Read up to chapter 179 free on Patreon: patreon.com/Light_lord
---------------------
"Jarvan!"
If not for the soldiers of the Dauntless Vanguard holding him back, Garen would have charged forward without hesitation.
From his vantage point, he could see Crown Prince Jarvan IV above the Noxian camp—on display, a prisoner for all to see.
But the distance, less than a mile, might as well have been an unbridgeable chasm.
Demacia did not shy away from sacrifice but would never trade its allies for a hollow victory.
Garen's fists clenched as he stared at the scene.
His piercing gaze locked onto the massive golden blades descending from the heavens— swords of judgment, divine retribution made manifest.
And then, an absurd thought crossed his mind:
'If only... the Noxians could stop it.'
High above the tower, Jarvan IV appeared oddly calm, even in the face of imminent death.
A wry smile touched his lips as he spoke:
"To be accompanied by two vice presidents at my end, and to have countless Noxian soldiers buried with me... My life, Jarvan IV, is worth the price!"
Inside the city walls, Noxian mages stood motionless, their expressions focused as they channeled mana outward to maintain the city's defenses.
Despite the looming celestial blades, they continued in grim silence.
From a balcony overlooking the chaos, LeBlanc observed the descending swords with a faint, amused smile.
There was something almost poetic in its apocalyptic beauty.
"General Darius. General Xin Zhao," she said mockingly.
"Are you afraid?"
Darius scoffed, his voice gruff and defiant.
"Judgment will never come to Noxus."
Xin Zhao stood tall, his spear glinting in the dim light.
"So long as I hold this spear, what is there to fear?"
Nearby, Swain silently dismissed his flock of crows, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
His expression was unreadable—cool, calculating—as if the catastrophe above was already beneath his concern.
"Justice! Sanction!"
Kayle's voice rang out like a divine chorus, her golden wings ablaze with celestial light.
At her command, the swords quickened its descent, hurtling toward the earth with relentless force.
Then, a deafening crack split the air.
The blades halted just 100 meters above the city.
Time itself seemed to stop. A sudden, shuddering noise rippled through the heavens.
Kayle's brow furrowed as her sword's radiance flared even brighter—but the thousands of golden blades remained frozen, unmoving.
"You call this justice? Pitiful manipulation... trash."
A cold, contemptuous voice echoed across the sky—female, merciless.
The golden light dimmed as black energy surged downward like crashing waves, radiating an overwhelming, infinite power.
Boom.
The sky fractured, revealing a yawning black void.
Under the horrified stares of the Demacian forces, a massive black castle emerged, descending from the rift—its towering silhouette blotting out the light.
At its highest spire floated two figures—one clad in black, the other in white.
Their very presence exuded a power equal to, perhaps greater than, even Kayle's divine strength.
"Who... who is that?" Jarvan IV murmured, fear and disbelief mingling in his voice.
He had heard that voice before, and though he didn't want to believe it, a dreadful certainty settled in his chest.
LeBlanc's voice interrupted his thoughts, soft and knowing.
"As you've guessed, the new Supreme Leader of the Noxian Empire is Ryan Meredith."
At her words, the Noxian mages ceased their channeling and bowed their heads in unison—a gesture of deep reverence toward the figures above.
"It's him..."
Jarvan's heart sank.
A single man now commanded the full might of Noxus. A floating fortress.
A unified leadership with a Supreme Leader, the Council President, and two Vice Presidents.
This was not the Noxus, Demacia knew.
"And the other?"
Jarvan spoke quickly, desperate. He had no hope of surviving, but perhaps he could learn something.
Something that might help Demacia later. Something worth dying for.
Today, everything had gone according to Noxus's plan.
His sacrifice now seemed meaningless. Even the dream of taking Noxus down with him had crumbled.
Still, he asked:
"She is..."
LeBlanc's expression shifted—an unusual blend of unease and admiration—as she finally spoke the truth:
"The most gifted mage in all of Runeterra—Syndra. Her magic is endless, powerful enough to destroy an entire continent."
"How is that possible?"
Jarvan IV's voice wavered, disbelief thick in his tone.
Destroy a continent? Even the celestial beings atop Targon's peak seemed insignificant compared to such a claim.
High above, the silver-haired, black-robed Syndra stirred. She raised one hand, her voice cold and sharp:
"This is nothing more than a pale imitation."
With her words, a torrent of dark energy erupted.
Black magic connected with the runes etched across the sky, each one feeding into the next.
The entire lattice pulsed, and countless black spheres began to take shape.
Hundreds of orbs surged outward, each humming with devastating power, aimed straight at the suspended golden swords.
The sky exploded in sound.
Each orb collided with the divine blades, shattering them on contact.
A single sphere could obliterate dozens of Kayle's swords, vanishing only after its destruction was complete.
Within moments, the golden judgment, once unstoppable, was reduced to flickers of scattered light.
Through it all, Kayle struggled to respond.
She could feel the moisture in the air gathering unnaturally, but when she tried to control it, it turned violently against her.
The very water she imprisoned her from within, rebelling inside her body, threatening to rupture her from the inside out.
She recognized the sensation instantly—this wasn't natural.
The water had been manipulated.
Twisted. Alive with intent.
Only by pulling her celestial magic inward—stabilizing herself—was she able to avoid disaster.
"Cowardly tricks!"
Kayle's voice trembled with fury. Her golden gaze locked onto Ryan, disgusted.
To her, his interference was dishonorable, beneath someone of true strength.
But Ryan was unmoved. His voice was calm, flat, as he replied:
"Honor is meaningless. You and I both wield magic, but your control is clumsy—like a child's first steps."
His form rose slowly, lifted by currents swirling beneath his feet.
Behind him, the floating black castle pulsed with energy.
From its walls, lines of bright blue light etched themselves into a massive runic formation in the sky.
The glowing circuits snapped into place—precise, elegant, dangerous.
At the center of it all, Ryan hovered, perfectly aligned with the matrix.
Boom!
Raw magic burst outward from the castle, cascading across the battlefield in waves.
It wrapped the world in an ocean of arcane power, deep and overwhelming.
Kayle's divine aura flared brighter.
She gritted her teeth, preparing to strike back.
"Mortal magic can never match the divine!"
But before her retaliation could take form, Syndra attacked again.
The black orbs returned—faster, more focused. They flew at Kayle in waves.
Her blade lashed out, sending golden arcs across the sky, but the barrage was relentless.
For every three orbs she struck down, only one faded. The rest pressed in.
She couldn't hold them all.
She knew instinctively: if even one of them touches me, it's over.
The energy would devour her from the inside. Not even divinity would be enough to stop it.
Reluctantly, Kayle acknowledged the truth: her power and Syndra's came from the same place.
The difference was in the refinement.
And Syndra's was terrifyingly refined.
With a shout, Kayle spread her six wings. The final pair shimmered, shifting from pure white to radiant gold as she fully awakened her divine form.
Her body blazed with holy light, each swing of her sword sending shockwaves through the air.
But she was slowing.
And as her focus remained locked on Syndra's unyielding assault, something new began to descend from above.
Water.
It didn't fall like rain—it surrounded them. A massive sphere of water enclosed the battlefield, forming an unbreakable dome.
Soldiers from both Noxus and Demacia found themselves engulfed in it.
Strangely, it wasn't suffocating. The air within the barrier remained breathable, the pressure oddly still. But the sensation was unmistakable:
They were trapped in a world of pure magic, suspended in place, held like insects in amber.
The dome began to contract slowly. The water thickened, pressing inward.
No one had been hurt—yet—but the pressure was rising. Every soldier felt it.
And at the center of it all, the storm intensified.
The black torrent surged downward, inching closer to the last of Kayle's fading golden light. Her divine energy flared in response—but it was clear now.
The tide was not turning.
The ocean was closing in.