The moment the bound villagers of Nohr Village saw Meredith's black, rune-patterned mage's robe, they instantly fell into despair. Several women broke into tears and snot, and the warehouse filled with the stench of fear—urine and filth.
"They're… villagers of Nohr Village? Why are the villagers tied up?"
A boy holding a small dagger stared in confusion.
Meredith shook her head.
"They are not villagers of Nohr Village. They are traitors—those who tried to betray Noxus. After Lord Lester gave his orders, they chose to flee. That is why they're here now."
A cruel smile tugged at her lips, and her voice grew icy.
"Compared to the others, you all are talented. But it's not enough—far from enough.
Right now you are nowhere near capable of standing against the bandits of the south. Many of you may not even be able to endure the sight of blood, or the weight of killing. Fortunately, the great Lord Lester anticipated all of this. He cares for you that deeply."
Stepping aside, her shadowed expression grew even more sinister.
"These traitors will be your first whetstone. You will kill these wretches with your own hands to prove you truly have the courage to follow Lord Lester into battle."
"Mmfff!! Mmmmffff!!!"
The bound villagers thrashed violently again. Seeing the defenseless people at their feet, several of the young recruits hesitated, torn with pity.
"If we choose not t—"
Before Allsopp could finish, the sound of a blade rang out—sharp and sudden. A sword pierced straight into the neck of a female villager, spraying blood.
As her gaze faded in the growing pool of red, the girl who struck pulled the blade out, frowned, and plunged it in again. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn't react—she only pressed her fingers under the villager's nose, checking her breath.
Meredith stared, stunned. The girl's hands had moved faster than Meredith could speak.
Her first kill… and she wasn't afraid at all?
"She's dead," Margaret said flatly. "How many more do you need killed, Mage? Can I do them all?"
Meredith choked on her words.
"You… you… truly…"
Allsopp stepped back, the curiosity and affection he had earlier replaced entirely with fear.
"No. One kill is enough."
Stopping the girl—whose eagerness genuinely alarmed her—Meredith suddenly feared Margaret might slaughter all the traitors alone.
"Good."
Margaret tore a clean piece of cloth from a villager's garment, wiped her longsword spotless, tossed the cloth aside, sheathed her blade, and stood silently to the side.
Her mere presence made the others freeze, unable to act.
Decisive. Learns from killing. A real talent. Lord Lester will definitely like this one, Meredith thought.
Without showing it on her face, she quietly cast a calming spell. The suffocating fear and panic in the youths' hearts slowly loosened.
"If you cannot raise your weapon, then leave. I won't stop you."
Meredith looked at the boy who had spoken earlier.
"Lord Lester grants you full freedom in choosing. But if you can't bring yourself to strike down an unarmed traitor, how can you be trusted to face vicious bandits? On the battlefield, foolish mercy will only get your comrades killed. Decide. Don't waste my time."
Clenching his jaw, Allsopp glanced once at the shut warehouse door, then finally drew his dagger and stepped before a man.
"I'm sorry… when you chose to run, you should have been ready for this. Don't hate me."
He plunged the blade into the man's heart. Then, silently, he closed the dead man's unblinking eyes and stepped back.
Though hesitant, he overcame it. His hand is steady—likely used to slaughtering livestock with a short blade. Not bad, Meredith judged.
With two having acted, the remaining boys and girls hardened themselves and drew their weapons, each choosing their first kill.
One by one, lives withered.
The crying.
The grief.
The laughter.
The madness.
The numbness…
When Meredith opened the warehouse door, a suffocating cloud of blood burst outward from the enclosed space.
Behind her, the youths were releasing their fear in frenzied screams and ragged breaths. The mage felt a chill crawl up her spine. Looking up, she saw no moon in the sky.
She understood. After tonight, that dark warehouse behind her now held many new monsters. And she understood something else: she should show Lord Lester even deeper reverence… and fear.
The true creator of monsters was Lester.
All he had done was give a few commands…
Meanwhile, Lester—who was organizing both villagers and levied Noxians for excavation work—found Centurion Ottmann, newly returned to Nohr Village.
"Bring a few people. I'll show you how to make rope-pulled anti-cavalry spike traps. Then take your men and build several more. Camouflage them exactly where I told you earlier. No mistakes."
Lining up several sharpened four-meter logs, Lester bound them with thick hemp rope. The longest log was tied horizontally across the base. Each trap had three ropes—pulled by three people at once. The base log allowed it to lever upward rapidly like a spiked barricade.
Simple in principle. Ottmann and the other veteran Noxians understood immediately—but few people would have thought to use it this way. They couldn't help being impressed by Lester's ingenuity.
The long ropes had been prepared back in the Immortal Bastion; even so, they barely had enough.
After finishing his instructions, Lester turned and walked toward the smoother high ground up the mountain.
Along the way, men of the village passed him carrying bundles of branches and tree trunks upward.
On the high ground, Nohr Village's carpenter was sweating as he cut lumber. Young villagers helped shape it. Piles of two-meter wooden spears lay scattered, and nearby, another heap of one-and-a-half-meter throwing javelins.
"How many wooden spears and javelins can you make by dawn tomorrow?"
The carpenter answered honestly:
"About thirty spears. Javelins are easier—maybe sixty."
"That's not enough. By noon tomorrow, I need at least a hundred spears and at least two hundred javelins. Can you do it?"
The carpenter hesitated, eyes troubled.
"I'll send you another hundred workers. Will that do it?"
This time, the carpenter didn't hesitate.
"No problem."
Once everything was arranged, Lester spoke to a male mage who had been following him.
"What's your name?"
The mage bowed.
"Sir, I am Urza."
"Among your mages—do you have any long-distance communication spell?"