. . .
The hall buzzed softly with restrained energy, light spilling through the grand glass dome above. Polished white floors gleamed under the glow of ornate chandeliers, and plush purple carpets stretched across the space, muffling the faint footsteps of Piltover's elite.
Groups of finely dressed guests murmured among themselves, their voices blending with the delicate harmony of strings and piano.
I lingered near the edge of the room, letting myself merge with the background. The invitation had come through the Ferros—a convenient excuse to stand among Piltover's elite once more. The purpose of this gathering? Irrelevant. My focus lay solely on one person.
Mel Medarda.
'She's late,' I thought, glancing toward the entrance.
She wasn't here yet; that much was obvious. My gaze shifted back to the guests, but the itch of impatience began to crawl beneath my skin.
To distract myself, I found a little entertainment.
A pompous man stood near the bar, his booming voice cutting above the ambiance. Likely boasting about some forgettable success. I tilted my head, focusing on the wine glass in the waiter's hand. A faint nudge from my telekinesis tipped the glass at the exact moment the man gestured.
Plink
Wine splashed across his suit, his voice cutting off mid-sentence. He sputtered, looking around in confusion while the waiter stumbled through apologies. My lips twitched.
Farther away, a woman adjusted her chair, preparing to sit. A small push made the chair shift ever so slightly. She stumbled awkwardly, her momentary misstep drawing scattered glances from those nearby.
I smirked, though the fun didn't last.
The room's energy shifted subtly, pulling my attention. My eyes turned to the entrance, and there she was; Mel Medarda.
Her white dress flowing effortlessly with each step, the golden accents in her hair catching the chandelier's glow. Her aura was everything I expected—warm and thoughtful, an unseen force that commanded respect and admiration without a word.
As she moved, the crowd couldn't help but part, their gazes following her with a mix of awe and ambition. My eyes fixed on the faint golden aura surrounding her, an ethereal shimmer that seemed alive in its quiet intensity.
At first, I thought it was light magic—a derived form of fire—but as I observed closer, it became clear that this was something far more intricate. The energy felt attuned, like it resonated with the very essence of the Arcane—an empath's power, rare and extraordinary. It reached outward, sensing, connecting, even bending the world around her in ways she herself couldn't yet comprehend.
The light wasn't a weapon in her hands—at least, not yet. A dormant force waiting to erupt into shields, whips, or even devastating rays. But as it stood, it wasn't hers to wield.
'Well, that's inconvenient,' I thought. 'Not innate power is just raw magic, beyond something I can copy.'
Still, I tested her.
My focus shifted to the golden earrings swaying gently as she moved. I gave the faintest push, just enough to make them sway unnaturally.
tink, tink
Instantly, I felt it—a shift. The moment my telekinesis brushed against them, it bent, scattered, and unraveled. Thin, golden threads flickered faintly in my senses, like strands of light winding around my attempt. They weren't hostile, but probing—examining my intrusion before gently redirecting it, repelling it like a shield.
Her hand brushed the earring lightly, expression unchanged. If noticed, she gave no indication. Her movements remained fluid, confident, as though always aware of the surroundings.
'Interesting,' I thought, narrowing my focus. 'A system designed to redirect and reflect.'
The threads weren't brute force; they were intentional, precise. A subtle mechanism, likely unconscious, but undeniably effective.
I leaned back slightly, breaking my focus to avoid drawing attention. My eyes drifted to my hand, sensing the faint hum of mana beneath my skin.
'Why didn't I think of this before? A barrier that not only deflects but redirects—turning intrusion into defense. It's not far from what I do.'
My fingers flexed slightly at the thought.
"If I can't copy it, I'll simply create it myself."
The thought of parrying magical attacks lingered in my head.
. . .
. . .
'My days here are coming to an end.' I thought, observing as the flames crackled and hissed, consuming yet another altar dedicated to Janna.
The soft glow of fire illuminated the cramped alleyway, casting long, flickering shadows on the surrounding walls. Smoke coiled into the air, carrying the bitter scent of charred wood and oil, while embers danced in the growing darkness.
This was the latest in a series of altars destroyed during my time here—another attempt to provoke her. Janna had yet to appear. No storm. No whispers. Just silence.
It was the penultimate day of my stay in Piltover and Zaun. Time was running out. Frustration simmered beneath my calm exterior, but I refused to abandon my efforts.
The gang of men I'd recruited stood nearby, their faces half-lit by the flames, a mix of curiosity and unease in their expressions. They'd served well enough, providing the locations of these shrines scattered throughout the depths of Zaun.
I turned to them, breaking the heavy silence with clear, measured words. "Remember to inform me immediately of anything significant happens, do as instructed. No delays."
The men nodded hastily, their obedience satisfying but unremarkable. They have learned not to question me.
My gaze returned to the flames. The effigy of Janna, carved into the now-crumbling altar, blackened and cracked under the heat.
"Stubborn." I thought, watching the embers rise.
The fire burned on, the only sound left in the alley.
. . .
. . .
The dim glow of Piltover's city lights seeped through the curtains of my apartment, painting faint, shifting patterns across the wooden floor.
I sat cross-legged in the center of the room, my posture rigid but controlled, hands resting lightly on my knees, palms upturned. Each slow, controlled breath steadied the rhythm of my body, though the air around me felt heavy—almost suffocating. I welcomed the discomfort. It sharpened my focus.
With each inhale, I turned inward, sensing the flow of mana coursing through my veins. The hum of the city outside was a distant comfort, a reminder of the world I knew. But that world vanished in an instant.
The light faded. The hum disappeared. Silence swallowed everything.
My body tensed, and when my eyes opened, I stood not in my room, but in a vast, endless expanse of water.
The horizon stretched infinitely, the sky above a brilliant azure dotted with perfect white clouds. Below me, the water was so clear it felt like standing on glass. The still surface rippled gently under my weight, faint circles radiating outward, breaking the serene perfection.
'This…' I thought, scanning the endless horizon.
The smell of saltwater, the chill of the wind, the sound of distant waves.
I stood there, a hand resting on the back, my usual stance of calculated patience. I took a slow step forward.
Plip-plip.
The soft splash beneath my feet was—besides the hissing wind—the only sound in this unnaturally peaceful world.
"I'm not sinking,"
"An illusion," I concluded, my sharp gaze taking in the colors, the light, the air. The place reeked of vanity, a construct designed to intimidate. But I wasn't easily intimidated.
"Is it?"
A voice echoed through the realm, its vibration carried by the breeze itself—soft, commanding. I turned sharply, my eyes locking onto the source descending gracefully from the heavens above.
My hair and clothes tugged against the current breeze, as if the wind itself sought to claim them.
Whoooosh.
She appeared, as though born of the wind. Her long, snow-white hair flowed as if caught in an eternal, invisible breeze. Her pale skin glowed faintly, and her piercing blue eyes held an otherworldly brilliance. She was dressed in a delicate garment of white and pale blue, trimmed with gold, its ethereal design accentuating her grace.
She didn't walk on the water—she floated just above it, her presence marked by the gentle Shhhrrr of expanding ripples, though her feet never touched the surface.
Janna.
'So this is what they worship,' I thought, my gaze narrowing.'I can't see it—not even a trace of magic.'
Her voice cut through the stillness, light and smooth as the wind itself.
"To summon me," she said, her gaze piercing through me, calm yet curious. "You've gone to disturbing lengths."
I tilted my head slightly, feigning ignorance.
"Summon you? If anything, I've been brought here against my will."
She didn't waver. Her eyes narrowed, as though seeing through my words.
"You are intriguing," she said, her voice carrying a faint reverberation, as though the wind itself carried her words.
"You carry no faith, only certainty—as though my existence is nothing more than an inevitability."
"Commendable," she continued, her tone softening slightly, "yet impure."
'She's reading me.'
"Impure?" I countered, "Are you referring about me burning your altars?"
Her serene expression didn't falter.
"Your actions are not why I am here. In you, I sense the impossible."
Her next question hung in the air like a blade. "Tell me, mortal—what name does one who wields the power of gods call himself?"
'The celestial energy. So she noticed.'
'But, how far does she knows?'
"Dolus," I said simply. "A wanderer from lands far less watery than this one."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then her voice sharpened, unrelenting.
"You cannot hide from the wind."
Her hand raised gracefully, and before I could respond, a powerful gust surged toward me. It hit like a tidal wave, forcing me back several steps. My body reacted instinctively—arms crossed to shield my face, stone-like armor encasing me in an instant.
Rrrriiip.
The wind tore at my clothes, shredding fabric to reveal the bindings beneath. Janna's gaze sharpened as the wind exposed the black feathers hidden on my back.
Whoosh.
"Wings?" she asked, her voice tinged with intrigue, face with confusion. "Rocky skin… black feathers… A mark of defiance? imbalance? An aberration, or a child of gods?"
Her words amused me, though my expression betrayed nothing. A flicker of unease stirred within me, but I buried it quickly.
"What more do you conceal, mortal stray?" she pressed, her tone sharpening.
The tension between us thickened as I steadied myself, her piercing gaze locked onto mine, her curiosity unmistakable.
She raised her hand again, the air around her growing dense and suffocating, charged with her intent.
The deafening roar of the wind filled my ears as Janna's whirlwind surged toward me, a monstrous spiral of air that tore through the serene expanse. The ocean beneath it twisted violently, rising in jagged waves that were consumed by the vortex. The air screamed as it was ripped apart.
For a moment, I let the chaos wash over me.
'This isn't the first time I've faced something like this.' The thought settled in my mind, steadying me. Memories surged—storms that once swallowed whole armies, typhoons so immense they became legends. I'd watched them devour the world, but I'd also seen fire, roaring against the storm, turning wind into fuel.
Ambition, like flame, consumes everything. Even the unshakable forces of nature.
'I can still feel my powers,' I thought, the swirling mana within me begging to be unleashed. 'Still, it's unfortunate. First Mel and now Janna, different reasons, same problem.'
I extended both hands, my lips curling into a sharp smile as my palms began to glow a brilliant yellow. The air around me heated instantly, the ambient temperature rising to a blistering intensity. Beneath my feet, the once-pristine surface of the water bubbled and hissed, steam rising as the ocean boiled under the sheer force of the energy gathering in my grasp.
The whirlwind hurtled toward me, relentless and deafening, but I stood my ground. The waters it carried evaporated instantly as the flames erupted from my hands, blazing upward in a furious roar. The fire coiled and twisted, meeting the storm head-on, consuming its moisture and feeding on its chaos.
The whirlwind didn't stop—it transformed. Flames surged through it, spiraling upward in an inferno, twisting the wind into a blazing storm under my control. I felt the heat sear the air around me, its power mine to control.
"To you." My voice rang out above the fire's roar, carried with deliberate precision.
With a sharp motion, I thrust my hands forward, my will driving the blazing spiral. The firestorm roared across the water, heat distorting the air and leaving a trail of steam in its wake as it surged toward Janna.
But she stood unmoved.
Her piercing gaze never wavered, her presence unshaken as the inferno closed in. Then, just before impact, the firestorm collapsed into nothingness, snuffed out in an instant. Heat and noise faded, leaving an eerie, deafening silence in its place.
Janna's voice cut through it, calm but tinged with curiosity.
"Impressive," she said, her pale lips barely moving, her gaze never leaving mine. "But, how long can you keep this up, stray?"
Her words struck true, though I refused to let the sting show.
'She's right,' I admitted to myself, as the lingering heat in my palms began to fade. 'I can't keep this up forever.'
I drew a slow breath, steadying my mind. 'Burning through mana like this… it's reckless. I need to change my approach.'
'It's clear that she's testing me, wanting to unveil everything. Perfect, I was stagnating. A chance to see what I lack. I know her well; she won't kill me... I hope.'
The waters beneath me rippled softly as the fires faded, leaving faint traces of steam that dissipated into the still air. I straightened my posture, my eyes narrowing as I prepared.
'I need to strike first.'
The storm answered my call. Electric wrath pooled at my fingertips, lightning arcing and dancing along my arms in violent bursts. The energy condensed into a lance of raw power, high-pitched whines escaping as the spear of light hummed with a life of its own.
The air grew thick with static, the charge pressing against my skin as the expanse around me illuminated in its brilliant glow.
My stone-hardened skin groaned under the tension, the lightning crackling violently across its surface. I planted my feet firmly, lowering into a stance. My gaze locked onto Janna, her unflinching blue eyes meeting mine with unnerving calm.
No hesitation.
I launched forward, cutting through the shallow water with brutal speed. Waves rippled violently in my wake, the lance shrieking as its power surged in my grip. Each step brought me closer to her—closer to breaking that serenity.
And then I hit something solid.
A sudden, violent gust slammed into me, halting my advance like a wall of iron. The force drove me back, crushing against my momentum. My teeth clenched as I fought to stay upright. Telekinesis flared in response, invisible tendrils anchoring me, shoving me forward with raw willpower.
The winds grew stronger, their assault relentless. Each step became harder, the gale tearing at my hardened skin and clawing at the energy coursing through the lance. Lightning spiraled chaotically, threatening to unravel. My muscles screamed under the pressure, but I refused to stop.
The white of my eyes darkened, veins of purple spreading like fractures beneath the surface. My lips curled into a feral snarl, and I growled, "Come closer."
I didn't shout. I didn't need to. The command was soft, but power laced every syllable, bending the air around it. The winds hesitated, flickering with uncertainty.
That moment was mine.
I surged forward, driving more mana into the lance. Its length extended, blazing with wild, crackling energy. With a final push, I hurled it forward, the lance screaming through the air with destructive force.
The lance pierced Janna's neck, Lightning erupted outward, a chaotic burst of energy as it struck true.
But there was no victory.
The image of Janna flickered like a mirage, her form dissolving into the wind. My feet hit the ground with a splash as I landed, catching myself on one knee. The glow of my powers faded, leaving me vulnerable.
I looked up—and froze.
Dozens of Jannas now surrounded me, their forms scattered across the endless horizon. Each one shimmered faintly, identical in their grace, their expressions blank yet unsettlingly watchful. They stood like ethereal guardians, a silent, suffocating presence.
'A clone,' I realized, my breath unsteady. 'I used that much power to strike a clone?'
Frustration boiled under my skin, but I forced it down, focusing on the problem at hand. My fists clenched, knuckles whitening as I pushed myself to stand. My body protested, exhaustion gnawing at my limbs, but there was no time to recover.
Subtlety was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Both hands came forward, trembling slightly as I summoned the last remnants of my strength. Mana churned deep within me, chaotic and unrefined, as I drew it to a single point between my palms. A pinpoint of light flickered into existence, small but impossibly dense. The air rippled violently around it, crackling as static electricity filled the space.
The sphere grew.
The winds swirled toward the sphere, devoured by its pull. The water hissed and steamed beneath me. The sound was deafening—a thousand voices screaming in unison, their pitch rising as the energy expanded. My arms shook under the strain, every muscle in my body crying out, but I didn't stop.
"Not, enough."
I refined the sphere, flattening its edges, sharpening its chaotic energy into something precise and devastating.
And then, with all the force I could muster, I hurled it.
The energy sphere tore through the clones like a scythe through wheat. One by one, they dissolved into mist, their forms disintegrating with each hit. The sphere's momentum slowed as it plowed through the crowd, carving a path of destruction—but not a complete one.
Not all the clones were gone.
'..Too many.'
The real Janna remained untouched, standing amidst the devastation with her serene, unshaken gaze. Her expression was neither triumphant nor mocking. Instead, she watched me with a mixture of intrigue and… something else.
Understanding.
Exhaustion consumed me. My mana was depleted, barely enough to keep the protective stone encasing my body intact. My arms hung like lead, trembling with each shallow breath. I clenched my fists. The weight of fatigue pressed down on me, but I didn't crumble.
I stood tall.
'I've seen armies crumble, men fall to the sword, and kingdoms burn to ash. I've stood in the wreckage of my failures, watched the weak surrender to despair. But not me. I survived. I fought. Then and now—I'll fight until there's nothing left to break me.'
No more powers. No tricks. Only raw, unrelenting will.
With that resolve, I charged forward.
.
The swirling chaos around me was deafening, but then a voice—steady and calm—cut through it like a knife.
"I was wrong."
"You are not what I believed."
Janna's words came softly, though they carried more weight than the winds themselves. Her gaze, serene and unshaken, locked onto me with something I hadn't seen before.
It wasn't judgment. It wasn't disdain.
It was recognition.
"Your strength," she continued, her tone quieter now, almost thoughtful, "is not for selfishness, but something greater."
I stood still, the last flicker of a clone dissolving in the distance. I stared at her, the tides below rising.
For the first time, I saw something behind her calm exterior—a flicker of… admiration? No, respect.
Her gaze softened.
"Not enough," she said, her voice carrying a quiet warning. "To face what lies ahead, what waits beyond ambition.. What you seek will test you beyond limits you cannot yet fathom."
The winds stilled. The light around us dimmed as the endless watery expanse melted away, dissolving like morning mist.
I blinked.
I was back in my Piltover apartment. The hum of the city, the wooden floor. My body was intact, mana reserves full.
"A dream?"
But something had changed.
I glanced at my reflection in the window. For a moment, my own eyes stared back, red, unwavering. But there was something else there, trembling beneath the surface—a faint glimmer of determination, sharper than before.
As I turned away, a faint breeze brushed against my face. Though the windows were shut, I could almost hear her voice again, as soft and steady as before.
And then, silence.
The hum of the city filled the void once more, but it felt distant, insignificant. I stood there for a long moment, staring out at Piltover's skyline, the spark of ambition burning brighter than ever in my chest.
"It's time to leave."