Arcane: Mage from Noxus

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Three Days Later, Night

In Ryan's Room

Ryan sat at his desk, a book detailing various runes resting in one hand while water swirled around the fingers of his other hand, sketching intricate symbols in the air. His focus remained sharp, his attention unwavering.

Suddenly, a crow fluttered through the open window, perching on the wooden frame near his bed.

This crow was unlike the one before—it had two pairs of scarlet eyes, glowing with an eerie, almost bloody light. Its presence radiated a sinister power, far surpassing its predecessor.

"The Empire is aware," the crow announced, its voice smooth and steady, with the commanding tone of a middle-aged man.

"Darkwill is furious."

Ryan did not look up from the book. His tone was calm, indifferent.

"This is all part of the plan. Has Pale Lady shown any unusual activity lately?"

He continued studying the runes, his mind etching their patterns for future use. The politics of Noxus were of little concern to him; the Commander could handle those matters.

His role was clear: sow chaos in Piltover.

The recent disruption in Piltover had already stirred unrest within the Empire. The Hex gates remained operational, but trade had slowed considerably, and the once-efficient flow of Noxian armies across Runeterra had dwindled. As a result, the spoils of war had significantly diminished, much to the dismay of Noxian nobility.

Whispers had begun to spread through the Immortal Bastion, pointing fingers at Ryan. Many believed he was sabotaging the Empire's logistics out of spite of the losses sustained at the Battle of Presidian.

The crow's glowing eyes fixated on him.

"She remains in the shadows," it said in a low, disdainful tone.

"A manipulator, an enchantress who deceives the world. Her ambition is grand, but her vision is pitifully small."

Ryan smirked, amused by the crow's judgment.

"Hundreds of years controlling the Empire, and that's your assessment of her?"

He recalled Pale Lady's offer before the Battle of Presidian. She had tempted him with promises of knowledge, power, and even immortality if he betrayed Swain.

Her voice had been firm, her tone enticing, but Ryan had refused without hesitation.

Power, wealth, dominion, eternal life…

Ryan chuckled softly at the thought.

The crow lifted its head, a sneer lacing its words.

"The Empire stands as the sole beacon of strength in this world. To raise Noxus to the pinnacle of Runeterra is the highest glory. Yet she concerns herself with trivial matters—sentimental affairs and the scars of her past."

Ryan turned a page in his book, his tone light with irony.

"Commander, we can't expect our enemies to mirror your ideals. I'm afraid you'll have to endure it."

The crow sighed, its voice carrying both weariness and resolve.

"If there were more like me in Noxus, I wouldn't need to rely on you. But alas, in all the Empire, the only allies I can truly trust are you and Darius."

After a brief pause, the crow continued, its gaze shifting toward the window, as though peering into the heart of Piltover.

"Still, our strength has grown. The water barrier encompassing Piltover and Zaun is tighter than before. What was once a vulnerability has now been sealed—thanks to her alignment with the Trifarix. Such skill would be better used to fortify Noxus."

Ryan caught the undertone of Swain's words. The Commander questioned why he was expending such considerable effort here, seemingly for little gain. A sly smile crept onto Ryan's lips.

"Commander," he began, "one day, Noxus will flourish under the shadow of the Black Rose and the wings of the crow alike. But until then, we must prepare. Piltover and Zaun are ideal proving grounds."

Swain's voice carried a hint of finality. "I take one step at a time, Ryan. Victory begins with a focus on the present war."

The crow's eyes gleamed once more. "Word of Zaun's declaration of independence has spread across the continent. Darkwill, in his frustration, has called for an expedition against Demacia. The Garrison is expected to mobilize in three months—Zaun is their likely target."

Ryan's expression remained calm. "No surprise there. The hex gates are critical for Noxian transport. If Piltover falls, it jeopardizes the Empire's logistics. That gives us three months to prepare."

The room fell silent once more, save for the faint scratching of Ryan's pen as he resumed his work. Outside, the city of Piltover sprawled under a pale moon, unaware of the forces conspiring against it.

"Enough, I was fully prepared at that time, enough to bury him and the decay of the empire."

The crow's voice was low but contained a certain belief, "At that time, the empire will usher in a new chapter."

"I will meet the Garrison in Zaun. It's time for the undead War God to take his final bow."

Ryan closed the book with a decisive snap, holding it firmly in the palm of his hand. The water on the floor began to coalesce, swirling into a massive form—a towering, muscular figure, standing at a height of 4.5 meters.

It was the manifestation of a magical construct, the God of War. In life, he had been a flawless warrior, one who had once strangled a Demacian king with his bare hands.

Before his death, he had voluntarily embraced undeath, choosing to serve the Empire even after his mortal life had ended.

Now, he served as the vanguard of Darkwill's elite Garrison, currently stationed at the frontlines in Demacia.

"Before that, let us witness. What will ignite the people's fighting spirit more—a promising future or an impending crisis?"

With a simple wave of Ryan's hand, the undead God of War dispersed into water, which reformed into a three-dimensional model of Piltover and Zaun. The cityscapes hovered before them, intricately detailed in flowing water.

"Zaun longs for a future, while Piltover clings to the present... Interesting, this experiment," the crow commented. Its four scarlet eyes gleamed with a hint of intrigue.

"If circumstances were different, I'd observe this experiment up close myself. Everything valuable to the Empire's future deserves close scrutiny."

After discussing the state of the world for a while, the crow took flight, vanishing into the night through the open window.

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Half a Month Later, Zaun, Black Lane

A young man with a white mohawk and dark skin covered his face, walking down the neatly paved streets of Zaun with an expression of surprise.

He had grown up in a dark alley where a small shop had once sold odd gadgets and, more importantly, shared valuable information.

The Black Alley had always been dirty and foul-smelling, but it had been a place of safety and happiness.

However, since Silco had come to power, Black Alley had become a haven for criminals, with all manner of unsavory individuals taking residence.

The simple, hardworking people of Zaun had disappeared.

But a few years later, Viktor had arrived in Zaun. The boy had heard the rumors about him—he was a genius from Piltover College, but also a traitor despised by the people of Zaun.

Yet Viktor had returned.

On the day of his return, Viktor first leveled the home of a councilor, then destroyed the bridge that had symbolized Zaun's humiliation in front of the citizens of both Zaun and Piltover.

From that moment, the boy had known deep down that Zaun had a new master.

Viktor.

The man who had returned to Zaun and, through sheer strength, brought real hope to the people of the city.

Truthfully, if it weren't for the memories of his time in the Black Alley, the boy might have defected to Viktor's side long ago.

He mused bitterly as he walked through the streets, noticing the changes that had begun to reshape the city.

Since Piltover had declared Zaun's independence half a month ago, the city had begun transforming in ways that confused him.

First, a group of large robots—massive machines with pipes and mechanical appendages—roamed the streets, constantly inhaling the noxious gases in the air.

According to Silco's propaganda, these machines were called "air purifiers," designed to filter the harmful chemicals from Zaun's atmosphere.

He didn't entirely understand the reasoning, but at least the air around Zaun was now noticeably cleaner. The pungent smells of industrial waste and the sour stench of decaying matter were gone. There was even a faint, pleasant fragrance in the air.

Zaun had never imagined it could smell so nice, not even in Piltover.

The boy absentmindedly touched his nose through his mask, wishing he could remove it to fully savor the fresh air.

"Hey, you! Stop!" A voice called from behind, cutting through the boy's thoughts.