"MONSTER!!!"
The terrified screams of Demacian soldiers echoed across the battlefield, matched by equally horrified cries from their Noxian opponents. The sight before them transcended the boundaries of normal warfare—a nightmarish scarecrow wreathed in countless crows that seemed to embody everyone's deepest fears made manifest.
This wasn't just another enemy combatant. This entity fed on terror itself, gnawing at their sanity with each passing moment.
"KILL!!!" Garen roared, his body blazing with azure radiance as he led his transformed warriors in a desperate charge toward the demonic scarecrow.
Since Fiddlesticks had appeared on the battlefield, the conflict between Demacia and Noxus had ground to a complete standstill. Soldiers from both armies found themselves united in their struggle against this primordial horror that threatened to devour them all.
Facing such an otherworldly threat, Garen had no choice but to activate his armor's spiritualization mode and confront the demon directly.
Perhaps because of his enhanced spiritual state, the fear demon seemed to recognize him as the primary threat, focusing its malevolent attention on him with murderous intensity.
Despite taking the form of a crude scarecrow, Fiddlesticks possessed combat abilities that made the chemically enhanced Noxian soldiers seem like children playing with wooden swords.
CLANG!
Storm sword met spectral scythe in a shower of sparks that illuminated the darkening battlefield.
Their attacks appeared evenly matched, which didn't surprise Garen. He hadn't yet completed any kills since entering spiritualization mode—while the transformation enhanced his base capabilities, he hadn't absorbed additional power through combat victories.
The duel continued with relentless intensity, each clash producing brilliant cascades of sparks that temporarily drove back the surrounding darkness.
As a primordial fear demon, Fiddlesticks summoned its signature murder of crows, creating a living storm of black wings and razor talons that engulfed Garen completely. The mortal's strange armor emanated power that seemed to resist fear itself—a troubling development that required more aggressive tactics.
CAW! CAW! CAW!
The crows swarmed over Garen's form like a supernatural hurricane, their cries drowning out all other sounds as they completely obscured his azure radiance beneath a writhing mass of midnight feathers.
"FOR DEMACIA!!!"
A thunderous battle cry erupted from within the crow storm, followed by a pillar of light that pierced straight through to the heavens above. Garen burst from the chaotic swarm with his metallic wings spread wide, taking to the air with divine majesty.
The general of Demacia could actually fly?
Both armies stared in stunned amazement at this impossible sight. Their preconceptions about mortal limitations crumbled as they witnessed their champion soar through the sky like an avenging angel.
Garen felt no hesitation about exploiting his aerial advantage. He transformed himself into a whirling tempest of steel, diving toward the scarecrow with his great sword spinning in devastating arcs.
"DIE, ABOMINATION!"
Each sweep of his weapon carved through the supernatural crows, and the spiritual light radiating from his armor consumed the slain creatures, rapidly increasing his power with every kill.
Faced with Garen's escalating assault, even Fiddlesticks was forced to retreat. While demons possessed considerable pride, they weren't mindless fools.
Though the fear generated by powerful opponents was particularly delicious, the price of killing such individuals could prove catastrophic.
"That manipulator knew this would happen, didn't he?" the scarecrow muttered to itself, recognizing Swain's strategic manipulation. "He wanted us to exhaust each other..."
As Garen closed in for what appeared to be a finishing blow, Fiddlesticks went completely rigid, transforming into an ordinary scarecrow with a grotesque grinning mouth.
CRACK!
The construct couldn't withstand even a moment under Garen's radiant blade. His light-wreathed sword cleaved the effigy cleanly in half, sending its head tumbling to the ground.
The scarecrow's severed head landed with its mocking grin still intact, causing Garen to frown with deep suspicion.
He understood that the demon remained very much alive. He'd only destroyed one of its manifestation vessels—a temporary scarecrow form that could be easily replaced.
"RETREAT!" Garen commanded after crushing the grinning head beneath his boot.
He led his soldiers back toward their border fortifications, his mind already racing through tactical assessments. The frontier was becoming increasingly dangerous with each passing day. Perhaps it was time to request additional support from Prince Jarvan IV. He and his current forces couldn't indefinitely withstand these supernatural escalations.
Meanwhile, in Zaun
"I need to leave for a while," Marcus informed Vander without preamble. "If anything urgent arises, consult with the Void Angels."
Before Vander could respond, Marcus stepped through a shimmering portal that appeared beside him, vanishing completely from sight.
"Why such urgency? Where could he be going?" Vander wondered aloud, shaking his head as he returned to his daily responsibilities.
The portal had transported Marcus directly to the notorious port city of Bilgewater—a location that immediately assaulted his senses with its chaotic atmosphere.
"This place truly cannot compare to Zaun," Marcus observed with obvious distaste.
While "Bilgewater Port" sounded respectable enough, the reality was a lawless haven where pirates, smugglers, and cutthroats gathered to conduct their illegal business. If he hadn't been searching for something specific, he would never have willingly visited such a place.
"Should I seek out Illaoi's sea beast god?" Marcus considered briefly before dismissing the idea. "No, that can wait. Shadow Isles takes priority."
Since Shadow Isles appeared on no conventional maps, Bilgewater represented his best source of navigational information. He planned to visit those cursed islands and negotiate with their undead inhabitants. If everything proceeded smoothly, he could investigate the sea beast god on his return journey.
However, Marcus didn't hold particularly high expectations for that secondary objective. The sea beast deity offered little compatibility with his current armor systems. Only the deep-sea leviathan connected to his Hydroid [Tidal Surge] configuration might benefit from such contact.
"Hey there, rich boy," two pirates suddenly materialized from a nearby alley, blocking his path with obvious criminal intent. "How about lending us some coin?"
One of the thugs draped his arm across Marcus's shoulder in a mockingly friendly gesture while brandishing a blood-stained dagger with obvious threatening implications.
"Borrow money?" Marcus chuckled at their audacity.
This was indeed a pirate haven where lawlessness reigned supreme. He couldn't walk a single city block without encountering extortion attempts.
SNAP!
Marcus casually reached up and grasped the first pirate's jaw. A slight application of pressure crushed the bone completely before his hand slid down to the man's throat. A gentle twist produced a distinctive crack as the vertebrae separated.
Witnessing his partner's instant execution, the second pirate's legs gave out completely. He collapsed to his knees, trembling with absolute terror.
But Marcus showed no mercy toward those who had chosen to threaten him. Since these individuals had opted for robbery and violence, he would gladly send them to whatever afterlife awaited such people.
Click.
The second man joined his colleague in death.
"Shadow Isles... damn, I should have read their memories first," Marcus realized with mild irritation.
Looking down at the two corpses, he felt genuinely annoyed with himself. His reflexive elimination of threats had prevented him from gathering potentially useful intelligence.
"That looks like a tavern," he noted, spotting a likely establishment nearby. "Hopefully I can find answers there."
Marcus headed toward the building, unaware that his brief encounter would soon escalate into something far more significant.
Shortly after his departure, the bodies were discovered and the news quickly reached Gangplank, the self-proclaimed king of Bilgewater.
"You're telling me someone killed my men?" Gangplank growled around his cigar.
While only two low-ranking crew members had died, he viewed their deaths as a direct challenge to his authority. Such disrespect could not be tolerated in his city.
"Find whoever did this!" he commanded. "Anyone who dares challenge Captain Gangplank will be chopped up and fed to the sharks!"
His orders triggered an immediate citywide manhunt. Armed searchers flooded Bilgewater's streets, arresting anyone who appeared suspicious or failed to provide adequate identification.
Inside the Tavern
"Sarah, hide our supplies immediately," a middle-aged man burst through the tavern's entrance, speaking urgently to a striking young woman behind the bar. "Gangplank is conducting another city search."
Many Bilgewater residents harbored deep resentment toward Gangplank's tyrannical rule, but most lacked the means to oppose him effectively. However, certain individuals had spent years secretly preparing for the day they could finally eliminate the pirate king.
Their preparations weren't yet complete, and discovery of their hidden weapons would doom their entire rebellion before it could begin.
"That bastard is searching again? What triggered it this time?" the woman asked, quickly concealing her twin pistols beneath the counter.
"Apparently some of his crew were killed. He wants to find the murderer and make an example of them," the man replied.
"Making examples? That old fool really is losing his edge," Sarah muttered with obvious contempt.
Both conspirators hurried out of the tavern, failing to notice the well-dressed stranger observing them from a corner table.
"So those two idiots belonged to Gangplank?" Marcus mused with interest. "Well, that's convenient. The pirate king himself should possess the navigational knowledge I need."
He studied the departing woman with analytical appreciation, recognizing her true identity despite her current disguise.
"Miss Fortune, the bounty hunter," he observed with approval. "Quite impressive indeed."
Marcus signaled the bartender and ordered a glass of rum.
When the drink arrived, he took a cautious sip and immediately grimaced at the harsh, acidic flavor.
"This swill doesn't even compare to Vander's house special," he complained.
The quality was so abysmal that he couldn't help but imagine his former associates' reactions. "If Tony tasted this, he'd probably spit it out immediately. Same with Logan."
The poor rum was barely tolerable even for someone with his enhanced constitution. For those who actually appreciated fine alcohol, consuming this rotgut would constitute genuine torture.
BANG!
The tavern door exploded inward as several threatening pirates stormed inside, their eyes immediately scanning the nearly empty establishment. Most patrons had wisely evacuated upon hearing about Gangplank's search, leaving Marcus as the only obviously wealthy target.
"That one looks loaded, boys," the leader declared with obvious greed. "Take him!"
Their search had dual purposes—finding the murderer while also identifying anyone who might threaten Gangplank's authority. Marcus's expensive clothing and confident bearing made him precisely the kind of target they sought.
Several thugs approached his table with predatory grins, clearly intending to bind and kidnap him for interrogation.
Marcus set down his glass and spoke a single word.
"Leave."
BOOM!
The pirates flew backward as if struck by an invisible battering ram, crashing into walls and furniture with bone-breaking force.
Witnessing his men's inexplicable defeat, the remaining leader recognized that Marcus must be the killer they sought.
The pirate fumbled for a signal flare, sprinting outside before launching the red warning into the sky. The crimson illumination bathed all of Bilgewater in ominous light.
"Surround this building!" he screamed to anyone within earshot.
Understanding that he was completely outclassed, the survivor relied on his captain's reputation and resources to handle this supernatural threat.
Within minutes, Gangplank himself arrived with a substantial force. After surveying the surrounded tavern, the pirate king bellowed his orders.
"What are you idiots waiting for? Go in there and drag him out!"
He kicked open the tavern door and spotted Marcus, still calmly sipping his terrible rum at the same table.
"So you're the one who killed my crew?" Gangplank demanded with arrogant confidence.
As the undisputed ruler of Bilgewater, operating on his own territory, he felt no concern about potential threats to his safety.
However, when he finished speaking, Marcus completely ignored him, instead frowning at his drink with obvious disgust.
"No matter how many times I try it, this flavor remains absolutely unacceptable," Marcus muttered, shaking his head in disappointment.
The awful taste reminded him of expired fruit juice mixed with dirty water and fermented grain refuse—enough to make his eye twitch involuntarily.
"Damn you, look at me when I'm speaking!" Gangplank snarled, his authority clearly challenged by such blatant disrespect.
This represented a dangerous precedent. If he failed to handle this insult properly, his subordinates might begin questioning his leadership. Such weakness could not be tolerated under any circumstances.
Gangplank raised his flintlock pistol and fired directly at Marcus's back. The weapon discharged with a thunderous boom and cloud of smoke as the bullet streaked toward its target.
"I gave you an opportunity," Marcus observed calmly, catching the projectile between two fingers before turning to face the infamous Pirate King of Bilgewater. "It appears you genuinely want to die."
While Marcus had no particular opinion about Gangplank previously—the pirate had never personally threatened him—the situation had changed dramatically. Gangplank had just attempted murder, making his intentions crystal clear.
Facing such direct hostility, Marcus felt no obligation to consider the man's reputation or position. The most efficient solution was complete elimination.
But first, he needed information about Shadow Isles' location.
Marcus flicked the captured bullet back toward Gangplank's knee. The projectile struck with devastating force, instantly vaporizing the pirate's entire left leg in a spray of crimson mist.
Before anyone could react, Marcus materialized beside the wounded captain like a phantom, grasping Gangplank's throat and lifting him effortlessly into the air.
Pale light emanated from both their eyes as Marcus accessed every memory contained within the pirate king's mind.
When the glow faded, Gangplank regained consciousness to find himself suspended and in agony from his severed limb.
"Perfect. The location is exactly where I expected," Marcus noted with satisfaction. "Impressive knowledge for a pirate king."
His mental scan had revealed that Gangplank possessed remarkably comprehensive intelligence—everything from secret waterways to ancient battles, from historical figures to lost civilizations.
The man even understood considerable magical theory, suggesting genuine intellectual gifts beneath his crude exterior.
CRACK!
Marcus snapped Gangplank's neck with casual ease before dropping the corpse to the floor. While the pirate king might qualify as a notable figure in this world, Marcus felt no compunction about eliminating someone who had tried to kill him.
Though he generally maintained cordial relationships with others, he was neither naive nor excessively merciful toward those who posed direct threats to his existence.