Noxus, Immortal Bastion.
A crow's cry echoed through the sky as a magical fountain cascaded from the floating castle above, its shimmering waters dissipating mid-air before touching the ground below—mystical, elusive, like a mirage from another world.
Under the guidance of Councilor Morgana and the influence of Hextech, the streets of the Immortal Bastion glowed with a deep blue light, like fireflies flickering in a midnight forest.
These lights weren't just for show.
They were magical beacons, illuminating the night, powered by two Hextech crystals at the heart of the city.
Nearly every building had been renovated.
The dark, enclosed architecture of the past was gone, replaced by designs that blended technology and arcane elegance, without losing the Empire's imposing solemnity.
High above, alongside the Coliseum and the floating castle, new levitating structures drifted among the clouds.
Among them, suspended by Swain's magic, was the newly raised Council Hall.
Inside that chamber, Swain sat at one of three main seats at the round table, a map of Runeterra spread before him.
Behind him, in the shadows, lounged LeBlanc.
"Vice President," LeBlanc spoke, her voice smooth, almost lazy.
"My mission is complete."
The Black Rose had bloomed its finest flower in Demacia.
Today marked the second day of the uprising.
Demacia was in disarray. Especially after Nat's trial, an event that sent shockwaves through the kingdom.
Nat's death had exposed a painful truth: the Prohibition Order was not a law, but a shackle—one that bound every Demacian, highborn or low, young or old.
And now, the people were awake. Furious. Unrelenting.
"A grand finale," Swain said flatly. "
You've done well."
He shifted slightly, glancing at the president's seat, still vacant. Behind it, however, stood a graceful figure.
"Is he all right, Councilor Syndra?" Swain asked.
"He has the strength to resist," Syndra replied, her red lips curling faintly.
"I believe in him."
Her gaze turned toward LeBlanc, hidden in the shadows, and she asked pointedly:
"Any progress in Demacia? Have you located the target?"
"No trace yet. His trail always disappears at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," LeBlanc replied, her voice cool and sharp.
"Oh?" Syndra raised a brow.
"Cautious… maybe even afraid."
It didn't surprise her that the Forbidden Forest could still pulse with magic.
According to Ryan's theory, if one's magical power and rune comprehension were advanced enough, even the heavy concentration of petricite in the forest couldn't fully suppress spellcasting.
But even for elite mages like them, the risk was significant.
And if they wanted to use spatial magic to breach the hidden location… they would have to cast inside the forbidden forest itself.
"The forest is vast," Swain said, spreading his hands indifferently.
"It's only a matter of time."
So far, Ryze had not been seen near the area.
Besides...
"Let Demacia remain in chaos. That gives more people a reason to enter the forest."
His voice lowered, the sharp, hooked brows on his face lifted slightly, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.
As unrest spread, the line between protester and fugitive blurred.
Anti-magic zealots, rogue mages, frightened commoners—they were all seeking escape.
And to them, the Forbidden Forest seemed like salvation.
But Noxus saw an opportunity.
The forest was rich with petricite.
And petricite, for nations like theirs, was priceless—traded like gold, powering industry and warfare alike.
Demacian refugees could mine the forest, smuggle out the stones, and trade with Noxus.
They unwittingly became allies in doing so, seeking protection under the Empire they once feared.
The more chaotic Demacia became, the more common it was for strangers to slip unnoticed into the Forbidden Forest.
And the more people went in… the better.
"Let me know once the location is confirmed," Syndra said curtly.
Then, in a blink, she vanished from the chamber.
She and Ryan had bigger concerns now—concerns about the World Runes.
With Swain and the others overseeing Demacia, there was little need for her direct involvement.
Everything was proceeding as planned.
Once Syndra was gone, Swain sat in silence for a moment. Then he turned to LeBlanc.
"How's your contact with the Crownguard?"
"Not promising," LeBlanc said with a sly smile.
"She agrees to everything… and commits to nothing."
"She wants to protect her family and still follow her heart."
Swain's tone was dry.
"But the world doesn't offer both."
"She'll end up trading her life to destroy the kingdom she still swears loyalty to," LeBlanc murmured, lips twitching between irony and glee.
But Swain showed no reaction. His gaze returned to the map, settling on Demacia.
"Apply pressure. Make things harder for her. We need Demacia to stay unstable until we find it."
LeBlanc chuckled softly.
"Another Black Rose ready to wither."
Her illusion shimmered and vanished.
Silence returned to the council chamber.
Swain remained at the table alone, expression unreadable, the weight of empires in his stillness.
It was a familiar sight.
As if he had been sitting there forever, day after day, from sunrise to dusk, managing a war that never truly ends.
------------
Shurima, Akzam Mausoleum.
Noon.
The sky, once clear and radiant, had dimmed into something resembling midnight.
A massive black shadow crept across the heavens—like a living leviathan—drifting toward the sun, slowly swallowing its light, blotting out warmth and color.
Only the last threads of sunlight remained, flickering against the encroaching darkness. For those who dared to look up, it was a rare, terrifyingly beautiful sight.
At the top of the Noxian Black Gate, Ryan sat cross-legged, silent and unmoving.
His brows furrowed slightly.
The magic in the air around him had shifted—no longer balanced, but turbulent.
A rising tide of disorder.
The sun rose, the moon waned—nature followed its course. But every so often, something broke the pattern.
These anomalies didn't just distort climate or sky; they disrupted the very fabric of the world's power.
A solar eclipse was one such omen.
"It's almost time," Ryan murmured.
As he spoke, Katarina appeared beside him in a flash—drawn by some unspoken signal.
Ezreal arrived moments later—his hair a little too styled, his clothes adjusted like he'd just stepped off a stage.
Ryan glanced at him but said nothing.
Ezreal tried to avoid his eyes, smiling awkwardly.
"Mr. President. I'm not late, right?"
He could practically feel the silent judgment radiating from Katarina, but an expedition this important required... some preparation.
At the very least, he brought his lens cleaner.
"You're not late," Ryan replied calmly.
"When the sun and moon align, I'll send you into the mausoleum."
His gaze dropped to the camera hanging around Ezreal's neck.
"Use that. Record everything you see."
"Task understood!" Ezreal saluted—half out of nerves, half out of instinct.
"Katarina," Ryan continued, "You're leading the mission. Ezreal is here to support with historical knowledge and relic identification."
"Understood," she said firmly.
Her eyes burned with resolve. She had failed before—once—but not this time.
This time, she would see it through.
Ryan gave a small nod, then looked to the heavens.
The sun and moon had nearly overlapped, bathing the desert in eerie twilight.
"Go," he commanded.
At that moment, magic surged from his body in a roaring wave.
Hundreds of runes ignited across his skin, glowing with deep blue light and racing down into the Black Gate below him.
The ancient structure lit up like a beacon.
A sudden brilliance erupted, turning night to day.
Aqua-blue magic condensed into the center of the gate, forming a swirling portal.
Screeeee—yah—
The mausoleum doors groaned open—massive and ancient, moving for the first time in centuries.
The gateway to mystery had reopened.
Ryan motioned forward. Without hesitation, Katarina and Ezreal leapt into the swirling portal, vanishing into the depths.
As their figures disappeared, Ryan's glowing blue eyes widened—startled.
"World Runes... such overwhelming magical energy!"
The moment he opened the connection between the mausoleum and the outside world, he felt it—an immense force, unlike anything he'd sensed before.
It radiated from the depths, ancient and terrifying.
"So it's true," he muttered.
"Power enough to destroy the world... Ryze, you were right."
Then, without warning, the protective barrier in the sky let out a deafening boom.
A massive dark blue rune formation tore open the heavens.
The desert trembled as if recoiling in fear.
Something was coming. Something... colossal.
"Ryan! You shouldn't have done this!"
A thunderous voice boomed across the sky.
The clouds churned violently as a vague figure emerged within the giant runic circle.
Ryan stood tall, magic crackling around him.
He waved his hand, dismissing the spell that kept the portal open.
A dark blue flash passed through his eyes.
He stared directly at the growing figure.
"Everything ends eventually," he said.
"But magic... magic lives on. Ryze, you should've stayed buried."
BOOM!!
The ground shook again. Thunder erupted like a storm of giants shouting in unison.
The shield above the camp buckled under the pressure.
Crack—crack—crack!
Shimmering fissures splintered across its surface like ice under a sledgehammer.
And then—he appeared.
Descending from the sky, cloaked in shadow and seething power.
A figure, dark purple, covered in ancient runes.
A magic tome in one hand, scrolls strapped across his back.
His upper body bare, his scalp smooth, his skin etched with countless glowing glyphs.
But the most terrifying part—his eyes.
Twin flames of brilliant blue, burning in his sockets, pulsing with power and wrath.
The moment had come.
And the price of opening the tomb... was only just beginning.
Ryze's glowing blue eyes narrowed, his voice trembling with fury and deep sorrow:
"Magic? Foolishness! Ryan, you still don't understand what destruction truly means. When the end comes, everything vanishes. The magic you cling to will scatter like dust in the wind."
The spellbook in Ryze's hand pulsed with blinding blue light.
A storm of radiant beams rained down from the sky like falling stars, slamming into the protective barrier with apocalyptic force.
"No one can erase the magical I've built!" Ryan shouted back.
Hundreds of runes erupted from his body, weaving into the magic shield like a living net—anchoring, reinforcing, bracing against the siege.
Thus began a war of pure magic: one wielding ancient annihilation, the other forging protection through will and mastery.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sky split apart as the blue beams clashed with the barrier—meteor after meteor crashing into its surface.
Thunderous shockwaves rippled across the heavens.
What had been a dim, colorless world was now lit with violent pulses of blue—lightning streaks of raw power painting the firmament.
In that moment, the border between sky and earth blurred.
There was no sun, no moon—only one color ruled the world.
Magic blue.
Beneath the trembling sky, soldiers and mages flooded out from their tents. Even Cassiopeia and the elite command had been roused by the cataclysmic blasts.
Everyone stood beneath the flickering dome of light, heads raised, witnessing the impossible.
Above them, it was like watching the world come undone.
The sound was relentless—like tens of thousands of war drums thundering in unison, pounding directly into their hearts.
"Magic…" Cassiopeia whispered in awe.
Her serpentine eyes shimmered with reverence.
"If the sun god stood here, even he would be no more than this," murmured Sen Ya beside her, shivering uncontrollably.
His limbs went weak. He dared not look directly at the two celestial figures above—the raging sorcerer, and the president cloaked in holy white, standing defiant atop the Black Gate.
To the mortals watching below, these were not men.
They were gods.
Somewhere else, beyond the veil of time and space—
Above an endless sea, two streaks of blue light burst into view.
Ezreal and Katarina reappeared mid-air, plummeting toward the churning waters below.
Katarina reacted instantly, hurling two blades beneath her feet, crossing them into a floating platform to hold her aloft.
Ezreal pulled a small mechanical orb from his backpack and tossed it downward.
It burst on contact, forming a temporary, levitating platform just as he blinked onto it with a pulse of golden energy.
"Still got it," Ezreal grinned, striking a pose and snapping a selfie.
Then, he quickly began photographing their surroundings.
"So… this is inside the mausoleum?"
Katarina glided over beside him, her eyes sharp and scanning.
Ezreal nodded, setting down the Hextech camera.
"I think so. Looks like I was right—this is a trial zone."
"Trial?" Katarina narrowed her eyes.
They were surrounded by still water, with no land in sight.
The sky was cloaked in silver mist. When she tried to ascend, she hit a magic barrier—an invisible dome, reinforced with powerful wards.
"Yes. Icathia wasn't just any magical civilization," Ezreal explained, suddenly serious.
"The Mage Kings here were nearly as strong as the Ascended. I went through every Shuriman record I could find and pieced together some clues."
He knelt, tapping the water's surface thoughtfully.
"According to old records, the Mage Kings even allied with Ascended beings. Some foresaw Icathia's destruction... and prepared. This place must be their sanctuary."
"A tomb built by cowards to preserve their legacy?" Katarina scoffed.
Ezreal didn't take the bait.
"Maybe. But if you pass the trials here, you can inherit their magic. Their knowledge. Their power."
Excitement flickered in his eyes.
But then Ryan's warning echoed in his memory, sobering him.
"Still... we can't let our guard down. This place was sealed for a reason."
Katarina crossed her arms.
"Then tell me how to find the next step."
"We're standing in the Water Realm," Ezreal said, gazing into the rippling surface.
"One of the four elemental domains. This first trial tests adaptability—can we survive and fight in this environment?"
As he spoke, ripples surged outward.
Suddenly, multiple swirling whirlpools erupted around them.
FWOOSH!
From the depths, towering forms of living water rose—colossal water elementals, their cores pulsing with blue light.
"Here they come."
Katarina launched into motion.
The blades beneath her shot toward two of the elementals, and she teleported instantly—vanishing into blur.
SHNK!
Twin strikes split both elementals open.
Her afterimage appeared beside another blade, carving a precise arc through the core.
The two elemental constructs burst apart like ruptured balloons.
"Uh... okay. She beat them." Ezreal muttered, stunned.
Still, he fired a golden crescent of energy from his gauntlet, the arcane bolt piercing clean through the last elemental's head.
"Kinda weak."
He frowned.
Katarina landed beside him, her face unreadable.
"President said someone's been here before. Did they weaken everything for us?"
Ezreal nodded slowly.
"Could be. Even Mage Kings would lose strength over time."
A new gate appeared above them—formed of deep azure light, slowly opening.
"On to the next trial," Ezreal said, transforming into golden light and launching upward.
Katarina followed, her blades forming steps beneath her as she ascended into the gate's glow.