After experiencing Marcus's Phantom Canyon firsthand, everyone was thoroughly impressed. The battle platform exceeded all their expectations, delivering exactly what they'd been hoping for.
They could already envision the ripple effects once word of Phantom Canyon spread across the world. After all, there were countless warriors and fighters out there hungry for real challenges, but few ever found opponents who could truly match their skills.
Now, finally, they had a place where they could step onto the battlefield, lose themselves in combat, and experience the pure joy of an evenly matched fight.
Despite losing his bout, Vander's relationship with Silco had improved dramatically. The tension that once defined their interactions had melted away, replaced by something closer to their old friendship. They no longer watched each other with suspicion and barely concealed hostility.
Their focus had shifted entirely to Zaun's future—building the undercity into something that could stand proudly among the great powers and city-states of the world.
"We can host tournaments in Phantom Canyon," Vander suggested, his eyes bright with possibility. "Imagine the crowds we'd draw from across the globe. With a platform like this, Zaun will never have to worry about money again."
Both Silco and Vander felt their excitement building. After years of scraping by, Zaun finally had a legitimate source of income that could sustain them for generations.
...
Another month had passed since then.
The Kalinda Crystal Tower continued its relentless growth, its energy field expanding until it reached its absolute limits—right to the border where Zaun met Piltover's upper city. The sight was both magnificent and slightly ominous, a crystal spire that seemed to pierce the very heavens.
Within Zaun itself, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. With Viktor's ingenious designs and the tools he'd created, new buildings sprouted up almost daily. The skyline changed so rapidly that residents joked they needed maps just to navigate their own neighborhoods.
The convenience brought by the energy field was revolutionary. In a city-state built in the depths, where sunlight barely reached the lower levels, massive structures now rose to match the height of Piltover's upper districts.
The tallest of these new buildings served a special purpose—it wasn't housing for Zaun's citizens, but rather a landing platform for a revolutionary new type of airship.
Viktor, Powder, and Mylo had joined forces to create something extraordinary: an aircraft that was faster, more stable, and capable of carrying far more passengers than anything currently in the skies. The design was sleek and modern, incorporating technology that Marcus had shared with them—particularly the jet engine specifications.
With Marcus's technical support, their aircraft had evolved beyond anything they'd originally imagined. Gone were the massive gas bags that traditional airships required. Instead, their creation looked like something from a future age—streamlined and powerful, capable of both high-speed flight and precise hovering.
The massive platform they'd constructed was designed to accommodate these technological marvels. Marcus couldn't help but be reminded of SHIELD's helicarriers when he saw their designs—the same blend of advanced engineering and practical functionality.
His approval of their work had lit up both Silco and Vander's faces like children receiving praise from a respected teacher. After all, long-distance transportation represented another potentially massive industry. Perhaps Zaun could build a steady stream of wealth from these aircraft, just as they were doing with Phantom Canyon.
Word of Phantom Canyon had indeed spread far and wide. Curious merchants had made the journey multiple times, drawn back again and again by the intoxicating sensation of wielding real power. For people who spent their lives calculating profits and managing ledgers, the feeling of commanding abilities beyond mortal limits was absolutely addictive.
Fortunately, Vander and Silco had kept the pricing reasonable. Their strategy was simple: make it affordable enough that everyone could experience Phantom Canyon, building a broad customer base rather than gouging the wealthy few.
This accessibility was exactly why the merchants kept returning. If they didn't have businesses to run and money to make, many would have gladly spent their entire lives in the simulation chambers, living out fantasies of power and glory.
After all, as ordinary people—members of the world's largest demographic—they had no access to real power. They weren't enhanced individuals, mystic warriors, or super-soldiers. They were just regular humans who'd never even dreamed of touching the kind of abilities they could wield in Phantom Canyon.
But here in Zaun, that had changed. They could choose any power set they desired, becoming the heroes or warriors they'd always dreamed of being, if only for a few precious hours.
"The locals have been settling into their new routines nicely," Vander observed, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "But these outsiders are becoming a real problem."
His expression darkened as he continued. "Ever since word got out about Phantom Canyon, we've had visitors from all over. Too many of them aren't here to fight or have fun—they're here to spy. They're snooping around, asking the wrong questions, and some have even committed crimes in our territory."
The thought made Vander's blood boil. Zaun had only recently found stability and prosperity, and already vultures were circling, looking for weaknesses to exploit. Did they really think he'd just stand by and let it happen?
In contrast to Vander's anger, Silco remained eerily calm. He'd anticipated this development from the moment they'd opened Phantom Canyon to the public. After all, their sudden transformation was bound to attract attention, especially with the Kalinda Crystal Tower serving as a beacon visible for miles around.
"Those small-time spies are just gnats," Silco said with a cold smile. "We can swat them easily enough. Our real concern should be the puppet masters pulling their strings. The real power players are very curious about what we've become."
His laugh carried a sinister edge that would have chilled anyone who heard it. Silco had plans for dealing with these threats, and those plans would send a clear message: Zaun was no longer the weak undercity that could be pushed around. They were the future, and anyone who tried to steal their secrets would learn that lesson the hard way.
The two men talked for several more minutes, exchanging knowing looks and meaningful smiles before parting ways. Both understood what needed to be done. These interlopers would be dealt with, and Zaun's future would be protected at any cost.
While Silco and Vander plotted their responses to unwanted visitors, Marcus was enjoying a much more relaxed afternoon. The Phantom had finally sent word—it had arrived near the Howling Abyss.
"Took long enough," Marcus muttered, shaking his head in amusement. "That thing is way too literal-minded."
The moment he connected with the Phantom's systems, Marcus understood exactly how his construct had made the journey. Rather than using any of its advanced abilities—teleportation, phasing, enhanced speed—the Phantom had simply... run. Like a marathon runner covering impossible distances, it had jogged across continents to reach its destination.
Marcus felt a mixture of exasperation and fond amusement. He knew the Phantom wouldn't have the same creative problem-solving skills as a human, but this level of rigid thinking was almost comical.
"Well, at least it got there in one piece," he said, preparing to transfer his consciousness into the distant construct.
As his awareness shifted into the Phantom's sensors, Marcus could immediately feel the twisted void energies emanating from beneath the Howling Abyss. But there was something else—several sources of intense cold that felt almost familiar.
"That has to be True Ice," he realized, his excitement building. "The real deal."
Only True Ice could maintain eternal freezing temperatures, and these particular formations were part of Lissandra's desperate gambit to seal the Void Watchers centuries ago. The thought of finally seeing these legendary prison-seals in person made Marcus's pulse quicken.
Just as he was about to move deeper into the abyss, a wave of frost swept across the area behind him. Turning the Phantom's head, he spotted two figures approaching through the swirling snow.
"Well, well," Marcus chuckled to himself. "Didn't expect to run into these two here."
The pair walking toward him were among the most famous figures in all of Freljord. The woman carried herself with the grace of a born leader, her white hair flowing behind her like a banner, while the enormous bow in her hands practically radiated power. This was Ashe, the Frost Archer and war mother of the Avarosa tribe.
Beside her strode a mountain of a man, his muscles clearly visible even beneath his winter gear. The massive sword strapped to his back looked like it could cleave through stone, and the barely contained fury in his eyes marked him as Tryndamere, the Barbarian King whose people had been nearly wiped out by raiders.
Marcus could sense the incredible power both of them possessed. Compared to these two seasoned warriors, even enhanced fighters like Vi and Caitlyn would seem like children playing at war. Ashe's bow was crafted from True Ice itself—the legendary Bow of Avarosa—while Tryndamere carried something even more dangerous: a rage so pure and focused that it could literally refuse to let him die in battle.
"No point in introducing myself just yet," Marcus decided. "I've got more important things to do."
With a thought, the Phantom dissolved into swirling ice crystals and snow, vanishing completely from sight. Marcus had no time for social calls, no matter how interesting these two might be. The Void Watchers were waiting, and he was eager to finally lay eyes on creatures that had survived in the secondary void for millennia.
The only other beings he'd encountered that could exist in such an environment were the Xel'Naga, and that comparison alone made this expedition worthwhile.
Following the source of void energy deeper into the abyss, Marcus soon found himself standing before ten massive ice pillars, each one radiating cold that could freeze a man solid in seconds.
"The Frostguard Citadel," he breathed, genuinely impressed despite himself. "And the Hall of the Nine."
Though he'd known about this place in theory, seeing it in person was something else entirely. Lissandra had literally sacrificed her entire civilization to create this prison, turning her own people into the monstrous creatures now known as the Frozen Watchers. The scale of that sacrifice was staggering, even by the standards of someone who'd seen worlds burn.
After taking a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship—and the sheer desperate determination it represented—Marcus focused his attention on the central pillar. Unlike the others, this one pulsed with a different kind of energy. This was where she waited.
"Come out, Lissandra," Marcus called, his voice echoing through the ancient hall. "You can't protect those things under your feet by hiding in icy dreams."
His words rang through the chamber, and moments later, the sound of cracking ice filled the air. The central pillar split apart like a flower blooming in reverse, revealing the figure that had been frozen within.
Lissandra emerged surrounded by a whirlwind of ice crystals, her blind eyes somehow still managing to convey the weight of centuries. When she spoke, her voice carried the authority of someone who'd commanded armies and made impossible choices.
"Are you seeking death, stranger?"
She studied him with senses beyond sight, clearly trying to understand what manner of being stood before her. Marcus could feel her probing at his essence, searching for weaknesses or familiar patterns.
"Death? From you?" Marcus laughed, genuinely amused by the threat. "I don't think you have what it takes, ice queen."
As he spoke, frost began radiating from the Phantom's form. The Hall of the Nine, already coated in layers of ancient ice, suddenly sprouted countless new crystals. The temperature dropped so dramatically that the very air seemed to crystallize.
Lissandra's expression shifted from authority to shock as she felt the impossible cold emanating from this intruder. The Hall of the Nine was her masterwork, created through centuries of accumulated power and sacrifice. Every inch of ice had been placed with purpose, every crystal positioned to strengthen the seals holding back the void.
Yet this stranger had done nothing more than exist in her presence, and already her perfect prison was changing, responding to a power that might actually exceed her own.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice carrying a note of something she hadn't felt in centuries—uncertainty.
"I'm the one who's going to kill them," Marcus replied simply.
Without warning, he channeled every ounce of the Phantom's power into his fist and drove it downward into the ancient floor. The impact was like a thunderclap, sending cracks racing through ice that had remained unbroken for millennia.
Though Lissandra had been blind for longer than most civilizations had existed, she still turned toward Marcus in absolute horror. She couldn't understand why anyone would deliberately weaken the seals. Didn't he realize what would happen if the Void Watchers escaped?
Her question was answered moments later when a pillar of purple light erupted from the cracked ice, shooting skyward and painting the entire Howling Abyss in otherworldly colors. The light was visible for hundreds of miles, a beacon announcing to the world that something ancient and terrible had awakened.
BOOM!!!
The void energy exploded outward as the first of the ancient seals finally gave way.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Lissandra's scream echoed through the abyss, her voice carrying centuries of anguish and rage.
The seals she'd devoted her eternal existence to maintaining—the prison that had cost her everything she'd ever loved—was breaking apart before her eyes.
Far above them, Ashe and Tryndamere had just reached the edge of the Howling Abyss when the purple light erupted skyward. Both warriors instinctively stepped back from the malevolent energy, feeling madness and corruption radiating from it like heat from a forge.
They didn't need to touch it to understand that whatever was happening down there was very, very bad.
Deep within the Freljord, in a forge that had burned for thousands of years, Ornn the Fire Below the Mountain stopped his work. The ancient demigod looked up from his anvil, watching the distant purple light with eyes that had seen the rise and fall of empires.
"The void stirs again," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stone.
Setting down his hammer, Ornn turned toward his private chambers. If the void had indeed broken free, he would need to prepare for war. Some of his finest creations would be needed in the battles to come.
In the ruins of Icathia, a lone figure carrying an ornate lamp post paused in his eternal vigil. Jax had been fighting void creatures for so long that their energy signature was burned into his very soul.
"The void awakens elsewhere," he murmured, looking toward the distant light. "But it's too far..."
If the new breach had been closer, he wouldn't have hesitated to help. But Icathia still had its own void creatures to contain, and he couldn't abandon his post. Someone else would have to handle Freljord's problems.
In a temple hidden deep within Ionia's sacred groves, Karma suddenly opened her eyes, green energy swirling around her as she sensed the disturbance halfway across the world.
"The void returns... but..."
She closed her eyes again, feeling the weight of responsibility. With Noxus constantly attacking Ionia's borders, she couldn't leave her homeland defenseless. The void would have to be someone else's burden—she had her own people to protect
Elsewhere, in a forest that had seen better days, Ryze the Rune Mage stopped dead in his tracks. The ancient wizard stared toward Freljord with an expression of pure horror.
"How is this possible? The seals of the Nine were unbreakable!"
Having lived for centuries, Ryze understood better than most what void incursions could do to the world. Previous breaches had produced only minor void creatures, yet they'd still caused catastrophic damage. The Howling Abyss was different—it contained some of the most powerful void entities ever sealed.
The only comparable disaster had been the fall of Icathia during Shurima's golden age, and that had cost the lives of multiple Ascended just to contain. Now Freljord faced something potentially worse, and most of the world's champions were occupied with other crises.
Ryze raised his hands, ancient runes blazing to life around his fingers. A complex magical circle appeared beneath his feet, growing brighter and more intricate by the second. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to help contain this disaster before it consumed the entire continent.
With a flash of mystical energy, he vanished, racing toward Freljord at speeds that bent reality around him.
The purple light from the Howling Abyss was visible across half the continent, and every nation capable of recognizing the threat immediately began mobilizing their forces.
In the gleaming capital of Demacia, King Jarvan IV was meeting with his generals about the ongoing Noxian threat when scouts brought word of the void breach. The king's face went pale as he realized the implications.
"Freljord borders our northern territories," he said grimly. "If they fall, we're next."
Within hours, an elite force of Demacian soldiers was marching north, their magical armor gleaming and their resolve absolute. Whatever was happening in the ice lands, Demacia would not face it unprepared.
Similar scenes played out across Valoran as ancient alliances activated emergency protocols and old enemies temporarily set aside their differences. The void was a threat to all life, regardless of nationality or ideology.
Back in the Hall of the Nine, Marcus watched the chaos unfold with calm satisfaction. While Lissandra raged and ice crystals swirled around them like a blizzard, he simply waited for the main event.
The void creature emerging from the broken seals was exactly what he'd come here to see—a being that had survived in the secondary void for millennia, accumulating power and knowledge that could prove invaluable to his research.
Lissandra's desperate attacks barely registered as she hurled frozen death at the Phantom. Her black ice magic, powerful enough to freeze entire armies, simply slid off his construct like water off a glacier.
"Your power isn't even close to what I've given this thing," Marcus observed casually as more ice formations wrapped around the Phantom. "But please, do continue trying."
The sound of Lissandra's screams had attracted attention from above. Ashe and Tryndamere stared down into the abyss, finally spotting the ice-wreathed figure that seemed to be fighting the legendary Frost Witch herself.
"That maniac..." Tryndamere growled, his hand moving instinctively to his sword. "He's the one who released the void!"
Both warriors could hardly believe what they were seeing. Lissandra, the eternal guardian who'd sacrificed everything to keep the world safe, was under attack by the very person who'd just doomed them all.
But as they watched, both began to realize that this confrontation was far from one-sided. The stranger wasn't just fighting Lissandra—he was winning.