"Tsk, just like that, those people will be itching to tear me apart!"
Duke clicked his tongue. Of course, he knew what Camille meant by Demacia's grandest event. As a nation born from the ashes of the Rune Wars, Demacia had always revered justice, honor, and duty, clinging with near-fanatic pride to its heritage and traditions.
Among those traditions, the Grand Tournament of Glory stood at the pinnacle: a nationwide contest drawing warriors not only from every corner of Demacia but even from distant lands, all striving to seize the champion's crown before the eyes of the entire nation.
In Demacia, dueling was more than sport; it was a noble's obsession. Take Fiora's father, for instance, disgraced for using underhanded tricks in a duel, his entire family was shamed. Fiora herself stepped into the dueling grounds to restore her clan's honor.
From this, it was clear how highly Demacia valued personal martial prowess.
Noxus, too, had its dueling traditions. Where Demacia called it the Duel Tournament, Noxus named it the Reckoning Arena. Draven, the infamous showman, was their most beloved Reckoner, a gladiator who thrived in blood and spectacle.
And what Camille wanted Duke to do, was to step onto Demacia's national stage and strike at their pride, proving that the Father of Exoskeletons, even bare-handed, could surpass them all.
Though Duke preferred leaving troublesome matters to arrogance-ridden Valli and the others, and ever since gaining the Cicada, he rarely needed to take action himself, this was different.
At the Grand Tournament, there would be no avoiding real steel and blood.
The thought of it stirred something in him, a flicker of excitement.
But in recent years, Demacian nobles had grown increasingly stubborn and narrow-minded, their hatred for mages festering like a disease. Mage-hunters, those ruthless zealots, had risen in power, once they marked a target, escape was near impossible. They would personally crack open a mage's skull with their long staves.
If Duke went, he would inevitably draw endless trouble.
"So, what you mean is, you want me to head out on my own, reach Demacia, and enter this tournament?"
He toyed idly with the Echo of Fate in his hand. Camille shook her head slightly.
"To make this work, you must walk the road alone."
"Hah? Alone?"
The lid of the Echo of Fate snapped shut in his fingers.
"You seriously expect me to fight my way there solo? Those people really will eat me alive!"
"I trust your strength," Camille replied with a faint, amused look. "Besides, are you truly afraid?"
Duke raised a brow. "Afraid? Not really. To be honest, unless a true god descends, I have confidence in handling anyone."
After all, Superman's experience card: eternal, divine!
Renekton and Nasus together? He could still grind them into the dirt.
Even a golden crispy chicken, no problem.
With aces up his sleeve, confidence came naturally.
"Then all the more reason to go," Camille said with a nod. "Since you're certain you can defeat anyone, test yourself. I look forward to hearing your name sung across Demacia."
"That'll be a social death sentence!"
"And what's so bad about that?" Camille sipped her tea gracefully, then gestured for him to leave.
"Fine, I'll go play in Demacia then. But you'll arrange my travel and cover the costs. I need some rest anyway. Two major figures are about to step into the light, and I'll need to prepare properly for their entrance."
Duke rose, twirling the Echo of Fate in his fingers as he left the room. Just as he reached the door, Camille's voice drifted after him.
"Oh, one more thing. I have an intelligence report you'll find very interesting. Care to take a look?"
"Let's see it."
She tossed him the sealed report. Duke caught it, nodded, and stepped out into the corridor. As he walked, he tore open the envelope.
One glance, and his eyes widened, followed by a crooked smile.
"So, you fled to Noxus? No wonder Vander was captured by their war-stonemasons. Silco, your devotion to Vander runs deep indeed. Smuggling Shimmer into Zaun as well, no surprise there. You were always the storm-stirring schemer of the original tale."
Duke chuckled, slapping the folded report against his palm before shaking his head.
"Not my problem. Not even close. Let Caitlyn and Vi handle you, you'll make a fine early-game boss for them."
To him, Silco wasn't worth worrying about. No matter how much chaos he brewed, it could never stand against true power. If he overreached, Duke could always ask Katarina in distant Noxus to "take care" of him.
"Time to design Caitlyn and Vi some new skins."
With a flick of the Echo of Fate, the report caught fire, curling to ash.
Five days later. Blueflame Manor, Training Grounds.
"Haa!!"
With a resounding shout, a suspended sandbag burst apart under a powerful punch. The woman behind the strike, eyes sharp, breath steady, drove her fists into one bag after another, iron sand spilling in heaps around her feet.
When all seven or eight sandbags were shredded, she finally stopped, panting lightly. Treading over the scattered sand, she strode toward Duke, who waited at the sidelines.
"Looks like you're adapting well."
He tossed her a bottle of rum. Caitlyn caught it easily, popped the cork, and took a long swig.
Duke nodded. At first, Vi hadn't been able to control her surge of strength, ripping doors off hinges by accident, breaking whatever she touched. But with tailored training, she'd learned to wield it with precision. In the past, she'd have crushed that bottle the moment it touched her hand.
"Didn't expect this place to have such a big training ground," Vi said, exhaling the liquor's burn with satisfaction as she joined him on the bench.
"Don't ask too many questions. Just be glad you've been reborn."
"What about Vander?" she asked suddenly.
Duke raised a brow. "Sharp, aren't you?"
"Call it woman's intuition."
He gestured toward the pile of shredded sandbags. "What was that?"
"Just tell me the truth about Vander."
With a shrug, Duke relented. "Fine. He was taken by Noxian war-stonemasons. I don't know the exact reason, but the one behind it should be Silco, he's reappeared after some time in hiding."
"Silco?"
Vi crushed the bottle in her hand, shards falling as cold fury blazed in her eyes. "Where is he now?"
"Noxus. From what I hear, he's doing well enough. He's the one smuggling Shimmer into Zaun."
"Figures. That bastard just won't die."
"Forget him for now. Come with me to the workshop, I've built you both new equipment. Consider it an early graduation gift."
"Both?"
"Caitlyn's included."
"Let's go then."
Duke led Vi from the training grounds to his workshop, where Caitlyn was already waiting outside. The two women hadn't seen each other in a while, and greeted each other warmly.
Duke eyed Caitlyn's oversized hat with mild disdain. So that's when she started cultivating that awful taste.
"Come in, both of you. See what I've prepared."
The moment they entered the vast hall, two imposing suits of armor greeted them, one outfitted with massive gauntlets, the other paired with a Hextech sniper rifle.
"Hextech Power Armor, built just for you," Duke announced, resting a hand on each suit.
"Yours is called Strength," he said to Vi, "after the tarot card. Don't ask me what tarot is, I'm not explaining. Its core weapons are these Atlas Hextech Gauntlets. Each fist can unleash fifty tons of force."
"They release devastating shockwaves, and every punch reinforces your shield with the kinetic feedback. The gauntlets also feature long-range infrared guidance, once you lock onto a target, the thrusters will drive you straight into them, delivering judgment."
Then, turning to Caitlyn, Duke gestured at the second suit.
"Yours is called Priestess. It's paired with this special Hextech sniper rifle. Each pull of the trigger builds kinetic charge, and every sixth shot unleashes a devastating blast. No bullets required, it's Hextech, but I've designed two special ammunition types for you: armor-piercing rounds called Peacemaker, and net-casting rounds for immobilization."
"Your armor also carries a trap system, optical cloaking makes it invisible to all but you and your allies. Once a trap catches the target, your rifle will automatically register and fire."
"And finally, the scope's remote guidance system, once you lock on, no matter where your prey runs, your shot will find them. Effective range: five kilometers."
Duke tapped the pauldrons of both suits, raising a brow at the two women.
"Well? Do you like them?"
End of chapter....
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