Winter, 994 AN
For the first time in months, I was truly alone.
Gnarled and knotting branches snaked along a path long forgotten. Moonlight split the canopy of the otherwise dark forest. Decrepit trees with purple leaves stood watchfully, like withered war veterans with half a leg in the grave. Glancing around, I saw no sign of life. Not even a mouse twitched.
My brow furrowed. I didn't remember this place.
The faint smell of decay drifted in the air, a different kind of pungent than the infected injuries or amputations I sat in on as I and other warhost medics worked. I stepped over an exposed root; its bark bruised with blots of purple.
It was as if the very earth beneath my feet was a festering wound.
Without Grig and Tywin, anxiety suddenly washed over me as dead leaves crunched beneath my feet. I resisted the urge to call out. I had no idea whether or not I was behind enemy lines, with Ionian ninjas stalking in the trees. A dagger could find my back any second.
That thought evaporated the deeper I went. I would've heard someone by now if I really was being tailed; it was impossible to sneak in a place this still. Silence was deafeningly loud in comparison. It was an eerie quiet that was unnatural and ominous.
Pushing away a branch, I came to a clearing in the forest. A massive stone building encompassed the glade. The temple stood several stories tall, however it was dwarfed by the trees that surrounded it, as if the dark forest was hiding an even darker secret. Rows of pillars held up a curved tile roof. Time had not been kind to this place, as the building's condition bordered on dilapidation. In front of a towering set of studded doors were two stone statues that matched the doors' height and resembled Ionian soldiers of old. Both had a lance in their hands, standing sentinel. The doors were slightly propped open, peaking into pitch black.
I didn't remember visiting this place, but I did know my body was screaming for me to run.
Yet, something from beyond the doors called out to me. Maybe it was curiosity that made me take a step forward, to find the secret that this forest was hiding for so long. Maybe it was because I couldn't see anywhere else to go, and someone might be inside.
Or something.
I blinked, and suddenly I was deep within the temple. I stood on a platform with two spiraling stone staircases on either side. Around me, cylindrical floors stacked on top of one another so high I couldn't see the ceiling, with rows of arches built side-by-side into each ring. Mounted candles circled each platform, lit by green flames. A myriad of larger candles hung haphazardly in the air from iron chains above and below me, their green light cutting through the dim pit.
I blinked again, and I was at the bottom of the staircase, where the candles lit the way toward a grand hallway. Ahead of me, the hall was in a state of ruin. Pillars could barely hold up the high ceiling, some of them laying as rubble on the ground. Vines ensnared pillars, long tendrils peeking through cracks in the ceiling and hanging loosely in the air. The most notable thing, however, were at least a dozen sets of towering doors that were splintered and smashed along the hall.
As I stepped over the shattered wood, I noticed each door had a symbol on them, or what was left of one at least. It appeared Ionian in origin. Was it a sign of some kind? But when I inspected closer, I sensed faint traces of magic coming from the scribbling. Warding runes.
I turned back to the long, lonely hall that lay before me. Whoever built this place must've wanted to keep people out, I thought. Or they wanted to keep something in.
The further I walked, the more the suffocating dread I felt outside in the forest grew. But at this point, I had to know what was hidden in this temple. Too far to back down now. When I reached the end of the hall, my jaw dropped.
In front of me was a vast chamber built out of a cave. Moss engulfed the walls, with waterfalls spilling into basins parallel to the path. In the center, a stone statue of a dragon posed menacingly, maw opened up in a snarl, with teeth as long as my arm.
Coming closer, I was amazed at its scale. Despite its state of disrepair, with chippings and parts of one wing laying broken on the ground, its sheer size and detail made me gaze in awe. I had never seen a dragon in my life, they were long since extinct, but if I had ever seen one, I would have assumed it to look similar to this statue. The attention to detail was so exact and made the statue look so lifelike that it was hard to believe an Ionian had sculpted this. Inspecting the dragon further, I noticed glowing lines of purple snaking its legs, right below the knees. Just like the bruises I had seen outside.
Beyond the statue, an altar sat against the wall of the cave. I left the statue behind and approached the altar. This was the source of the awful aura that thickened the air. Two candles with green flames were placed on the cloth, side-by-side a metal stand.
Laying on the stand was a porcelain mask.
Every primal fiber in my being was screaming for me to get away, but my mind was lulled toward it. Hesitantly reaching forward, I picked up the mask. It was oval-shaped, like one you'd find in a theater, and it had no nose. Black ink flowed around the mask's eyes, traveling into its temples before running down its cheeks. A spiderweb of cracks scarred one of its corners, above the temple. Carved into the mask was a sinister smile.
Suddenly, the mask turned to sand, slipping through my fingers. I stared at my hands. Surprisingly, I found myself slightly disappointed. I really shouldn't have been, the mask had to be ancient. But this temple, hidden in the middle of a lifeless forest, dug down this deep, and this was at the end? The treasure at the end of the journey, the secret of the forest, was just some old theater prop that had turned to dust in my palms? It felt anti-climactic.
Sighing, I turned to leave the altar. Something grabbed my ankle. I yelped, trying to step forward. Now both my legs were being tugged on. I looked down, to my horror, as pitch-black arms grasped at me, coming up from a pool of nothingness. I tried to get away, but more arms appeared, and were now clutching my shirt as the black pool began to cover the entire ground of the cave.
Then, they started to pull me down.
Panicking, I vainly wrestled against the arms, trying anything to get away from this horrible place. I was now knee deep into the pool, its cold waters biting against my skin. The arms had reached my shoulders, and had now grabbed hold of my hair and neck. I tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth.
Thoughts crossed my mind. I was about to be dragged down into a pool of nothingness. I should've listened to my instincts. No one was coming to save me.
I was going to die.
As I descended deeper into the pool, the sound of cackling echoed through the cave, a hideous laughter that grated your ears like nails on a chalkboard. A demonic glee that reveled in my suffering.
When I was neck deep in the freezing waters, I made one last glance toward the altar. Sitting atop it was a slim figure, but I couldn't make it out.
The last thing I saw were a pair of red eyes that pierced my soul, before I was pulled underwater.
"YOW! Gods damnit, careful!"
I sighed, throwing the pair of pants in my hand on the counter. Grabbing the bucket of water against the wall, I carried it over to the operating table, where an older man laid. I had just assisted him out of his pants, leaving him in his drawers. He was a short, but thick man, balding and had a gray beard. On his right thigh, just below his underwear was a second-degree burn. I dipped a clean cloth in the bucket, then placed it on the burn.
"I take it this doesn't happen to you often, Orr?" I said with a grin, washing the pink, flaking skin with soap.
"Not since I was a novice," the town blacksmith said gruffly. "Was teachin' the grandson ya see, and only looked away fer a second before I tipped me bucket of scalding water in me lap. Stung like a witch's kiss, it did."
"Even masters make mistakes from time to time," I said, Orr wincing as I poured a handful of water slowly onto his thigh. "I'm just glad someone of your talents lives in a tiny town like this. I'd be lost without your help."
Orr waved a hand, gritting his teeth. "It's nothin', Mista Tetran. It's easy work helpin' ya git set up compared to some of the projects I've had to do in my life." I had kept my real name a secret, as not to attract attention to my heritage.
It's been two weeks since I came back from my trip to Zaun. It was hard to believe I dared make such a journey, let alone after what horrors I saw there. However, when I'm reminded of that little girl, I tell myself I made the right choice. It's my job to take care of Elaria, but I vowed that I would return for the rest in that cursed basement.
The door that connected the house to the clinic creaked open, Elaria's head popping out of it.
"Papaaa, when's supper?" she groaned, still holding onto the poro plushie I had bought her in Piltover.
"When I'm done treating Mr. Orr," I sighed. Pouting, Elaria closed the door behind her.
Orr blinked, then chuckled. "Feisty lil' lady, ain't she?"
I groaned in disbelief. "You have no idea. Hungry all the time. Yet she won't eat meat too much, just fruits and sweets."
Orr shrugged, smiling. "That's what kids are like at that age."
A moment of silence hung in the air.
"Did you serve in the Legion by chance?" I asked.
The older man nodded. "Long time ago, before Darkwill, if you can imagine," he said, laying down on the table. "I was supplying warhosts when Boram's pappy was king, when we was still fightin' the Freljords in Tokogol. Hard to believe them times of Noxus havin' a king are gone. By the way, yer floorboards' pretty noisy. Ya want me to check on that fer ya?"
"Absolutely not," I scoffed. "You shouldn't be moving much with this leg, don't be stubborn. It's a new house, anyway. It's gonna make noises, especially living out on these windy plains."
Orr just huffed in response. I worked absently as he talked. In my experience, I preferred treating burns over most other injuries. The process for first and second-degree burns is fairly simple and straightforward. It was one of the first lessons Father had taught me as a kid. However, treating the burns in Ionia…
Stop it, I told myself. I don't need to bring up bad memories now. I work so I can forget, so focus. However, my expression must have betrayed me, as Orr noticed.
"You served, didn't you?" he asked stoically. I bristled.
"I don't like to talk about it."
Orr sighed, resting his head against the table, staring at the ceiling. "Ya know that we ol' dogs love to share war stories. But we both know no one really likes to talk bout it."
I was silent as I changed wet cloths on his burn. "How'd you know?" I finally asked.
Orr smiled sadly. "Anyone that's been in a warhost can tell, son. That distant look in yer eye, lost in thought. All of us been through that. We all have our own personal nightmares," he said grimly.
"You're not wrong," I said quietly. Orr didn't know how truly his words rung with me.
"At yer age, you were in Ionia, weren'tcha?" the blacksmith pressed. I nodded, to which Orr shook his head. "Damn shame, that was. Lotsa our boys from Riverpost and surroundin' towns were never the same afta that."
I poured another handful of water on the burn. "Believe me, I'm reminded of it every night," I said under my breath.
Orr raised an eyebrow, then abruptly sat up and turned his body toward me, grunting in pain. I was about to protest, but the look in his eye stopped me.
"Listen here, and listen carefully. I don't know what happened, son," the blacksmith said, placing his hands on my shoulders, "but I know whatcha been through. I've seen some things; I've had friends die in combat." He paused, licking his lips, pondering what to say.
"I lost me son over there," he finally said, his grip on my shoulders tightening. "His bones are still in those mountains, and I'll never be able ta give him a proper burial. I know whatcha been through, son. I just want to let you know, no, I need you to know, that whatever happened over there ain't yer fault."
I was stunned. I almost felt tears in my eye, a feeling I quickly buried. I finished wrapping loose bandage around the burn, then washed my hands in the basin.
"Should be good to go, Orr," I said, handing him a small jar of ointment. "Apply that twice a day, and let your leg breathe. Also, go speak to Griselda. She'll have some ice at the department store."
The blacksmith slowly stood up. "I'll be sure to git you yer payment in the next few days. No money on me in the shop when I went down, ya understand."
I waved a hand. "No worries. All I care about is you taking it easy."
Orr beamed, a smile that was missing several teeth. "I forget what it was like before ya came along. Yer a real blessing to this here town."
Orr opened the front door, a chill breeze flowing through. Night had already fallen.
"If ya need anything, even someone to listen to your ramblings, you come knock on me door. Everyone in this town is willing to help," he said. "After all, small town like ours, we gotta stick out for each other."
The blacksmith closed the door and disappeared into the night.
"Stick out for each other, huh?" I muttered. Memories of Feywind popped into my head. Of the patients I treated, some who thanked me excessively, others that seethed with prejudice. Riverpost wasn't like the elven city hidden in the mountains. The village's residents weren't afraid of me, they didn't hate me. I had received such an overwhelmingly positive response that I'm still stunned by it. It was an earnest and sincere feeling that I seldom felt living in a Noxian noble house, in a uniform, or in the Ionian woods.
I cleaned up the clinic, tossing the dirty water out and hanging the newly washed cloths to dry. Stepping toward the operating table, I picked up a scalpel and spoke an incantation, a small fire lighting in my palm, heating the blade.
I began cleaning my instruments. What would Father think of me if he saw me right now, knowing I was alive?
He'd probably disown you for desertion, a cynical voice said in my head.
That would be fairly likely. Then again, I doubt he would care if he found out I had survived. The rest of my family would be a different story. Mother would probably slap me. My older sister Cecilia would probably call me an idiot and crush my ribs with her hugs. My younger sister Yvette would most certainly be bawling her eyes out, as well as ecstatic to find out she has a niece, whether Elaria is a half-elf or not.
A deep pang suddenly hit me, making my chest tighten. Was I…homesick? I hadn't felt that since I was in the Legion. It was true, I did miss my family. But it was out of the question.
I sterilized another blade with the flame. Despite the efforts of the Trifarix to convince the public to look past race and ethnicity, and rather judge someone by their actions and service, racism still persists. It was evident in the Ionian Offensive, especially in the soldiers who used it as a way to justify the atrocities they committed toward the locals on the beaches and in the mountains.
If it was ever discovered that a nobleman's son not only survived after supposedly deserting the Legion, but also married and bore a child with an elf? It would politically decimate House Rimgar.
I finished sterilizing the last instrument, the flame snuffed out in my hand. I sighed. Duke Alabaster Rimgar wouldn't care if he found out his long-lost son was still alive. He's one of the best doctors in the entire empire. He long since gave priority to his work over his family. He didn't always used to be like that, though. I remembered when times he used to be a kind and warm man when I was younger, until the plague came and…
I shook my head, taking a step towards the house door.
The floorboards squeaked under my weight. Orr was right, I needed to get that fixed. I looked down at the black space between the boards.
Someone stared back.
I ducked back just as a knife flew up at me, slicing my shirt and digging into the ceiling with a loud thunk.
Diving for the table, I reached for a scalpel on the tray. I turned around just as a hooded figure grazed my clothes with a dagger. I tried kicking him in the groin. Instead, the assailant shifted his pose, deflecting my kick with his knee. His arm had now arced in the air, and sunk the knife into the table, where a second ago my head was.
Before I had time to think, his other dagger swiped toward my neck. But I was quicker, jamming the scalpel into his forearm. The man faltered, giving me enough time to clasp his hand to the table and roundhouse kicked him in the ribs. He croaked, leaning forward as I pulled the scalpel out of his arm and rammed it up through the jaw.
The attacker fell still, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Two more knives came into my peripheral, ducking behind the corpse as the knives sunk into its back. I kicked the body towards two more hooded figures, wearing black robes.
The same robes from Zaun.
I kicked the tray at one of assailant's faces, then pulled the knife out of the table and launched it at the other, the blade hitting him in the chest. A scalpel in one hand and a dagger in the other, I charged the second figure. Growling, the man slipped two knives of his own out of his sleeves, and took a fighting pose.
I moved in Wind Stance, holding the blades in a reverse grip, thrusting at his abdomen. He sidestepped, just as I brought the blade back in a slashing move. He parried it with his own, then kicked me in the stomach. I bent over slightly, then bent back as metal flew past my head.
The intruder became more aggressive, attacking faster. Even though Wind Stance was the best stance for avoiding attacks, I was still getting nicked all across my arms and chest. Just as I made another thrust, my opponent parried, and with the other knife, sliced my wrist.
The dagger fell out of my hand, now limp. I grit my teeth, sweating profusely.
I had one chance.
I jumped back, and as he dove for me, I rolled the tray table, colliding with assailant. His legs went out from under him, crashing to the floor. I wrestled on top of him, putting him in a restraining grip. As he struggled under my weight, I sunk the scalpel into his neck. The man gurgled for a moment, then fell limp. Three dead.
Something stabbed me in the back.
I gasped, then was turned around. Something hit me in the cheek, sending me sprawling. I felt my hair grabbed as I was dragged by two figures into the house.
I was put on my knees, the two hooded intruders restraining me. We were in the living room. It was a modestly furnished room, as the house had only just finished. A few plush chairs surrounded a coffee table. The walls were lined with bookshelves yet to be stocked. Wooden beams held up the ceiling. The room was well lit, as candles flickered on the walls, moonlight peeking through the windows.
I frantically scanned the room. Besides the two men holding me down, four robed figures stood. Elaria was nowhere to be found.
"What a humble abode," a voice said. "Forgive me for not knocking first."
A man stepped into the living room. Young and handsome, he was well-dressed in a green overcoat and gold vest. Wavy black hair fell to his shoulders, the man sporting a goatee. He also held a black cane, a fashionable accessory for high class Noxians. I thought I recognized him, but couldn't put my finger on from where.
Piercing yellow eyes locked onto me. "So, this is the man who infiltrated one of our Farms. An impressive feat," the man said, tapping his cane. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucius Rimgar."
Farms? I thought as my stomach churned. This bastard saw those people in the tubes as cattle.
"How do you know my name?" I gasped, my back still throbbing from the stab wound.
The man chuckled. "Unbelievable. What don't we know about you?" He said, looking for a response from the hooded figures in the room, who stood silently, before turning back to me. "You thought you could screw with us, and get away with it?"
The man pulled out a notepad from his coat, pacing the room as he read. "Lucius Rimgar. Third child and second son of House Rimgar," he listed off. "The house's former heir, Mr. Rimgar joined the Legion as a lieutenant, working supply in the warhost. Top of his class in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat," he peered in the direction of the clinic, where three Black Rose corpses laid. "That would explain the setback tonight," he mused.
"Served in the Ionian Offensive as a part of the Third Warhost," he continued, still tapping his cane as he paced. "Hot-tempered and rash, Lieutenant Rimgar would be briefly imprisoned for insubordination and assaulting a fellow officer. Disappeared during the Placidium Siege, Rimgar was presumed dead."
The well-dressed aristocrat pocketed the notepad, wearing a foxy grin. "An interesting man indeed. Tell me, Lucius. How did you survive all those years in Ionia?"
I remained silent. The man sighed.
"Don't be difficult now. There's only one way you're getting out of this alive."
After a moment of expecting to speak, the aristocrat circled around me. "That stab wound looks pretty bad. If you want that treated, you'll listen to me," he said. "Or we could go with the second option, the wasteful option. My boys here could poke you with more holes and you can bleed out on the floor here, along with whoever else lives in this house. Your choice."
The knife wound was too shallow to be lethal. However, I didn't think he was bluffing. "And what could I possibly have to gain from listening to a man like you?" I finally said.
"An offer," he replied simply.
My jaw dropped. "You break into my house, stab me in the back, threaten my family, and you dare make me an offer? I'll rip your throat out."
A fist cracked against the back of my head, and a foot plunged into my gut. I coughed, and would've sprawled out on the floor if the hooded figures restraining me hadn't kept me up.
The aristocrat rolled his eyes. "Don't be vulgar, Lucius. It's unbefitting of a nobleman. The people above me simply think that killing someone of your talents would be a waste," he said. "I mean, breaking into a farm, killing some of our best soldiers, and then escaping the Beast? Trifarians couldn't even achieve the same feat, and the man who accomplishes such is a man not commonly found."
"Who's really offering?" I asked. The man laughed.
"Don't be coy. We both know," he said. "The Black Rose."
The man tapped his cane against the floorboards. "How is Jericho Swain involved?" I asked.
He blinked, surprised I would ask such a specific question. He then smiled with perfect teeth. "The Grand General is a part of a larger whole. A piece in a plan to make this country the greatest the world has ever seen. A plan to purge the sickness that has infested the nation's body. You can play a part, if you cooperate. So, what do you say?"
A door opened, and another goon appeared. "Sir, we found a girl's room in the house. She's nowhere to be found."
The man raised an eyebrow. I stayed silent. After a moment, his expression darkened.
"Maybe you need a bit more convincing," he said, turning to Black Rose soldiers. "Find the girl, she's likely still in the house. And when you find her, skin her."
The soldier nodded, then ducked back through the door. I struggled vainly against the guards' grips. "You touch a hair on her head, I'll kill every last one of you!" I snarled.
"You're forcing my hand!" He replied, exasperated. "Don't you get it, Lucius? We have the same goal. Both of us are sickened by what this country has become. A country polluted by idealists! The same country that turned its back on you!" He continued, tapping his cane louder.
"Not fair, is it? The Black Rose agrees, and we wish to change that. We want to cut the cancer out of the body. As a doctor, you would understand best out of all of us. You saw the results of that cancer in Ionia. The diseased roots in Noxus still remain today."
He kneeled down, so both of us were at eye-level.
"The Black Rose needs more people like you, Mr. Rimgar. People who understand what needs to be changed, no matter the price. Even if I have to show you force."
"What about the people in the Farm?" I interrupted. "Are they involved with cutting out this 'cancer'?"
The aristocrat nodded. "Indeed. A necessary sacrifice. Better it be Zaunites on death's door anyway over a pureblood Noxian. Gods know they're of better use now, rather than drugged out in an alley. Let's just say that to take back Noxus, you need an army, and with an army, you need weapons."
Suddenly, I recognized this man. A man rooted deeply in the government, and one not to be trifled with.
"You're the Head Minister of the Ministry of Science," I realized. "Alistair Morelli."
Morelli smiled. "A man of my position doesn't get to where he is now without getting his hands dirty. So, I'll ask you one last time. A new age will begin for Noxus. It's your choice whether or not you get to be a part of it. What is your answer, Mr. Rimgar? Don't make me ask again."
I smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Minister Morelli."
Then I spat in his face.
Morelli's eyes narrowed, calmly pulling a handkerchief from his coat and wiping his face. He stood straight, then headed for the front door. As his hand wrapped around the door handle, he paused, glancing back at me.
"I can't say I'm not disappointed, Mr. Rimgar. Wasted talent is always disappointing," he said solemnly, pulling open the door and taking a step outside. Without looking back at me, he spoke again.
"Burn it down."
The silent robed figures suddenly swept the room, breaking oil lamps and throwing the exposed flames on drapes and bookshelves, setting the room ablaze. Voracious fire hungrily licked the walls, like a beggar that was offered a feast. A few of the intruders tossed timber at the embers, feeding it further.
Through gritted teeth, I struggled against my captors. Something hard hit the back of my head. I gasped, keeling over. Then, I was lifted up, and two guards kicked my legs at awkward angles. Bones snapped. I dropped to the ground, head spinning from pain and smoke.
Just as quickly as I dropped, the Black Rose enforcers fled the room. I could barely think straight. As I crawled to the exit, I realized they had blocked the doors and windows with chairs and shelves.
No way of escape. I was a bird clipped of its wings and locked in a furnace.
I crawled into the kitchen, vainly attempting to steady my breath and avoid inhaling smoke. The pain from my broken legs and the stab wound in my back hindered that. The fire had now engulfed the walls and the ceiling. Its heat was unbearable. The sight of my house was obscured in a malicious orange. Suddenly, my nightmares flooded into my head.
The same malice from Kaiji Bay.
I pulled myself around a corner. "Elaria? Elaria!" I called out. All that responded was the thunderous crackling of scorched wood. I pulled myself toward a hallway. Pillars began to crumble, and parts of the ceiling begin to give in. No sign of her. Maybe the Black Rose had already gutted her. Maybe they had found her fleeing and killed her like a stray dog. Maybe…I was too late.
No. I was too late.
Near a window, a fallen support beam pinned an object. A poro plushie, the one I had bought Elaria in Piltover. A doll she never let out of her sight.
Covered in blood.
A blood-curdling wail erupted from me. Despair crushed my soul. All my promises to Bellaluna, to myself, had evaporated. Gone up in flames. The one thing I now realized had kept me going, kept me to push through each day instead of giving up, was gone.
And it was all my fault.
The ceiling above me split, blazing wood falling on top of me. My skin charred, and I could barely make a sound with smoke clogging my lungs. I tried feebly to get out of the rubble, but I was trapped, to inevitably burn alive.
Flames licked the left side of my face, helpless as skin melted. I looked up, and I saw my fellow Legionnaires engulfed in the flames. Grigorn wailed as he was reduced to a charred black skeleton. In the middle of the collapsing room, Bellaluna stood in a pillar of flame, pointing at me accusingly with a bony finger.
"This is your penance for failing your promise," she said in a raspy voice. "You killed our daughter. Now burn in hell."
I couldn't even scream.
Then, everything went black.
I opened my eyes. Suddenly, my body felt numbingly cold, an almost welcome respite from the flames. My body howled in pain, and moving an inch was a mountainous effort. I peered around. The burning house was gone, replaced with a black expanse. My broken form laid in a shallow, freezing lake. An empty void. Like the ones from my nightmares.
No, not empty, I realized as I spotted a figure in the distance. The silhouette walked toward me. Keeping my eyes open was a struggle, and I was on the brink of passing out from the pain.
The figure stopped in front of me. Then, it spoke, an inhuman voice that sent chills down my spine.
"Well, well, well. Look who finally showed up. It's taken far too long for us to meet face-to-face."
I felt myself being pulled up by nothingness, straightening me so that I sat on my knees. The broken bones were dulled by the numbing cold. I could barely see out of my left eye through the burns. The figure had disappeared.
"You almost stepped off the edge there! A close call. That would have made things very…difficult," the masculine voice said, which echoed in the void around me. It was too smooth, like a viper's words. At times though, some syllables grinded like screeching metal.
I felt my consciousness slipping, but then something pulled at my brain. I was being kept awake.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. Before you came along and after," the voice continued. "I thought for sure we would speak in Ionia. Yet, you persisted. You had things to live for, after all. It was quite frustrating that it took so long for you to break. Conveniently, tonight showed that all it took was for you to lose your last shred of hope. And where did that lead you?"
Through half-open eyes, the figure appeared in front of me.
"To me!"
The creature had pitch black skin, or at least what I thought was skin, and had a slender frame. Torso too thin, limbs too elongated, and too tall to be human. Fingers like pointed daggers, each as long as my hand. It wore an old-fashioned suit and jacket, however the clothing was split vertically in half, the right side black, while the left side was white. Black lettering like scratch marks muddied the white side of the suit, across the pant legs, through the vest and down the sleeves. Words in different languages known and lost scrawled on the cloth. I was able to read a few, and discovered it was the same word in different tongues.
Death.
Lastly, as my eyes drifted toward its face, the figure had a long black neck that led up to a head with no ears, and had combed black hair. On its face was a porcelain mask, ink caking its eyes and streaming down the cheeks. A corner of the mask was cracked. It had no nose and a smile carved into the face.
The face that plagued my nightmares.
Terror thundered through my veins, every unsinged hair on my body stiff. "Who…what are you?" I whispered.
Strangely, the mask could make facial expressions. "Oh! My apologies. Where are my manners?"
The demon bowed, tilting his head up at me. "I've been called many names across history. Tulamane. The Grim Reaper. Cul Vicar. And a myriad of others in languages lost to the ages."
He straightened, folding his hands behind his back. "You may call me the Message Man. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lucius Rimgar."
"Am I…dead?" I asked hoarsely.
The Message Man shook his head theatrically. "Oh heavens, no. At least, not yet, without my help," it emphasized each word with a clawed finger. "Those men really roughed you up. Frankly, you were close to croaking. I mean, you're lucky I was here! There was no way you would've survived on your own," he rambled.
"Although, I must say, that Morelli? The one with the Black Rose, I think he called it? Such brutality! Ah, a man after my own heart," he said with a twisted glee.
He cleared his throat. "Nevermind. What's important is that I saved you from becoming a holiday turkey."
"Why…did you save me?"
The demon paused. "You're an important man, Lucius," it finally spoke. "Caught in a web that is larger than you can imagine. Whether you like it or not, you're a part of this now."
"Apart of what? You mean the Black Rose?" I said, to which the Message Man shook his head.
"Oh, it goes so much deeper than that, my friend. You have no idea. Those prideful, pathetic humans who tried to off you don't even scratch the surface. You are an important piece of a puzzle I've planned for millennia, waiting for this day, for this chance."
The pain in my body was eclipsed by the cold. "Why…me?"
The Message Man laughed, an awful sound. "Oh-ho-ho, Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. You poor boy. In due time, you'll realize. With your potential and my ambition, we can bring about a performance this world hasn't seen since the Cataclysms."
I hung my head, closing my eyes. "Just…kill me already. There's nothing left for me. Just kill me…so I can see them again."
The demon scoffed, almost disgruntled at my response. "I expected more from you, Lucius. You're just gonna let your daughter's murderers get away with it?"
"I…" I started, but my throat was hoarse. The Message Man bent down, staring eye level at me with deep red eyes.
"Aren't you angry? Livid? I've seen your memories, your…trauma. Your home country, Noxus, turned its back on you. You were one of their top recruits, but they threw you away like trash, all because you had the audacity to think for yourself. Then, when you discovered their dirty little secret, they killed your family for it."
"No, it wasn't Noxus. It was the Black Rose…" I began to protest, but was cut off.
"Who are the same breed of Noxian as the ones that sent you to die in the mountains," the Message Man continued. "Black Rose, Trifarix, nobles, the common man, they're all the same. Each one of them is a parasite."
He poked my chest with a sharp finger. "Now let me ask you a question. Are you ok with dying like a dog? Or, as a doctor, would you rather cut out the cancer that has infested your homeland?"
"I can't," I said feebly. "I'm just me, I'm…nothing…compared to an empire."
"Then be something more!" The demon yelled, clutching its fists. "Rage against them! Burn with hatred! The Black Rose, the Trifarix, it doesn't matter, all are at fault! They took everything from you, so you should rip the bastards off their golden thrones! Together, we will show them the brutality they showed you a hundredfold! A thousandfold! When we're done, Noxus will be nothing but ashes and bones! Together, we will show them an art of pestilence that will never, ever, be forgot!"
"I…" I began, my head fuzzy. No. It was their fault. A decade-long dormant rage suddenly began to boil in my stomach. All these years I've suffered, the nightmares that haunted me every night, all because of their greed and pride. Every Noxian was at fault. Even now, they threaten Ionia and all of Valoran. However, I hesitated.
"What's your price?" I asked quietly.
The Message Man flashed a wicked grin. "You will become my Vessel, where I can finally see the outside world. In exchange, you will be granted near limitless mana and access to magic arts lost to history."
I was quiet for a moment. The pain was gone, all that was left was the cold. But my burns remained, a reminder of what Noxus did to me.
"Stay alive, and we can take vengeance on those who've wronged us," the demon pressed. "The world will know our wrath. All it takes is for you to say yes," he said, holding out a clawed hand.
I sat there on my knees. Then, I peered up at the dark figure, who stared beadily with malevolent red eyes.
Then, I scowled. "Let's burn Noxus to the ground."
I grasped Death's hand.
The Message Man's smile grew, splitting the mask in an ominous and horrific grin. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, before elongated black fingers pierced my face.
I screamed. By the gods, the pain. The pain was the worst I'd ever felt. The fire was bliss compared to this. Pulsing, cold despair flooded every inch of my body. Suddenly, part of me regretted my decision.
I may have just sided with something truly evil.
As wailing reverberated across the void, they were only overshadowed by the demon's foul, howling laughter that rattled my ears. As the pointed fingers dug deeper, I felt like I was losing pieces of myself, of my humanity.
Then, in one swift motion, the Message Man plunged his fingers all the way into my head. In an instant, my physical form and psyche shattered like broken glass.
Fresh snow fell as the burning house collapsed on top of me.
Fall, 1004 AN
Zaun never changes.
It has its shortcomings, but it's one of the few cities in Valoran that truly feel alive, like a living organism. The chasm walls and cave systems are its bones, and the myriad iron-fenced bridges are its tendons. The crowds that bustle through Zaun's streets, wealthy and decrepit alike, are cells in the city's arteries. Sure, the body's diseased with the Grey, but it's a rare place that never feels monotonous or predictable. Opinions on the city's nature depends on the person. Zaun's unpredictability molded its locals into rebels and cutthroats, with some outright reveling in its chaos. Visitors, on the other hand, are scared of the city's erratic nature. Newcomers stepping into Zaun was like stepping into the cage of a starved basilisk.
A phrase often parroted by residents when I first arrived described Zaun adequately: "Trouble is down the block and around the corner." It's the kind of city that would chew you up and rip you apart in the most painful ways possible. A place infected with evil and disease.
But Zaun would come later. Noxus was first on my list.
Leaning over a railing, I gazed at the spectacle of people weaving through the markets. It seemed like the city only got livelier as night fell. A cobblestone crossroads lay below me, soot-covered crowds shuffling alongside mechanized wagons that rolled through the streets. Autonomous, without the need of animal pulling the wagon; it was a bizarre sight. Neon signs buzzed above shuffling shops and taverns that were practically stacked on top of one another. With how vertical the city was, it wasn't uncommon to spend more time going up or down through stairs and elevators than it was to walk in a straight line.
The wealthier businesses looked like jewels in a mud pit. High off the ground, the structures could be multiple stories tall, adorned with stained glass windows. The even wealthier locals had luxurious penthouses built at the peak of their shops, encased in reinforced glass bubbles to protect against the Grey. With a view from up there, you could see for miles down the chasm. The beauty of a shop displayed power in Zaun.
After all, only the most premier establishments reside in the Financial District.
I clicked open a pocket watch from my coat. "They're late," I mused, my voice muffled behind my mask. I sighed, annoyed, and returned to the view over the bridge.
All manner of ruffian and scoundrel skitter through the streets like roaches. Chem dealers, murderers, rapists, you name it, wouldn't take long to find if you went looking. Officially, a city government exists. However, it is simply a vain figurehead led by complacent aristocrats collecting paychecks. Crime syndicates are the true rulers of this place. Powerful organizations led by the infamous Chem Barons, emperors over drug empires and arms dealing trade. Already loosely applied laws could change just by switching blocks as you stepped onto another Baron's turf.
Recently, the combat-trained Viral Wardens, basically the Trifarians of the medical field, have acted as local police while crime rates have skyrocketed. The Baron gangs have been particularly difficult for them to deal with. For the past few months, the Wardens have raided dozens of gang hideouts in the city and confiscated drugs and illegal chemicals that sell for high prices on the black market. With the war going on, the mob bosses have made bank providing for local armies and mercenary companies involved in the war with their product.
I laughed audibly, remembering at one point in time, my father had recommended me to join the Viral Wardens. If only he knew I was about to break into their headquarters.
Footsteps thudded behind me. I turned nonchalantly away from the railing. In front of me were five gangsters from the Arvati crime family. They were rugged and hard men, who all looked inconspicuous. Dressed in plain clothes, they did not appear too rich to be noticed while also not too poor to be dismissed. However, they were a sort not to be trifled with.
The Arvati family are masters of information and infiltration, professionals in the business of quick and quiet. Not much is known about the head of the syndicate, Giovanni Arvati. However, he's more well-known by another name in Zaun, spoken in hushed whispers. The Chem Baron known as "Nightcrawler".
I was told I could identify the Arvati gangsters by their leader, who had a scarred nose and a mole over his left eye. Sure enough, a tall, middle-aged man stood at their head, who sported a nose ring below a scarred nose. He had scruffy brown hair, and sure enough, a mole over his left eye.
"Evening, gentlemen," I said, tipping my top hat.
They looked me up and down. I wore boots and dark trousers, as well as a vest that concealed leather armor. Over top was a long, black overcoat with a high collar, along with shoulder guards. Gauntlets covered my hands, which hovered over the sheathed sword at my side. Lastly, I wore a top hat and a beaked metal mask in the shape of a raven, one often worn by doctors and the Viral Wardens.
The group was quiet. They weren't impulsive and reckless like other brigands in Zaun, rather they were disciplined and didn't say anything unnecessary. Instead, they did their best to just stand there and look menacing. Their mere presence would make most nervous.
Not me.
"First, payment," the leader with the scarred nose said gruffly. I tossed a bag of gold coins at their feet. One of them, a shorter ghoulish-looking man, counted the coins. Then, his brow furrowed, and he whispered in the leader's ear.
He frowned. "Where's the rest?"
"In a secure location," I replied, "You'll get your money after the job is done."
"No, we'll get it now," he growled, stepping forward, flashing the hexlock pistol in his coat.
I stepped up to him, unamused. I was slightly taller than him. "You boys are supposed to be some of the best mercs in town? I'm surprised you get any business, with that kind of attitude. Cause frankly, the service so far has been terrible," I retorted. "Want some novice advice? Don't make your client wait. I thought not being late to your appointments was a given, but I guess you do things differently in Zaun. Just a thought."
The leader sneered. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
"Not the slightest clue," I said flatly, which pissed him off even more. "I paid for the Arvati's services, not yours."
"You think you're hot shit, don'tcha?" he said. "Keep running your mouth like that, I dare you. No one will notice a Warden reject go missing."
Well, this is a fantastic start, I thought. "If you don't remember, the Wardens are the target, not me. I give you my word that once the job is complete, you will get your money. But, if you want to keep running your mouth, try me."
The shorter man walked up and whispered in the leader's ear. The leader was silent for a moment. Then, he smiled.
"Alright. You got backbone, Warden. Let's just hope you keep up."
I sighed. Crisis averted, for now.
"What are you called?" I asked.
The shorter man pointed at the leader. "That's Dino," he said in a nasally voice, then pointed towards the three men behind him. "Ryv, Lopo, and Gizmo," he continued, then tapped his chest with his thumb. "And you can call me Ghoul."
"What about you?" The leader, Dino, inquired.
I turned and walked toward the side of the bridge. "You can refer to me as 'the client'. Now, let's talk the job."
The five followed behind me. Stepping up to the railing, I gestured to a building half a kilometer ahead of us. It was a stout box of a structure, built into the side of the chasm, with tall steps leading to a set of towering steel doors. It rested on a lifted platform above the markets, a set of three bridges the only way to get in and out of the area. Windows dotted the three-story building, yellow light shining through even at this time of night. Hooded figures shuffled in and out of the structure, Viral Wardens attempting to fulfill the impossible task of healing Zaun.
"Warden Headquarters," the man known as Gizmo said, a stringy man wearing soot-covered goggles. "Filthy bureaucrats. It's been a pain in the ass trying to get intel from there."
"It is the tightest lock in Zaun, after all," Ryv added, a young man with black hair parting over one side of his face.
"You'd have an easier time getting past a noblewoman's chastity belt," Lopo snickered, a man with a square face and a scar that ran through one eye.
"The only reason why the gang got so many documents from the archives in the first place was because of that power surge that went through the whole city square a couple months ago," Gizmo continued. "They're doing something whack in there, whatever it is."
I nodded. "We'll be doing more that stealing some papers. They're hiding something in there, and I want to know what it is. By any means necessary."
"Proceed with caution," Gizmo replied. "We've spotted Trifarians walking in and out of the building past couple weeks."
Lopo sucked his teeth. "That's not even mentioning the Wardens' new batch of toys they're getting from a new supplier. Hextech carbines, defibrillator gauntlets, you name it. We can barely keep up."
Ghoul raised an eyebrow. "Why does a Warden want to break into headquarters, anyway? What'd they do to you?"
I shook my head. Let them think I'm a Warden, I did pass for one after all. Keeping up appearances would make this easier. "I don't pay you to know my backstory. I pay you because you're the best at breaking into places like that. Now, show me."
Placing a hand on the railing, I vaulted over. Landing on a roof below, I tucked into a roll and set off toward the Warden's headquarters. I hopped from roof to roof, with the gangsters following silently behind me. Slipping over another empty bridge, I gazed at the Wardens' office. Only two guards stood at the entrance. However, I couldn't guess how heavy security would be once I get deeper into the building.
Planting a foot on a brick wall, I bounced off and ran up a chimney, before spring-boarding and climbing up into one of the three bridges. Unlike the bustling markets below, the bridges were vacant save a couple of Wardens walking away. I turned back to the Arvati gangsters as they climbed onto the bridge.
"Let's see what you can do," I said nonchalantly. Dino scoffed, then gestured at the front wall of the office.
"They got force field runes set up," he said, pointing faint blue lines painted in a horizontal line above the doors. "Probably guard familiars, too. You're up, Gizmo." The thin man flipped his goggles over his eyes and snuck up to the building. Dino then pointed at the three Wardens walking away on one of the bridges. "Lopo, Ghoul and I are gonna snag ourselves some new threads."
Lopo sneered, then the three men jumped off our bridge and made their way to the Wardens.
I turned to the young man, Ryv. He was little more than a teenager. I was curious what made him turn to a crime family like the Arvatis, but it probably wasn't a unique story. Plenty of kids his age and younger have to look out for themselves in a cutthroat place like Zaun. Even more are swallowed up by the city.
"I assume you're the lookout?" I asked.
Ryv nodded. Both of us went silent. As I looked him up and down, I noticed his face was bruised.
"How does a young man like yourself get involved with the Arvati crime family?" I piped up.
He looked away, black hair concealing the right side of his face.
"What did you tell Ghoul earlier? You don't pay us to know your reasons for the job?" he said quietly. "You don't need to know about me, either."
I peered at the building, where Gizmo was near a wall built into the chasm. "A kid like you shouldn't be dealing with the likes of them," I said, as the three Wardens were pulled over the bridge by the gangsters and disappeared below. I wasn't privy to the rogues, but the Wardens got what was coming them after what they did.
Ryv scoffed. "Get off your high horse. You don't know jack-shit about me. Don't act like you care."
"Organized crime isn't a pleasant life, as you know," I said. "They'll get what's coming to them, eventually, and it won't be pretty. Don't end up like them."
The young man growled, as he hovered a hand over the knife in his coat. "Is that a threat? You don't know shit about my guys."
"Oh, really? Do you think its okay for 'your guys' to beat you to a bloody pulp?"
Ryv turned away, biting his lip. He's scared, a sinister voice in my head snickered.
"Hush," I said under my breath.
I clicked open my pocket watch. It was already midnight. "Ryv, was it? I won't pretend to understand what you've been through. What you've been forced to do. But believe me when I say that I have traveled the continent, and there are better lives than this."
Ryv didn't respond, instead brushing past me and joined Gizmo at the side of the building. The stringy man, meanwhile, was deeply focused on his work. From what I heard from word of mouth, he's one of the best artificers in the city. He pulled a metal contraption out of his coat, what looked like a prism, and stuck it against the wall. As Gizmo worked, series of red runes floated across the prism's glassy surface. It reminded me of a lesson an old magic teacher of mine said when I was young: "Runes are the language of magic."
After a minute, the blue runes over the door began to flicker, then snuffed out like a candleflame. Gizmo gave a thumbs up back to me, just as three figures who appeared to be Wardens approached me.
"Don't say a word while we're in there," Dino's voice said through the beaked mask. "Leave the talking to us."
We approached Gizmo and Ryv. "Ready?" Dino asked.
Gizmo grinned. "All set, Boss. Red carpet is rolled out."
Dino then peered at Ryv, who bristled against the wall. "You better not screw up this time."
Ryv nodded, clearly uncomfortable. I glanced at Dino suspiciously, before the five of walked up the steps of Warden Headquarters, leaving the young man behind.
The two guards wore grey uniforms and full helms that left no skin exposed. "Sir?" one of them questioned. "I thought you were gone for the night."
Dino waved a gloved hand. "Forgot something inside. I'll only be a few."
The two guards glanced at each other. "Who are these two?" the first said, gesturing me and Gizmo.
"We're on business for Minister Morelli," I lied, which drew a look from Dino, who was likely scowling at me under the mask.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm gonna need identification for that," the guard said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his helm.
I pulled out a grey seal from the folds of my coat, with the head of a raven engraved on its surface. "Will this do?"
The guard studied me intensely. Then, he finally opened the door. "Have a good night, sirs."
I nodded to them, pocketing the family seal before stepping inside, the four gangsters following behind.
A large chamber welcomed us. Plush Piltover sofas and tables decorated the entryway, with paintings of renowned doctors through history hanging on the walls. A grand staircase led to an open second floor, while a second one rounded behind it into the lower levels. There was a reception desk in front, empty at this time of night. A few guards patrolled the upper levels, peering down at us before returning to their duties.
"According to the blueprints, whatever we're looking for is in the basement," Ghoul said quietly. As we stepped down the staircase and reached the lower floor, Dino spoke.
"You never said you were a noble."
"Does it matter?"
"If this involves whatever the Wardens are working on for Noxus, you bet your ass it does," he growled softly, clutching my shoulder. "Bad enough we're messing with them, but if a Noxian Ministry is involved, it's all our heads. I don't care how much the pay is."
I shook off his grip. "The Ministry of Science is tied up with the war. By the time they realize what's happened, we'll be long gone."
Dino growled softly, before rounding another corner down the steps. After three flights, we reached a floor that housed the testing labs. A pair of large dumpsters were placed outside the labs. White light flickered from the ceiling. The place was empty, except near a steel door to the right of us, where two guards stood watch.
This must be the place.
As I approached, I prepared to show them the seal again. "We're on business for Minister Morelli."
The guard examined me head to toe. "No one goes through without Director Loden's permission." Cain Loden is the executive doctor who runs the Zaun branch of the Viral Wardens, and someone we didn't have access to at the moment.
Dino sighed. "We don't have time for this," he said, gesturing at the guards. Ghoul and Lopo slipped away from him, and attacked the guards. They yelped, blocking too late with their hextech batons as Ghoul plunged a dagger into one's throat. Lopo exposed two electrified gauntlets from his cloak, and thrust both fists at the other guard's chest, caving it in and slamming the man into the wall with a sickening thud. After the corpses crumpled to the floor, Ghoul and Lopo threw the bodies over their shoulders and dumped them in the dumpsters. As they worked, Gizmo went to work on the door. He fiddled with his prism for a minute, before the door clicked open.
"Ladies first," the man joked, bowing. Dino punched him in the nose, Gizmo stumbling back, groaning as blood leaked out. Lopo snickered at him as we stepped through the door and down another staircase, with me taking up the rear.
Descending deeper into the building, memories of Rivelt Avenue surfaced. I shook my head, feebly trying to shake them out of my thoughts. Hard to believe it's been ten years, the voice in my head sighed, slaughtering those guards and outrunning a starving beast in the sewers. Ah, good times.
I ignored the voice. Walking down the stairs, I spoke up.
"What can you tell me about the Chem Barons?"
The gangsters exchanged glances. "That's a strange question," Gizmo said.
"Answer it."
Ghoul muttered under his breath. "Alrighty, you're paying us handsomely anyway. Well, you already know about our boss, Nightcrawler. He's the best intel broker in town. Then there's that weird clown Pops, always a pain in the ass dealing with his jokers."
"Gotta admit though, Ghoul, they are the best drinkin' buddies," Lopo chuckled. The short man rolled his eyes.
"As I was saying, Pops is one of the most unpredictable Barons. But, if he likes you, you're part of the family. Bastard cherishes loyalty as much as the Ionians. If he doesn't, you'll be street pizza within an hour of meeting him."
"Who's the one who leveled a city block with his bare hands?" I asked.
"That's Graybone," Ghoul replied. "Holds an iron grip over the roid industry. People rarely ever see him. But when he does show up, it always ends badly. Lopo should know," he pointed his thumb back, "Graybone almost killed him for leaving his crew and jumping to ours."
"Ah, good times…" Lopo sighed.
Gizmo shivered. "Only ever seen him once. Dude was like ten feet tall and snapped a concrete pillar like a tree branch."
Ghoul rubbed his chin. "Then there's Mama Ebony. She owns at least half of the brothels in town, and continues to buy them out in both Zaun and Piltover. Hurt one of her girls, and she'll cut your cock off and make you choke on it. Believe me, I've seen it.
"There's the Hobbled King, who rules the Dredge. Who am I missing?"
"Streamline. I gotta get me a piece of her," Lopo said, licking his lips.
Ghoul snapped his fingers. "That's right, Winry Jackvin. If you're looking for any guns in the market, Streamline already has it in bulk. Heard a while back she's been selling to the cops and the Demacians. That's all six."
"What about the seventh?" I asked.
The short man frowned. "What are you talking about? There is no seventh Baron."
"I'm talking about the Alchemist."
The group went silent.
"The Alchemist is a mere myth," Dino finally spoke. "A boogeyman."
"I just so happen to like myths. Tell me," I pressed.
Dino sighed. "Nothing more than a scary story parents use to make their kids behave. If you walk the streets alone at night, that demon will snatch you off the street. He'll rip the humanity out of you and turn you into a hellish monster."
"How do you know he's not real? This is Zaun we're talking about."
Dino snorted. "A Baron who's been around for more than a century would've been discovered by now. Not even Nightcrawler has seen any proof, and he's got eyes and ears across Valoran's southern coast."
Ghoul shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. There's plenty of tall tales in the city. You need to watch out for the things that will actually kill you."
"A myth, huh…" I muttered. The Black Rose members in Rivelt Avenue were terrified of that myth. There's more to this story.
As we reached the bottom, a door was cracked open. Dino pushed and walked into a library. Narrow rows of shelves stood from floor to ceiling. The musty air was thick, as a mask-less Gizmo covered his nose.
"Smells like old hag in here," he said nasally.
"Let's get to work, boys," Dino ordered.
I scanned the shelves, looking for anything peculiar that would be of interest to the Trifarians. Sifting through journal after journal, this place was a treasure trove my father would salivate over. Decades of medical research was compiled here, many authors whom I recognized from my father's studies as a kid.
However, nothing seemed to click. This library didn't contain anything that would grab the Trifarians' attention, at least not on the surface. No matter, I had gotten inside…
Wait a minute.
"This is strange," Ghoul said. "Security is practically nonexistent. For being known as the most secure property in Zaun, this is too easy."
"More like too boring," Lopo groaned. "You think there'd be something more than just a bunch of dusty bookshelves."
A thought suddenly crossed my mind, a distant memory. I walked quickly, scanning shelves resting against the walls. "Gizmo, scan the walls," I snapped my fingers at him.
Raising an eyebrow, the stringy man held the prism up, sentences of red runes floating across its surface.
"You find something?" Dino called out a few shelves away.
My hand ran along wood. Then suddenly, I felt a faint breeze. I abruptly stopped and checked the shelf in front of me.
"Give me a hand over here!" I called out. Lopo and I pushed away another shelf, exposing the wall. There indeed was a breeze. Grinning, my fingers sifted over books before they stopped at one sticking out from the row. I pulled, and there was an audible click. Then, the shelf creaked open, exposing another staircase.
"You Zaunites are obsessed with secret bookshelf passages, aren't you?" I said, looking at Dino. He wasn't amused.
Gizmo groaned. "Seriously! What are these guys' obsession with stairs?! Build a damn elevator, for crying out loud!"
We descended the stairs, stiff and on high alert. Ghoul was right, we were bound to reach security at some point.
"This job has to do with the Trifarians here, doesn't it?" Gizmo abruptly asked. Our group was silent as we rounded a corner.
"Perhaps," I answered cryptically. Dino frowned.
"Probably involves the war. You're either stupid or insane to mess with a man like Jericho Swain."
I stopped and turned to face him. "I lost my sanity years ago. Don't worry over the details, worry over finishing the job."
The gangsters muttered among themselves as we walked down the cold, damp corridor. Then, we hit floor.
Finally, it seemed we had reached the basement.
Dino, hexlock pistol in hand, slowly pushed open the door. My face twisted into a grimace. In front of us was a painfully bright white morgue. Operating tables and beds lined one wall, while a dozen wicked instruments hung from another. Mutilated and dissected corpses laid on the tables, blood staining pristine white floors. Body lockers built in the back of the room. Tubes snaked through the ceiling and the walls, hanging like vines over the operating tables. Just like the Farm on Rivelt Avenue ten years ago.
Over a dozen Viral Wardens awaited us.
"FUCK!" Dino yelled, shooting one Warden through the chest then diving under a table.
What happened next was chaos. Wardens charged us with scalpels and hammers. Some of them had retrieved hexlock pistols and defibrillator gauntlets of their own. Red painted the walls and the ceiling. Dino shouted expletives as he shot another Warden, while Lopo screamed with glee as he punched a doctor in the face with his charged glove, tearing the jaw clean off. Ghoul disemboweled two assailants with his knives, his blue coat a new shade of scarlet.
Gizmo, meanwhile, threw metal balls at Wardens, who erupted into flames, metal masks searing their faces. One attacker came from the side and swung a hammer at his neck. The gangster was nimble on his feet, though, and sliced the man's chest open.
I unsheathed my sword and stepped into Water Stance, cutting the Wardens to pieces. I parried a strike from a studded bat, then killed the attacker with a diagonal slash. Another shot at me, grazing my mask's cheek. I grabbed a scalpel off a tray and flung it into the shooter's eye.
I felt numb as I snuffed out life after life that came toward me armed, just like the soldiers who had charged me on the plains. I made those bastard doctors who sold out to the Noxians look like the bodies they had ripped open in this lab. Then, as I thrusted my sword through a Warden's gut and threw him into one of his coworkers, a surge coursed through my veins, a dark feeling that was starving. An intoxicating rush encapsulated me as I slashed through a carotid artery.
By the gods, I was enjoying this.
Then, a supercharged fist collided with the back of Ghoul's head, snapping it forward with a sickening crack.
"Ghoul!" Dino shouted, gunning down the assailant. Wardens descended upon Gizmo. He was agile, but he was by no means durable. A bat dug into his side, crushing ribs. He gasped, speaking incantations in ragged breaths as a Warden's throat corkscrewed and another's head encased in ice and shattered. Then, a Warden jumped him, shanking him repeatedly in the abdomen.
As Gizmo dropped, Lopo giggled like a psychopath and slaughtered the opposition in brutal fashion with his gauntlets. As he fought a Warden who also wore shock gloves, their fists collided. The force splintered both men's gauntlets, leaving their hands a mangled mess. Unfazed, Lopo shoved a scalpel through the doctor's ear with his good hand.
One masked figure pointed a pistol at Lopo. The gangster smiled, licking his lips. Then, he charged. The gunman shot repeatedly into Lopo's form, slowing him down bit by bit. Just as Lopo got close, a mana-infused bullet split his forehead. Dino roared, shooting the gunman through the chest, dropping him.
It was a bloodbath on a white canvas.
I stepped on the last corpse's head, ripping my sword free from its neck. Wiping the blade on a corner of my coat, I sheathed the blade at my side. The fight was over. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Dino, who was kneeling on the ground. Gizmo laid in his lap, Dino pressing his hands into a bloody abdomen.
"He's a goner, you know," I said callously. "His insides are torn to shreds."
"Shut up!" Dino snapped. Gizmo laughed, then coughed up blood.
"Tell Boss, we went down fightin'," he grinned, tapping Dino's chest with his fist. Then, the arm fell limp.
Gizmo was gone.
I walked away, scanning for Swain's superweapon Tywin told me about so long ago. A hallway hid in the corner, maybe it's that way…
The hammer of a hexlock pistol clicked.
I stopped in my tracks. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked quietly, without turning around.
Lip trembling, Dino pointed the barrel at my back. His blue coat was now completely stained red. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now."
I turned to face him, a warning gaze behind my mask's dark eyepieces. He was shaking, eyes filled with rage and sadness. The gangster reminded me of men I served with in Ionia.
"The job's not finished."
"Fuck the job!" he screamed, kicking a tray into a wall. "Because of you, my men are dead!"
"They knew the risks. You of all people should know that it comes with the territory."
"Shut up! Uppity noble, piece of shit! Looking down on us from your ivory tower! You'd never understand! Those were my boys, dammit!"
My rage boiled. I understood the guilt of losing friends more than he would ever know, but it was him who didn't understand.
"Really?" I snarled back. "What about Ryv? The Arvati family treat their own like you treat him?"
Dino was taken aback, then laughed grimly. "That punk? He can't do anything right, always in the way. What, have you taken a liking to the pup?"
I remained silent.
The gangster sneered. "Little prick should've been the dead one down here, not Gizmo, Ghoul, or Lopo. Y'know what? I'll deal with him once I'm done with you. Maybe I'll feel better then."
I shook my head. "You don't want to do this, Dino. You don't know who you're dealing with."
He turned his nose up to me, finger on the trigger. "Oh, I think I do. I should've killed you on the bridge."
I let out a deep sigh. "I warned you."
The mask's eyepieces turned from dark to a glowing deep red. Dino's eyes widened in horror, firing shots. The magic bullets grazed me as the gangster stumbled back. In his eyes, blood had seeped into every crevice of the room. A dark form stood behind me, towering and sinister. An awful, evil grin with jagged teeth split its porcelain features, drool dripping from its chin.
"sTaRVinGG!"
Dino collapsed, shuffling on the floor, dominated by fear. In his eyes, the dark figure's form grew and encompassed the room.
"EaT yOuu!"
A hand grabbed Dino's chest. He peered over at the sight of Gizmo, blood dribbling from his chin, eyes yellow and bloodshot. Then, the dead man sunk his teeth into Dino's side. The gangster howled as the artificer ripped a chunk out of his ribs.
Dino screamed as the dead crawled and collapsed on top of him, from masked Wardens to the dissected subjects on the tables.
"DEVOURRRR!"
Limbs tore. Bones gnawed. Dino could do nothing as his former friends ate him alive.
I turned away and walked down the hall, Dino's dying wails echoing across the walls. I was numb to it. That bastard got what he deserved.
At the end of the hall, I dropped onto cold stone, and found myself in a boiler room. Machines rumbled. A blue liquid that crackled like static flowed through snaking tubes in the ceiling and into barrels and boilers. At the back of the room, a cylindrical container hummed. Dozens of translucent blue tubes snaked out of the container and into the pipe system. A square peephole laid at eye-level, but whatever was behind it was blocked by blinding blue light. Even through an inch of steel, I could still feel the massive amounts of magic energy coursing in the container. I assume this was the cause of the power surge a few months ago.
Across the container's surface was the painted axe-head insignia of the Trifarix.
A grin split my face. "After all these years, I've finally found it."
All the years I've spent training, all the years I toiled working with the demon, finally paid off. I unsheathed my sword. Destroying a lame warhost was not enough. Not nearly. But this, the Trifarix might lose years off of me destroying their weapon and its research. Such a setback could even be the catalyst of the world fighting back in the war, and trigger the beginning of the fall of Noxus.
I grit my teeth, and opened the container. Locks clicked, and the door hissed open, steam rolling across the ground. I lifted my sword. I would destroy Swain and that bastard Morelli's work, and burn their country to the ground. Just like they did with my life.
A body fell out of the container.
My eyes widened in shock as I stepped back. I was stunned.
A kid?!
What laid in front of me was what I assumed to be a child. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, as they had no hair and skin that glowed blue. They wore a rubber containment suit that covered everything up to the neck. Skin softly crackled, almost like static, as if the kid was a walking lightning rod.
I couldn't tell if they were breathing. I quickly sheathed my sword and knelt down, placing my fingers against their neck. Immediately my fingers were shocked, gasping as I pulled my hand back.
Who the hell is this kid?!
Their chest rose and fell. At least they were breathing. Then, I heard a groan, and the electric kid slowly got up into a sitting position. However, when they saw me, they screamed, shuffling back and pressing against their steel prison. They were completely bald, and their eyes were a solid light blue without pupils or irises.
"G-Get away!" they shouted, voice clearly male. He couldn't be older than fourteen.
I looked down at myself. I didn't blame him for being scared of me in this black garb, covered in blood. He might even see the demon right now.
Looking at this frightened kid, then toward the sword at my side, a pang of guilt hit my gut. For some reason, thoughts of Elaria crossed my mind.
I knelt down, my paternal instincts kicking in. "Shh, shh. It's ok. It's ok, now," I said slowly, my hands in the air disarmingly. "I'm not here to hurt you."
The boy sniffed, lip trembling. "Yes, you are. You look like the other bad men. Please…go away…"
My heart felt like it had just been stabbed. He was right, I was about to hurt him. Gods know what the Ministry of Science and those Trifarians did to this boy. This was Swain's big secret? His superweapon? How long has he been in this basement? Just what the hell was Morelli doing with this kid?
I lifted my hands, and the boy flinched. His eyes shut for a moment, before he hesitantly peeked through a full blue eye. I took off my top hat, exposing greasy, dusty blonde hair, then slowly removed my mask, setting it on the floor.
I smiled as paternally as I could. My pale blue eyes were anchored with exhaustion, skin oily from not bathing for two weeks. Sweat faintly irritated the left side of my face. From my brow down to my neck, my left side was scarred pink. An eternal reminder of Noxus' loyalty to its people.
"Do I still look like the bad guys?" I asked quietly. The boy didn't respond for a second, before finally shaking his head. "Wanna get out of here?" I held out a hand.
He hesitated, then nodded, grabbing my hand. "Thank you…"
I grinned, helping him up, the boy leaning against me for support. The demon was nowhere to be seen.
In that moment, I made a decision. I would eventually make the Noxian government and the Black Rose suffer for what they did to Elaria and I, but I also swore that I would look after this boy. A small part of me thought maybe this was my way of dealing with the guilt of failing to save my daughter. Maybe, I was taking him under my wing for selfish reasons. It doesn't matter. He probably got into this situation because people betrayed him. Noxian, Zaunite, it doesn't matter. I won't turn my back on him like others have.
We slowly walked out of the boiler room, the boy still leaning on me. "Who…are you?" he croaked. I grinned, pocketing my mask and putting my hat back on.
"You may call me Lucius. It's a pleasure to meet you. And you are?"
The boy was quiet for a moment.
"Eddie."