"What is this…?"
Vayne lifted her curtain and peered outside. The flickering light of the night sky outlined several dark figures at her gate. Her eyes narrowed as she muttered in a low voice, "Freljord raiders—Gwask boar riders?"
But why were they here?
Confusion filled her. Years ago, in her quest for vengeance against her parents' killers, she had traveled to the Freljord in search of power. It was there she met her lifelong mentor—Freya.
Under Freya's rigorous guidance, she learned more than combat. She gained deep insight into the Freljord itself.
The Gwask war boar was a beast native only to that frozen land: thick hide, enormous size, indomitable endurance, and a will as unyielding as the glaciers. Trained and bonded to a rider, they would fight to the very last breath for their chosen knight.
Rubbing her night-vision scope, Vayne glanced again. Three riders astride boars filled the street, their hulking frames nearly blocking the entire road.
To her, they weren't much of a threat. A few rolls, a few sharp twangs of her crossbow, and their lives would end.
The peaceful days she had enjoyed lately had not dulled her edge. She savored her quiet life, yet deep within, her primal hunger remained untouched—her thirst for combat, for blood. Especially the blood of shapeshifters, black mages, and demons.
But rushing out now would be reckless. Duke's precious disciple was in the neighboring house. Vayne needed to protect her first.
Knock, knock, knock…
Two riders guided their boars down the street in opposite directions, the beasts' heavy steps echoing like war drums. Their plundering would begin soon. Adorned with stolen gold and silver, their mounts laden with spoils, they were walking treasure vaults.
The third rider remained outside Vayne's estate, his bare arms rippling with muscle, an icy flail in hand.
An Iceborn warrior. In the Freljord's eternal blizzards, such men fought bare-chested, impervious to cold. Here in the warm south, his strength was diminished—but still far beyond the average southerner's.
These weaklings would crumble at a single blow from the might of the Iceborn.
"Hyah!"
With a whistle, the boar rider urged his mount forward, charging toward the estate to break in and plunder.
But before he could, a figure lunged from the shadows. Smaller than the Gwask beast, but infinitely faster.
Boom!
Angr leapt forth and slammed headfirst into the boar's skull. Metal and muscle clashed. His mechanical body gave him terrifying resilience, impervious to blade and fang alike.
Thud, thud
The massive boar stumbled back, shaking its head violently. The strike had come too fast. Its brain reeled, stunned from the impact.
"Hyahh!!"
The rider blew a sharp whistle. The boar instinctively obeyed, surging forward in a brutal charge, tusks lowered like a living siege engine ready to crush all before it.
"Roooar!!"
From Angr's twin heads, fury blazed. The sight of Gwask riders awakened memories long buried—snow whipping in the wind, slicing like knives through fur, a rider's cold eyes gleaming beneath the storm, steel flashing.
His tribe drowned in blood, white snow stained red.
Hatred.
Resentment.
Helplessness.
Despair.
The fragments of his past burned together into a single flame.
Unyielding fury.
Like a volcano erupting, molten rage flooded him.
"Raaagh!!"
Fire and gale burst from his jaws. Flame spilled from one mouth, wind swirled around his frame, whipping the night into chaos.
"Wraaoohh!!"
The hidden jets beneath his fur roared, propelling him forward with unstoppable force. Wolf against boar, vengeance against oppression.
Claws, fangs, body—Angr hurled all into battle.
The boar's multi-ton frame thundered into a short burst of speed. But against Angr, it was an egg against stone. In an instant, the twin-headed wolf tore through it.
Inside the house, Vayne's lips twitched.
Her carriage-pulling wolf, the simple, silly Angr—had just killed a Gwask war boar in a single collision.
Like a tomato dashed against a blade. The boar and its rider split apart, lifeless.
"Where on Runeterra did Duke find this shadow wolf?"
She stared at the mangled remains. No matter how much she thought she understood Duke, he always revealed another mystery. Both he and his creations wore veils within veils.
"Awoooo!!"
Angr threw back his heads and howled, the sound carrying fury unspent. If anything, his rage only grew fiercer.
The other two riders rushed back, abandoning their targets at the sound.
They arrived to find carnage: blood pooled across the street, a bisected corpse, and the twin-headed wolf standing tall, howling to the night.
The howl dwindled. His heads snapped toward them. He charged again.
Fangs and claws ripped into flesh, unquenchable fury driving him. One rider was hurled back by a collision, the other shredded midair. Angr ignored the flail striking against his hide. His jaws clamped down, tearing a throat open.
As blood sprayed, something stirred within him.
Elemental power flooded his altered body. Flames and magma—once restrained—awakened, reshaping him.
At that moment, his violence drew the attention of another.
Having killed again, Angr turned, paws gouging deep pits in the earth as he exploded into motion. To Vayne's eyes, only a shadow streaked past.
The last rider met the same fate—chest ripped open, throat torn out, boar ripped to pieces.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
Standing amidst rivers of blood, Angr glared at the corpses, flames and wind surging more violently from his mouths.
Then a sudden chill swept in. Snowflakes spun down, freezing blood and flesh solid.
At the end of the road, another Gwask boar approached. Upon its back sat a woman with bare arms wrapped in bone charms and totems.
A killing frost swirled around her, dyeing her skin white, her eyes shimmering with magic's icy blue.
The Frost Priestess—Solva.
Her cold gaze locked on the beast before her. He resembled a Winterfang wolf, yet smaller, with two heads, eyes burning with rage.
Solva recognized that look. Fury.
But fury meant nothing before one blessed by the gods.
Her winds howled, snow slashing like knives. With her alone, she conjured a blizzard here in the warm south.
Angr staggered, vision blurring. The storm dragged him back to that memory—his tribe slaughtered in snow and blood.
But not this time.
Never again.
Digging claws into the ground, he let his buried potential erupt.
On her mount, Solva narrowed her eyes. Then, astonishment spread across her face.
Through the blizzard, a monstrous silhouette advanced. Each step doubled its size. The two heads split further apart, until a third head burst forth between them.
Now Angr loomed like a house, towering over her. The newborn head opened its eyes—one ember-red like a raging forge, the other ice-blue like eternal winter.
And from his jaws sparked lightning, a storm of destruction gathering.
"Valhalla…"
Solva whispered an ancient name, one spoken only in Freljord's oldest myths.
A heartbeat later, thunder struck.
The world drowned in Angr's fury.
From her room, Vayne watched it all.
After a long silence, she muttered, "Looks like Duke will need to build a bigger carriage."
End of chapter....
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