"Now let us see who the true Demacians are!"
At the city gates, Sylas dragged his chains forward, a cruel and triumphant smile curling across his lips.
Ever since his arrest and imprisonment in the Black Cells over a decade ago, he had waited for this day—the day he would finally exact vengeance on those arrogant nobles.
And now, the day had come.
The time for sweet revenge had arrived.
Chains scraping over the stone, Sylas strode toward his true target: Dawn Castle.
As long as he seized control there, the outcome would be decided.
Colors of magic flickered in his eyes. True, the walls of the Grand City had been built with petricite, suppressing spellcraft—but the homes inside were not.
Brilliant flashes lit the city in every hue: violent crimson, searing yellow, icy white, razor-sharp gold, dizzying orange.
Each glow revealed the innate talent of a mage, each color different, each spell flaring against the dark. To Sylas, it was a masterpiece, the most beautiful painting in existence.
Meanwhile, war boars from Gwask thundered down the streets under the command of knights. Maces swung, and excitement mingled with cruelty on their faces as they smashed into shops and homes, looting amid screams, leaving only ruin and blood in their wake.
The Freljordians had begun their pillaging of the city, their ecstatic war-cries echoing through the night.
What kind of land breeds what kind of people.
The Freljordians could be called Runeterra's most resilient—and most savage—race.
They lived year-round in the frozen north, where resources were scarce and food was never enough. The weak froze and died, while only those with the greatest strength, adaptability, and iron will survived the endless winters.
And among them, Winter's Claw stood as one of the fiercest tribes. Every warrior of their clan was as brutal as they were powerful.
Now such predators had entered the Grand City. Without resistance, they were wolves among sheep—slaughter and plunder were inevitable.
Clink—clink—
The rattling of chains accompanied Sylas as he advanced. His sharp eyes caught sight of figures ahead hurriedly building a defensive line.
It was the season of the Great Tournament, and the capital was filled with Demacia's finest knights and warriors. The moment they sensed the chaos, they rallied, erecting barricades and preparing a counterattack.
At the same time, messengers sprinted toward the Dauntless Vanguard's camp, desperate for reinforcements to quell this disaster.
"For Demacia!!"
With that cry, several figures charged Sylas. He lifted his arm, sweeping his chains in a wide arc that drove them back.
In that instant, his hand brushed against one of the warriors.
The moment his palm touched, Sylas twisted aside and withdrew. The warrior crumpled to the ground, groaning as power was wrenched from his core—force ripped straight out of him.
Sylas sneered down at him. "Hello there, my fellow mage."
The man's eyes went wide in shock. How did Sylas know? He had hidden his identity as a mage so carefully…
Sylas spread his arms. Power swelled in his hands, dangerous and unrestrained.
"And now… farewell."
His palms blazed with an unnatural light.
In the next heartbeat, gray crept across their bodies. In moments, the gray had swallowed them whole, turning flesh and bone alike into stone.
One of them had possessed the petrification gift.
Sylas grinned, admiring his hand. "Mmm. A fine talent indeed."
Then he turned and pressed on, chains clattering.
No one could block his path.
No one.
Until the Demacian king and nobles lay dead before him, he would not stop.
He would never stop.
——
Southern Border, Pyeongtaek Town
The Argo locust swarm spread endlessly across the plains, their screeches sharp as blades, their jagged legs pounding the earth as they surged forward.
"Hyah!"
Xin Zhao swung his spear with full strength. A crescent arc of light cleaved through seven or eight of the beasts lunging at him. With a twist, he thrust his weapon—the three-pronged spear shot forward with such force that the gust it carried pierced a dozen more.
A trail of white energy cut across the void, impaling dozens of Argo locusts in its wake.
The Seneschal of Demacia—W skill: Wind Becomes Lightning.
Before the afterglow faded, Xin Zhao leapt high, spanning ten meters before slamming into the ground. The earth cracked beneath his landing, and with a powerful swing, he drew a wide moonlit arc, clearing the swarm around him.
"Damn it, this never ends! Duke, have you found the queen yet?"
Breathing heavily, Xin Zhao stole a moment of rest, gauging his remaining stamina. His spear, however, never ceased moving—each thrust shining with cold light, cutting down locust after locust.
These Argo locusts were the size of hounds, yet in Pyeongtaek the swarm's breed had grown as large as wolves.
And between a hound's fifty-centimeter shoulder height and a wolf's seventy or eighty—those twenty centimeters made all the difference.
Returning to the prince's side, Xin Zhao scanned for Duke, quickly spotting him at the rear, overseeing the battlefield in his glaring white coat. His unhurried stride and the golden glow about him drew the eye even amid the chaos.
From the rear, Duke kept watch, ensuring no one was lost.
He drew out a freeze grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it without looking back to see the result. With his free hand, he planted several flash mines.
The last mine set, he looked up just in time to see Xin Zhao rushing toward him.
"Duke, did you find the queen?" Xin Zhao asked breathlessly.
"Hmm…"
Through Edith, Duke glanced at the scout drones' feed. From the start until now, no queen had appeared—and no drones had been destroyed either.
"Sorry, not yet."
Xin Zhao's face darkened. "Then we're in trouble. At this rate, no one will hold out!"
"Then we rest."
"What?"
Xin Zhao blinked. Rest—now? Impossible. The locusts already saw them as prey. The swarm would never stop attacking.
"I have a way," Duke said calmly.
He pulled the Viper Cannons from his inventory.
The turrets dug into the earth, transforming in seconds. Ten cannons formed a defensive circle, covering every angle.
Xin Zhao barked orders, moving the soldiers into the circle. Some guarded the perimeter with the turrets' aid, while others collapsed into exhausted rest.
Still rummaging through his inventory, Duke muttered, "Now where is it… I know I stashed it here somewhere."
At last, he pulled something free with a grin. "Ah, found it!"
"What is it?" the prince asked curiously.
Duke waved him back. "Clear some space."
The others stepped aside. With a sweep of his hand, Duke summoned a square iron cage that crashed into place.
"Inside. You can rest in here."
He led the way in. Though doubtful, the others followed. When the last had entered, Duke tapped Edith's glasses.
"Edith, activate the containment field."
"On it, boss."
At once, white beams of energy sealed the cage like bars of light.
The prince gaped. "What is this…?"
"A little invention of mine. A cage—but it works nicely as a safehouse." Duke's tone was casual. "Don't touch the beams. They'll cut your hand clean off."
Even as he spoke, several locusts hurled themselves into the circle, shrieking. They hit the beams and instantly turned to charred husks.
Unbothered, Duke sat cross-legged, deploying a holographic projector. Edith flicked it on, and dozens of drone feeds split across the air in glowing panels.
"Good. Rest. The drones will find our answer."
The prince stared at the hovering screens, awe-struck. "By the gods… has Piltover's technology really advanced this far?"
"This? Just one of my own inventions. The rest are still at the usual level."
The others, half-dead with fatigue, sank to the ground, savoring the rare moment of respite.
Only Duke and Jax remained steady. The rest ached from head to toe after hours of relentless fighting.
Shyvana sat silently aside, her armored gauntlets still slick with ichor. The ban on magic bound her in caution—she refused to reveal her true nature, not even now.
"Hey, look!"
One soldier pointed to a feed. A drone had caught sight of the Argo queen—nestled inside a house, endlessly laying eggs.
Dozens of locusts served as midwives, carrying newborn larvae away to rooms piled with food. More swarmed in, delivering nourishment.
"Finally! The damned beast!" someone cheered.
But Duke frowned, stroking his chin. "Something's wrong. A queen does breed, yes, but why keep laying even while the swarm marches?"
A moment later, Edith's voice cut in.
"Boss. New queen sighted."
"What?"
He magnified another feed, placing it side by side.
"Boss. Another queen confirmed."
More and more screens filled the air. Each showed another Argo queen.
They stared in stunned silence.
"There's more than one…" Duke muttered.
"More than one queen!!"
End of chapter....
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