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Chapter 7
Loss Prevention
"…an…you…r….me?" a disembodied echo struggles to make a connection.
A small troop of footsteps march speedily down a dark corridor that has remained a well-kept secret until now. Torches mystically ignite themselves as they travel the musty passageway, and each stride the defenders take brings them closer to large, stone doors with runes etched into them, just ahead.
The ringing in his ears dies down, and the voice is whole again. "Can you hear me, Champion?"
"A summoner?" Ephrial glances at the five other champions of the League around himself, seemingly engaging with guests of their own diving into their minds. "Yeah, I hear you. What exactly is going on?"
"I don't know. I've just been instructed to try to make contact with any champion still in the Institute."
"Explanations will have to wait," Kayle chimes in, aloud. "We have only time for action."
"I think we should have a little information to go on, considering I don't know exactly what I'm doing here, and half of my friends are dead," another summoner joins the shared network.
"We are approaching the chamber where the Master Nexus lies. It holds the power to connect all of the nexuses from the far stretches of land we know as the Fields of Justice. It is the main power source of the Institute, and the only thing keeping the siege contained," the Judicator summarizes.
"And we're the only defense available?" the smooth voice of a soldier of fortune rhetorically asks. "This job is going to single-handedly pay for my retirement," Sivir grins.
"I bravely volunteer to charge in recklessly!" Tristana announces in her boundlessly optimistic, yet cocky tone.
"An honor to serve," Galio loans his stone-clad resolve.
"As balance dictates," the viridian ninja known as Akali runs alongside them.
"I'm still rather new, just so you know…" the first summoner speaks. "Sorry for my lack of experience, buuuut…who are you again and what exactly can you do?"
"Ephrial. Whatever gets the job done."
"Wait a sec…you said 'Ephrial'? The guy that knocked me out cold and took my summoning garments some time ago!?"
"Yeah… My apologies for that," recalling his infiltration.
"They only give the first set for free. Replacements aren't cheap, y'know!"
"If we succeed in ensuring that all this death stops here, how about we call it even?"
"If it doesn't involve bludgeoning me over the head, then sure."
"As I said, whatever gets the job done," a faint smirk.
The Judicator extends a palm outward, and the runes ahead begin to glow a vivid cyan, cracking the way open for them.
"Move out!" the five armored soldiers that have been following Kayle from before rush forward, taking point in a zealous charge.
Everyone steps into a gargantuan cave. The air is very warm, as the heat is trapped under hundreds of feet of earth. Amidst the side of the space from which they had come, an enormous purple crystal spins around within a containment field like its smaller counterparts. The floor around them is mostly flat, stone smoothed out in a very wide plateau, ending in a bottomless cliff on one end. A lack of enemy company leaves the defenders wary.
"Where are they?" one of the soldiers looks around.
They begin to fan out ahead, taking it upon themselves to be in the frontlines as guardians of the Institute's summoners and champions. The one in the middle spots something on the ground in the distance, and begins to stray further. Weapon poised ahead of him, he slowly approaches the mysterious object. Step by step, he cautiously continues on, hearing an odd melody like that of a music box, playing subtly and enticingly, almost as if beckoning him to come closer. Sure enough, the object is indeed a box, becoming more apparent as the guard ventures the dimly-lit space, at last reaching the out-of-place device. The tiny lever on the side grinds to a halt, and consequently, the music along with it. Beads of sweat drop down onto the floor. Trepidation creeps inside the man's heart, yet sheer curiosity holds him in place, anticipating some form of reveal.
After a small pause, the container bursts open, and a large spring bounces outward. The armored soldier nearly soils himself, and takes the biggest sigh of relief in his life, almost laughing to himself. All that is attached to the spring is a mere card that says: "READ ME."
At the lack of an explosion or lethal projectile, a much calmer soldier takes the card into his hand. Following the implied instructions, he twists his wrist around, flipping the note over. It's just a normal playing card with a drawn-in speech bubble by the joker's mouth that reads: "BOO!"
Dread immediately strikes his heart, and two sinister daggers pierce his neck and back. A would-be scream of terror is reduced to a quick gurgle and collapsing sound of plate armor, loudly bringing the fallen knight's comrades to alert.
"What happened?! Soldier, report! …Report!" one calls out from the far right flank. "I said rep—!?"
His command goes incomplete, falling over as if having tripped. Letting out a wail as shrill as the sound of his armor scraping against the rock, something swiftly drags him into the shadows. The soldier's cry disappears into sounds of ravenous maim over muffled gasps.
"What's going on!?" the third shouts, turning around and walking backwards, away from the invisible sources of commotion.
He bumps into something behind him, and his heart nearly jumps out of his breastplate. Jolting up like a startled cat, the guard turns to see two unnatural green eyes floating in front of his face. Fear immediately takes control over his mind and body, and the soldier can do nothing but let out a piercing shriek as the monster before him opens its jagged mouth, sucking his very life force out. The scream comes to a chilling end, left to ebb into a dwindling echo around the cave's walls, and the ghastly tether of life-stealing magic vanishes. A thin, decrepit body of skin and bones collapses in the armor it inhabits. A helmet grinds along the fine grains of stone and dust, rolling into the vision of the rest of the group, and wobbles flat to its side like a coin landing on its face after being spun.
"They're here," Kayle says grimly.
"What's up with the nexus?" one of the summoners notes, using their shared communication.
"The shield is fading!" The angelic figure springs to action, ascending on holy wings towards the structure. Calling upon her might, she covers the thinning dome in a shield of her own, casting a protective golden light to seal it from harm. She turns her head over a plated shoulder, "On your guard! They approach."
"From where!?" a nervous soldier looks around as he slowly backs himself into the group in front of the master nexus. "I can't see anything out there! It's all just…just…"
"…DARKNESS…"
An eerie voice fills the room, as if to finish his statement, mocking him with a sinister chuckle. It reverberates from all directions, seemingly to come from nowhere, yet everywhere at the same time. A creeping veil of light-devouring shadow begins to engulf the very air around them, clouding visibility of everything but a small zone treated to the radiant light of the spinning crystal.
A streak of midnight black, and the frightened guard is tackled out of sight in a blink, leaving behind only his purple helm.
The last remaining man of the same uniform jumps as a firm hand grips his shoulder. "If you don't want to end up like the rest of your brothers in arms, stick close," Ephrial warns.
"This doesn't look good…" the novice summoner feels the need to lower his voice in stealth, despite his words being transmitted directly into the defenders' minds.
The Blazing Swordsman quickly analyzes the current situation. Kayle needs to keep the majority of her focus on shielding the nexus, so she won't be able to move from her position. Galio is a beefy wall of stone and magic, and already a friend to the Judicator—a solid pick to stay behind and defend her from approaching foes. Tristana and Sivir are the only combatants with any real range, good for supporting the counterattack from behind the frontline. Akali is a ninja, trained to use shadows as her private battleground; an excellent ally to hold the line with in this void of a terrain.
He turns to them, putting his tactical experience to use. "Galio, Kayle is there to make sure nothing gets to the nexus. You're there to make sure nothing gets to her. Tristana and Sivir, cover the sides and keep your distance. Akali, you and I take the fight to them. Helmet guy…watch our backs."
"Hey, unless you're going to pay me up front, I suggest you watch who you dish out orders to," Sivir says as one mercenary to another.
"His plan in sound. Let's worry about all of our lives first, and coin later," a female summoner cuts in.
"She's right. After all, you can't take it with you," he references her policy regarding possessions of the dead.
Galio and Akali nod, asserting themselves next to their partners in battle. Tristana salutes before moving to position, and Sivir flashes a smug look before following after. The swordsman draws his blade and heads forward a fair distance from their ranged support, the fire illuminating the way for him.
"Get ready."
Stations taken and weapons ready, they wait for their enemy to engage. Silence takes an unnerving grasp as the defenders remain quiet, listening closely, hoping they can deny a surprise attack with just a tiny sound to give them direction. Though not in the way they are expecting, their wish is granted by the distinct cry of a crow in the distance. With only a second's delay, an enormous murder swarms them. Black feathers toss and flurry as the defending champions swat them down with blind strikes of their weapons, aiming to give themselves space from the persistent birds.
The swordsman cries out through the rampaging flock, "Galio, I need a twister! Tristana, light me up!"
"Did he just tell me to fire at him…?" the Gunner questions, smacking down a crow with the heft of her cannon.
"That's insane!" the novice summoner contributes.
"I don't mind splitting the money five ways instead of six," Sivir smirks.
"Just do it!" Ephrial shouts again, this time in the shared mental network.
The yordle takes aim. "All right…you asked for it. Here comes the boom!"
The two called-upon warriors raise themselves against the horde and let out their attacks, launching them at the requesting mercenary-knight. Gripping his blade in both hands, he sidesteps over, swinging through the mob of bloodthirsty avians, and connects his blade to the oncoming cannonball. Mowing through with feathered fiends pinned to the front of it, the large piece of ammunition is sliced in two. At the same time, the pursuing tornado of magic joins the fiery mix. A spiraling chain reaction becomes unleashed, creating a short-lived maelstrom of spinning fire like a small hurricane, knocking the crows into each other, and passing on the flames to their own kind in a fierce conflagration.
Everyone ducks below the fire-spin and burning enemies until the murder dies off, falling into dust and ashes. Ephrial brushes off the force of impact, unharmed by the scorch. Swings from his ardent blade turn heat into a protective barrier around him, becoming visible the more intense the flames. The transparent shielding is useful for defending against various attacks, especially against anything of the same element. Sparing its wielder from the effects of its own fire, the swordsman barely feels a change in temperature. The lack of any singes on his cape is worth years of testament to the blade's will-powered functionality.
"Whoa…that was cool! Can we do that again? Let's do that again!" Tristana's excitement seeps out.
"Behind you!" the helmeted soldier calls out.
A demonic clown seems to appear out of thin air, daggers raised over the unsuspecting yordle gunner. Tristana's eyes widen, fully aware that it's too late to launch herself away. A crossblade spins through the air from a distance, shaving just the frizz off the top of the yordle's head, and slices clean through the twisted figure…or its copy. The clown blows up, knocking Tristana backwards, landing her directly in front of the real Shaco. Grizzly daggers poise themselves again, cleaving down for the kill. The knives find themselves scraping against the solid ground, and the demon clown's grin turns to one of confusion.
"Tag!" Tristana looks up at the manic monster.
Shaco turns around to see the gunner standing behind him, unharmed, thanks to a widely-used summoner spell. He then looks at up at his hat, noticing a glowing ball sticking to it like a bell.
"Boomer says hi."
With that, the yordle sends him soaring back into the shadows with a blast from her cannon.
"I had better get some compensation for assisting in that," Sivir effortlessly catches her Chalicar.
"Look out!" the armored guard calls out again.
The black-haired mercenary's eyes snap to the corners, pressing a button on her weapon in a heartbeat. Protective magic stored in the relic she tosses at her enemies spares her a direct hit from a nightmarish siege minion. Smoke clears from the origin of the discharge, revealing silhouettes of many deformed figures marching toward them.
"Keep count for me, Summoner. I want to be paid by the kill," Sivir wastes no time, and lashes her weapon out to the side, cutting through a dozen enemies in the front line as it arcs its way back to her skilled hand.
"Who wants some!? You want some!? Come on!" Tristana locks and loads her weapon, bursting away enemies on her end in a flurry.
The Sentinel's Sorrow begins clobbering the emotionless adversaries that attempt to advance toward their crystalline target. "Justice will be done."
"Guard up!" Ephrial snaps at the hint of foes approaching head-on.
A midnight blur slams down on Akali's position, and the dust launched into the air turns to smoke deployed from her utility. Clashing of razors echo from the obscuring cloud, a mirror-matchup occurring between two sets of twin blades.
With a deadly arc, a scythe hurls at the swordsman's face, only to encounter unyielding steel and fire. Supernatural wisps for eyes glare at him with a besetting fury. If scarecrows could display anger, the crooked smile on Fiddlesticks' face is exactly how they would do it. It lets out a screech with what can be taken as an unhinged jaw, hurling a wave of imposed fear directly into Ephrial's mind. Images of his haunting past flash before his eyes, and frightful screams of terror claw at his ears. A blade-locked scythe pushes forward on a flinching mercenary-knight, and a crudely-sewn sack for a head begins to laugh.
Taken aback by the sudden intrusion, the fiery blade dims slightly. The swordsman relives his trial-packed life, all in a single moment. Surging with the emotions of struggle and persistence, his grip tightens itself again.
Blazing flames begin to intensify, pushing back the living bundle of straw. Oceanic eyes settle, returning the glare, and the fear now belongs to the scarecrow. Through willpower comes inherit tenacity along with it. His past isn't something Ephrial fears… It's what drives him—what fuels him to put an end to those that rejoice over such calamity. After all, it's hard to feel scared when you have nothing left to lose.
Ephrial pushes the living scarecrow off of him, and the mysterious creature takes no chances, summoning more crows to his whim. Each one bears luminous eyes like their master's, noisily cawing as they make an appearance. The swordsman dives straight into the fray, slicing through feathers and the surrounding minions once meant to serve the Institute's function.
The smoke from the ninja's device clears, and Nocturne takes a swipe at Akali's head. The deft martial artist flips backwards, clearing the strike and answering it with her own. Stern discipline and an unexplained hatred collide between their blades, sparking against each other with every blow. The ghastly figure sends a claw made of dark, shadowy magic at her, and Akali bounds over his head, avoiding the attack. Becoming more visibly agitated, as if hearing the voice in the assassin's head praising her, he turns around with fury in his spectral eyes. The two lock gazes and dash back into each other, razor edges thirsting for a decisive blow.
Acidic saliva rains down hard around Sivir, splashing in precise locations as she evades them with fleet-footed agility. A leap and a roll lands her into a clear spot, and she seizes the opportunity to begin launching a flurry of small blades at the voidborn can of living artillery. Spinning edges slice at the deformed minions, passing from one to another, making their way to a hungry Kog'Maw. With a unique and terrifying tongue, the ravenous creature of the void shoots each one down as they approach. A look of disgust at the sight and angst at losing some of her weaponry, she grasps her trusty crossblade from her back and snaps the blades outward with a switch. Craning her head to the side, the Battle Mistress cracks her neck and loosens her shoulder, and hurls herself back into battle, sending her weapon boomeranging ahead.
"Things don't seem to be letting up…" a summoner becomes discouraged.
"How many of these things are there!?" another follows.
Galio wrestles with three warped darklings, then shoves them aside. Six more take their place, and begin to avail at pressing him back. Fire from above ignites them into burning ash and cinder. The stone guardian looks up at the exhausted angel, pushing her power to its limit. On top of shielding the nexus from sneak attacks and cannon fire, she has been healing the group the whole time, and now extends her power further by bringing her sword into the mix.
A bad sight turns worse, seeing Shaco return to battle to pester Tristana as the frontlines remain occupied. Explosions ring from all sides as the mounted enemies unload their cannons, peppering the nexus and ground around the combatants. This battle has to end here, and it has to end now. An intrepid guardian flies himself to the middle of the battlefield.
"So be it," he mutters to himself.
"Galio, don't do what I think you are about to do. Remember, faith and steel!" Kayle reaches outward, unable to fly closer without giving up the nexus.
"No, Light-Winged One…I will not fail my duty to protect the ones I am charged with guarding once again. Today, it is faith and stone."
With that, he crashes himself into the ground, forming a crater beneath his wake. A swirling force of wind and magic careens around the entire onslaught, dragging his enemies into a giant pile around his sheltering wings. The air howls loudly at the might of the pull, only dragging those he calls his foes off of their feet, sending them flying toward the growing mass. Piercing frequencies of whistling wind intensify as the air forces itself through the tight spaces of the botched assemblage. The last of the darkling minions joins the accumulation, and the wailing gale ceases immediately.
A deep voice thunders from the brief silence, coming from the core of the mountain of enemies. "I WILL PROTECT…!"
Each of the defenders makes a dive for the ground, using their weapons to shield their faces at the lack of any actual cover in their surroundings. Kayle watches the event unfold behind the shade of her visor. An almost deafening explosion of wind and rock sends the enemies flying to all sides, neutralizing them in an equally dazzling and terrifying sight.
The weary champions pick themselves up, observing their new surroundings. Gravel and bodies of fallen enemies lay a mess all around. Unconscious and wounded as they may be, the very monsters kept imprisoned by the Institute of War as contestants on the Fields of Justice, remain alive. Of course they did... Legend or lucky, the bringers of death managed to cheat it as well.
An inspired knight of the Institute grabs his spear from a fallen enemy and approaches the last corrupted minion that mindlessly crawls toward the nexus, using what's left of its body. One quick thrust, and the lance finishes it off, claiming his thirteenth kill of the battle.
"There…it's over. We did it. We did it…!" he raises his weapon.
Sighs of relief from the summoners are quickly interrupted by a sight that nightmares are made of. A behemoth of a wicked creature stomps into sight from the remaining darkness, and before the knight can react, snaps his jaws over the unsuspecting victim. Accompanied by a few, loud crunches, the creature devours him whole, armor included. The hulking crimson brute seems to grow even bigger, right before their very eyes. A shrill, taunting laughter, not belonging to this world, follows the last bite.
The man's helmet rolls toward the group, being brought to a halt by Ephrial, raising the toe of his boot. Hollow, empty eyes of the armor piece look up at him. A cerulean gaze looks back up at the towering monstrosity. The company of defending champions raise their armaments once again, prepared to bring the giant down.
They charge with the speed of a boosted morale-one gained by having survived together as an unlikely band of heroes, and united through the loss of those that fought beside them. The creature whose true name cannot be spoken by any tongue in Runeterra, known only as Cho'Gath, ferociously stomps on the ground, causing a tremor beneath he advancing warriors' feet. Unearthly spikes begin shooting from the already cracked ground, prodding out in odd directions with deadly points.
Experienced legends of valor and skill weave through the rumbling chaos, some choosing to slice through the spines that bar their path. The abomination screeches at the advance, and begins running toward them. A combination of varying attacks chip away at the beast's naturally armored skin and vitality, wearing him down one size at a time.
A nimble yordle dips out of the way of a ravenous mouth, leaving an explosive in her stead, causing Cho'Gath to wail and recoil in pain. Sivir's crossblade clips at its heels, bringing it down to a knee. Twin kama blades, backed by intense martial arts, fend off grappling claws and slicing appendages. An arcane blade makes use of the opening, releasing a crippling blaze of charged fervor on the hard shell that encases the Terror of the Void, causing it to fall on its back.
Kayle ascends high above, leaving the Nexus to its own barrier, and points her sword downward, ready to drive it into the monster's head. She dives for a graceful finish, and a sudden crack of light illuminates the room from ahead.
"STOP!" a commanding voice halts Kayle's descent, just feet away from execution.
A Senior Summoner marches into the room through the main door, opposite from which the defending champions had come, followed by a company of high-ranking summoners.
"Grieve. Why do you stay my weapon?" the Judicator hovers above.
"You've all done a superb job of preventing the loss of many lives, as well as the Institute itself. Now, it is time to get things back in order," he signals the mages he arrived with.
They walk ahead of him and begin casting spells on the fell creatures that intended to destroy them. One-by-one, they disappear, teleporting into reinforced dungeons.
"You have witnessed what they are capable of—what destruction they have brought upon this day…yet you would keep them alive?"
"Be at ease, Kayle. The origin of this did not come from within our prisons. Destroying the Institute's resources will not change what has been done."
"'Resources'…? These monsters have wills of their own. Minds that are very capable of thought, as shown by them working in tandem. They do not see themselves as tools of any man, mage or not…and they will be waiting to have another chance to show you exactly that," Ephrial glares.
"A chance we will deny them. Magic is a learning experience, after all. Our security will be all the better from this."
"Tell that to the families of all those lost on this day."
"This is not what Ashram would have wanted," Kayle speaks.
"The High Councilor is not here, however, is he? Your contract still binds you to those that hold the Institute in their charge. Any breach in that iron-clad agreement voids the withheld interference in your little quarrel with your sister. Your millennia of service is far from up."
"Grieve…" she growls beneath her helmet.
With that, he turns and leaves the chamber, letting his summoners tend to the scene.
Ephrial surveys the area, from his acquaintances taking a well-deserved respite, to summoners looking over the littering remains of the enemy. He notices the angelic figure bend to pick up an odd stone from the ground, indubitably a piece of the fallen Galio. Her helmet masks any emotion from reaching the eyes of those around her, but Ephrial knows all too well the body language of those scarred by losses, no matter how subtle.
He walks over, approaching tactfully in plain sight of her peripheral vision. "A thousand years is a long time to postpone peace."
"A thousand years are nothing but a blink to my people," she responds, almost cold, a hidden gaze still fixed on the rock.
"Yet it only takes only a few actual blinks for individuals to begin mattering to one another."
"Justice will always have its casualties. There is no mending that…not until my work is complete."
"Hm…an asserted ideal, inverted armor color scheme, swords of a comparable nature…I almost feel like I'm talking to an alternate version of myself."
She glances over. "Your sword…where did you get it?"
"Call it an heirloom of sorts."
"Would you allow me to have a closer examination?"
Wariness arises, a hand holds the sword in its sheathe. "Depends on your intentions."
"What's going on!?" an elite summoner cries out.
Everyone in the chamber springs up in alert. The Master Nexus begins spinning wildly like its smaller brethren did before.
"I didn't touch it!" another high-class mage shouts.
Clamor fills the air with questions and claims of an impending explosion. The crystal begins glowing a shimmering white, bleaching the view of all but the brilliant light itself. That feeling of being tossed into the air washes over Ephrial as he shields his eyes.
"Not this again…"