Chapter 5
Three slim figures hurriedly shuffled across the Great Hall, hooded and garbed in purple summoner robes. The first was slim and feminine; she took the lead, searching each of the prisoners for a certain someone. The second clung to the first; this one was extremely tiny, and nearly disappearing in her over-sized robes. The final was large, hulking, and seemed to be wearing headgear under his purple hood.
They weaved their way through the thousands of prisoners of war that were being herded in the Great Hall. The vast majority of the POWs were Summoners of the Institute. After their champions fell, the League's Summoners surrendered in bulk. It was either that, or die to the blade.
Zilean sat slouched against one of the pillars, chained by the hands and feet, and stripped of his clock. The chains attached to his arms and legs were magically suppressing, blue flames cut into wells on the chains burned away his Mana, his magical energy, until he was bone dry. But unknown to his captors, Zilean was storing his Mana. Drip by drip, trickle by trickle, Zilean stored his magical energy into a sapphire crystal hidden in his fist. It was a pitiful amount… and after many hours of exhaustive concentration, but it was something.
"Pst! Grandpa!"
Zilean looked up, and with a start, nearly dropped the sapphire.
It was Ahri.
She was grinning, robed in a Purple Summoner's robe, a finger to her lips. Her hood was drawn over her head, and her tails presumably tucked away in her clothes. Only the slightest bulge of her hood betrayed her fox ears. Behind her, Annie clung to her legs, completely swamped in the Purple Summoner robes that the other two had thrown over her. Finally, Pantheon took up the rear, looking patently ridiculous with his hood drawn over his signature helm, and his barely-fitting robes wrapped so tightly about his body that Zilean was surprised it did not burst. It looked like the fool had even brought his massive shield and a good supply of spears with him, wrapped in brown baking paper in a package under his arm.
"Found you!"
"These are the champions that have agreed to willingly serve you, Master."
LeBlanc and Heian were standing in small anteroom, receiving a half dozen champions who responded to the recruiting calls of LeBlanc's Black Rose agents. The Master himself sat on a bench, sword by his side. His eyes were narrowed in evaluation.
LeBlanc swept her hand, and with a bow, presented the turn-coat champions. The former heroes of the league milled about, each more vicious than the last, and all glaring at each other with animosity.
Master Heian slowly got up, and strode down the restless line of champions, gazing upon each of them with barely concealed contempt. Once the Wuju master happened on Renekton's appearance, Master Heian's face scrunched up in disdain.
"What an ugly lot."
"Well, evil doesn't usually come in pretty packages, Master, you and I excluded, of course, but all of these beings here are loyally, and faithfully, at your service-"
A high, clear voice cut LeBlanc off.
"Excuse me, my dear…"
LeBlanc backed off a bit as a champion broke rank. The man was slim and bony, and robed in a crimson cloak. Everything, from his swirled white hair, to his thin skull and slender fingers, gave him an incredibly sharp and pointy appearance. Even his robes had blades and spears weaved into their threads. His eyes glowed maliciously as he licked his bloodless lips.
"But I am no cowering sheep. I want something else." Vladmir, the Hemomancer, Blood Mage, strode confidently towards Master Heian. The Wuju master seemed to shrink away from him, but from disgust, more than anything else.
"This is excellent timing, your little rebellion of yours, 'Master'," Vladimir droned on, his words dripping with condescension, "and I must say that I am impressed, you've got quite the quaint occupation here."
Heian did not miss the veiled insults. The dark man's facial muscles twitched.
"I say this is excellent timing, because I have just perfected my ultimate form, something I have dubbed the 'Blood Lord' form, and I have been just itching to try it out on someone… " the Hemomancer's tongue made a complete circuit about his thin lips. "I was looking to use it on Master Yi, but it seems you, good Master, have killed him already, so…."
Blood started rising from the stone runes on the ground. The blood shot up, and twisted about Vladmir as he walked closer and closer to Master Heian. Ropes of blood started forming about his chest, arms, and legs. The blood was hardening, forming metal armor, giving him the size and stature of a great warrior. A glowing heart started to swell in the center of his sternum. The ground started to shake with the magical energy, and the suppressing chains that were previously clamped onto Vladimir burst off in small explosions. The Blood Mage was changing into his penultimate form.
"My fondest wish is for a worthy opponent to test my craft! Come, 'Master' Heian! You will be my first meal as BLOOD LORD VLADIM… M…—Haagk!"
Master Heian had rushed up and stabbed Vladimir through the chest. The Blood Lord choked a bit as he struggled to work around the ten foot piece of metal stabbed through his sternum. His blood armor was still struggling to form around him. The proud Hemomancer was forced to the ground, then grotesquely impaled on the ground.
"You talk too much."
Standing over him, Master Heian grabbed Vladimir's right arm with his free hand, and planted a foot on the Blood Lord's chest. The Wuju master's other hand was still gripped firmly on his black sword.
"Wh…" Vladimir's glowing eyes widened. "What are you…"
With tremendous strength, Heian ripped out Valdimir's arm from the socket. Blood, much of it stolen blood, spilled out Vladimir's shoulder in gallons. The red drink splashed onto the rocks, and started seeping into the cracks and crevasses in the stone floor.
Heian tossed the limb onto the floor with disgust. The appendage flopped wetly on the stone floor, landing in the blood-soaked rocks with a splat.
"AGGGH!"
Vladimir, his mind barely conscious from all of the pain, reached out with his free arm to the ripped out arm five feet away from him.
If he could just manipulate the blood in his lost arm, he could maybe re-attach it—
Master Heian pulled his sword out of Vladimir, drawing a stifled scream from the Blood Lord. The Wuju master then ignited his massive sword with the flame of Wuju, and stabbed Vladimir's separated limb. Vladimir's right arm burned up into ash in less than a second.
Vladimir let his remaining arm drop. He looked up to the Wuju master standing above him.
"W-wait." Vladimir held up his arm, as if to shield his eyes from Heian. His last arm quivered feebly. "I can help you…"
"I don't care." Master Heian violently swung downwards. The tip of his black sword smashed Vladimir's head into the rocks. The effect, however, was little like a sword, more like a warhammer, or a bomb. There was nothing left but a rocky crater, and a big, bloody nothing where Vladimir's head once was.
Master Heian turned to the rest of his conscripts. The champions were all suitably cowed.
"Anyone else want to test me?"
"Of course not," LeBlanc called out, rolling her eyes. She strode towards the turncoats with a toss of her hair. "Now, what Master Heian wants you all to do for now is to station yourself in strategic locations about the Institute, and block them off. There are still a few champions that have slipped out of our grasp, and we need every last one of them either working for the Master, corrupted to force them to work for him, or dead."
LeBlanc narrowed her eyes at the traitor champions.
"You were graciously given free will because we value your strength and instincts. Betray us, and your reward will make Vladimir's look kind in comparison. Understand?"
Understanding very firmly established, the champions quickly left the room. Soon LeBlanc and Master Heian were left alone.
"Well that was good," LeBlanc started babbling again, nervously edging around Vladimir's corpse. "I didn't think we would get that many-"
"There is still one more." Master Heian drew his sword. He started walking towards the shadows, off into the shadows of the Anteroom.
LeBlanc looked up in confusion. She stared into the blackness, but saw nothing.
Master Heian got only a few more feet, before a growl escaped the shadows, and a something, neither human nor Yordle, leaped out of its hiding spot. The thing landed on all fours, although it quickly got up on its legs, and gripped in its hands were cruel, homemade weapons.
Rengar, the Pridestalker, seemed to rise up to Master Heian.
Rengar was an intimidating sight, with the head of a lion, and with a mane braided all about his back until it looked as if he had draped a white curtain about his shoulders. As if his stature was not enough, he was closed in rudimentary armor, all thick and bulky, but effective. The Pridestalker growled for a bit at the Wuju master.
Then, in a complete reversal, he fell to a knee, and laid his weapon on the ground, in what was unmistakably kneeling.
"Rengar…" LeBlanc whistled, looking at the beast. "You were one of the ones that escaped us. We were going to search for you."
"What do you want?" Heian said, with a slight growl.
"To hunt. I care not for your plans, human, nor your methods. I live only for the Thrill of the Hunt. I want to hunt these escaped champions." Rengar looked up at Heian, with earnest eyes. "I seek only the strongest prey to hunt. So I submit to you for the hunt, human."
"You seek the strongest prey," Heian murmured, "Yet I am here, why do you still search?"
His words were no boast. It was a statement of fact. Rengar trembled a bit.
"To taste the Thrill of the Hunt, you must be predator, not prey." The Pridestalker's hands clenched in frustration at his own weakness. "You… you are no prey."
Master Heian gazed into the beast's eyes, for a long while. The Wuju Master gazed into Rengar's eyes, searching for that one, single truth in the Pridestalker's soul. Then Heian got up. He gave a single nod, to which LeBlanc walked up to the Pridestalker.
"Then, Rengar, we have a few champions that we want you to focus on. A few targets for you to hunt." LeBlanc gave a winning smile.
"Pantheon of Targon, Annie Hastur of the Grey Order, and Ahri of Ionia." The Deceiver patted Rengar's head. "Those three might be problematic. Do you think you can hunt them all down for us?"
"Hunt them down?" growled Rengar, picking up his blades, "I passed them on the way here."
"I see you have saved your bear," Zilean said, with a scowl. Annie smiled, and held out her stuffed bear Tibbers.
"Yup! I just called his name, and pulled him out Panny's oven! Tee hee!"
Zilean turned back to Ahri, and gripped her hands. The Chronokeeper's eyes were shrouded in concern.
"You understand what you must do, yes?"
Ahri looked down in their entwined hands. Her eyes closed, she rubbed his soft, wrinkled skin a bit. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Yes Grandpa."
"Master Yi wanted me to hold off until you fully mastered your powers, but there is no more time." Zilean stared earnestly into Ahri's closed eyes. "You must retrieve the Phoenix Sun, the TRUE Phoenix Sun, from the lowest depths of the Institute of War, where the Sealmaster Mejai hid it so many years ago. Take the Phoenix Sun, and destroy the barrier separating the Institute from the rest of the world. Then, call for help. You understand?"
"It will be done."
Zilean reached up, and hugged Ahri by the head. He let her rest her hooded skull on his chest.
"I know it will. You make me proud, my dear. Now go! Find the Phoenix Sun! I must stay! They kill a hundred summoners for every escape attempt a champion makes! Go!"
Ahri got up, still holding a bit onto Zilean's chained hands. Her fingers slipped away. The Chronokeeper urged them off.
"Grandpa… we're off."
The three started to walk away. Started to.
"No," growled Rengar, who leapt from the shadows, tossing his bolas at Ahri, "You're staying right here."