Freljord once again plunged into stagnation. Just as it began to move forward, the driver pulled the reins, and everything returned to the way it was. The clans fell into decline once more, plagued by hunger, looting, and violence. The golden decade was replaced by a dark age. There were no leaders willing to take on the burden of such a dire situation, and no hope for immediate change; only time could heal the wounds inflicted by the war.
The warm-blooded Freljordians, living in the more southern reaches of Freljord, became even more isolated. The threat from their more bloodthirsty kin was no longer as strong. Their forces were more capable than ever of withstanding attacks, and their power began to grow.
The Frostguard remained aloof, and Lissandra was well aware of all the events but did not intervene. Once again, the gods showed that they were very interested in mortals, even though they claimed not to care.
The remaining members of the Bear Clan managed to find refuge and establish a small settlement far from everyone. Despite being outnumbered by their enemies, they managed to form a reserve unit, which helped save some of the villagers. Kailen was unaware of this, and perhaps things could have changed, but now nothing could be undone.
Exiled by the goddess, he tried to return to Freljord, but every time he approached its territory, a blizzard would start, engulfing him and leaving him where he began, time and again. He ate little, his body weakened, and his eyesight began to return, with the irises of his eyes regaining their former color. His body was full of weakness, having lost the strength that had sustained every cell. The human body is remarkable and capable of adapting to environmental conditions time and again.
Kailen's body began to adapt, reverting to what it once was. He no longer possessed the physical strength to break wood with his bare hands, and most importantly, he lost his ice magic. Initially, he was consumed by rage towards everything; he wished death upon everyone and wanted to destroy. As time passed, his emotions subsided, and his sanity returned. He realized that he had been killing indiscriminately. He hated those who acted the same way but had become just like them. Only Bjorgulf and the god Volibear were to blame; there were no others, yet he directed his anger towards ordinary people and did not regret their deaths.
So now he is traveling along an unfamiliar road. He began to journey in search of healing and a way to return. Although deep inside, he does not want to go back to a place where nothing remains of his home. He wandered aimlessly, going wherever his eyes led him.
He had heard from other people about a being capable of healing; perhaps she could help him. According to the stories, she had often aided those in need. The Righteous One, as people called her, but unfortunately for Kailen, some tales said she could see the sins in people. And he had killed many, including the innocent.
Perhaps she would attack and end his suffering, or perhaps she would help—this was what he wanted to find out. He headed towards the center of Demacia, where he believed she resided. The journey through foreign lands was difficult for him; his weak eyesight forced him to find a branch and use it to guide his way, and his body's weakness prevented him from hunting and gathering food. Although he could successfully use the simple traps he had employed in his childhood to catch game and feed himself.
He had to discard his old clothes and bury them at the border of Freljord. He could no longer wear that armor due to his anger towards Anivia, his weakness, and his homesickness. In the first village he came across, he managed to buy simple clothes, which were not particularly comfortable.
Exhausted from his journey, Kailen stopped by a river and sat down by the water. In a meditative pose, he tried to reconnect with his gift, but there was nothing. He did not give up and every day tried to find a way to regain what he had lost. All he had left were his knowledge and ninja skills, which meant he was not completely defenseless.
Standing up, he decided to engage in more useful activities, such as honing his skills with his now weakened body. His strikes were no longer deadly, and his reaction time did not allow him to change tactics and redirect attacks instantly. He had to focus on technique rather than speed and strength.
His breathing became rapid, and drops of sweat began to roll down his body. He was not accustomed to the climate here. Dizziness, headaches, and nausea became frequent companions on his journey. After finishing his exercises, he headed to the river to wash up and rest a bit. Rinsing off, he approached his sharpened walking stick and returned to the water. Wading in up to his waist, he began to wait for fish. His vision struggled to make out objects underwater, despite the crystal-clear river.
He felt the fish swim nearby, and as he spotted its silhouette, he swiftly struck. The fish, by some miracle, managed to react and dodge. In its panic, it quickly swam away, disturbing the water and alarming the other inhabitants, who also quickly fled from the irritant.
"Once more," Kailen said.
He stayed still to let the water calm down, hoping the fish would swim by again. After waiting a few minutes, his prey returned. He found the silhouette of the fish and prepared to strike. The moment it paused for just a second, his staff darted towards it. But either he miscalculated the trajectory, or the water distorted the image, and his strike missed.
"Hrmph," he grumbled in frustration.
He continued his task but still could not catch a fish. In his homeland, this was the usual way to hunt fish. Brave souls would carve holes in the ice and dive in with spears, waiting for their prey. This method of hunting was fraught with risk: running out of air and being unable to resurface quickly, or losing the hole and becoming trapped under the ice. Few dared to hunt this way.
Freljordians had also adopted techniques from other peoples, such as using a thin line with bait to catch fish and then pulling them out when they bit. But Kailen had nothing like that, just a spear and a small knife.
Having failed to catch any fish, he had to search for game. First, he found places where rabbits lived by their tracks, such as nibbled grass, barely visible footprints on the ground, and remnants of their food. Setting up a simple trap, he placed several around the area. All he could do now was wait, hoping that one of them would catch something. To stave off hunger, he ate some berries, but they were hardly enough to replenish his energy.
Having set up another trap with bait in the form of nuts, increasing the chances of catching a squirrel, he settled down to wait again. He assumed a meditative pose, not missing the opportunity to feel his magic. But amidst his thoughts, he wondered, "What is this power for now? What is the purpose of my life, since apart from revenge, I have nothing left. Only because of it, I have not given up."
"Ingun, how I miss you. Asur, I would tell you my stories again and again, and maybe one day we would travel across Runeterra together. How I wish I could turn back time," a sorrowful tear rolled down his cheek.
Wiping away the solitary tear, he locked away his sadness, love, and longing in his heart. He promised himself that he would live to ensure this never happened to anyone else. When he destroyed the gods, only humans would decide their own fate. He knew there would be no fewer wars because of it, he knew people wouldn't become kinder, but at least no one would interfere.
Rising, he went to check his traps. Locating them, he managed to catch only one rabbit; the rest were empty. Returning with his catch, he sat by the river and began to clean it. Once done, he washed the meat and laid it on grass leaves. Gathering dry branches, he started making a fire by friction, the most challenging part of his morning.
"I never get this right," he muttered. He was frustrated that it didn't work at first, but he kept trying until a small wisp of smoke appeared. He placed dry leaves on top, and they began to burn. Adding twigs, he started to build up the fire.
Beginning his meager dinner, which tasted bad, he realized he never learned to cook well. But it was never necessary; his wife always prepared delicious meals for him. The bitterness of the memories took away his appetite, and he forced down the last bite before setting the food aside.
In his thoughts, he faintly heard a sound. He had long honed his senses and could easily distinguish the sounds of battle, the clashing of steel, or the subtle footsteps of a person. His hearing picked up a mix of sounds, coming from approximately three hundred meters away. His fire could be seen by them, so he quickly extinguished it with his foot.
Rising, he headed out to scout, each moment bringing him closer to the smell of blood and burning flesh. Moving stealthily, he came upon a scene where ragged men, dressed in whatever they could find, were fighting against soldiers in gleaming, perfectly polished armor. To an observer, it was clear that those in the fine armor should quickly claim victory, but the enemy had an advantage.
They wielded magic, and numerous firebolts were flying towards the Demacians, for no one else wore such armor. The armor partially dissipated the magic, but the sheer number of projectiles was overwhelming.
Kailen recalled the uprising of the magically gifted that was currently raging in Demacia. They had been oppressed and shackled, sent to toil in mines and build the great cities of Demacia.
The ragged fighters had an undeniable numerical advantage. There were only nine Demacian soldiers, while their opponents numbered around twenty, with more likely hidden, as the field was already littered with bodies from both sides. The battle had been raging for several minutes by the time Kailen arrived.
These soldiers were likely tax collectors from the villages, judging by the wagons filled with crates and other valuables. Demacia consistently collected taxes from nearby settlements in exchange for their protection.
Kailen had no desire to intervene in the conflict, as it was not his war nor his home. Deciding who was right or wrong was not his concern.
The armored soldiers were clearly tiring from the magical onslaught. Despite the simplicity of the spells, their sheer number was too much. Soon, the number of soldiers began to dwindle rapidly, despite their advantage in anti-magic armor.
In the midst of the magically gifted, some movement began. They gathered together and started chanting a ritual. Though Kailen was without the gift, he could still feel the magic around him, and their spell was gaining power. It seemed they intended to end it all with one powerful strike.
Just as the outcome seemed inevitable, a yellow beam of light appeared in the sky, rapidly descending. But the spell had already been cast—a powerful dark charge flew towards the remaining soldiers, and just as it was about to hit them, it met a barrier of light energy, dispersing the darkness.
An angel appeared on the battlefield, her pristine white wings spread wide. She was clad in golden armor, and a golden aura surrounded her.
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"Retreat!" The rebels immediately began to scatter in all directions.
Dropping their weapons, they fled in terror, but a beam from her sword struck them down, killing them one by one. With a flap of her wings, she took to the air and caught up with those who hoped to escape.
After dealing with the enemies, she turned to the soldiers, and raising her sword, a golden light flowed towards them, healing their wounds.
Kailen watched this from a distance, amazed. It was strange that they pursued those with magic, yet among their ranks was this angelic figure.
He needed to leave, lest he be mistaken for an enemy and attacked. Climbing down from the tree, he headed back to his resting place. He had food and some belongings worth taking. Upon returning to his camp, he found that the remnants of his catch had been stolen, likely by predators. Disgruntled and slightly hungry, he had to move on, skirting the battlefield through the forest.
Judging by the descriptions from the locals, the one who descended from the heavens was indeed the Justicar, but she had mercilessly killed those people. Perhaps it was best not to seek an encounter with her. But fate had other plans.
Suddenly, he sensed danger and, without hesitation, moved aside. A column of light struck where he had been just a second ago, scorching the ground.
"You dodged, thinking you could escape? I sense your sins, hands stained with blood," a deep voice sounded from beneath the helmet.
"Listen, I am merely a traveler and seek no battle," Kailen replied.
"You don't seek battle? You might deceive someone else, but not me. I can see clearly, you're someone steeped in conflict," she declared confidently, standing opposite him.
"That was in the past. Now, I am helpless," Kailen said.
"There are no former killers, and judging by your skills, you're far from defenseless," she retorted.
"Stand down, I don't want to harm you," Kailen tried to persuade her and avoid the fight.
"Enough talk. Your words will not weaken my resolve, and you will be punished," the warrior replied, raising her sword.
A beam of energy burst from her sword and shot towards Kailen. Sensing the approaching danger, he managed to dodge in time, but the attacks were too fast. The edge of his shoulder was grazed, and a small amount of blood splattered.
Realizing that a fight was inevitable and that she clearly intended to kill him, he knew he couldn't stay at a distance; he needed to engage in close combat. Dodging her attacks, he began to close the distance between them.
Reaching close quarters, he aimed for the vulnerable spots in her armor. But she surprised him by deftly defending herself and counterattacking with her sword. He needed to disarm her; striking at her hand, he tried to weaken her grip. Unfortunately, her armor provided excellent protection. Another swing of her sword, he caught between his palms, refusing to let go. She tried to yank it free, but Kailen held tight.
"Let go," she said, annoyed.
"No, calm down, and let's end this fight," Kailen responded.
Her eyes suddenly glowed gold, and a powerful wave of energy threw Kailen back. He rolled several times before regaining his balance and coming to a stop.
"Evil cannot break me," she declared, and a powerful surge of energy struck at Kailen. At the last moment, he partially dodged, but it still hit him, leaving a burn on his entire left arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he stood up, understanding that he would have to fight to the death.
He needed only one strike in a vulnerable spot to end her days. Rushing towards his enemy, he craved her death. Closing the distance again, he quickly stabbed her in the side with a knife, causing her to shriek in pain. Dodging her retaliatory sword strike, he hit the elbow joint, forcing her to drop the sword, and then delivered a powerful kick to her head with a roll.
Her helmet flew off, revealing golden locks and a very young girl. Kailen froze in astonishment; she looked so much like his wife, or so it seemed to him. In reality, only the hair and some facial features remotely resembled her. Meanwhile, the girl spat blood and, clutching her side, stood up. Her eyes glowed fiercely, and a massive column of light enveloped her, healing the wound before his eyes.
A surge of energy burst from her, striking Kailen and causing him to lose consciousness. In his last moment, he saw her approaching his body, seemingly to finish him off. His eyes closed.
"Ingun, Asur, I will see you soon," his lips whispered.