"Let's end this tonight!"
Standing at the palace gates, Duke gazed toward the fires raging in the distance. His expression was as calm as still water. Beside him, King Jarvan III stood quietly, eyes filled with gratitude.
"Thank you for your help, Duke."
"It's nothing."
Duke raised his hand, releasing Pride and Gluttony, who stretched their bodies slowly as they appeared before the palace.
"I'm only doing this to protect my own interests," he added flatly. "Go prepare what you must, Your Majesty."
Snapping his fingers, Duke summoned Nocturne from the shadows beneath his feet. The demon emerged silently, entirely under Duke's control now.
Everything before this had been carefully arranged by Duke to ensure Jarvan III's safety. Placing Nocturne at the King's side as insurance had turned out to be the right call—Nocturne had indeed proven useful.
"Continue to protect him. If anything happens to him," Duke warned, giving Nocturne a cold glance, "you know the consequences."
A shiver ran through Nocturne. For a creature that fed on fear, it was rare for him to feel it—yet Duke's eyes alone were enough. He bowed wordlessly and melted into Jarvan III's shadow once more. Freed from the spiritual realm yet bound by Duke's will, the demon had no way back.
That was fine with Duke. Keeping him close was more practical anyway.
As for Evelynn, the one who had tricked him before—she still remained sealed away in his inventory. Without enough suffering to fuel her recovery, she would be dormant for a long time. Duke had no time to care; best to leave her there for now.
If Vayne ever found out he still had Evelynn in his possession, she'd definitely throw a fit.
And when women got angry… it could be terrifying.
Even Tahm, the river demon, had been half-tortured to death by Miss Fortune during her pregnancy.
"Prepare well, Your Majesty," Duke said quietly.
"The night is still long."
He stepped out of the palace, hovering off the ground as he drifted toward the city. Channeling the Force beneath his feet, he propelled himself forward, pulling out an anti-gravity hover platform once he cleared Dawn Castle.
Encased in a faint aura of energy, Duke sped toward the heart of the chaos, Pride and Gluttony following closely behind.
Before long, he reached the skies above Guardian Avenue, where the Bristleback Boar Riders of the Freljord rampaged freely through the streets below. Duke clicked his tongue.
"These Freljordians really have no fear."
Watching from above as they looted, burned, and killed through the city, Duke shook his head.
"Go ahead, plunder all you want. You won't be leaving this place anyway."
Instead of attacking, he calmly reached into his inventory and pulled out a loudspeaker, strapping it onto himself before speaking, his voice echoing across the city.
"Good evening, everyone. I'm just a concerned citizen who prefers to remain anonymous."
"To all the mages currently rioting—please drop what you're doing, kneel down, and place your hands behind your head. If you comply, you will not be harmed."
"However, if you fail to do so within ten seconds, I'm afraid you'll be facing severe suppression and punishment."
"During the suppression, if your safety is compromised, well… that's on you, not me."
"All final interpretation rights belong solely to me. If you want justice, feel free to earn it—if you can beat me."
"Countdown starts now!"
He checked Edith's timer. When only three seconds remained, Duke's voice boomed again,
"Last three seconds!"
"Three… two… one!"
"Well then, congratulations to those who didn't listen—you've just earned yourselves a mysterious surprise package."
Putting the loudspeaker away, Duke pulled out all of his suppressive weapons and equipment.
From above, mechanical enforcers—half-scorpion, half-spider in design—rained down to the ground. Duke tapped Edith's frame, connecting to the channel shared by Pride and Gluttony.
"Children, suppress the riot."
"Use non-lethal force when possible—but for those too stubborn or stupid to listen, do whatever you like."
"Roar!"
Pride responded first. Though his body bristled with lethal weaponry, even he had his own way of restraint.
As his roaring engine blazed to life, the strange two-wheeled beast drew the eyes of every Bristleback Rider.
"What is that?"
Scar-Mother Freyna squinted toward the oncoming machine, a trace of suspicion flashing in her eyes. At her side, Brokvar Ironfist flexed his wrists, excitement glinting in his gaze.
"Shall I go, Freyna?"
Freyna glanced at him. The massive Iceborn warrior had been her loyal supporter—and occasional lover—for nearly a decade. If she had to choose one warrior in all of Freljord to fight by her side, it would be him.
He stood half a head taller than her next strongest fighter and was powerful enough to lift a Bristleback boar clean off the ground. He lived for battle and excelled in it.
Strapped across his back was Winter's Sigh, a legendary greatsword passed down through generations of the Winter's Claw tribe. A shard of pure True Ice sat embedded in its hilt, wreathing the blade in frost. For anyone who wasn't Iceborn—including Freyna—the sword's chill alone would mean unbearable agony or instant death.
Seeing the eagerness in Brokvar's eyes, Freyna smiled thinly.
"Go on then. Let's see what these southern weaklings can do."
"Gladly!"
With a thunderous roar, Brokvar urged his boar into a charge, drawing Winter's Sigh in mid-sprint.
"RAAAH!"
The next instant, before Freyna's eyes, both rider and mount vanished completely—as though melted away in front of a forge. Only a heap of ashes remained.
Pride's headlights dimmed slightly. Staring down at the ashes, he muttered, "Too much force. Fragile little thing… guess I'll dial it down next time."
Before Freyna could even react, Pride was already upon her. His front wheel reared high before his entire body transformed midair into combat mode, slamming down with a deafening crash.
Scarlet eyes flared, scanning over the Winter's Claw warriors.
"Kneel, or die."
...
"Not bad, Pride," Duke murmured from above. "Only three to five casualties. But Gluttony… what are you doing now?"
Hovering in the air, Duke sighed as he spotted Gluttony busily stuffing the ruins of houses into her mouth between swipes of her tail. Every mage who dared attack her was promptly swatted aside as she pretended not to notice, cheeks puffed full as she nervously darted her eyes around.
"You greedy brat..." Duke groaned, pinching his forehead. That gluttonous habit of hers had never changed—it was exhausting.
"Gluttony!"
The moment Duke's cold voice echoed in her mind, Gluttony froze, dropping the beam she had just picked up. Under the terrified gaze of a nearby family, she scrambled off to hunt the rioting mages instead.
Hiss!
A massive serpent's hiss filled the streets. Steam burst out in waves, blanketing the entire block. Within seconds, agonized screams erupted as Gluttony's web-like threads sprayed through the mist, pinning every rioter to the ground.
When the vapor cleared, what remained were dozens of unconscious, half-dissolved bodies bound tightly in sticky silk. Gluttony slithered away to continue her patrol, and Duke turned his gaze elsewhere.
The autonomous suppression units kept working, their non-lethal soundwaves disorienting the mages before wrapping them in webs. The stronger ones fought back, forcing the drones to engage in brutal duels.
Flashes of magic flickered all across the capital. Duke didn't bother watching—Pride and Gluttony would handle it. Either their foes would be vaporized by plasma beams, or swallowed whole.
Then he spotted a familiar sight—a massive three-headed hound tearing through enemy ranks. Behind it stood two figures, their energy flaring in rhythmic pulses that froze rioters in place, each flash followed by a barrage of spectral bolts.
"Well, well," Duke chuckled. "Looks like Anger's secrets run deeper than I thought. I'll have to study that later."
Hovering high above, Duke overlooked the entire city—but his presence didn't go unnoticed.
"Heh. So you're the anomaly," LeBlanc's voice purred, her illusionary form shimmering with intrigue. Somewhere else in the city, another figure glared upward, eyes seething with rage.
"Duke Sanchez! Once again, you ruin everything!"
At that very moment, Jarvan III entered a secret chamber deep within Dawn Castle. Candles flickered all around, and in their glow stood Morgana, her black wings spread wide, eyes filled with quiet remembrance as she faced a stone effigy.
Taking a deep breath, Jarvan III spoke solemnly.
"O great Veiled One, guardian angel of Demacia's wings—I beseech your aid."
"So the time has come?"
Morgana turned, her violet eyes glowing softly. Jarvan nodded. "Yes. It's time. I ask for your strength."
"Very well."
Above the capital, Duke had just taken a sip of wine when a single black feather drifted down from the heavens.
His brows arched.
"So, the final act begins."
"Which means… my time in Demacia has officially entered its countdown."
End of chapter....
IRONBOUND PATRON
🔹 Hexcore Initiate – 15 chapters ahead
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