NOTE: I do not own League of Legends and all associated characters. All original characters in this story are owned by me.

Marcus was not happy. Not at all. Not even close.

What in the actual living fuck just happened?! One moment he and the Noxian army were on the attack against an Ionian province, the next they were on the defensive. They had Sion of all things! Any Noxian worth their salt knew of the strength and brutality the revenant warrior carried, enough to destroy armies by his lonesome - and now they had to help him.

And against what, exactly? A sexy ninja, a sexy priestess, a Yordle ninja, and a swordsman that decimated hundreds of soldiers with a tornado. Many Noxians, especially those that survived the First Invasion of Ionia say the country was more than what it seemed, more than a nature-loving, magical nation. Marcus heard their words and took them to heart, but never in his days had he seen magic so used so prolifically. While the Demacians fought them on equal footing, the Ionians made magic seem like second-nature.

Which was very, very bad for the Noxians. Even now more soldiers were being blown away by the swordsman's tornados or electrified by the yordle's wide spread attacks. Even the sexy ninja was hard to pin down as she maneuvered around weapons and soldiers, slicing and disorienting the opposition while the priestess and the shabby armed Ionians provided back up.

Their initial numbers were immeasurable; it was one of the Noxian's army many strengths, but they were slowly but surely being pushed back as soldiers dropped like flies to a flame. Even Sion was having trouble keeping up with the offense at all sides.

"What are we going to do, Commander?!" Yelled one of Marcus' men. Felix was his name. A young man, just turned 22, who joined the Legion but a year ago. Marcus found the man had much potential, even if he was more prone to emotions than the rest of his squad.

His fearful reaction was justified as they were about to engage, their time coming as more Noxian warhosts fell dead.

"Everyone! Stay together! Keep watch of each others backs and don't let the enemy get the drop on you!" Marcus bellowed, his visible courage and volume resonating with not just his squad but those around him. "These Ionians wish to take our lives! LET'S MAKE THEM WORK FOR IT!"

A resounding cacophony of battle cries rang out from every soldiers surrounding Marcus. They did as he said and grouped together as the air around them blew harder and grew hotter.

But determination could only take them so far.

Marcus was alive. He knew this as he breathed in the earth he was currently planting lips with. He turned his head and before him lied one of his dead countrymen, the corpse wide-eyed and gaping like a fish. He quickly turned to the other side and noticed Felix and a couple others of his warhost also laying on the ground, bruised and scratched but alive and breathing.

Any luck Marcus could have felt from their survival shriveled as he finally remembered how he got into this position. He and his men had entered the battle grouped together with other warhosts. They downed a number of Ionians, pushing forward with all their might.

That was when he saw her. A beautiful face donning a ugly expression of focus and hatred. He remembered six blades swirling behind her back. Thinking quick, Marcus raised his shield as did the rest of his men, but a powerful gust of wind blew them all away.

Now here he was. Dread built inside him as he realized the sounds of battle were dissipating. Marcus dared to look up and to his shock he saw the rest of the Noxian army retreating.

They had lost. Too many soldiers were gone and the opposition would only mow down even more. The commander within Marcus understood this, but he still couldn't stomp down the initial feelings of betrayal.

"Commander?" Marcus saw Felix looking at him. The man had a frightened expression on his face as he too realized the battle was lost. "What are we going to do?" he whispered as he continued laying down, playing dead in the hopes of fooling the Ionians.

Marcus saw the rest of his team act in accordance with Felix. Vesta, the sole remaining woman of Marcus' soldiers, was piled under a few corpses and covered almost completely out of sight. And Adrian, the oldest among them, laid on his stomach and kept his breathing light.

"Stay down." Marcus commanded quietly. The rest complied as their leader risked moving to scout out the situation. As the Noxians were retreating, most of the Ionians were celebrating their victory. Some were cleaning up the bodies, but only the ones closest to the village. The priestess was with the people upon an elevated platform giving some kind of speech. Marcus was too far to hear her words, but the peoples reaction indicated it was an inspiring collection of words.

The swordsman and the two ninjas were scouring the battlefield likely in search of remaining Noxians. To finish them off or take them captive, Marcus wasn't sure; though he had been in Ionia during the First Invasion fourteen years ago, he was only relegated to guard duty in Navori. He never actually fought any Ionians before today so he little to no knowledge on how they operated save for what the warmasons relayed.

The Ionians were likely to ransom them off or kill them outright. Reports were always mixed and differed from province to province, even village to village. The uncertainty unnerved Marcus greatly as he couldn't rely on simply surrendering and waiting to be returned home.

The crinkling of grass made the commander flinch. He moved as carefully as he could to the source. There he saw her again, several meters away. She was fair-skinned beauty with a slender yet tight physique, giving off the impression that she was an agile and elegant fighter. Her sea green eyes were looking over the battlefield like a hawk in search of prey. The blades from before floated behind her back at rest but ready.

Marcus' eyes traced down her body, taking note of her clothes consisting of silken maroon robes and silver pieces; it looked more suited for ceremonial use than warfare.

When her head turned in his direction, Marcus quickly laid his head down and played dead as did the rest of his men. He did his best to level his breathing, but his heart rebelled; he could feel his pulse all the way to his throat. The grass crinkled more as the woman approached Marcus and his men and then stopped. Marcus did not dare to look up.

The sounds of robes shifting and metal clanking indicated more movement. Marcus had no idea what the woman did, but when he felt her soft touch against the side of his throat he knew the the jig was up.

"I found-!"

Marcus shot up then and socked the woman with a powerful uppercut, knocking her on her back in a daze. "RUN!"

The men instantly shot up to their feet, but not Vesta as the bodies coupled with their armor were too heavy to shrug off. Marcus helped lift one of the bodies allowing Vesta to get up more easily, but as a result they were behind Felix and Adrian by a wide margin. Just as they both broke into a sprint, Vesta was instantly downed the moment she felt blades slicing behind her knees and ankles. She fell back on the ground as the sounds of more blades came whirling at her.

They could have sliced her some more had Marcus not scooped an abandoned shield and deflected the blades. Felix and Adrian came back and instantly scooped up Vesta. "ALL OF YOU, KEEP RUNNING!"

The commotion attracted the other notable fighters of Ionia to their position. "But Commander, they're-!" Adrian tried to say only for Marcus to keep barking.

"You want me to beat it over your heads?! GET MOVING!" Marcus also noticed they were being surrounded. His odds were already in the gutter, but now? Now he had none. But if he could distract the Ionians long enough for his squad to make their escape, then he will to his last breathe.

When was the last time his odds were this low? Never, actually. In his skirmishes against Demacia, he always fought with a team at his back. Even in those seldom moments where he had to fight one-on-one or against multiple foes, they weren't strong enough to put him down. But now, against multiple enemies using powerful magic and tactics?

Heh. At least it would be a great death.

Vesta and Adrian regard Marcus with grimace, clearly knowing their leader's intent and disliking it, but still did as he commanded. Felix was the only one to show hesitancy as he picked up a nearby sword ready to stand with Marcus. But when he saw the Ionian fighters approaching his resolve crumbled and reluctantly followed Marcus' command. He teared up, for Marcus and himself.

Marcus peered behind his shoulder and smiled. His team was a good distance away. Good. Now onto the hard part.

"They're getting away!" yelled the yordle.

"I got them!" The female ninja picked up the pace, racing towards the trio of Noxians. One was injured and another was helping her. She could have easily incapacitated all of them had a spear not been hurdled at her head. She sensed the attack coming before seeing it, ducking before its pointed tip could make a cavern out of her skull.

The spear stabbed into the ground. The ninja looked at it, surprised it came close to killing her. But in those few seconds of observation, Marcus closed the distance on her and socked her across the cheek. Her body stumbled back only to be punched once more. Had she been anyone weaker, she would've fallen comatose by the second punch.

Marcus primed his fist back for a third punch, but his ears twitched at the sound of running behind his back. He ducked beneath a decapitating attack by the swordsman and punched at him. His fist collided with the man's blade, his armored fingers protecting him. The swordsman deflected Marcus' punch and swirled his sword to slice at his throat, but Marcus stopped the blade with his hands. The armor of his palms was leather which meant the blade was able to pierce through and make him bleed, but not enough to sever fingers.

The pain only ignited Marcus further. He headbutted the swordsman, a resounding crack echoing through the battlefield. When the swordsman stumbled back Marcus used the opportunity to slug him across the face.

But just like with the ninja, Marcus was interrupted once more when a small body kicked him at his side. While the force was negligible, the lighting certainly wasn't. The voltaic force was enough to separate him from the swordsman, tumbling on the ground before coming to a stop. The yordle's attack was staggering. Sparks radiated around Marcus' body from head to toe, stunning his movements to stillness.

"He should be done for. The other three are still within-" But Marcus' roar halted anymore of the yordle's words. He punched the ground as willed himself to stand, grab a sword and hurl it with great force. But the target was not the yordle.

During the skirmish, the woman with the floating blades took the opportunity to chase after Marcus' men, but the man's defiant roar reached her despite the great distance between them. Just as she peered behind her shoulder, the sword was only a few meters away. She turned on her heels and deflected the sword, but in doing so allowed the three Noxians more time to escape.

The yordle closed the distance between himself and Marcus, his body surrounded by lightning. He pounced and primed a flying kick, but was surprised when Marcus aimed his fist exactly where his head would be. Compared to a regular human, the fist was like a boulder as it smashed the yordle across his entire face. His only saving grace was that his body was surrounded by lighting, meaning Marcus was stunned once more.

The swordsman returned, his nose sporting both a nasty bruise and thick trails of blood down his nostrils. Annoyed at his injuries, he unleashed powerful gust of wind against Marcus' back and sent him flying forward. Though he didn't fly up too high, the distance he traveled made him look weightless.

The Noxian had regained control of his body during his up-time, allowing him to defend against the flurry of blades coming his way. His armor did well in defending him, but the force behind each blade could only be described as supernatural. He landed with a roll, grabbing an abandoned halberd and swiftly stood up to start his offense. He deflected and dodged almost all the attacks the woman threw at him while the ones that did land damaged his armor. He advanced towards her, believing if he could close the distance her blades would lose their effectiveness.

But little did he know that the woman's attacks were far more precise than he thought. Her objective wasn't just in attacking, but attacking certain parts of Marcus' armor over and over again to wear it down. And just as Marcus was a couple meters away, it worked. Two of her blades slashed the harnesses keeping the chest piece attached. The front and back fell and allowed two other blades to cut across Marcus' tunic-covered back. Though not deep, the cuts damaged him greatly.

An expression of shock came over Marcus' face as it all happened, then of pain. As blood caked his shirt, he looked over the woman's shoulder to find his men were so far he had to squint just see them. Relief mixed with the pain. He had done his duty as commander and made sure his men were safe.

He could die here, losing and winning in equal parts, but as much as falling into the deep slumber sounded interesting, he'd rather die fighting to his last breathe. Just like Dad would say, "Dyin' on your feet is always better than sittin' on your ass, Boy!"

His muscles bulged as he forced himself to keep fighting. He slashed at the woman, but she was far more nimble than he was. She didn't just evade his attacks, but counter-attacked whenever she did. Though Marcus parried half of her blows, blades still sliced through his shirt and flesh. It did not take long for his shirt to be reduced to tatters, displaying his ripped and war-torn flesh.

"COME ON!" Marcus bellowed, a berserker-like smile across his face. He rushed the woman, deflecting some and taking some of her attacks.

"Just go down already!" She yelled out in irritation. Marcus looked closely to find a thin layer of sweat dripping down her brow and her blades were racing at him slower than before. He was wearing her down, but it wasn't enough. Soon her comrades will surround him and he will inevitably lose. He had to expedite the battle, and one way to do that was to close the distance.

His halberd spun as he deflected her attacks, yet sustained more cuts in the process. He closed in on her and thrusted the sharp point of the halberd. She went to dodge as Marcus anticipated. She was mid-way through the movement when Marcus caught her by the forearm, and in a show of great strength arced her over his head and slammed her on the ground, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

He pinned her right arm beneath his boot and aimed the sharp butt of the halberd at her heart. One impalement and she was done. Not even magic could heal a pierced heart. Marcus roared and thrusted down, intent on making the woman his final kill.

He was a millisecond too late.

The sharp bottom impaled not flesh but a glowing turquoise shield enveloping the woman. Marcus' brief confusion was as wide as the entire battlefield as his opponets abused it. The swordsman first blew Marcus away, separating him and the woman. Just as Marcus was recovering, the female ninja threw a smoke bomb at his face further dazing him and allowing her fellow ninja to follow up with an electrified kick to his jaw.

His body convulsed as electricity threaten to shut down his muscles, yet he still found the energy to hold onto his weapon. He saw the woman close in, her blades circling her body. They spun faster than before and angled themselves diagonally. The sparks faded just as the woman stuck. Marcus raised his halberd to block, but the poor weapon could only take so much abuse. The blades combined with their newfound speed sliced through the weapon's shaft and into his chest.

A long diagonal wound overshadowed the rest, starting from Marcus' left shoulder to just above his right hip. The Noxian staggered back in pain and looked his killer in the eye. All he found was hate. Her features sported fresh bruises and a dipping of her brow. She looked at him like he was a disgusting monster.

His arms dropped to his sides and his hands dropped the remains of his weapon. His breathing intensified as he smiled a bloody grin at the woman. He refused to appear weak, even in the throws of death. If he could make her irritated for just one more time, then he could die happy.

The Ionians watched as Marcus took a couple steps towards the woman. She did not move, knowing the battle had been won; there was nothing else Marcus could do. She did, however, take a step back and look up. The man was a full foot taller than her, yet despite his muscular stature he was shaking like a leaf. The blood loss was going to do him in.

Grinning, he spat a wad of blood and saliva on her face. Her scowl deepened and her mouth curled into a feral sneer. Through impulse she spun around and kicked him. With how weak he had become, he couldn't stay upright anymore. His back met the grass and his mind soon snapped into darkness. His breathing lessened to shallow puffs as blood turned the green ground red.

'Worth it.'

Xan Irelia was shocked

She knew the Noxians would one day return in full force. She knew they would covet land that wasn't their for their own machinations. She shouldn't have been surprised to find berserkers like the man before her in their ranks; it only seemed appropriate given their blatant barbarity.

Yet this Noxian was truly a sight - and not a good one. The determination to fight despite all injuries. Defiance against all opposition. Strength rivaling Frelijordians. And skillful use of weaponry. All combined into one warrior bode ill for Ionia - worse if there were more like him.

She raised a hand to fully finish off this tyrant in human flesh, her blades rotating to her command, but a gentle grasping at her shoulder gave her pause.

The Spirit of Ionia, Karma, was also looking at the Noxian. Her gaze was even, inquisitive to a degree. "Hold, Irelia. This man could be of use to us."

"Damn." A grumble came from her side. Akali had her mask down as she rubbed her cheeks. Irelia and Karma couldn't help but wince at the sight of the purplish bruises beginning to form. "What're they feeding them in Noxus?"

"A lot of good, apparently." Yasuo commented. The swordsman pinched his nose to hold in the bleeding. His right cheek was also blemished in darkened colors. He tapped the Noxian on the shoulder with the tip of his toes, grimacing at how solid his muscles were.

"Want me to head back to the village?" Kennen asked. The yordle ninja had it the worst out of any of them. He had to take off his mask as it was caked from his bleeding nose. His cream furred face was dyed red and both eyes sported nasty shiners. Despite his injuries he continued to stand in attention.

Karma nodded and Kennen acted, heading back to the village to have a couple men bring in the Noxian and prepare a couple nurses to treat him. Irelia stared disapprovingly and sounded as such. "He won't tell us anything. It's better to be rid of him than waste any of our time." Time they had in scarcity. The Noxians opened up with a large scale attack, no doubt taking more than several towns along the way. They were bound to attack again.

"The Noxians are not stupid. They will learn from today's battle and adapt accordingly. We will need all the help we can get, Irelia. Now more than ever." Karma stated.

"And you think he will help?" The Blade Dancer gestured to the sleeping Noxian. There was a sharp edge to her voice denoting her growing impatience.

"No. But whatever intel he knows could prove instrumental in raising our odds." Karma remarked. Irelia conceded to that. She and the others did hear the fleeing Noxian soldiers call the man commander, which meant he had much to offer other than strength. Supply routes, attack locations, battle strategies, the works. "Negotiations and the promise of safe return could buy his compliance."

"Hey, no offence, but I don't think you fully grasp what you want to do." Akali stepped into the conversation. "He's now a war prisoner. He isn't gonna talk as easy as you think, and if he does there's a guarantee he's just gonna spit of bad intel. Let me handle interrogations."

"I'm in agreement, Akali. A Noxian only shows their true colors when their life is in peril. Allow me to assist you." Irelia said, her words dipping in hostility near the end.

Akali merely nodded. She hadn't fought with Irelia for long, the number within single digits, but she was well aware of her disdain for Noxus and it people. Who in Ionia didn't after all they did during the First Invasion? While Akali liked to believe Irelia could pull back her hate for the sake of the mission, it was better if she took the reins instead of than her.

Karma did not miss the clear eagerness in her friend's words. She knew how much Irelia lost thanks to the Noxians and sympathized with her, but to see this side was simply terrifying. It worried her greatly as it could spell a dark and disastrous path for her friend should she be consumed by it.

Then came the life of their prisoner. Even she was not excluded from feeling any negative in regards to Noxus. It was difficult recalling all the suffering the First Invasion wrought; the lives lost, villages burned, faith destroyed. It was a turning point in Ionian history, and for her. But even still, she fought to hold her compassion. She recognized the warrior before her was human and deserved to have his decency protected. It would do Ionia no good to turn into monsters, and she exercised that belief with each struggle.

"I, too, wish to be present. Multiple avenues for discussion, you could say." And also to make sure the two don't go overboard.

Akali and Irelia looked like they wanted to protest, but decided it was better to let Karma have her way. If there was one thing they knew, the woman was resolute in her promises.

A couple villagers arrived with a stretcher then. The Noxian proved a bit difficult to cart as he was both taller and larger than them, but their combined strength was good enough. Ionia's champions followed behind watching the Noxian closely for any sudden movements.

Had they looked around more, they would have noticed they, too, were watched with similar intensity.

Felix had a hard time watching everything unfold.

Not just because he was far or because he had to remain hidden, but because he hated how his commander was being treated. Multiple lacerations across his body and they were handling him like a sack of potatoes? And the men carting him to the village, jostling the stretcher like there wasn't a living person there. Felix swore they were doing it on purpose, the bastards.

But what could he do? What could he do against not just numerous opponents, but magically talented opponents with no qualms about killing Noxians? Even his commander, as strong as he is, was no match against the many abilities raining down on him. This wasn't like they were fighting Demacians!

Before he would scoff at the nation's fear of magic; does one fear the air, or water, or any other aspect of nature? As half-vastayan himself, Felix understood the naturalness of magic better than most humans. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Trying to fight it was like trying to fight the very air.

But these Ionians showed Felix how woefully ignorant he truly was. Of the force of nature that was magic, and how devastating its affects could bring. Just one look at the battlefield was evidence enough.

But if he couldn't retrieve Marcus via force, then how? He knew his commander was a formidable man, not just in body but in mind as well, but he had no idea how ruthless the Ionians could be to their prisoners. His vastayan father, who immigrated to Noxus, had scarce to say on the matter, let alone the human armies. It was only a matter of time before they find a way to break Marcus.

Which also meant Felix was in a race against time. He needed to think, but thinking required time - time Marcus was running out of. By the Spirits, his head was hurting and his heart was racing so bad he felt like he was about to collapse then and there.

By impulse, he threw off his helmet. The black iron helm bounced off the soil with a soft clank. Felix realized his mistake and peaked back at the village. Thankfully no one heard him. He breathed a sigh of relief and combed a hand through his shaggy white hair.

His hand paused, then reached for his ears. His vastayan heritage showed mostly in his body hair and ears. He had thick sideburns along with big wolverine ears erupting from where humans ears should be. He also adopted his father's Ionian features with his slightly narrower eyes and face. The only physical traits he inherited from his mother was her ruby-colored eyes and pale skin.

Vastayans in Noxus were a rarity. Most of the human populace found them exotic because of their features and magical nature, but otherwise there was no bad blood between the two races. Not like in Ionia, if his father's tales were true. As such people were at most weary in their initial interactions with him. Mostly because they had little dealings with his people, but over time he became just another Noxian, no different from the farmer, craftsmen or soldier.

In Ionia it was a different story. Vastaya were far more common to the point there were villages of just vastayans. But the attitude humans showed towards them were mixed. Some were welcoming and other were intrusive. It was one of the reason his father migrated out of Ionia: he couldn't stand the ambiguity so he moved to Noxus.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss his father over the head! He had something he could contribute. He could use his Ionian features and the familiarity of Vastaya to infiltrate the village and save his commander. Or at the very least track their movements until the right time struck.

Suddenly all of Felix's worries faded. While the challenge ahead was still a matter of time, he had the means and the grit to succeed.

He smiled a devious grin, remembering the abandoned houses nearby he could loot for clothes. "Just you wait, Commander. I'll be there before they lay a finger on you!"

Vesta winced every time Adrian looped another bandage around her wounds. The Noxians had ran a great distance from where Marcus was fighting. Seeing that no others were giving chase, they took shelter in an abandoned house. Adrian ripped the clothes the former owners left behind to stop the bleeding on Vesta's ankles and behind her knees. The woman had to stifle a yelp a few times when Adrian finished wrapping the bandages around one wound and pulled them to hold the bandages in place.

"Where's Felix?" Vesta groaned.

"He said he was gonna scout around. Make sure no one followed us." Adrian answered as he washed his bloody hands at a nearby basin. He had to pause when Vesta did not reply back. His eyes met hers and he saw visible anxiety in them. "What?"

"... Say that sentence again."

"Felix went out to scout- Oh shit." Quickly realizing why Vesta was worried, he gathered a large blanket and covered her. "I'll be back. Stay hidden until then." Adrian then ran out the house and back to the battlefield.

The sight of all the bodies would have incited a sense of despair in anyone, especially for Noxians. But as Adrian toed around the bodies, he felt only frustration and exhaustion. It wasn't the first time Noxian blood was spilled in Ionia. He had been a young lad then, back during the First Invasion. He along with many others had shrugged off Ionia's majesty as weakness and believed its people of lesser quality.

How wrong he was as were many others. He laid witness to masters of the sword lay fight back Noxian warbands. He saw the very land swallow his comrades whole. And most despairing of all, he witnessed one man destroy warband after warband, armed and skilled like no other Ionian he had ever faced. After that, he resigned from the frontlines, acting as backline medic away from the danger.

When plans were made to invade once more, Adrian and many veterans of the First Invasion protested the coming campaign. They fell on deaf ears. Many had no choice but to follow orders, while others were resigned to fighting arenas. Adrian chose the former. His warhost needed him, but he hoped - an inkling of hope - that his country learned from its first experience warring with the First Lands. He had hoped for a quick and decisive victory.

He paused then. No longer than two seconds, but it was enough to ingrain the image of a young lass laying back-first with an open throat and tears in her armor. By the look of her youthfulness, this must have been her first taste of battle - and her last.

Noxus should have never touched this cursed place. It was stupid to think the Ionians would grow weak in the 14 years since the last war.

It was also stupid of Felix to be following the very people responsible for this massacre. Adrian lost the opportunity to stop the vastayan, disguised in robes local to the area, from making his way into the village. He couldn't change clothes and chase after him; he would lose him by then, and if by some miracle he did he would only get the both of them caught.

Rather than give chase, the veteran muttered a curse and returned to Vesta. He whispered his arrival and Vesta popped up from beneath the blanket. "Did you find him?"

"Yes. But the idiot's gonna kill himself."

"W-What?! What on Runeterra are you saying?!"

"Because he entered the village." Adrian yelled, exasperated. "Probably thinks he can play hero and save the commander."

"But I thought Marcus-"

"Most likely they took him in for questioning. Force him to spill intel regarding the army's next moves."

"Fuck!" Vesta slammed the side of her fist against a wall. "What now?"

"What do you mean, 'what now?' Now we leave and catch up with the retreating warhosts-" Vesta's disproving glare told him enough. "Don't give me that look. Do you have any idea what'll happen if the Ionians see us?"

Vesta didn't want to think about it, how easily their army had been pushed back. One of the strengths of the Noxian army were its numbers and physical might - and yet the Ionians fodderized them. All their numbers dwindled with no sign of stopping, and whatever might they had did little to stop their magic. As much as it pained her to admit it, Adrian had a point: the two of them couldn't do anything without getting killed.

"So that's it then? We just leave them for dead?" Vesta forced out. Her frustration was not subtle as opposed to Adrian's.

"You may be a warmason, Vesta, but even you have to admit infiltration and extraction is damn near impossible. Especially after today."

Vesta rested her head on a wall, her mind deep in thought. Running back to the Trifarion Legion was the easier choice. They had already occupied a number of villages before their first major lose. At most it'll be a days journey to the nearest encampment. That was what her soldier side was telling her.

But her other side was telling her not leave her idiot junior and self-sacrificing commander. She owed it Marcus to at least try.

Adrian could see the warmason's mind forming ideas. He didn't like leaving Marcus and Felix either, but he had to think about the lives he can save. "Vesta, getting ourselves killed won't help them. We need to regroup with the others, at least form a plan of attack then." The woman wasn't even looking at him, instead staring out a window in the direction of the village. He could sense her resolve harden.

Vesta groaned as head ached. She slammed her fist once more against the wall. "Come on. The army shouldn't be too far." Before Adrian could breathe a sigh of relief, she added, "This doesn't mean we're done here. We will be back."

Adrian thought as much. He was just thankful Vesta was someone who thought with her brain rather than her heart. He hefted her up and out the door, taking extra precautions to look around for any Ionians scouting the area.

They journeyed to regroup with the rest of the Noxian army in tense silence as the warmason thought of ways to help Marcus and Felix. Adrian had no clue as to the workings of a Noxian infiltrator, but he knew the coming days will not be easy at or behind the front lines.