"How did things escalate this quickly?"
As the crowd of citizens surged toward the livestock auction block, Duke stepped out of the inn, intending to see for himself what was happening.
His drone was still searching for the one being used as an anchor point, it would likely locate them soon.
But now, with this sudden commotion, he couldn't shake a growing sense of unease.
In the original timeline, it was here that frenzied citizens executed a man driven mad by nightmare corruption. From his broken body, the eruption of shadow magic heralded the descent of the Nightmare.
Pulling his trench coat tighter and raising his hood, Duke followed the crowd without slowing his steps, determined to witness how the situation unfolded.
He crossed streets and entered the bustling market square.
Standing at the edge of the throng, Duke scanned the faces around him. The Nightmare's corruption of this city had already gone further than he imagined. No one near him was free of it, every face was etched with exhaustion, eyes bloodshot as if they hadn't slept in days.
And each bore a simmering, unspoken agitation.
Before long, two guards dragged a weeping man up onto the auction block.
In ordinary days, this was where livestock was sold. Farmers would hand over their animals to an auctioneer, who, hammer in hand, would stand on the platform and extoll their strengths and flaws to potential buyers.
But tonight, the auction block had become a makeshift court, and perhaps even an execution ground.
The man thrust onto the stage was drenched in blood, wailing ceaselessly.
"It's all fake!"
"You, me, him, all of us, it's all fake!"
"We're living inside a nightmare, a nightmare woven by another's hand!"
"The time has come, he's here!"
"He's here!"
"He's come to reap his hunting ground!"
"I saw him!"
"Believe me!"
"Please, believe me!"
...
His cries were pitiful, his words incoherent. His mind had shattered under the strain of endless nightmares, plunging into madness through cycle after cycle of shifting dreams.
Fear had consumed what remained of him.
At that moment, a woman stepped onto the stage. She wore a fur-lined robe, and on her chest gleamed the bronze double-wing insignia of a Demacian magistrate.
This was clearly Fosbayro's presiding judge.
In Demacia, where law and principle were revered above all else, disputes and conflicts of daily life were entrusted to judges for resolution.
She had arrived at the scene as soon as she received word. And she was not alone. By her side stood a stern-faced middle-aged man, accompanied by a golden-haired woman. Behind them, the banners and guards of the Crownguard family were unmistakable, as were Lux and Garen who followed at their heels.
It was none other than Lux and Garen's parents, the current heads of the Crownguard household.
Now they stood below the platform as observers. They did not step onto the stage themselves. This was both respect for the local magistrate, and for Demacia's time-honored tradition and rule of law.
The square was already packed with hundreds of townsfolk, their numbers swelling by the minute. They shouted and cursed at the accused, their voices laced with venomous resentment, venting all the dark emotions they had suppressed for too long.
Duke's left eyelid twitched. In his sight, those emotions were no longer just feelings, they had condensed into a tangible miasma, drifting like smoke across the square.
"Tch... why did it erupt so suddenly?"
Perplexed, he pushed forward through the crowd, intent on reaching Lux's side and finding a way to halt this fevered trial.
What he didn't know was that by forcibly purging the shadow magic from Garen's body earlier, he had inadvertently roused Nocturne's suspicion, and set this nightmare into motion ahead of schedule.
Nocturne had originally planned to wait.
To wait until the entire city was consumed by dreamscape corruption. That day would not have been far off.
Even the wyverns that attacked Poppy and Duke had fallen under the Nightmare's influence. Simple, brutal-minded beasts, it took only a single slumber for them to become puppets of Nocturne.
From within the realm of souls, once Nocturne found a chance to pierce into the material world, he would never pass up the feast.
Which meant this plot had been laid not for days, but much longer.
"Lux!"
Duke finally forced his way through to her, only to feel another's gaze fall upon him. Looking up, he met the eyes of Lux's father.
"Greetings, Lord Crownguard."
Duke bowed slightly. The upright man returned the gesture with a curt nod.
"You are Duke Sanchez of Piltover, yes?"
"That's correct."
"To meet the great master craftsman here is truly my honor."
"You flatter me." Duke's words were humble, but his voice dropped low as he leaned closer. "Lord Crownguard, I believe we must put this trial to a stop."
"Impossible," Lord Crownguard replied firmly. "Law and justice are sacred and inviolable."
"Master Duke," Lady Crownguard added softly, "I have heard of you from both Garen and Lux. You are welcome in Demacia, but right now a trial is underway. We must remain silent out of respect."
"Here in Demacia, law and principle reign supreme."
Her eyes held a chill. Duke read the warning clearly, stand down, do not meddle.
"Madam, I know well that in Demacia law is sovereign. But the situation is dire. Please, allow me to explain."
"Mother!" Lux pleaded urgently.
But Lady Crownguard only fixed her gaze on the stage and said quietly, "Hush. The trial begins."
"Criminal Dayan, you took an axe and slew your wife, your children, and six innocent citizens. Do you confess to these crimes?"
"They weren't! No, they weren't!" Dayan sobbed. "I saw them, they weren't themselves, they were... nightmares! Dark things wearing human skin, nightmares everywhere, hiding among us!"
"I saw their true faces!"
"So I killed them! I had to, I had to kill them!"
Judge Giselle's voice was low and grave: "And did you kill any others?"
Her expression carried sorrow that gnawed at the soul. Since her own child had gone missing, she had aged a decade overnight. Her every day since had been spent searching, yet finding nothing. Fear for her son's fate consumed her.
Now she looked down upon Aldo Dayan with clenched fists, awaiting his answer.
The crowd erupted with furious cries, demanding blood for blood.
"I had to kill them!" Dayan shouted back at his accusers, eyes wild. "They weren't themselves anymore!"
"They were nothing but darkness and nightmare, and you, yes, you too! The nightmare hides among us, so kill them all, every last one!"
"You say every last one?" Judge Giselle's eyes flared with rage. "Does that mean you killed my son as well? He was just a child, so bright, so full of promise!"
"Kill them all!"
Dayan no longer heard her words. His voice had sunk fully into madness, his soul drowned in terror, unresponsive to anything outside.
Duke's brows knitted tight. This was wrong, terribly wrong. If this continued unchecked, the boiling emotions could breach the threshold, and summon something unspeakable.
Judge Giselle closed her eyes and thundered her verdict:
"Aldo Dayan! I find you guilty, and here sentence you to death!"
Her words ignited the crowd.
"Kill him, kill him!"
"Take his head!"
"Wash away his sins in blood!"
The mob, long tormented by sleeplessness, by the horror of being stalked in their dreams, by rage left to fester, now erupted in full.
At that instant, Duke and Lux both caught the bitter tang of rot on their tongues.
The executioner mounted the stage, raising his heavy axe high.
Dayan struggled, shrieking, but the executioner kicked him to the ground and pinned him with a boot to the spine.
Duke glanced at the frenzied crowd. His lips clicked in annoyance, Cicada was ready. It was time to end this farce.
The axe fell,
Clang!
In a blur too fast for mortal eyes, Cicada struck, shattering the blade into fragments.
The executioner and Judge Giselle froze in stunned confusion.
How could a solid axe simply break apart?
Before the crowd could process it, a figure surged onto the platform, plunging a knife into Dayan's chest.
"You killed my family! I demand blood for blood!"
"Blood for blood!"
Dayan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Blood gushed as a bone-deep chill swept across the square.
Duke's tongue clicked sharply. To untangle this mess... truly a nightmare indeed.
From Dayan's corpse, black smoke coiled forth like pitch bubbling from a grave.
The murderer staggered back in horror as a ghostly shadow burst free, fangs bared, eyes aflame.
The phantom lunged, only to flicker like ash in the wind and vanish.
Lux's gaze darted to Duke. His left eye glowed with a bewitching blue light, though the glow faded in an instant.
He had snuffed it out, but the damage was done. Everyone had seen it. The chain of events was already locked in place.
The assailant collapsed in terror, scrambling backward. The executioner suddenly stiffened, then fell flat without warning.
And like the fall of a final straw, the rest followed.
Thud. Thud. Thud...
All across the square, citizens toppled one after another. From their bodies, black smoke spewed forth, rushing outward in snarling torrents.
One by one, more fell, as if life had fled them in a single instant.
From their bodies rose shadowy forms, each grotesque, each unique. A legion of nightmare beasts clad in Noxian armor: towering spiders, hydra-headed serpents, axe-wielding fiends, draconic horrors with rows of blackened teeth... creatures that defied all sane comprehension.
The Nightmare had descended.
End of chapter....
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