(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)
The dense canopy of Ixtal rustled softly above Ace as he moved at a steady pace, boots pressing into soft earth. Moonlight pierced through the thick leaves in narrow beams, casting shifting shadows along his path. The forest here was quieter than usual—not lifeless, but watchful. Like something knew he was passing through.
He didn't slow down.
The trip had been long, but his mind was locked forward. Toward Noxus. Toward Peter.
Toward whatever was waiting next.
His cloak fluttered behind him as he approached the narrowing border between Ixtal and the sea that separated the continent from Piltover, Zaun, and the looming spires of Noxus beyond. It was then that the world shifted.
He stopped cold.
To his left, far across the riverbank, nestled among steel and stone, Piltover and Zaun came into view. Or rather, they should have.
Because they were veiled.
Covered in an unnatural dome of dark energy—thick, murky, almost liquid in texture. The very air warped around the barrier, distorting sound and light like a mirage doused in ink. It wasn't just shielding the cities. It was eating them from view.
Ace narrowed his eyes.
He took a step closer. The Gamer HUD over his vision didn't respond. No readings. No scans. No information.
Blocked.
Not even the system could see inside.
He raised his hand, flexing his fingers slightly. He didn't bother trying to break the barrier. Not now. Not alone. That kind of darkness wasn't just a defense—it was a warning. A message.
Stay out.
Ace stared at it for a while longer. Then he exhaled through his nose and turned away.
"Piltover and Zaun will have to wait," he muttered.
He picked up speed again, the ocean wind whipping through his hair as he sprinted along the cliffside path that curved toward the eastern ridge. Beyond the cliffs and across the channel, the iron-heavy skyline of Noxus rose from the earth like the teeth of some buried beast.
Sharp. Cold. Dangerous.
Just like the people inside.
He crossed the water on foot. Not swimming—walking. His inventory system might still be blocked, but his travel perks were not. He activated the simplest form of a Guardian's movement spell: step-on-air. Each step splashed lightly across the ocean's surface, a blur of movement that carried him swiftly across the narrow sea.
When his boots hit Noxian soil, the land answered with a low hum.
A kind of tension settled in the wind, thicker here. More aggressive. Like something in the very terrain had learned to bite first and ask questions later.
Ace didn't flinch.
His cloak fluttered around him as he looked ahead, down the path that would lead to the outer rim of Noxus proper.
He reached into his belt and checked the last healing potion Adriel had given him earlier. Still intact. Good. He got used to the convenience of having an inventory system that the feeling of a backpack was foreign to him. Now he'd have to be careful—especially without his inventory working.
"Thanks again, Red Goblin," he muttered sarcastically, cracking his neck. "Really enjoying the hands-on experience."
He moved forward, ignoring the sting of frustration starting to crawl up his spine.
Something about that barrier back near Piltover didn't sit right. Darks were territorial—but secretive, too. The fact that someone had locked down both cities behind a no-scan wall meant they weren't just conquering. They were hiding something.
And Ace didn't like mysteries that made him feel like a side character in his own world.
Still, Peter came first.
And if the trail he picked up in Demacia was true, then Noxus was where he'd find it next.
He kept walking.
Step after step into a nation known for cruelty and conquest, his eyes cold, jaw tight.
He wouldn't stop.
Not until he brought Peter back.
The land beneath Ace's feet felt off.
Like it remembered war too well.
He didn't slow, even as the terrain shifted from packed dirt to fractured stone roads—the kind that had once been polished paths of imperial Noxian pride. Now they were cracked and uneven, veins of red mineral threading through the foundation like scars.
He adjusted the hood over his head as he walked deeper into what remained of the border towns. At first glance, it seemed abandoned. No banners, no guards, no citizens. Only the distant, low hum of a city breathing unnaturally.
Then he noticed the markings.
Crimson glyphs carved into doorframes and rooftops, all etched in sharp, divine geometry. Some pulsed faintly. Others bled faint trails of steam into the cold air. Ritual symbols. Not for protection—but for submission.
Ace crouched near one of the markings. It wasn't just ink. It had depth—carved clean into the metal supports. Precision only someone with inhuman control or unrelenting power could pull off.
Probably both.
He didn't like that answer.
Then came the shift.
Ahead, the sky cracked.
It was subtle—like a ripple across water. But Ace felt it. A wave of pressure. The air dropped ten degrees. The clouds bled color. And up ahead, the city transformed.
One moment, Noxus looked like its usual monolithic self.
The next, it unfurled.
Towers once geometric twisted skyward like broken ribs. The skyline burned with streaks of red lightning, echoing faintly through the atmosphere. Streets coiled inward. Entire city blocks floated above ground, suspended on massive roots of blackstone and red crystal. Reality bent in slow-motion, just beyond a visible threshold.
Ace exhaled through his nose. "There it is."
The threshold.
He stepped over it.
A sudden wave of nausea hit him. Like his body briefly forgot which way gravity worked. But he recovered quickly—he'd been through enough ruptures and hellscapes by now.
Inside, the corruption was complete.
Red spires lined every street. What once were iron lampposts were now glowing pylons of molten obsidian, humming with arcane energy. Temples of Cyttorak loomed at every intersection, impossible structures that bled both heat and reverence.
And the people...
He saw them now.
Crimson Branded.
Some patrolled silently, dragging massive weapons behind them like ceremonial anchors. Others knelt at shrines, twitching in synchrony to the beat of drums that weren't actually being played. Their armor fused into their bodies. Faces completely hidden. No eyes, no mouths. Just masks with glowing centers pulsing like heartbeats.
Ace walked among them.
And they ignored him.
Not because he wasn't a threat.
But because they didn't care.
He wasn't part of their ritual.
Not yet.
He made his way to the nearest building with intact walls and a vantage point. A former watchtower maybe, now consumed by jagged red crystal. He ascended quickly, senses sharp, instincts on edge.
From the top, he scanned the horizon.
Toward the Capitol Spire.
It dominated the skyline, now taller than it had ever been. No longer the seat of Noxian strategy and conquest. Now, it was The Crimson Throne—a conduit, a beacon. A throne not of man, but of power incarnate.
And at its peak, like a god too still to be mortal, sat Juggernaut.
Unmoving.
Eyes closed.
Arms resting on his knees like a monk.
Meditating.
Ace didn't need to get closer to feel the pressure rolling off him. It radiated across the city. Juggernaut wasn't just a Dark now. He was an anchor. An extension of Cyttorak's will—his strength, his influence, his hunger.
And Ace knew without needing to see it—Peter wasn't here.
There was no sense of his presence. No footprints, no ripples in the narrative. Just cold silence.
Ace stepped back from the edge of the tower and looked once more at the corrupted city.
The implications hit him hard.
Juggernaut didn't care who came.
He wasn't hiding anything.
Because whatever was worth hiding... was somewhere else.
Which meant—
Peter was never here.
Ace cursed under his breath, sharp and angry. He didn't scream. He didn't punch the wall. But the air around him thickened for a moment. The sigils in the tower flickered, reacting to his emotion. Power wanted to break loose—but he contained it.
"Alright," he muttered. "So it's not Noxus."
He turned away from the view.
There was no point in searching further.
Peter wasn't here.
But Juggernaut was.
And Ace couldn't just walk away—not now. Not after seeing what Noxus had become. Not after sensing the way reality twisted under Juggernaut's presence. Leaving this place standing, corrupted and bleeding into other regions, would be a betrayal of everything he stood for.
He clenched his fists. The leather of his gloves groaned.
This wasn't a reconnaissance mission anymore.
This was a fight.
He felt the pulse of the city in his bones—like the Crimson Cosmos itself was watching him, sizing him up, daring him to make the first move.
Fine.
He'd give them one.
Ace descended the tower, quick but quiet, his boots leaving shallow prints in the dust of warped reality. The moment he stepped into the open street again, he felt it—pressure, like the air was watching him now. The Crimson Branded that had once ignored him began to twitch subtly, heads turning in unison, red visors glowing faintly.
They still didn't attack.
Not yet.
But the shift was clear.
He wasn't a stranger anymore.
He was a threat.
Ace didn't slow. He walked straight toward the heart of Noxus—toward the Crimson Throne.
The closer he got, the more the world twisted. Gravity pulsed like a heartbeat. Time skipped in strange stutters. He passed through alleys that should've taken him one direction but spat him back out behind himself. The very city was alive, trying to confuse, mislead, disorient him.
It didn't work.
He adapted fast.
That was the thing about being a Guardian. You didn't just fight reality's threats—you learned to navigate them. Push back against them. Bend when you had to, break when you didn't.
He came to a massive set of crimson steps, once the stairs of Noxus's war forum. Now, they led to a spiraling, bone-red obelisk that stretched unnaturally into the sky. Floating shards of earth and runic stone rotated around it, humming with chaotic energy. The air shimmered as if reality thinned the closer you got.
At the top: Juggernaut.
No longer just a man.
No longer just a monster.
Now... something worse.
Ace climbed.
Each step grew heavier. Not just physically—mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Like the weight of Cyttorak's judgment bore down with every motion.
Memories flickered at the edges of his mind.
Loss. Pain. Regret.
All of them amplified.
All of them screaming: Turn back.
But he didn't.
By the time he reached the final platform, the city below was a blur of red and shadow. The sky above was split, stained with cracks of cosmic energy. And in the center of it all sat Juggernaut, unmoving, colossal, seated on a throne of fused stone and bone and metal, with Cyttorak's sigil carved into his chest like a brand.
His eyes opened.
Crimson fire. Deep and endless.
"Guardian," Juggernaut said, his voice low, reverberating through the air like an avalanche in slow motion. "You made it farther than most."
Ace stood tall, mask still in place, gaze sharp.
"I'm not here for your compliments."
"No," Juggernaut replied, standing with deliberate, rumbling weight. "You're here to stop what can't be stopped. To fight what transcends fight."
Ace didn't flinch.
"I'm here because your presence alone is rotting this world. And I won't let it spread further."
The titan's smile was barely perceptible beneath the helmet. "Cyttorak doesn't rot. He remakes. He strengthens. He purifies through power. This world didn't collapse because of me—it collapsed because it was weak. And now, it thrives through pain."
"You enslaved an entire region."
"They kneel willingly."
"You twisted them into monsters."
"They are closer to godhood than they ever were as mortals."
Ace's fists ignited with light—burning, pure, controlled. His body shimmered with his internal aura, rising like smoke from fire. His stance shifted, steady and low.
"Then I'll put your god to sleep."
Juggernaut's laughter was thunder.
And then, the ground exploded.
The fight had begun.
And Ace knew, without a doubt, this wouldn't be like any other Dark he'd faced before.
This time, he wasn't just fighting a monster.
He was fighting a god.
With no warning, Juggernaut raised his hand.
Ace's Observation Haki screamed.
A wave of raw crimson force burst forward—not a punch, not even a spell. Just a gesture. Like Cyttorak himself flicked reality.
Ace didn't dodge in time.
The blast struck him like a divine command.
He was flung backwards across the sky.
Faster than sound.
His body cracked through buildings, tore through red stone and corrupted steel, until he finally hit the earth like a meteor, dust and debris flying in every direction.
Pain exploded across his ribs. His cloak torn. Flames sputtering.
He coughed, tasted blood.
Above, Juggernaut stepped off his throne and began walking.
Each step sent tremors through the twisted earth of Noxus. The sky groaned like it hated his presence.
And from the shadows...
They emerged.
The corrupted champions.
Vladimir, grinning with blood dripping from his fingers.
Cassiopeia slithering across walls like a demonic whisper.
Kled foaming at the mouth, his creature rabid and armor laced with red crystals.
Mel, no longer regal—now divine in horror.
Rell, her armor fused to her skin, eyes blank with Cyttorak's influence.
Even Sion, already a corpse, now reborn in crimson fire, bellowing a war cry that bent steel.
Dozens of them.
All changed. All loyal.
All marching toward Ace.
This wasn't a fight anymore.
This was annihilation.
But Ace stood again.
One breath.
Then two.
And the flames returned.
He cracked his neck, wiped the blood from his jaw, and said quietly:
"Alright... Let's go."
And then he charged.
Alone.
Into the heart of a corrupted empire.
Into Cyttorak's cathedral of war.
To remind them all—
That Guardians don't break.
They burn.
The world screamed as Ace surged forward, flames licking his body like a cloak of vengeance. The corrupted champions of Noxus surged in tandem, a tidal wave of god-touched monsters and crimson fury descending like a wall. He hit them first.
Cassiopeia struck like a serpent of hell, her tail snapping forward in a blur. Ace ducked beneath it, sliding across melted stone, and responded with a spinning heel kick that detonated in cosmic flame. Her body twisted unnaturally, Cyttorak's corruption shielding her from full incineration, but the blast knocked her into a crumbling wall.
Kled came next, screaming nonsense, face locked in manic fury. Skaarl—the creature he rode—was now a grotesque fusion of beast and metal, dripping molten blood. Ace moved like lightning, the Speed Force cracking behind every step. One punch launched Kled skyward; a follow-up mid-air spinning flame shot shattered his mount on contact, leaving a bloody smear across the city walls.
Mel descended like a goddess of ruin. Her fists glowed with runes not of this realm, fists swinging with mechanical precision. She grabbed Ace mid-step, slamming him into the ground, then again. Again. Again.
But on the third strike, his hand caught her wrist.
"You hit like politics."
His body exploded in Dark Matter Flame. The ground collapsed beneath them. Mel screamed—not in pain, but rage—as he blasted her through layers of the city's lower foundation, burying her in burning obsidian.
Vladimir flowed in from above, red mist swirling, blades of blood conjured mid-air. Ace's skin sizzled from proximity alone.
"You're bleeding for me, Guardian," Vladimir whispered.
Ace smirked through the pain.
"Then you better pay rent."
He snapped forward in a blur, Speed Force guiding his flame-coated fists into Vladimir's chest. The vampire exploded into a puddle of blood, only to reform a moment later behind him. But Ace was ready. A backhand—wreathed in cosmic flame—caught him before he could strike, sending him spiraling into a wall of jagged crystal.
Rell charged next, her magnetic control now empowered by Cyttorak's domain. Steel warped behind her, pulling debris and iron into a makeshift war chariot. Her scream sounded like steel shredding.
"You are not welcome here!"
Ace met her full on. Sparks lit the sky as their blows collided, metal and flame roaring in defiance. Her magnetic force bent the street beneath them, but his cosmic fire melted her constructs on contact.
She trapped him in a cage of molten rails.
He simply walked through it, aura burning the trap apart.
"You think steel scares a man who walks through stories?"
He uppercutted her into the air—Rell's armor peeled back from the force—and followed with a meteor punch that sent her screaming into the spire of a corrupted temple.
Then came Sion.
Sion did not attack with strategy. He charged like a bulldozer with a war cry loud enough to split the sky. His axe swung, a cleaving blow strong enough to bisect fortresses.
Ace blocked with crossed forearms. The impact shattered the stone around them. Ace skid back.
But he didn't fall.
Instead, he roared, fire exploding in all directions.
"You want loud?! THEN BURN LOUD!"
He dashed forward—Speed Force crackling—leapt onto Sion's chest, and detonated a close-range blast into the undead juggernaut's face.
Sion didn't scream.
He just fell.
Charred. Broken.
Not dead.
But quiet.
Ace landed, panting.
That was six.
And more were coming.
From the left, Samira rolled into view, dual guns infused with crimson glyphs. Her bullets weren't normal—each round bent space slightly, blessed by Cyttorak.
From the right, Talon emerged from the shadows, daggers gleaming with runic venom.
Ahead, Mordekaiser's massive figure began to march forward, like a god in armor forged from hell.
Ace's chest rose and fell.
Blood dripped from his lips.
He grinned.
"Alright... Round two."
The first clash had tested his strength.
The next would test his soul.
The gunfire came first.
Not the kind that rattled off in clean rhythm—these shots sang with chaos. Samira's pistols screamed, each bullet cutting through the air like a curse. When they hit the ground near Ace's feet, the stone curled, melting briefly before turning into writhing crimson glass. Ace blurred left, Speed Force wrapping around him in electric arcs, but even that wasn't enough to fully dodge. One bullet nicked his shoulder.
It felt like a reality wound. Like something was trying to erase him.
"Cute," Ace muttered.
Then came Talon.
A blur of steel and shadows. His runes hissed in some forgotten tongue, and his blades whispered promises of endings. Ace twisted his torso mid-sidestep, narrowly dodging a dagger that would've pierced his temple. He struck back with a rising knee covered in dark matter flame—but Talon vanished in smoke.
Behind him. Another slash.
Ace spun, kicking out with a burst of cosmic flame, forcing the assassin to retreat.
Then the ground shook.
Mordekaiser.
The titan walked through the battlefield like death incarnate. Every step shattered earth, every movement dragged the world slightly off its axis. His mace pulsed with anti-light, glowing like a dying star.
And still—
The people came.
Noxians. Civilians, soldiers, zealots. All glowing with the mark of Cyttorak. They poured from the broken streets like a tide of madness, their bodies twisted but functional. Arms became blades. Eyes burned red. Some walked, others crawled or floated.
They weren't warriors.
They were worshipers.
"Great," Ace hissed.
He lifted a hand and ignited the space before him—a wide wave of flame exploded outward, forcing back the horde. He blurred forward and punched a leaping zealot clean out of the air. Another tried to stab him from behind with a barbed spike—Ace ducked, caught the arm, and snapped it backward.
Talon returned. Blades clashed against Speed Force.
Samira backflipped over a collapsing building and resumed firing from above.
Mordekaiser swung.
Ace blocked the mace with both arms, flames roaring against the divine impact—but it still threw him across the plaza.
He rolled, bleeding.
Reality around him shimmered. The lines of buildings blurred.
The Crimson Cosmos was leaking in again.
He stood, panting, watching as the corrupted Noxians surrounded him. Children. Elders. All with twisted faces, eyes empty of will.
They chanted now. In sync. Low and reverent.
"Cyttorak strengthens. Cyttorak saves."
Ace felt his breathing grow uneven. Not from fatigue. From something else.
The psychological weight.
This wasn't just a battle. It was a siege on the mind.
Every face he struck, every corrupted citizen he burned to ash—they had once been people. Real people. And now they moved like marionettes.
And still, the champions didn't let up.
Talon sliced his leg.
Samira shot his side.
Mordekaiser was almost on top of him again.
Ace roared, slamming his fists together, igniting a shockwave that knocked back the front line of zealots. He blurred into motion, punching Samira mid-air with a fist wrapped in condensed gravity. She spiraled out of sight.
Then he turned to Talon. Dodged one dagger. Blocked another. Caught the third and countered with a headbutt that crunched bone. Talon staggered. Ace sent him flying with a flame-imbued uppercut.
But Mordekaiser struck.
Ace barely phased back with Speed Force.
The mace cratered the ground where he'd been.
Then—more Noxians came.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Chanting louder.
They weren't screaming for war.
They were singing a hymn.
Ace grit his teeth. Blood leaked from his nose. The pressure wasn't just physical. It was spiritual. Psychological. He could feel Cyttorak pressing down, not just through force, but through belief.
A god empowered by faith.
He needed to change the rhythm.
He planted his feet, screamed, and ignited his entire body in a violent corona of cosmic flame. The ground cracked beneath him. Dark matter surged like rivers.
He punched the air.
Once.
A beam of kinetic force exploded forward, vaporizing a wave of zealots.
He jumped, spun midair, and dropped like a comet into Mordekaiser, slamming him into the pavement. The impact sent shockwaves for miles.
But even then—
Mordekaiser laughed.
Ace breathed hard. "Yeah. Okay. This is getting tedious."
And as the corrupted city screamed around him, as the zealots reformed, as Talon and Samira returned to the fray—
He tightened his fists.
And kept going.
Ace surged forward, flames trailing fiercely behind him. He crashed into the corrupted champions with relentless intensity, each strike exploding with bursts of cosmic fire. Talon lunged at him, blades flickering dangerously, but Ace spun swiftly, evading the attacks and countering with a powerful uppercut that sent the assassin sprawling.
Samira unleashed another barrage, bullets slicing through the air, distorted with dark power. Ace dashed forward, weaving effortlessly through the storm of gunfire, his flames shielding him as he struck Samira, knocking her violently backward.
Yet something was deeply wrong.
Behind him, the fallen champions were rising again. Bodies twisted unnaturally as corrupted energy knit their broken limbs together. Sion's guttural roar echoed louder than ever, Vladimir's form rematerialized from blood-red mist, and Cassiopeia hissed sharply, her eyes glowing with malevolent fire.
Ace's breathing hitched. He felt a surge of dread crawling up his spine. The people of Noxus, previously attacking him like mindless fanatics, suddenly surged forward, more feral than before, their corrupted voices reverberating eerily through the city.
Then the whispers began—softly at first, like rustling leaves, but quickly growing louder, more distinct. They infiltrated Ace's mind, each word twisting painfully within him.
"You failed Peter," the voices taunted, insidious and relentless. "He trusted you. Now he suffers because of your weakness."
Ace staggered, narrowly avoiding a heavy swing from Mordekaiser's reformed mace. He retaliated with a fierce blast of flame, but his focus faltered. The voices were worming deeper into his psyche, tormenting him with visions of Peter's desperate, fearful eyes as he was dragged away.
The champions attacked with renewed ferocity, pressing their advantage. Vladimir's blades of blood whipped past him, slicing painfully into Ace's arm. Cassiopeia's tail slammed into his chest, throwing him backward into a wall.
He coughed harshly, tasting blood, vision swimming momentarily. The crowd pressed closer, chanting louder, their voices merging into a cacophony of accusation and despair.
"You let Adriel down too," they whispered cruelly. "You promised to protect Peter. Now Adriel will lose another friend, all because of your failure."
Ace gritted his teeth, pushing himself to his feet, his flames flickering dangerously between vibrant blue and corrupted crimson. His control was slipping, the weight of guilt and desperation pressing on him.
The corrupted champions closed in again. Talon struck swiftly, blade slicing dangerously close to Ace's neck. Ace narrowly dodged, retaliating with a pulse of cosmic fire that knocked Talon away. Samira followed up with a rapid sequence of shots. Ace barely deflected them, feeling each impact reverberate painfully through his arms.
His breath grew shallow, each heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears, matched only by the persistent, malicious whispers.
"You're weak," Peter's distorted voice echoed, agony-filled and accusing. "I trusted you, Ace. And you let me suffer."
Ace's eyes flared with uncontrollable anger, his flames erupting wildly around him. "Stop it!" he roared, the force of his voice shaking the ground.
But the voices only intensified, taunting him relentlessly, blending seamlessly with the chants of the corrupted Noxians, pushing him closer to breaking.
Mordekaiser swung again, Ace barely catching the blow, his arms trembling under the immense force. He snarled, flames surging violently as he pushed the titan back with a mighty burst of power. Cassiopeia lunged once more, her fangs dripping with venomous intent. Ace met her mid-leap, grabbing her tail and hurling her violently into Vladimir.
Yet despite his furious retaliation, the emotional onslaught continued mercilessly.
"You can't save anyone," the voices sneered. "Your presence only brings pain and loss."
Ace felt his control slipping, grief and rage mingling into a devastating storm within him. He unleashed an uncontrolled wave of flame, obliterating the nearest wave of zealots, buildings collapsing in the devastating blast.
His vision blurred, heart racing frantically as the voices screamed louder.
"Peter suffers because of you," they roared relentlessly. "Adriel trusted you, and now he'll lose someone else. Because of you."
Ace's fists clenched so tightly they trembled violently. He felt something within him snap, a barrier shattering under the crushing weight of guilt and desperation. His flames darkened further, edged with a terrifying crimson hue.
"You will pay for this," Ace whispered venomously, addressing Cyttorak, the corrupted city, and the shadows tormenting his mind.
Then, abandoning any remaining restraint, Ace charged forward, a Guardian pushed closely to the abyss, ready to burn everything until he reclaimed what he had lost.
Ace charged forward, flames roaring around him, a dark crimson inferno fueled by grief, fury, and raw determination. His vision narrowed, senses sharpening to an almost painful degree as every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance and resolution. He was done holding back—done fighting to preserve what little remained of those corrupted souls.
The corrupted champions surged again, their eyes glowing malevolently, undeterred by his explosive outburst. Vladimir materialized into tendrils of swirling blood, aiming to ensnare Ace. But Ace's reflexes, now sharpened by rage and desperation, allowed him to sidestep fluidly, and he retaliated with a swift wave of flame.
Unlike before, the flames now burned differently, imbued with intent beyond mere destruction. They wrapped around Vladimir, biting deeply into his corrupted essence. Vladimir screamed—not just in pain, but confusion, as his very identity started unraveling. Memories, existence, history—every trace of him in this twisted reality began dissolving rapidly, leaving behind nothing but fading echoes.
Ace paused briefly, startled by the potency of his newfound power. He realized the implication instantly: he could prevent their regeneration by erasing their presence from the timeline entirely. A part of him recoiled at the thought, the morality clinging stubbornly to his conscience.
But another, far stronger voice whispered defiantly, "They're beyond saving."
His hesitation evaporated as Samira attacked again, bullets slicing dangerously close, each round saturated in corrupted energy. Ace vanished from sight, moving faster than ever, appearing inches from her in the blink of an eye. His hand engulfed in crimson fire gripped her face firmly, flames searing into her soul as he murmured fiercely, "Enough."
Samira's existence splintered in a burst of dark flame, her timeline fractured and erased, unraveling her very being from reality itself. Ace didn't pause, didn't allow himself to feel remorse—not this time.
The corrupted champions reacted with visible shock, sensing the new danger he represented. Mordekaiser swung his massive mace with unprecedented fury, reality rippling in its wake. Ace met the swing head-on, blocking it with one hand wrapped in dark matter flame, energy crackling violently around them. His other hand shot forward, plunging deep into Mordekaiser's armored chest.
"Begone," Ace snarled, flames erupting through the Dark-infused metal, consuming Mordekaiser from the inside out. Reality itself wavered around them as Mordekaiser's identity frayed and vanished, leaving behind a vacuum in history that began swiftly stitching itself back together.
Talon and Cassiopeia moved in tandem, desperation fueling their attacks, attempting to strike Ace down before he could erase them. Cassiopeia's venomous fangs aimed at his neck, while Talon's blades sought vital points with lethal precision.
Ace, however, moved fluidly and ruthlessly, his body guided by instinct and emotion in perfect harmony. He dodged Cassiopeia's strike effortlessly, catching her mid-motion and hurling her towards Talon. Flames surged from his hands, enveloping both champions simultaneously, erasing them swiftly and mercilessly from the timeline.
One by one, Ace eliminated them, each champion's erasure echoing powerfully through reality. The chants of corrupted Noxians faltered, their voices dwindling into confusion and fear as the fabric of their corrupted reality weakened and tore apart.
Ace stood amidst the destruction, breathing heavily, eyes blazing fiercely. His gaze turned toward the remnants of the corrupted populace, who were now uncertain and hesitant, their corrupted minds grasping feebly at dwindling memories.
"Your corruption ends here," Ace declared coldly, flames roaring defiantly around him, their power and intensity sending ripples across the fractured landscape.
Yet, the whispers tried one final desperate attempt to penetrate his mind.
"You've become a monster, just like us," they hissed.
Ace shook his head defiantly, eyes narrowing further. "You don't define me. None of this defines me. I'm taking back what you stole—what you corrupted."
With renewed resolve, he unleashed another wave of timeline-erasing flames, targeting the lingering vestiges of corruption clinging to the city. Each corrupted presence he struck dissolved completely, their timelines resetting, history rewriting itself as though they had never been.
The city trembled violently under the force of his actions, reality quaking at the immense power Ace wielded. His crimson flames purified every twisted building, every corrupted rune, every shadow lurking at the corners of existence.
He advanced relentlessly toward the core, toward the throne where Juggernaut sat, the titan's massive frame radiating power and challenge. Juggernaut slowly rose, aware now of the real threat Ace had become.
"You erase my servants, Guardian," Juggernaut thundered, voice echoing like an ancient storm. "Yet you cannot erase me. I am eternal."
Ace didn't falter. He squared his shoulders, flames intensifying to blinding brilliance around him, crimson edges flickering ominously. "We'll see about that."
With a primal roar, Ace charged forward, his flames engulfing him entirely, transforming him into a living embodiment of fury and vengeance. He moved swiftly, decisively, intent clear: he would erase Juggernaut from this reality—permanently.
The final battle had truly begun.
Ace's flames raged fiercely as he charged, every step fueled by searing determination and unchecked fury. Yet, as he closed the gap, Juggernaut merely stood waiting—his expression calm, unbothered, mocking in its serenity. Ace delivered a devastating punch, flames roaring with enough force to shatter reality.
Juggernaut caught it effortlessly.
Ace froze momentarily, shock flickering across his face. Before he could react, Juggernaut slammed him brutally into the ground, creating a crater beneath them. Pain surged through Ace, sharp and relentless, driving the breath from his lungs.
Juggernaut lifted him by the throat with a casual, cruel ease. "Do you see now, Guardian?" he rumbled mockingly, voice echoing like thunder. "All your fury, your desperation—it means nothing here."
Ace struggled fiercely, flames blazing desperately from his fists. But Juggernaut crushed him back into the earth, his enormous strength overwhelming. Each strike, each punishing blow, fractured bones and tore flesh, leaving Ace gasping and broken.
"You judge me a monster?" Juggernaut sneered disdainfully, tightening his grip, bringing Ace close enough to see his cold, merciless eyes. "Yet look at what you've done—thousands erased, their entire existences destroyed. Do you think that's justice?"
Ace clawed at Juggernaut's massive hand, flames sputtering weakly. He felt his resolve wavering as the words pierced deep into his conscience, amplifying the guilt and pain he carried. Juggernaut hurled him violently across the plaza, Ace skidding painfully through rubble and ash.
Juggernaut approached slowly, methodically, each heavy step echoing ominously. "You accuse us of corruption, Guardian," he mocked darkly, "but your own hands drip with the blood of those you erased. You didn't merely kill them—you annihilated their existence."
Ace struggled upright, coughing blood, his body trembling with exhaustion and agony. Juggernaut loomed over him, towering, imposing, utterly invincible.
"You've become exactly what you despise," Juggernaut continued cruelly. "A monster driven by rage and vengeance. You call us Darks—yet your deeds today eclipse ours. You condemn us, but look at yourself, Guardian. What makes you any better?"
Ace's heart thundered painfully. Doubt, regret, and grief clawed at his consciousness, eroding his already battered will. He forced himself to stand, flames igniting again, weaker now but stubbornly persistent.
Juggernaut laughed dismissively, the sound cold and contemptuous. "You cling to your defiance even now? Admirable—and pathetic."
Without warning, Juggernaut slammed his fist downward, sending Ace sprawling once more. Pain exploded across his battered frame, darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. Juggernaut knelt beside him, voice lowered to a venomous whisper.
"You speak of justice and salvation, Guardian, but deep down, you know the truth—you are no different from us. Accept it, embrace it. Let go of your hypocrisy."
Ace's breathing grew shallow, vision swimming dangerously. Juggernaut's relentless barrage of physical and emotional torment battered him mercilessly, each strike chipping further at his resolve. Yet even as despair clawed at him, a flicker of stubborn defiance still smoldered deep within his battered soul.
Juggernaut straightened, his expression chillingly indifferent as he turned slightly away, preparing to deliver a final, decisive blow.
Ace gritted his teeth, mustering what remained of his fractured strength, flames weakly stirring around him once more. "I'm... not... like you," he rasped defiantly, voice barely audible but laced with unyielding resolve.
Juggernaut turned back, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"We'll see."
Juggernaut grasped Ace roughly, lifting him from the shattered ground and flinging him effortlessly through buildings, each impact sending devastating tremors through the remains of Noxus. Ace crashed violently into walls and pillars, the city crumbling around them as Juggernaut pursued him relentlessly, mercilessly punishing every attempt at resistance.
Each blow Juggernaut delivered seemed carefully calculated—not just to break Ace's body, but to crush his spirit as well. "You still resist, Guardian," Juggernaut mocked, voice echoing with dark amusement. "Have you learned nothing from the countless realities you've witnessed?"
Ace groaned, barely able to push himself up from the rubble before Juggernaut was upon him again, driving his fist deep into Ace's stomach. Pain exploded through his senses, consciousness wavering dangerously. Juggernaut leaned in close, his tone cruelly contemplative.
"Fiction is vast, infinite, endlessly varied," Juggernaut said coldly, hurling Ace across another devastated plaza, where he crashed brutally into the base of a shattered monument. "You've seen it yourself. Stories filled with suffering, tragedy, despair. Many characters trapped in narratives so hopeless they would prefer death to their continued existence. Do you truly believe you can protect them all?"
Ace staggered to his feet, flames barely flickering around him now, his breath ragged and strained. Juggernaut closed the distance with slow, deliberate steps, his presence suffocatingly powerful.
"You Guardians claim to be defenders of fiction, yet your vision is limited," Juggernaut continued relentlessly, his massive hand grabbing Ace once more, slamming him repeatedly into the stone. "You judge us harshly for corrupting stories, for twisting narratives, but who created these tales in the first place? Who filled them with suffering and pain?"
Ace's mind spun, overwhelmed by agony and Juggernaut's piercing accusations. Juggernaut held him up again, staring deep into Ace's fading eyes.
"We are simply the reflections of humanity's darkest desires, Guardian," Juggernaut growled deeply, his words resonating through Ace's battered body. "The cruelty, hatred, violence—those aspects of fiction are born directly from your reality, from the people who created us. If we are monsters, we are monsters humanity itself conceived."
Ace gasped weakly, trying to focus his blurring vision, struggling to maintain consciousness. Yet Juggernaut's voice persisted, a relentless tide of brutal truths and cutting judgment.
"You accuse us of corruption, of being agents of despair," Juggernaut sneered. "Yet the true architects of despair are the authors, the creators of these worlds—the humans who spawned conflict, war, suffering. World War I, World War II, endless atrocities, endless tragedies—they crafted us from their own darkness."
Ace's limbs trembled, his resolve faltering further under the relentless emotional and physical assault. Juggernaut continued, voice deepening to an accusing whisper.
"If Guardians represent the best of humanity, why do you so closely resemble the worst? Why do you mirror us so perfectly in your actions, your rage, your ruthlessness?"
Ace felt himself slipping further, the crushing weight of Juggernaut's words intertwining seamlessly with the agony of his injuries. Doubt gnawed fiercely at his heart, a dark, insidious whisper echoing Juggernaut's accusations. Could he truly claim the moral high ground, given all he had done?
Juggernaut's massive form loomed over him again, eyes cold and unyielding.
"Consider this your true test, Guardian," Juggernaut said, his voice echoing ominously. "Not just a test of your strength—but of your soul."
Ace's vision began fading, darkness creeping slowly around him, Juggernaut's chilling judgment echoing deeply within his battered, tormented consciousness.
But amidst the encroaching darkness, Ace's mind clung desperately to fragments of light—memories, stories, worlds he had witnessed. Images flashed before him, not just of despair, but of hope. He saw vivid glimpses of heroism, compassion, and redemption—each shining brighter against the oppressive darkness Juggernaut had conjured.
Summoning every last ounce of strength, Ace pushed himself onto trembling knees, coughing painfully. Juggernaut regarded him with an almost bored disdain, as though waiting to deliver a final crushing blow.
"You're right," Ace rasped, voice shaking with pain and effort. "Humans created darkness. They birthed monsters and painted worlds with tragedy."
Juggernaut tilted his head slightly, intrigued yet mocking. "You finally see sense?"
Ace raised his battered gaze, eyes fierce despite his condition. "No. Because you're seeing only half the story." He spat blood, steadying his breath. "Humanity doesn't just create despair—they create hope. Stories are more than mirrors of darkness. They're beacons."
Juggernaut scoffed dismissively. "Hope? Fleeting illusions to distract from reality's cruelty."
Ace shook his head defiantly. "You're wrong. Hope isn't an illusion—it's defiance. Humans created figures like Superman not to deny their darkness, but to challenge it. Superman symbolizes something greater—a universal aspiration toward compassion, justice, kindness. He's not naive idealism; he's humanity's stubborn refusal to surrender to despair."
Juggernaut's cold laughter echoed bitterly. "Yet those same humans destroyed worlds. They birthed stories of endless suffering."
Ace forced himself upright, leaning heavily against a fractured pillar. "Yes. But every time humans fell, they rose again. For every war, there were peacekeepers. For every act of cruelty, there were countless acts of compassion. Think of World War II—not just the horror, but those who risked everything to save others, those who chose kindness in the face of unimaginable evil."
Juggernaut narrowed his eyes slightly, momentarily silent. Ace pressed on, strength returning slowly to his voice.
"You say you're reflections of humanity's darkness—but you're just shadows cast by their greatest fears. Humans created you, yes—but they also created something stronger. The power to choose differently. To rewrite their own narratives."
Ace clenched his fists, flames igniting weakly, but defiantly around him. "You mock the idea of protection. But the reason we fight—the reason Guardians exist—is because humanity itself believes stories matter. They aren't bound by despair—they're inspired by hope."
Juggernaut took a heavy step forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Fine words, Guardian. But they change nothing. Your actions prove you're just as monstrous as we are."
Ace's eyes burned with renewed intensity, defiance clear and unwavering. "I'm flawed, Juggernaut—but unlike you, I'm fighting to change. And that struggle is humanity's greatest story of all."
Juggernaut lunged forward, his colossal form moving with impossible speed, driving a massive fist toward Ace. Ace braced himself, his weakened flames flickering as he met the blow head-on. The impact reverberated violently, cracking the earth beneath them. Pain shot through Ace, yet he forced himself to stay upright.
"You speak of change, Guardian?" Juggernaut growled darkly, his voice a rumbling storm. "Yet humanity remains trapped in cycles of violence, hate, and destruction. They seek meaning in their scriptures and fables, only to repeat the same mistakes endlessly."
Ace twisted sharply, narrowly avoiding Juggernaut's next strike, retaliating with a swift, fiery punch. The titan barely flinched, immediately countering with another devastating blow, sending Ace sprawling.
"That's precisely the point," Ace gasped, climbing unsteadily back to his feet. Blood trickled down his face, yet determination gleamed fiercely in his eyes. "They seek meaning. Despite every failure, every tragedy, humans persist in their quest for purpose, for understanding. Even in their darkest moments, they search for redemption."
Juggernaut scoffed harshly, striking again. His fist connected solidly with Ace's side, cracking ribs and sending a fresh wave of agony through Ace's battered form. "Redemption? Mere illusions humans create to justify their endless cruelty and failures."
Ace staggered back, breathing ragged and heavy, yet his voice remained strong, unyielding. "You're wrong. Redemption isn't an illusion—it's humanity's greatest strength. It's written into every religious narrative, from the Bible to countless other scriptures. Humanity's belief in second chances isn't weakness—it's their most powerful weapon against despair."
Juggernaut surged forward again, seizing Ace by the throat, lifting him high, his grip crushing. Ace struggled fiercely, flames erupting in defiance, fighting against the oppressive darkness Juggernaut embodied.
"Tell me, Guardian," Juggernaut growled, contempt dripping from his words, "where was redemption during the world wars? Where was hope during humanity's most horrific acts? They pray and seek meaning, yet repeat atrocities endlessly."
Ace's vision blurred, darkness encroaching at the edges, but his resolve remained unbroken. Gathering every ounce of remaining strength, he delivered a desperate, fierce strike directly into Juggernaut's face, his flames blazing brighter, empowered by pure defiance.
For the first time, Juggernaut staggered backward, shock flashing briefly across his face. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, evidence of Ace's fierce resistance.
"There it is," Ace rasped triumphantly, landing roughly yet remaining upright. "Even gods can bleed."
Juggernaut recovered quickly, fury igniting his gaze. He struck again with renewed brutality, each blow designed to crush Ace's resistance completely. Yet, despite the relentless punishment, Ace continued to speak, his voice clear and unwavering.
"Redemption doesn't erase past mistakes," Ace continued, even as Juggernaut slammed him repeatedly against shattered ruins, cracking stone and splintering steel. "It's the acknowledgment that humans can choose differently, can rise above their worst instincts."
Juggernaut growled in frustration, gripping Ace's head and driving it into the ground, yet Ace persisted defiantly. "Humanity's scriptures, stories, myths—they're all cries of defiance against darkness. Stories like the Prodigal Son, stories of forgiveness, of mercy—they aren't naïve fantasies. They're blueprints for change, reminders that it's never too late to choose a different path."
Juggernaut snarled fiercely, his voice a thunderous roar as he struck again, attempting to silence Ace permanently. "Your idealism blinds you, Guardian! Humans are incapable of sustained change—they inevitably return to darkness."
Ace, bloodied and battered, managed a weak but defiant laugh, flames flickering stubbornly around him. "Maybe they fall back into darkness, yes. But the fact they rise again every single time—that is their true power. Humans don't give up, not permanently. They keep choosing, keep fighting for something better."
Juggernaut's eyes blazed with rage, his strikes growing increasingly desperate and brutal. Ace's body screamed in agony, bones fracturing, flesh torn, yet his spirit remained unbowed, his words relentless.
"Your vision is limited, Juggernaut," Ace gasped through the pain, each word a defiant declaration. "You see humanity as irredeemable. But I've witnessed countless realities—I've seen humanity at its worst and best. For every horror, I've seen heroes rise. For every act of hatred, I've seen selfless compassion."
Juggernaut slammed Ace viciously into a collapsed wall, burying him beneath a cascade of rubble. Dust billowed, debris scattered, silence falling briefly over the battlefield.
Then, impossibly, Ace's battered form emerged once more from the ruins, flames dim but resolute, eyes shining with unwavering determination.
"You think you're winning because you can break my body," Ace declared defiantly, voice resonating powerfully despite his injuries. "But you'll never extinguish the flame humanity has ignited within me. It burns brighter than pain, brighter than doubt."
Juggernaut's fists clenched tightly, frustration evident in his stance. He advanced slowly, voice dripping venom. "Yet here you are, broken and bloodied, barely standing."
Ace smiled faintly, defiantly, meeting Juggernaut's gaze unflinchingly. "And still, I'm standing. Still fighting. Humanity's greatest strength isn't perfection—it's their relentless ability to choose differently, to rise again, to never stop striving. That's why their stories matter. That's why Guardians exist."
Juggernaut raised his fist again, readying a final, crushing blow. Ace, unafraid, met the impending strike head-on, his voice clear and unshaken.
"You may break my body, Juggernaut," Ace said boldly, flames glowing softly around him. "But humanity's light, their power of choice, their unwavering quest for redemption—those things, you can never break."
Blood pooled into the streets of Noxus, soaked into stone and ash. Every step Ace took left a crimson imprint, his body broken in a dozen places, muscles screaming, ribs cracked, vision hazy. Juggernaut, equally bloodied but towering like a myth made flesh, loomed ahead. Their clash had devolved beyond heroics or speeches. This was a war of attrition. A deathmatch.
Juggernaut snarled and lunged. Ace ducked under a colossal punch, flames igniting around his arms as he countered with a spinning kick to Juggernaut's side. The hit landed—hard—but Juggernaut didn't stagger. He grabbed Ace mid-spin and slammed him face-first into the cracked street. Pavement exploded. Ace gasped, pain rushing through his skull.
"Still standing?" Juggernaut mocked, spitting blood. "Or are you crawling now, Guardian?"
Ace roared, blasted him back with a shockwave of cosmic flame, and leapt upward. The two collided midair. Fists met flesh. Blood sprayed like fireworks. Every hit echoed with the weight of gods clashing.
Juggernaut drove a knee into Ace's gut.
Ace retaliated with a flaming uppercut that cracked Juggernaut's helmet.
Juggernaut slammed his elbow into Ace's back.
Ace grabbed the arm and flipped him over his shoulder—into a shattered spire.
For a moment, both men stood gasping.
Then Ace blinked out of sight.
Speed Force.
He reappeared behind Juggernaut, his entire body burning with cosmic fire so intense it looked like he was becoming energy itself. His aura rippled time. Space itself trembled.
This was his limit.
He gathered all remaining power into a single fist—flame, force, speed, memory, meaning. A punch that went beyond dimensions, beyond timelines.
He struck.
The attack ripped through Juggernaut's chest. Not just physically—existentially. Time fractured. The Crimson Cosmos cracked.
Juggernaut staggered, eyes wide, mouth open.
A beat of silence.
Then he fell to one knee.
Ace stood over him, panting, energy still flickering around his arm. This was it. He could end it. Not just kill him—erase him. Wipe him from this reality. Undo the corruption at its root.
Juggernaut's chest glowed, the wound sizzling, trying to repair—but not fast enough.
Ace raised his hand. Cosmic flame ignited, ready to unleash an erasure far beyond a Timeline Reset. Beyond memory. Beyond identity.
Juggernaut laughed.
Broken, coughing blood, but still smiling.
"Is this what you've become?" he whispered.
Ace didn't respond. His eyes glowed with violent determination.
Juggernaut looked up.
"You speak of humanity's strength," he said hoarsely, "of redemption. Of light. Of hope."
He coughed again, dark blood splattering onto the ground.
"And yet... you erase. You judge. You destroy."
The flames in Ace's hand flared.
Juggernaut's next words stopped time.
"Your Messiah, as he bled on a cross, broken by men, humiliated by monsters... whispered to the sky: 'Father, forgive them. For they know not what they do.'"
Ace froze.
Juggernaut's voice lowered to a rasp. "Can you say the same, Guardian?"
A pause.
Then Ace looked him dead in the eyes.
"No," he said flatly. "Because you do know what you're doing."
The flames didn't dim.
They burned hotter.
Ace stepped forward.
"You're not some misguided soul. You're not lost. You're not confused. You're not even trapped."
Juggernaut blinked.
"You're just comfortable with being the villain."
Ace's voice didn't waver. "I heard that verse once. And it meant something—when it was about ignorance. About people who didn't understand the weight of what they did."
He pointed at Juggernaut.
"You're not them."
Juggernaut's face darkened.
"You made your choice. You revel in the destruction. You drown in the power. You had a chance to turn back. You had every chance!"
Ace's tone was iron. "But you didn't."
He lifted his arm higher, the cosmic fire swirling into a vortex of raw narrative force.
"And you ask where forgiveness is?" Ace asked. "I'll tell you."
His voice cracked—but it carried.
"Forgiveness was in her eyes."
Juggernaut flinched slightly.
"Artoria. She was a Dark once, too. Consumed, corrupted... but not gone. Not truly. Because she hated what she'd become. She was begging to be pulled out. And Adriel saw that. He gave her a second chance. And she took it."
He stepped closer.
"You? I don't see regret. I don't see a plea. I see pride."
The flames began changing—red, gold, violet—becoming something new.
"You think quoting scripture makes you righteous? Jesus forgave those who didn't understand. But even He spoke of judgment for those who did."
Ace's eyes burned.
"'If your right hand causes you to sin... cut it off.'"
Juggernaut's face twisted in rage.
Ace spoke one last time.
"You are that hand."
Then he struck.
The cosmic flame collapsed inward like a black hole, consuming Juggernaut's form.
Not just his body.
His presence.
His existence.
Time rejected him.
Space erased him.
The Crimson Cosmos howled—then shattered.
And for one long, silent moment... there was peace.
Ace fell to one knee, his breath ragged, chest heaving. Sweat mingled with blood as it dripped from his chin, staining the broken stones beneath him. His hands trembled, fingers twitching as the cosmic flame finally extinguished itself from his fist. The silence that followed was deafening. A silence that came not from peace—but from exhaustion.
He slumped forward, catching himself with his palms against the cracked earth. And there, with the weight of what he'd done pressing on his back like a mountain, Ace finally allowed the floodgates to open.
His vision blurred—not from injury this time, but from tears.
It wasn't over.
But something had ended.
Around him, the red glow that once coated the ruins of Noxus began to fade. The corruption, once baked into every corner of the city, bled out like venom from a wound. The skies lightened. The air lost its pressure. The glyphs stopped humming. And in that stillness, Noxus began to return to itself—still ruined, still haunted, but no longer enslaved.
Ace didn't lift his head. He couldn't.
Not yet.
He saw it all again. Flashes of the battle. The waves of fanatics. The broken champions—Sion's roar, Rell's charge, Cassiopeia's hiss. The look in Mel's eyes before she vanished. The way the city screamed as it bent to Cyttorak's will.
And then Juggernaut's words.
"You erase. You judge. You destroy."
He clenched his teeth, trying to suppress the shaking.
"Your Messiah, as he bled on a cross, broken by men, humiliated by monsters... whispered to the sky: 'Father, forgive them. For they know not what they do.'"
"Can you say the same, Guardian?"
Ace slammed a fist into the dirt. Not in rage. In pain. Emotional. Real. The kind that came from inside—the kind no amount of fire could burn away.
Peter.
That name crashed through his mind like a hammer.
Peter was still out there.
Still in the hands of Red Goblin. Still suffering. Still waiting.
And Ace had wasted too much time.
His eyes opened, burning with moisture, not power.
He remembered what Adriel had told him. About Artoria. About second chances. About seeing past the corruption and into the soul that trembled beneath.
But Juggernaut had none of that.
And that was the difference.
Still, it didn't make this moment easier.
He had erased someone. A person, a being, a god. Someone who had existed.
Now... they didn't.
Not even as a memory.
Ace was used to killing Darks. But this? This wasn't just a win. It wasn't even revenge. It was a sacrifice. A piece of himself, scorched away to ensure this corrupted branch of reality wouldn't bleed further.
He stayed on the ground a moment longer, the dust curling gently around him in the breeze. The world felt quieter now. And heavier.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself up.
His legs almost gave out again. His ribs screamed. His back ached. But he stood.
Because he had to.
He looked at the ruined skyline of Noxus. Once proud. Now broken. But maybe—just maybe—it could be rebuilt.
"Peter..." he muttered.
The name didn't echo. It didn't need to.
It grounded him.
He couldn't break here.
Peter was counting on him. Adriel was counting on him. The Guardians were counting on him. Fiction itself was counting on him.
And despite everything Juggernaut had said, one truth remained.
Ace still believed in humanity.
Not the flawless ideal. But the fragile, fumbling, messy reality of it.
Because even if humanity created monsters... it also created heroes.
With great effort, he activated his communicator—one of the few functions that had recovered slowly after the fight. He sighed grateful that he at least recovered that part of Adriel's Gamer system.
"This is Ace," he rasped. "Noxus is cleared. Repeat... Juggernaut is gone. The Dark presence has been neutralized."
A pause.
Then a crackle of static.
"Copy that, Ace, " Artoria answered, "We're detecting restoration protocols initiating across the zone. Local narrative nodes are stabilizing. Good work."
He didn't reply.
He stared at the fading red horizon, then turned his eyes to the stars beginning to pierce the sky.
"I'm coming, Peter," he whispered.
He took one step forward—and almost fell.
But he caught himself.
Because he still had one thing left.
Purpose.
And as long as he had that, he would keep moving.
Even if it meant burning his way across every corrupted corner of fiction to bring Peter home.
But then... something pulsed in his awareness.
He stopped.
Ace closed his eyes and focused.
Observation Haki flared around him, radiating in invisible waves. His senses reached deep into the ruined bones of Noxus, past the rubble, past the shattered throne.
There.
Four flickers of life.
Weak. Distant. But alive.
He turned his head toward the remnants of the Crimson Throne. It stood crooked, splintered by battle and collapse—but beneath it, something remained. Something hidden.
Ace made his way to it, every step measured, legs aching with each movement. He stood in front of the warped seat of power and clenched his jaw. He didn't need keys. Didn't need runes.
Just fire.
He raised a hand, flame swirling around his fist, and punched straight through the base of the throne. The explosion carved open the earth, revealing a descending stairwell shrouded in dust and shadow.
Ace didn't hesitate.
He stepped down.
The air was cold, thick with the scent of mildew and old magic. Each step deeper felt like a descent into history's forgotten sins. Arcane sigils flickered along the walls—wards, suppression glyphs, and torture spells long since dulled.
At the bottom, a corridor opened into a prison.
And there, locked behind bars, barely conscious... were the final survivors.
Katarina. Darius. LeBlanc. Swain.
The last champions of Noxus.
Ace froze.
They looked barely human—malnourished, bruised, worn down to their very souls. Time hadn't been kind. Nor had their captors.
Each sat in their own cell, heads low, chained by both steel and spell. Their clothes were in tatters, bodies covered in blood and grime. The pain wasn't just physical—it was existential. They'd been erased from history without being erased at all. Forgotten. Broken.
But not gone.
Ace moved forward.
He didn't speak at first. He just knelt beside each door and broke it open one by one—his hands glowing softly with flame and haki. Steel shattered. Runes cracked. Chains melted.
Katarina was the first to open her eyes.
She flinched.
But when she saw him, her fingers curled into fists, and then... relaxed.
Darius coughed hard, leaning forward as if the very air hurt.
LeBlanc blinked slowly, then whispered, "Help..."
Swain stared straight into Ace's eyes. Silent. Unmoving.
Ace tapped the side of his head. "Adriel, portal. Medbay. Now."
No reply.
Then—
:: SYSTEM RECONNECTED ::
:: Shared HUD Relay Established ::
Adriel's voice came through, laced with static but strong: "Ace? You're alive. I see your signal now. Medbay gate opening."
A glowing portal shimmered into being behind him.
Ace reached into his backpack and pulled out four vials of healing potion—Adriel's latest upgrades. They pulsed with a golden sheen.
He handed them to each champion.
"Drink it," he said firmly.
Katarina hesitated, but one look at his face told her this wasn't a trick. She drank. The others followed.
Strength returned slowly—but it returned.
"Come on," Ace said. "You're going home."
No one argued. Not now.
Together, the last of Noxus stepped through the portal.
And Ace followed them, one last glance over his shoulder at the ruins of a kingdom lost to its own hubris.
Whatever came next—this city, at least, had a chance to rebuild.
And Peter was still waiting.
To Be Continued...