Between the mountains and cliffs, peaks rose like jagged teeth.
"Roar!"
A dragon's cry thundered across the skies as it soared past, its massive wings beating with a force that stirred the wind into a shrieking howl.
Flames licked at the rock face, scorching the already sparse vegetation.
What few bushes clung to the cliffs were reduced to ash, and the blackened stone smoked in their place.
The dragon's scales glowed like molten fire.
Her massive, lava-colored eyes scanned the horizon with unhidden fury and disdain.
"That wretched bloodline draws near."
The words rumbled from her throat in a language not of the common tongue—a deep, ancient dialect heavy with power.
It echoed like a cathedral bell from forgotten times, carrying an aura that stirred dread into the hearts of those who might hear it.
Her golden, unblinking eyes narrowed with loathing.
With a sudden thrust of her wings, she ignited the sky with fire, pivoting midair and racing toward her sensed presence.
It was close now. Very close.
Shyvana and Ryan sat across from one another beside a small campfire on the edge of the Turkgur Plains.
The firelight cast warm shadows across their faces, painting their skin with a flickering orange glow.
Shyvana's hands were clenched slightly, her expression tense.
She could feel it—her blood calling to her. Her mother was near.
"President, is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
Before her mother, she felt as small as a child.
But that same mother had nearly destroyed everything she held dear—burned away the only warm memories she had.
For the mage who had raised her, for the one person who had shown her kindness, Shyvana wanted to avenge.
She had to act.
Ryan read her thoughts. He didn't refuse her; instead, he paused a moment and said,
"The dragonkind possess many gifts—resilience, innate elemental magic, and scale armor resistant to spells. But…" he trailed off deliberately.
"What's the best way to bring one down?"
"Power. Cut off her head," Shyvana replied without hesitation.
Her adoptive father hadn't taught her to fight—she hadn't even sparred in a proper duel.
Most of what she knew of combat came from her time with the Darius.
Darius once told her, "If your axe is sharp enough and your strike strong enough, no head won't roll."
The words had burned themselves into her memory.
"Not a bad answer," Ryan said with a small, encouraging smile.
"Raw strength is effective, but it's also the hardest way. Dragons are far more resistant to magic than steel, but even so, their size and scales are not easily killed."
The body of a full-grown dragon could span nearly a hundred meters.
Their scales were tougher than any forged armor—standard weapons wouldn't pierce them.
"To slay a dragon, mortals need preparation, strategy, and a strong enough will to face death."
Shyvana looked down briefly, then back up with a flicker of defiance in her eyes.
"Do I even have a chance?" she asked quietly.
There was hope in her voice, but also fear.
She wanted to be the one to end it. But she knew the gap in strength.
The very thought felt like a fantasy.
Still, she wouldn't back down.
Ryan nodded. "Of course. In Noxus, anyone willing to prove themselves gets the chance to do so."
His voice was firm. Encouraging.
He added, "My magic leans toward support. Fight as you must—I'll keep you alive."
"President…" Shyvana's lips parted, caught between gratitude and emotion.
She knew Ryan wasn't just support. He was one of the most powerful mages in the empire.
Both he and Darius—commanders of unmatched strength—had shown her unexpected kindness.
She had spent her youth traveling with her adoptive father, staying clear of Noxus during its many wars.
She had feared it, misunderstood it.
Now, she was starting to see the truth.
In Noxus, leaders didn't rule from above—they fought beside you.
Comrades fought as equals, not for titles.
This was an empire of strength, yes—but also of unity and resolve.
This was a place worth fighting for.
"I won't disappoint you," she said firmly, standing and bowing her head respectfully.
Ryan smiled faintly and turned from the fire toward the dark mountain range.
He spoke softly.
"She's here. The stage is yours, Shyvana."
"Understood."
Shyvana's body tensed, ready. The fear was still there, but it no longer controlled her.
Her talk with Ryan had turned the tide inside her.
Whatever happened now, she would face it head-on.
Shyvana was whole, pure, focused, and unshaken at that moment.
Two small flames sparked in the depths of her eyes.
With a sharp hiss, they ignited into blazing red, and she slammed her feet against the ground with explosive force.
Cracks shot outward like lightning from where she stood.
Shyvana's lean form shot upward like a fired cannonball, powered by raw kinetic force.
Mid-air, her body shimmered with violent energy, and in an instant, the transformation began.
Light and shadow danced across her form.
Dark crimson scales wrapped her limbs.
Jagged bone protrusions burst forth, claws stretched to lethal sharpness—the traits of the dragon within her surfaced, no longer contained.
She let out a hoarse, guttural roar, eyes blazing as they widened into draconic shape.
Her wings unfurled with a metallic screech as scale upon scale locked into place.
Fully transformed, she soared into the sky.
Just then, from the other end of the mountain range, a thunderous roar split the air.
The sheer force of it echoed across the cliffs, carried by wind thick with heat.
"ROAR!"
In a blinding instant, a massive dragon—over a hundred meters long and wreathed in flame—emerged from the sky like a living comet.
Embers streamed from her wings as she roared straight toward Shyvana.
From below, Ryan remained seated, perfectly calm.
He watched the unfolding clash with furrowed brows, his voice low and dry.
"Impressive strength," he muttered.
"Shame about the brain."
Though still cross-legged on the ground, Ryan's body shimmered with blue runes.
Magic pulsed around him like a living aura.
BOOM.
The two dragons collided with titanic force—flesh against scale, muscle against magic-forged armor.
Shyvana, though powerful, was dwarfed by her mother.
The impact sent her hurtling backward, slamming into the cliff face below with a resounding crack.
She crashed hard. Even beneath her hardened scales, blood began to trickle—small wounds, but telling ones.
Just one exchange, and Shyvana was already hurt.
"Weak. Foolish. How dare you bear the blood of the great Iva?"
The ancient voice of the fire dragon echoed with terrifying power, every syllable resonating through the sky like divine judgment.
It wasn't just sound—it was pressure, overwhelming and absolute.
Shock. Awe. A primal fear.
Ryan narrowed his eyes.
"An archaic dialect... every word laced with enchantment. So her name is Iva."
His eyes glowed a bright, endless blue.
Oceans of magic surged from within him, forming into precise, complex runes with each passing breath.
With a flick of his left hand, a dozen shimmering runes flew into the air, vanishing in a blink.
They reappeared where Shyvana's blood had hit the rock.
A cool, glowing light wrapped her injuries.
This was Tier-Four Water Rune Magic: Spa Spell—a continuous healing incantation far more potent than basic spells like Raindrop of Life or Hydrotherapy.
It mended wounds steadily, drawing mana from the runes until fully depleted.
With her natural regenerative strength, it only took a few moments.
The bleeding stopped.
Her skin knitted together.
She roared, feeling the power flowing through her once more.
She knew where it came from—Ryan, watching silently below.
Fueled by renewed strength and burning resolve, Shyvana rose to her feet, swept her tail behind her for balance, and launched herself into the air again.
Fire erupted from her jaws as she rushed toward Iva, eyes locked onto the ancient monster.
"Fluorescent Fire!"
Iva's mocking gaze narrowed.
Her enormous maw opened wide, and a crimson flame burst out from within to meet Shyvana head-on.
BOOM—
The explosion of flames came with a thunderous roar.
The fire that Iva unleashed was overwhelming—thick and torrential, swallowing Shyvana's flame like raindrops falling into the sea. Her breath vanished without a trace.
Still, Iva's inferno surged forward, relentless, waves of scorching heat warping the air in shimmering ripples.
Just as the fire was about to consume Shyvana, Ryan raised his index finger slightly.
Two runes—Water and Shroud—glowed on her body, ready to activate.
But then he paused.
He saw the wild determination in Shyvana's eyes—desperation and fury—and slowly lowered his hand.
The runes dimmed and vanished without casting.
"Roar!"
Shyvana cried out, abandoning all defense.
Her wings thundered behind her, propelling her straight into the inferno.
To any onlooker, she was nothing more than a fragile shape hurtling into death itself—a moth to flame.
But she chose to be that moth.
BOOM!
The flames engulfed her.
Her crimson scales glowed white-hot, sizzling and popping, a wave of burning agony rippling through her entire body.
The smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
The pain was indescribable.
Her skin cracked, blistered, blackened—but still she flew forward, enduring it all.
The healing effect from Ryan's earlier Spa Spell sustained her body just enough to press on.
"ROAAAAR!!"
She howled into the flames, a roar of fury and defiance. Her charge didn't stop.
Ryan watched from below, the sky lit with fire, reflected in his blue eyes.
His expression shifted ever so slightly, as though moved.
He rose to his feet and murmured:
"Reborn in flame… and reborn as a true dragon."
As his words faded, a miracle unfolded.
Through the searing fire, Shyvana kept flying, tail whipping behind her, wings pounding the burning air.
Her outer scales, already weakened, began to fall away.
Her raw skin, exposed to the full heat of the flames, blistered.
But within the pain, something changed.
Something awakened.
New scales erupted beneath her scorched skin—thicker, deeper red, and glowing with an inner fire.
Where flesh had burned, muscle and scale returned, stronger than before.
Unlike before, where her transformation had only partially embraced her dragon blood, the change was complete.
Now, she was fully draconic.
Scarlet scales gleamed like molten metal.
Her golden eyes burned with clarity and rage.
BOOM!
She surged upward, crashing her head into Iva's chin with stunning force.
"Aaaagh!"
Iva roared in pain, her flames knocked off course, spilling wildly over a nearby hill.
The mountain rock hissed and melted beneath the heat.
"Insolent half-blood!"
Her golden eyes flared with fury.
Iva, no longer content to breathe fire, beat her wings downward and launched toward Shyvana, ready to engage in brutal, close combat.
SNAP.
Ryan snapped his fingers.
A ring of runes surrounding him shimmered, then shot upward, embedding themselves onto Shyvana's body.
A surge of strength, speed, and resilience pulsed through her veins.
Her limbs felt lighter.
Her power is limitless.
Tempered in flame, strengthened by magic, Shyvana's potential now seemed to tear through every boundary.
"ROAR!"
She responded to Iva's charge without hesitation but with full force.
Wings snapped open.
She accelerated straight into the elder dragon.
BOOM—
The two dragons collided midair again, but the impact was different this time.
It wasn't a one-sided blow.
Their horns clashed. The shockwave echoed across the mountains.
Shyvana didn't fall—she held.
Her claws raked forward, scraping against Iva's hardened scales, gouging deep.
Iva snarled, spinning midair, slashing with her tail and claws.
They locked into a savage melee.
Dragon against dragon.
No magic, no pretense—just raw power.
Teeth. Claws. Horns. Tails. Wings.
Every part of their bodies became weapons in this primal struggle.
Each strike traded pain for pain, blood for blood.
Shyvana fought with desperation. Her technique was unrefined—wild and reactive.
For every successful strike she landed, she took three more in return.
Ryan floated upward behind them, his robes caught in the updraft, runes glowing softly around him.
His gaze sharpened as he watched the battle unfold.
He knew: Shyvana's instincts weren't enough to match Iva's centuries of combat experience.
But her fire—her will—was burning brighter than ever.
Shyvana's body glowed with an emerald light.
Cuts were sealed, torn muscles were mended, and even scales ripped from flesh were regenerated almost instantly.
Wounds that would have grounded lesser beings vanished in seconds.
Blood painted the sky as the two dragons clashed, their howls echoing across the mountains.
But between them, Iva was faring worse. Far worse.
Her breath grew ragged, her injuries deeper and slower to mend.
Confusion flickered in her burning eyes—confusion that quickly twisted into rage.
She turned her gaze away from Shyvana, toward a distant figure still floating in calm silence.
Ryan.
If not for that damned mage, how could this half-blood whelp be holding her ground?
Just like that thief from long ago.
Another mage. Another thorn in her pride.
"ROAR!"
Snarling in fury, Iva took a deep wound from Shyvana's claw and disengaged.
Her wings beat the air in a violent gust as she surged past her opponent, straight toward Ryan.
She had made up her mind.
If Shyvana kept recovering, the fight would never end.
But the battle would be over if she struck down the mage, the source of her regeneration.
Victory demanded blood.
"Mage! Die!"
The ancient, thunderous cry froze the battlefield.
Shyvana's breath caught. Then her eyes widened in panic.
No—!
She launched after Iva with desperate speed, unleashing a wall of flame to intercept.
But it barely slowed the ancient dragon.
Despite the damage, Iva pushed forward with manic glee.
She had almost reached Ryan.
The mage hadn't moved.
He remained there, motionless, silent. As if frozen in fear.
Shyvana's heart pounded. Her father had told her time and again: mages are fragile.
Even the mightiest of spellcasters, like the president of the council, had to exhaust themselves to keep up with creatures like Iva.
Ryan… he wouldn't survive a direct hit.
Iva knew it too. Her golden eyes gleamed.
She opened her bloodied jaws wide, and a vortex of fire built in her throat.
Just a little closer—
"Hraaah!"
A deafening roar. A torrent of flame erupted from her mouth, scorching toward Ryan like divine judgment.
The sky turned orange.
The mountain trembled.
And then—
"Interesting."
The calm voice cut through the inferno like a blade.
Iva's eyes widened.
Ryan had raised one hand. In his palm, two runes shimmered: Water and Shroud.
The fire met a translucent barrier—liquid, rippling, unyielding.
Iva's breath collided with it and stopped dead.
The heat radiated, but the wall stood firm, untouched.
"A magician's trick?!" Iva roared, eyes wild.
She abandoned her breath and lunged forward, jaws wide open, intending to crush the mage in her maw.
Ryan sighed. His hand closed slightly.
Hum—
The sky shifted.
A blue veil fell upon the world like the heavens had dimmed.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
From above, dozens—hundreds—of water-forged chains shot down like divine spears. They wrapped around Iva's limbs, her neck, her wings.
She flailed. At first, she broke some. Advanced a meter.
But then another wave fell. Then another.
Her strength faltered.
Her wings stopped beating.
Finally, her enormous body hung in mid-air, bound completely, only her furious eyes and gnashing teeth still free.
Shyvana hovered nearby, stunned.
Her heart thundered in her chest. S
he'd always known Ryan was powerful—but this? Iva, the terror of the highlands, silenced in moments?
It was more than magic. It was control. Command. Dominion.
"Coward!" Iva spat, speaking now in the old tongue—the language of dragons and gods.
"You bind me. You delay the inevitable. You buy time for your whelp. You think that's a victory?"
Ryan looked at her with a calm, almost bored expression.
The blue glow of his eyes deepened.
He raised a single finger. A ring upon it flared with azure light.
"What gave you the illusion," he said, voice cold as the void, "that we were equals in this game?"
He pointed downward. The ring pulsed.
SHHH—
A thin blade of pure arcane energy burst forth, silent and blinding.
It cut through Iva like silk.
It passed through her heart, spine, and mind and continued beyond into the sky.
For a second, she didn't react.
Then—
"Guh—!"
Her eyes bulged. Her body spasmed.
Chains clinked as blood exploded from dozens of fresh wounds across her form.
She had no time to scream.
I just wanted to let you know there's no time to understand.
Only pain.
SPLASH!
The dragon's massive body convulsed, then went limp, suspended like a butchered beast.
Only the chains kept her from falling.
Shyvana watched in horror and awe. Her limbs trembled.
The mighty Iva, who had torched cities and devoured warbands, was reduced to little more than a blood-drenched carcass.
In a single instant.
By a single man.
Ryan lowered his hand.
The ring's light faded.
He looked at the crumpled, bleeding body above him with mild disdain.
"Tch."
He shook his head.
"So much noise for something so... simple."
Even now, his tone remained composed.
He turned away from Iva, his gaze rising to the sky.
Clouds swirled. Darkness deepened.
And overhead, the stars glimmered, forming constellations too ancient for any mortal to name.
But Ryan recognized them.
Each one… a reminder.
The Celestials. The Voidborn. The Demigods.
They were still out there.
And for the first time, he felt close.
Very close.