Senna ran after Darryl, the young mage thankfully keeping his pace just slow enough for them to match, even though she was certain he didn't appreciate it.
Either way, this was her chance to face the Ruined King once more, and this time, she intended to stop him for good.
Gwen ran beside her, the young seamstress somehow keeping up with both Senna and Darryl with surprising ease. Lucian trailed slightly behind them, his longer strides carrying him forward as they burst onto the main road leading toward the city's entrance.
By then, Senna could already see them.
The sky ahead was thick with movement, myriads of flying creatures wheeling through the air, many of them unmistakably dragon-shaped, their silhouettes cutting through smoke and mist.
"This is so exciting! There are so many dragons!" Gwen exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes shining as she took it all in.
"Be ready to put those scissors of yours to good use, Gwen!" Senna shouted back.
She shifted into her wraith state mid-stride, her form blurring as she surged forward to close the distance on Darryl, who had begun scaling the surrounding buildings in powerful, reckless bounds.
Unsurprisingly, Gwen remained right at her side.
"Yes, ma'am!" Gwen replied brightly, snapping into a playful salute even as she sailed through the air from one rooftop to the next. "I'll give them a good cut!"
Finally, the walls of the city came into view. Even though Senna had prepared herself for what she might see, she still flinched at the sheer scale of it.
Monsters gathered in a seething mass around the gates, climbing over one another in their desperation to reach… something. A writhing sea of claws, mist, and malformed bodies pressed forward without end.
"What in the world…?" Darryl whispered as Senna reached him at the edge of the blue-tiled roof. His voice was barely audible over the distant roars. "There's so many…"
"The entire Shadow Isles must be here," Senna said grimly. "This is extremely bad." She glanced at Darryl, noticing the slight tremor in his hands. "Can you find your captain?"
For all of Darryl's impressive strength, he was still just a boy. Faced with a force like this, even the most battle-hardened veteran would hesitate.
"Y-yeah," he replied, lifting his arm and pointing toward the churning pile of rampaging creatures and abominations clustered at the edge of the gate. "He's in there."
Senna felt her heart drop into her stomach. From this distance, it looked like Asta had been swallowed whole. "I can't believe Viego brought a force this large," she muttered. "What does he want here?"
"Senna!"
She turned as Lucian and Rookie landed on the roof beside them.
"By the Light…" Lucian breathed as his eyes took in the full scope of the ruined army below.
"We're going to fight that?" Rookie shrieked, backing away instinctively. "There's no way we survive. We'll be overrun and die!"
Senna stiffened, but Lucian spoke before she could.
"I hate to admit it, but Rookie's right," he said quietly.
She stared at him in shock. "Lucian! What are you talking about?"
"We've never seen a force like this," he replied, eyes never leaving the battlefield. "There's nowhere near enough of us to..."
"The captain's still fighting."
Lucian stopped mid-sentence.
Darryl had spoken, his gaze fixed forward, not even looking at them. His hands clenched into tight fists as he lifted his head.
"The captain is the strongest," the boy said firmly. "It's impossible for him to lose."
Lucian turned and placed a hand on Darryl's shoulder. "Kid, I don't know how to tell you this, but there's no way..."
"Because he's going to be the Wizard King!" Darryl shouted, wrenching his shoulder free. "The strongest of them all!"
He drew his short sword and raised it, blade unwavering. "There's no way I'm running. Not when we can win!"
Lucian stepped back, stunned, as Senna moved forward.
"I don't know what's come over you, Lucian," she said, her voice hard as steel, "but we are Sentinels of Light. We fight the darkness, no matter how bleak things look."
She raised her massive gun, the barrel glinting in the firelight below. "We will not abandon Demacia. I would have expected you to feel the same about your own country."
"I… I, Senna…" Lucian stammered, the words dying in his throat as he clenched his jaw and fell silent.
Senna walked past him and stopped beside the young Black Bull, her gaze fixed on the battlefield below.
"It looks like most of the monsters are converging in front of the gate instead of flooding deeper into the city," she said.
"That's where the Captain is," Darryl replied without hesitation. "I bet he's taking them all on by himself." His grip tightened around his sword. "I won't let him down."
"Well said, Darryl," Senna said, a note of genuine approval in her voice. "You'd make a fine Sentinel of Light, if you're willing, of course. We can sort that out later." Her expression sharpened. "But you should know, you can't properly kill wraiths without a relic weapon."
"It doesn't matter," Darryl shot back. "I'm fighting anyway. Besides, Mira's almost here."
With that, he jumped.
Senna exhaled slowly. "Alright, Sentinels," she called out, raising her voice. "Light them up with our fury!"
She leapt after him.
The building they'd been standing on was one of Demacia's tallest inner watchtowers, its height designed to overlook the entire city. The wind roared past them as they fell, the ground rushing up at terrifying speed.
Senna narrowed her eyes, watching Darryl below her. The boy kept his body tucked in a perfect dive, speed and momentum building rapidly.
She couldn't help but wonder how he planned to land. Would he simply brace himself and strike the ground with brute force?
Instead, just as Darryl reached the street, his body passed straight through it, as if the stone were water.
He vanished.
Senna's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she shifted into her wraith state. Her form became lighter, partially spectral, and she used her limited flight to glide effortlessly down the side of the tower, reaching the ground in an instant without losing speed.
The moment her boots touched down, Darryl burst back out of the ground beside her, already running, his momentum uninterrupted.
Senna suppressed a smile as she matched his pace.
'This kid has some very strange abilities.'
They were only a few meters from the coalescing mass of wraiths and monsters when something tore through the Black Mist above the horde and hurtled straight toward them.
Both Darryl and Senna skidded to a halt, boots scraping against stone. In that instant, Senna realized, once again, that Gwen was standing right beside her, as if she had been there the whole time.
The flying shape slammed into the ground ahead of them with a thunderous crash. Whatever it was bounced and tumbled across the street, scraping along the stone before finally sliding to a stop in a cloud of dust and mist.
Senna's eyes widened as a familiar, bitter sensation rose in her chest.
"Thresh," she spat, pure venom lacing her voice.
"This is the Thresh you and Lucian talked about?" Gwen asked, tilting her head as she examined the fallen figure. "Yikes… he really looks like he could use some good stitching. Maybe tidy up all that dread and gloom."
Thresh groaned as he dragged himself upright, his movements stiff and uneven. He reached out and pulled his lantern back into his grasp, its sickly green glow flickering weakly. Turning slowly, he finally took in Senna and the others.
"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Senna," Thresh said, forcing his voice into a mocking drawl as he tried, and failed, to look imposing. "I do so miss your screams."
His battered, haggard state made the attempt laughable.
"I'm sure you do," Senna replied coolly, a sharp smirk tugging at her lips. She raised her massive relic guns and pressed them up beneath his chin, forcing Thresh to tilt his head back under the threat. "Though it looks like you've seen far better days."
Thresh growled low in his throat. "Easy now, Senna. We've spent quite a lot of time together, after all. I wouldn't mind starting another chorus."
"The only one screaming tonight will be you, Thresh!" Senna fired.
The shot rang out in a burst of light, but Thresh snapped his lantern up at the last second, the metal striking the barrel of her gun and knocking the aim aside. The blast tore harmlessly into the air beside him.
He let out a harsh chuckle as he unraveled his chain-scythe, the weapon extending with a metallic hiss before he began to spin it lazily at his side. "Must we do this again? I have far bigger problems than you and your pesky light."
Senna's eyes flared a vivid green. She dragged the muzzle of her gun along the stone, sparks dancing as it scraped the ground. "Why so worried, Thresh?" she said coldly. "You don't need to stress so much. Just lead us to Viego, and I promise, it'll be painless."
Thresh laughed, the sound hollow and grating. "You still think you stand a chance against me? How many more times must I crush you..."
He stopped.
His gaze snapped to Darryl, lingering not on the boy's face, but on the cloak draped over his shoulders. Thresh's expression twisted with sudden fury.
"You," he snarled. "So you're connected to that… thing."
"You must've met the Captain," Darryl replied, smirking as he tightened his grip on his sword. "The fact that you survived says a lot about how strong you are. And that's perfect."
His eyes burned with resolve. "It's time to surpass my limits!"
"What nonsense are you babbling about, you witless imbecile?" Thresh snapped.
He swung his chain, the scythe shooting forward at blinding speed.
Darryl leapt cleanly over it, boots barely skimming the chain as he dashed straight for Thresh. The warden raised his weapon to block... and was struck in the side by a bolt of light.
The impact staggered him just long enough for Darryl to drive a knee into his torso, launching Thresh ten feet into the air before he crashed hard onto his back.
Thresh rolled to his feet in a blur and barely managed to jump away as a massive, glowing blue pair of scissors slammed down where he'd been a moment earlier, the blades biting deep into the stone.
"Bad ghost!" Gwen scolded, pointing accusingly at him.
"THRESH!!!"
"Of course," Thresh sighed, turning just in time to see Lucian sprinting toward him. "Where there's one, there's always more."
Lucian didn't bother replying. He raised his pistols and unloaded, bolts of light streaking through the air in rapid succession. Thresh reacted instantly, spinning his scythe in front of him so fast it became a blur, the bolts sparking and dispersing as they struck the whirling metal.
With a sharp motion, Thresh drew back his arm and hurled his chain again, this time aimed straight at Lucian.
Before it could reach him, Thresh's right leg suddenly sank into the ground.
"Hrk!"
Alarm flared through him as the earth swallowed his leg up to the knee. He yanked at it urgently, senses screaming, because Senna was already lining up a shot.
He tore his leg free just in time, the blast roaring past where he'd been a moment earlier. By then, Lucian had already closed the distance.
Thresh planted the leg he'd just freed behind him, shifting into a powerful stance, and swung his lantern forward to counter.
Instead, he stumbled.
Thresh tumbled awkwardly, realization hitting him a second too late, the leg he'd pulled out of the ground was missing its foot. Without it, his stance collapsed entirely, and he ended up tripping over himself in a way that would've been hilarious if it weren't so infuriating.
He was a wraith, at least. The missing foot was already reforming in wisps of green flame.
But the moment he regained his balance, Lucian's bolts slammed into him, one after another, searing light tearing through his form as he twisted and dodged, narrowly avoiding the relentless snips of Gwen's glowing scissors as they carved through the air around him.
Thresh snarled and swung his scythe again... It didn't move. He froze and looked down.
The chain was sinking into the ground, being swallowed inch by inch before the earth hardened like stone around it, locking the scythe in place.
Before he could react, Darryl erupted from the ground like a damned wraith himself.
He came up hard and fast, slamming a massive greatsword into Thresh's side. The blade looked eerily similar to that Anti-Magic mage's weapon, the shape, the weight.
Bang!
Thresh was sent flying, the sheer force of the blow ripping his chain free from the earth as he hurtled through the air.
Darryl wasn't though.
He grabbed the chain mid-flight, just like he had. Just like that Anti-Magic mage had done before throwing him across the city… and right into these fools.
'Don't tell me…' Thresh thought as frustration burned through him, as Darryl swung him and then let go. 'That this was his plan the whole time.'
His body slammed back-first into a structure framed by two pillars, their pointed ends jutting upward as stone cracked and debris rained down around him.
Thresh groaned as he forced himself upright—only for an arrow to slam straight into his chest. The impact hurled him backward, his body crashing into the structure behind him once more.
Stone cracked on impact.
Shauna Vayne stepped into view, her heavy crossbow already raised as she assessed the scene. "Looks like a party."
"With these numbers," Thresh groaned as he peeled himself off the damaged structure, "it certainly does. Everyone's just crawling out of the woodwork, it seems."
"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?" Vayne said, already reloading her crossbow with practiced efficiency.
"Ah… the Night Hunter." Thresh tilted his head, green flames flickering in his hollow eyes. "I don't believe we've met. I would remember a voice like yours, surely. The melodies you would make..."
"Ever since that bastard Asta showed up," Vayne snapped, cutting him off as she removed her glasses and crushed them in her fist, "he's done nothing but piss me off. First he ridicules me, then he flaunts mages all over the place and I can't even do anything about it. He lets monsters roam the land unopposed, and everyone just accepts it, because the bastard is just too fucking strong."
She looked back up at Thresh, eyes burning.
"I was just about ready to lose my mind and do something stupid," she continued coldly. "But now? Now I know exactly who I can take my frustrations out on."
"So," Thresh began, forcing a grin as he straightened, "you have issues with the man. Then perhaps you and I can come to an understan..."
Another arrow slammed into his chest.
Thresh was sent flying once again, crashing into the structure so hard that the stone visibly fractured from the force.
"Shut the fuck up!" Vayne roared.
After Thresh slammed into the cracked stone for the final time, the structure finally giving way with a shriek of tortured masonry. Chunks of rock collapsed inward, dust and mist billowing out as his body skidded across the street.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the Black Mist surged.
It poured out of Thresh like a living thing, crawling over the ground, clinging to walls, recoiling from the light weapons even as it tried to shield him. Green fire flared violently as his form began to stabilize, bones knitting, chains rattling as he forced himself upright once more.
He laughed. His voice was low, crooked and furious.
"Well," Thresh rasped, straightening despite the scorch marks riddling his body, "this has become… unpleasant."
Senna didn't let him finish. She fired again.
Light ripped through the mist, punching straight through Thresh's shoulder and tearing it apart in an explosion of spectral flame. He staggered, snarling, and hurled his lantern outward on instinct.
The chain screamed through the air... and was severed mid-flight.
Gwen landed lightly beside the falling lantern, her massive scissors snapping shut with a cheerful snip as the chain's severed end clattered uselessly to the ground.
"Nope!" she said brightly.
Thresh stared.
For the first time, real alarm flickered across his hollow face.
Lucian took the opening.
He moved like a man possessed, dashing forward through the thinning mist, pistols blazing. Every shot burned, every bolt of light carving pieces off Thresh faster than they could reform. The Warden raised his scythe to retaliate and the ground betrayed him again.
Stone liquefied beneath his feet, dragging him down just enough to ruin his balance.
Darryl burst out of the street behind him.
His greatsword crashed into Thresh's back with a sound like a bell being rung by a god. Green fire exploded outward as Thresh was driven face-first into the ground, the impact carving a shallow crater into the street.
Before he could recover, Darryl planted a boot between Thresh's shoulder blades and drove him down harder.
"You talk too much," Darryl said, voice steady, furious. "The Captain would've finished this already."
Thresh roared.
Black Mist detonated outward in a violent shockwave, throwing Darryl back and forcing Senna and Lucian to brace themselves. Gwen spun midair, landing cleanly a few meters away, while Vayne slid back on one knee, her crossbow already tracking.
Thresh rose slowly from the crater.
His form was unraveling now, edges frayed, chains cracked and warped, lantern flickering erratically as souls inside shrieked in agitation. He looked at them, really looked this time, and something ugly twisted across his face.
"…No," he hissed. "No, this won't do at all."
The air shifted.
"Oh, Senna," he crooned, spreading his arms as the mist surged violently around him. "If I fall here, then I might as well make it… meaningful."
Already, the anti-magic veil was erasing the Black Mist that had poured out earlier, but this time, it wasn't Thresh himself. It was his lantern.
The cracked relic convulsed in midair, vomiting out a torrential flood of Black Mist threaded with glowing green orbs. The air screamed as it spilled outward, thick and suffocating.
Lucian's eyes narrowed in immediate recognition.
"…He's releasing them," he said grimly. "All of them."
Thresh was releasing every soul he had ever trapped inside his lantern.
Senna recognized it instantly too. How could she not? She had been one of them once.
Her grip tightened around her weapon as dread settled into her chest. 'What is he planning?' she wondered. 'He has to know the anti-magic veil will free the souls before he can ever recall them.'
The Black Mist ballooned outward, no longer controlled or shaped, swelling into a screaming hurricane of darkness. Wailing voices echoed from every direction, overlapping cries of pain, fear, and confusion that clawed at the mind as much as the ears.
The light weapons burned brighter in response, resisting the pressure, but even then the air felt wrong, heavy, hostile and wrong.
"Senna," Lucian called out over the din, his voice tight. "What do we do?"
For the first time since the battle began, Senna hesitated.
She scanned the roiling mist, her instincts screaming in opposite directions. Firing blindly would be useless, and worse, firing at the souls themselves felt wrong. Every scream scraped against old scars she never truly healed.
She exhaled slowly.
"…Damn it."
She knew what she had to do.
Senna lowered her gun and extended her right hand toward the storm. The moment she did, the Black Mist reacted.
Like a desperate child sensing warmth, the vortex rushed toward her.
It poured into her palm in a violent spiral, dragging screaming souls along with it. Senna clenched her teeth as the sensation washed over her. The Black Mist always did this. It stripped away emotion, sharpened her thoughts, forced clarity where there should have been madness.
She hated that part.
It made no sense. The Black Mist was corruption incarnate, clarity should not exist within it.
But she didn't stop.
The vortex intensified, the storm collapsing inward as Senna drew more and more of it into herself. Wailing voices echoed through her chest, through her mind, memories brushing against her own like fleeting shadows.
Lucian took a step toward her. "Senna..."
"I've got it," she said through clenched teeth. "Just… give me a second."
At last, the air stilled.
Every last shred of Black Mist had been pulled into her.
Senna lifted her gun and aimed straight upward.
She fired.
A thick, concentrated stream of pure Black Mist erupted from the barrel, tearing into the sky like an inverted lightning strike. The anti-magic veil caught it instantly, erasing it layer by layer until nothing remained.
As the darkness vanished, soft light bloomed in its wake.
Gentle, ephemeral figures stepped out from Senna's body, translucent silhouettes of men, women, and children. Their faces were peaceful now, free of agony, free of chains. One by one, the souls drifted upward, dissolving into the light as the veil carried them beyond Thresh's reach forever.
The street fell silent.
Senna lowered her weapon slowly, breathing hard.
"Damn it!" Lucian cursed. "He got away."
Senna looked ahead, already knowing what she would find. Thresh was gone. Even his lantern had vanished. In the chaos of the mist and freed souls, he had fled.
Naturally.
A voice broke the moment.
"Normally, this is where I'd shoot you without hesitation."
Senna turned to see the woman with the heavy crossbow watching her carefully, weapon lowered but not relaxed.
"But a lot of things have been happening in Demacia recently," the woman continued.
"Thank you for your assistance earlier," Senna said, lowering her gun fully to her side. Her posture was open, but her attention wasn't lax. "Shauna Vayne, was it?"
Vayne gave a small shrug. "That's the gist of it, yeah. No need to thank me. I just needed to vent a little." Her gaze flicked to the empty space where Thresh had stood. "Besides, you probably noticed, my weapons can't really hurt them. I'd need relic weapons for that."
"Live through the night," Senna said calmly, "and that can be arranged. Though it comes with certain responsibilities."
Vayne's eyes sharpened. "I'd have to become a Sentinel of Light," she said. "I figured as much." She paused, then exhaled. "I'm… fine with that, I think."
Lucian stepped forward, frowning. "Senna, are you sure about this?" he asked quietly. "She tried to kill you earlier."
Senna nodded once. "That's true," she said evenly. "But she didn't. She was acting on bad information." She looked back at Vayne. "I don't believe she would have attacked us if she knew what we really stood for."
She caught the reaction, brief, but unmistakable. Vayne flinched, just for a fraction of a second, guilt flashing across her face before being crushed beneath practiced indifference.
Senna noted it and said nothing. 'We'll talk later,' she thought.
Lucian nodded at last, conceding with a quiet sigh. "I guess we don't really have a choice. We need the numbers." His gaze shifted. "What about Darryl?"
"I'll see if I can convince him as well..." Senna smiled faintly as she turned toward where the boy had been standing, then froze.
He was gone.
"Where is he?" she asked, scanning the street. "He was just here a moment ago."
"Maybe he ran ahead?" Gwen suggested, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. "He is very lively."
A knot tightened in Senna's chest. An unpleasant thought surfaced immediately, sharp and unwelcome. No… he wouldn't. Darryl didn't have a relic weapon. He knew better. He had to know better.
…Right?
She pushed the thought aside. "We keep moving," Senna said firmly. "Toward the fighting. Viego is definitely here."
The group surged forward, now including Vayne, and notably missing Darryl, as they raced toward the city gates, where the bulk of the wraiths and monsters were battering themselves against Demacia's defenses.
The air grew thick with smoke, mist, and the sound of steel on flesh.
"For Demacia!"
A massive figure dropped from above, crashing down onto the head of a Soul Gorger, a bloated, grotesque aberration whose obese body dragged against the stone. As its name suggested, it devoured souls directly, the air around it warping as it fed.
The man landed hard, driving his greatsword straight into the creature's skull.
Senna recognized him instantly.
Garen Crownguard.
With a roar, Garen wrenched the blade free and brought it down again, the sheer force of the blow smashing the Soul Gorger into the street and cracking the stone beneath it.
"Lucian!" Senna ordered.
Lucian vanished in a flash of light, his speed burst carrying him across the distance in an instant. He appeared beside the writhing monster and fired point-blank into its open maw.
The Soul Gorger's head detonated in a violent explosion of mist and corrupted matter.
Garen turned as the group approached, resting his sword against his shoulder. His eyes swept over them, sharp and assessing.
"Sentinels," he said, recognition clear in his voice.
"Garen Crownguard," Senna replied, giving a brief nod.
Senna stepped forward, her expression hardening. "Have you seen a boy?" she asked Garen. "Young mage. Black bull robe. Reckless."
Garen frowned slightly. "Sounds like Darryl. Don't tell me he went ahead..."
Senna didn't let him finish. "He did," she said quietly.
Her grip tightened around her gun as she looked toward the heart of the battlefield, where the Black Mist churned thickest.
'Please don't be where I think you are,' she thought.
---
___Earlier___
The instant that Hecarim had been split in two, the mist had stilled.
Viego's expression froze, the calm certainty on his face cracking for the first time since he'd arrived. The lantern in the warden's grasp rattled faintly as he reacted in something closer to alarm.
Thresh turned his head slowly, green fire in his skull flaring brighter as he stared at the empty space where Hecarim had existed only a breath ago.
"…Oh," he murmured. "That's unfortunate."
Asta rolled his shoulder once, the anti-magic still humming softly along the edge of his blade. He didn't look at where Hecarim had fallen. There was nothing to look at anymore.
He looked at Viego.
The ruined king straightened, mist pouring harder from the wound in his chest as his aura surged outward. The ground beneath his boots blackened, cracks spreading like veins through the stone as corrupted energy flooded the area.
"Hecarim was a general of Camavor," Viego snarled. From the darkness, figures began to emerge.
Knights.
Dozens of them, their armor twisted and fused with shadow, eyes burning with the same sickly green light as their king. Each carried a blade, a spear, or a halberd formed of corrupted metal and bound souls, their movements disciplined, purposeful.
An honor guard.
Thresh stepped back slightly, chain slithering across the stone as he gave them space.
Viego raised his blade, pointing it directly at Asta. "Kill him," he commanded.
They moved as one.
The first knight lunged, spear thrusting forward with inhuman speed. Asta sidestepped casually, the weapon passing through where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier. He brought his sword up in a smooth arc.
The knight ceased to exist.
The second and third followed immediately, blades flashing from opposite sides. Asta ducked under one strike, blocked the other with the flat of his sword, and pivoted. Anti-magic flared.
Two more erased.
The remaining knights hesitated for exactly one heartbeat.
Then they attacked anyway.
Asta exhaled, stepping forward into them.
The street became a blur of motion.
Each swing of his blade carved through corrupted steel, shadow, and soul alike. Knights fell apart mid-strike, bodies unraveling as anti-magic devoured the forces sustaining them. Spears shattered. Swords dissolved. Shields split cleanly in two.
In seconds, the honor guard was gone.
Viego stared at the empty street, chest heaving as mist poured from him in violent waves.
"You stand against love itself," he said, voice hollow. "Against destiny."
Asta tilted his head. "You keep saying that, but all I see is a guy throwing a tantrum because he can't let go."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Viego's crown trembled above his head, its warped form pulsing erratically as the Black Mist reacted to his rising instability.
"You know nothing," he hissed. "Nothing of loss. Nothing of devotion."
"That's what you think," Asta snorted. "But I do know this."
He planted his feet, anti-magic surging outward, the mist recoiling violently wherever it touched him.
"Dragging an entire world into your grief doesn't make your love special. It makes you selfish."
Viego laughed. It was a broken sound, sharp and brittle, echoing unnaturally through the fog. "Very well," he said softly. "If you insist on standing in my way…"
The Black Mist exploded outward.
The ground cracked violently as massive shapes began to rise behind him, silhouettes forming within the fog, far larger than any aberration Shyvana had faced. Colossal figures, bound together by chains of shadow and grief, their outlines barely contained by reality itself.
Viego lifted Sanctity once more, his eyes burning with cold resolve.
"Then I will show you," he said, voice carrying with absolute certainty, "the price of defiance."
"And I'll show you," Asta replied with a contrasting calm, "the price of selfishness."
His words were answered by the massive silhouettes converging on him from all sides.
They posed no real threat to the Anti-Magic mage. With a single swing of his sword, Asta cleaved through them, bisecting every form in his path as if they were nothing more than mist given shape.
But they had already served their purpose.
Viego's grin widened as Asta turned, just a moment too late, to see an enormous glaive blade descend. It kissed his skull before slamming into the ground, the impact eviscerating the young man in a violent spray of force.
The explosion that followed was catastrophic. Entire chunks of land shattered and were hurled skyward under the sheer weight of the blow, the ground collapsing inward like a wounded thing.
Thresh couldn't suppress the exhilaration that surged through him as he looked up at the newcomer.
The creature was humanoid in shape, though far larger than anything the Black Mist had produced that day. It stood nearly fifty meters tall, its body encased in plates of armor several feet thick, each segment etched with age and malice.
A long, scaled tail, spiked and serpentine, extended behind it, coiling and uncoiling with slow, deliberate motion, longer than its own towering frame. Its face was a massive, ethereal skull, a deathly visage that seemed less worn by time than carved from it.
This was a creature one would normally only ever find on the Shadow Isles, at least until today. While Viego had never cared much for it, Thresh knew the monster all too well.
Rhasa the Sunderer.
One of the behemoths that had made the Shadow Isles a place of no return. Anyone unfortunate enough to cross its path was already a walking corpse, unaware that their death had been decided the moment they were noticed.
"Truly… one of a kind," Thresh cooed softly, admiration threading his voice. "Here's hoping I can find the upstart's soul before that bratty king gets to it." He let out a low chuckle.
"Sorry to disappoint."
Thresh froze. The voice had come from behind him.
He spun instantly, swinging his scythe with full force, only for the blade to be caught effortlessly in a single hand.
Asta stood there, unharmed.
He tilted his head slightly, studying Thresh with open curiosity. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Yeah. You'll do."
Before Thresh could even form a scream, Asta yanked hard on the chain, dragging the Warden off balance. With a sharp motion, he swung the chain, and Thresh with it, high into the air.
Thresh was hurled bodily through the air and then the Anti-Magic veil, his form vanishing into the city beyond in a streak of green flame and rattling chains.
Nearby, Viego stared in disbelief. "How are you still alive!?"
Asta turned to him, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It's big and tough, sure," he said casually. "But that thing didn't even qualify as an ancient demon."
He stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "You're outmatched, Viego."
Viego's eyes flicked instinctively toward Rhasa.
They widened.
The colossal behemoth was on its knees, motionless. A clean, devastating line ran from its shoulder straight down through its torso to its groin.
Rhasa the Sunderer was split perfectly in half.
"S-shut up..." He murmured, the black mist pouring from his chest expanding like a furnace. "SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UUUUP!!!"
Viego's scream tore through the air, raw and unrestrained, the sound less a command and more the howl of something cornered.
The Black Mist around him responded violently.
It surged outward in pulsing waves, the ground warping as corrupted energy tore free of his control. Buildings groaned as stone blackened and crumbled, iron fixtures rusting to dust in seconds. The air itself felt heavier, saturated with grief and fury so thick it pressed against the lungs.
The ruined king staggered, one hand clutching at his chest as the mist pouring from the wound thickened into writhing tendrils.
"You don't get to judge me," Viego hissed, voice cracking between rage and despair. "You don't get to decide what my love was worth!"
Viego snarled and slammed Sanctity into the ground.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, the mist coalescing violently as something massive began to force itself into existence behind him. Chains of shadow erupted from the ground, anchoring as it clawed its way into reality, screaming with a thousand stolen voices.
They moved with such blinding speed that Asta actually raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard as the chains seemed to glitch through space itself, snapping into place around his hands in a blink.
A heartbeat later, they yanked downward.
The pull carried world-shaking force, the ground beneath Asta fracturing as if something immense were trying to drag him to his knees. Stone cracked and buckled outward from the strain, dust billowing into the air.
Of course, it was quite impossible.
Asta didn't even shift his footing, resisting the pull with effortless ease, the anti-magic along his body humming softly as the chains strained uselessly against him.
Either Viego wasn't aware of that fact, or he simply didn't care.
The ruined king leapt into the air, mist flaring violently around him as he twisted Sanctity into a reverse grip. His descent was sharp and decisive, blade angled downward as he drove himself straight toward Asta's heart, eyes burning with desperate resolve.
Viego fell like a comet, Sanctity leading the descent, the blade screaming as it tore through the air. The Black Mist clung to him in thick streamers, his face twisted into something feral as he drove everything he had into that single, desperate strike.
For a brief, fragile moment, he looked like a king again.
Asta shifted his grip, the chains still wrapped around his hands rattling uselessly as anti-magic surged. He caught Sanctity mid-descent with the flat of his sword.
The collision detonated.
A shockwave blasted outward, flattening what little remained of the street. Stone vaporized. The mist was torn apart in a violent ring, scattering like smoke in a gale. Viego was forced to a halt in midair, his arms trembling as the force of the clash rebounded through him.
His eyes widened.
Impossible.
Asta leaned forward slightly, muscles tightening. The anti-magic flooded the contact point, crawling up Sanctity like a living thing.
The sword of the Ruined King began to scream.
Black stains spiderwebbed across its surface, black veins of corruption flickering and dying as the anti-magic erased the power sustaining it.
Viego felt it.
"No...!" he snarled, trying to pull back, but the chains binding Asta's hands suddenly went slack, disintegrating into nothing as anti-magic consumed them entirely.
Asta stepped forward. A forward kick to the solar plexus sent Viego flying.
He was hurled back like a broken doll, slamming through a ruined building and carving a trench through stone before crashing hard into the far end of the street. The mist around him exploded outward on impact, momentarily obscuring his form.
Asta exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder again as if loosening up.
"Look," he said calmly, walking forward through the dispersing fog. "I get it. You loved her."
Viego dragged himself upright, coughing mist, his crown flickering erratically above his head.
Viego snarled, lifting Sanctity again, what remained of it shaking violently in his grasp. "You think you understand her?" he screamed. "You think you understand us?!"
The mist around Viego began to convulse again, reacting not to his command, but to his fear. Massive shapes stirred within it, unfinished, unstable, tearing themselves apart as quickly as they formed.
Asta sighed. "Just stop. This is no way for a king to behave. A king is supposed to inspire people. Protect his own and give them a life they deserve. But you've twisted all these people into abominations, incapable of anything but hate and destruction."
"Shut up! Nothing else matters!" Viego roared, pointing his sword straight at Asta. "Isolde is the only thing that matters! This world does not deserve to exist without her! It doesn't matter what stands in my way. It doesn't matter how strong you are, even the heavens themselves won't stop me. I won't give up on her!"
Asta's eyes widened slightly as he met the ruined king's gaze. His grimoire floated beside him, pages fluttering as he returned the Demon Slayer Sword. In its place, he drew the Demon Destroyer, its strange blade humming softly with anti-magic.
"Alright then," Asta said calmly. "Prove it to me. With everything that you have."
He leapt into the air, raising his sword overhead before bringing it down in a powerful slash. Viego roared in response, swinging Sanctity upward to meet him.
Demon Destroyer and Sanctity clashed midair, sparks ringing out as the Ruined King and the Black Bulls captain pushed against one another, power grinding against power.
Viego grinned as black mist poured from him, surging forward to swallow the mage, attempting to ruin Asta from within. But his grin faltered.
Not only was the mist failing to take hold, another presence was spreading instead. A different kind of black miasma seeped into his blade… and through it, into him.
He tried to draw back, but it was already too late as darkness overtook him.
When Viego opened his eyes, he was seated within his royal palace, a lavish table spread before him, laden with food prepared for a feast.
"My love, are you alright?"
The voice reached him and he went completely still.
It was familiar. Achingly so. A voice he had dreamed of hearing again for centuries, one that had haunted him through endless days and nights, nearly driving him mad with longing.
Seated beside him was Isolde.
She looked exactly as she had the day he lost her, radiant and untouched by time, her presence stealing the breath from his lungs.
"Isolde," he whispered.
"Yes, my love, I'm here," she replied softly. "What's wrong? You look frightened." Her smile faded into gentle concern, motherly and kind, the way it always had been.
She reached out and placed her hand over his.
He felt warmth.
Real warmth.
But how? How was this possible? Camavor had fallen. The world he knew no longer existed. He should not be here. He could not be here.
Viego looked around slowly.
Dignitaries and nobles filled the hall, gathered in celebration just as they had on that day. Laughter and quiet conversation blended into a familiar hum. Even Kalista stood nearby, alert and vigilant, her eyes sharp as ever, watching for any threat to her king.
"How…" he whispered, his fingers tightening around Isolde's hand. His voice trembled despite himself. "Is it truly you?"