlessly subdued.
From over a mile away, Garen and his men could see her, suspended in a sphere of dark magic.
The black orb floated above Noxus like a grim monument to their failure.
Then, a figure emerged from the city gates—a woman.
Moments later, she donned the crimson crest of Noxus.
Though they couldn't hear her words, Garen could sense the truth.
This woman was no ordinary soldier. She was a force hidden in plain sight.
Her dark wings and the oppressive aura surrounding her made it clear—she was dangerous.
Her magic, steeped in shadow, was as fearsome as the silver-haired mage's.
"We've lost…" Garen said quietly. His voice carried more than defeat—it carried despair.
"Even with all our strength, we couldn't force them to show their full hand."
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. The weight of helplessness bore down on him.
Against an empire like Noxus, what hope did Demacia truly have?
Could they even call this a battle?
"Captain Garen, look!"
A soldier's shout snapped Garen out of his thoughts.
He followed the soldier's gesture and froze.
"That's… Jarvan?!"
His voice cracked in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it might be a cruel illusion. But as the seconds passed, the image stayed true.
The Crown Prince of Demacia was running toward them.
"Your Highness!"
General Laurent's face lit up with relief as he recognized Jarvan.
But Mirek, a shield guard, looked uneasy. His voice was laced with suspicion.
"Captain, could this be a Noxian trick?"
Garen let out a bitter laugh and shook his head.
"Mirek, do you really think we're worth that effort?"
Against a force like Noxus, they weren't threats but bystanders.
If the enemy had wanted to, they could've wiped them all out with a thought.
They were insects in a war far beyond their control.
No. There was no need for tricks or conspiracies.
Pushing aside his doubts, Garen stepped forward, resolve etched into every line of his face.
Even if it was just for a moment, he needed to see Jarvan again.
"Garen!"
"Jarvan!"
Jarvan helped the kneeling General Laurent to his feet, then turned and embraced Garen firmly.
Their hands thudded against each other's backs in a silent exchange of relief and camaraderie.
"How did you escape?" Garen asked, his voice tight with concern as they pulled apart.
"Let's get the army moving first. I'll explain everything on the way back," Jarvan replied, his tone grim.
"They're letting us leave?" Garen asked, incredulous.
"We've lost, Garen. And to them, we're not even a threat," Jarvan said bitterly.
"Taking me was just bait. They wanted Kayle. She was their real target."
With heavy steps and heavier hearts, the Demacian forces began their slow retreat.
As they marched, Jarvan recounted everything he had seen and heard inside Noxus.
When they reached the outskirts of the camp, a wave of cheers erupted at the sight of their prince.
But Jarvan felt no joy. The applause struck him like a blow.
He opened his mouth to speak, but General Laurent gently raised a hand, silencing him with a subtle shake.
The general turned to address the troops, his calm voice restoring a sense of order.
Meanwhile, Garen guided Jarvan into the command tent.
Inside, Jarvan sank into a chair, the burden of what he had witnessed plain on his face.
"The general's trying to carry the weight of this loss," he murmured, guilt bleeding into his tone.
"Someone has to," Garen said solemnly.
"When we return to the capital, I'll stand with you before the King and the Grand Marshal. I imagine the general will do the same."
Trying to shift the focus away from despair, Garen asked, "You said Noxus gathered most of their strength to bring down the Winged Protector?"
Jarvan nodded. He took a sip of water before replying.
"Two of their top generals were there. Darius, for certain—and I didn't recognize the other, but she spoke with authority. A mage stood beside them—her power was comparable to Kayle's. And the woman who addressed me… she didn't just speak for Noxus. She looked down on Darius himself."
"You've fought Darius. How do you think he compares to me?" Garen asked, rubbing his temples, trying to map out any kind of strategy.
He couldn't shake the grim realization that no matter how disciplined Demacia's army was, they were painfully unprepared for the kind of magic Noxus wielded.
High Silvermere was protected by petricite and the anti-magic forest, but even that would only delay the inevitable.
Sooner or later, they would have to face Noxus head-on.
Jarvan hesitated.
"Darius…" he began, then trailed off.
"Don't hold back," Garen said.
"If we're going to survive this war, we need clarity. Speak plainly."
Jarvan took a breath before answering.
"If you fought him alone, you'd last five minutes. With me and the full strength of the Dauntless Vanguard, we might hold him to a draw."
Garen nodded, his voice steady. "That's what I needed to hear. We can't win head-on, but we can stand our ground—at least for a while. Still, that's only one piece of the puzzle."
He exhaled deeply. "We can't fight this war alone. Noxus has other enemies—Freljord to the north, Ionia to the west. We need allies."
Demacia's border with Freljord had long been tense, but Garen hoped a shared threat could bridge the divide.
Ionia, though distant and separated by sea, had every reason to oppose Noxus.
Their wounds were still fresh.
"I hope you're right…" Jarvan murmured, his gaze distant.
"But first, we must steady our kingdom."
The full weight of their loss bore down on him.
How would the King react? How would the nobles? Could he even find the words to describe the sheer magnitude of what they had faced?
He looked at Garen, the steadfast warrior who spoke of strategy and alliances with unshaken conviction. But Jarvan felt changed.
The proud crown prince who had entered Noxus was not the same man who had returned.
Somewhere on that battlefield, a piece of him had been left behind—a piece of him now questioned the ideals he had once vowed to uphold.