Silco was the first to react. He snapped orders at Vi immediately. "Get everyone assembled. Send part of the force to protect the residents of Reborn Community. Tell everyone to move to the Promenade."
"We can't leave people down in the Lanes!"
Watching sparks spill across the mountainside like flowing magma, Silco made the call without hesitation.
Then he spun on Jinx and shouted, "What are you still standing there for? If you actually want to help Logan, go back and grab your weapons. Standing here empty-handed, you're just going to get in his way!"
Jinx froze for half a second—then sprinted straight to Vi, wrapping both arms around Vi's waist right as she was about to jump onto her hoverboard. Jinx looked up at her.
"I get it," Vi said at once, understanding. "I'll take you back first."
She patted Jinx on the head. Unlike before, Vi didn't use "protection" as an excuse to force Jinx to stay with the main group—she chose to trust her instead.
If Vi's grown at all, it's this: she doesn't put herself down anymore, and she's finally willing to believe in other people.
Silco moved too, but he didn't go far. He raised binoculars and watched Highstone Mine from a distance.
Only a few Undercity Enforcers stayed with him—guarding him, and relaying his commands.
"I thought everything was finally moving in the right direction…" Silco's face was ashen as he watched Vander and Logan fighting the monster. They couldn't even get close to the flaming thing.
If the goddess Janna weren't shielding them, Vander and Logan wouldn't just be struggling to fight—it would be hard for them to even escape.
Silco knew exactly what this was.
They were buying time.
They were stalling for time so Zaun could evacuate its people.
At Hope Community, Vi set Jinx down. They shared a look, and Vi nodded. Then she turned and left with a group of Enforcers, spreading the message to the residents.
At the same time, Firelight Community got the news too.
Scar immediately led Enforcers out from Firelight Community. Some stayed behind to keep order and guide civilians toward the Entresol, while the rest grabbed weapons and followed Scar straight toward Highstone Mine.
The other communities did the same.
The Undercity Enforcers didn't even allow civilians to carry belongings. If anyone refused—insisting on dragging their stuff along—then force came out. They'd shove them, yank them, and drive them forward toward the Entresol.
Jayce heard the news and took Viktor with him on hoverboards, racing toward Piltover at once.
Jayce hadn't even seen what the creature looked like, but he didn't need to. He trusted the Enforcers.
Because the community he lived in down in Zaun was already chaos.
He hit Piltover at full speed and immediately charged for the Council Hall, ready to ring the alarm.
Zaun. The Lanes. Highstone Mine—
Logan and Vander faced the Darkin with Janna behind them, her form a gigantic teal bird.
Logan's face was livid. One of his arms had been burned open, flesh split and blistered, the smell of roasted meat rising off it in waves.
Who was the idiot that said Darkin were weak right after they woke up?
Seriously—who?
Logan wanted to drag the bastard who'd posted that on Reddit over here and beat him senseless. Kick him right in the face.
Because the thing in front of them—
Logan, Vander, and Janna together still couldn't suppress it.
And if this was "weak," then how terrifying would it be at full strength?
And why the hell was there a Darkin under Zaun?!
Logan genuinely had no idea this existed.
A Darkin whose true form was a harp? Aren't there only a handful of them?
A bow. A scythe. A sword. A dagger—
In Kai'Sa's stories, Logan also knew about a faceless "god" named Xolaani, but that thing's statue was in Shurima—and this was Zaun. Zaun!
A harp as a Darkin's core, wreathed in flame—Logan had never even imagined something like this.
"Logan, you should leave," Vander said, looking at him. "I'll hold it off for you."
Vander had monstrous regeneration. Logan didn't.
If Logan was hurt, he was hurt. Vander could smell the cooked meat coming off Logan's flesh.
"Don't be ridiculous," Logan snapped, drawing a breath and charging at the Darkin again. As he ran, he barked to Janna, "Janna—do you have anything? Any way to deal with this?"
"No," Janna answered immediately. "I'm too weak right now."
Her huge teal bird-form was faint and translucent—power exhaustion. But she still forced her strength out, shielding Logan anyway.
She kept the flames from swallowing his body, and she cut at the Darkin with blades of wind.
"Styraatu…" Janna's voice shook with uncertainty. "I remember now. She was a corrupted Ascended from ancient Shurima. But… why is she here?"
Even Janna sounded lost.
As Zaun's spirit god, Janna wasn't actually that old. Compared to humans, she was ancient—yes. But compared to truly ancient beings on Runeterra, Janna was still practically a "girl."
Oshra Va'Zaun was founded a thousand years ago. Janna's worship rose around that era as well. And then the Shuriman Emperor issued an order to abolish "false gods." Janna was caught in it—her shrines destroyed, her power collapsing.
She wasn't like the Ascended. The Ascended drew their power from Shurima's Sun Disc. Janna drew hers from belief.
Her ceiling was terrifyingly high.
But her floor was just as low.
At her weakest, she couldn't even compare to a minor elemental spirit.
So after losing worship, across the long centuries, Janna drifted—half-awake, half-asleep, sometimes lucid, sometimes dormant. There was no way she could know everything that happened in Shurima and Zaun over a thousand years.
So… did Styraatu reach Zaun while Janna was asleep?
But how could Styraatu become like this—and how could she possibly be willing to hide under Zaun for so long?
"Janna A'lem," Styraatu's voice boomed, "you're nothing but a false god. How dare you stand in my way!"
Within the flames, several of Styraatu's eyes turned toward Janna. Those enormous burning eyes flashed with open surprise.
Darkin weren't mindless.
The Void corrupted them, but it didn't reduce them into simple beasts. What truly broke them was Shurima itself—the fall of the radiant empire they dreamed of, swallowed by sand and turned into a scar in history. That ruin, that failure, was what pushed them to embrace their own darkness.
Aatrox did.
Styraatu did.
Most of them did.
And now, looking at Janna—beautiful in form, pure in power—Styraatu's eyes filled with jealousy.
They, the "noble," fell into filth…
And a "false god" got to stand above it all?
Janna didn't answer.
She spoke with action.
A huge teal wind-blade tore through the air, appearing near Styraatu's host and cutting through the flames toward the massive blood-red rat.
"Get lost!" Styraatu snapped, and the giant flaming hand holding the harp trembled—shattering the wind-blade before it reached her.
With Janna's cover, Logan forced his way into the fire, charging straight toward the enormous rat at the center.
Several of Styraatu's eyes snapped to him at once.
The blood-red rat's body split open, unfolding into a horrifying, gaping maw.
"Logan!" Janna lunged down and hooked a talon around his shoulder, yanking him backward—barely pulling him out of the bite.
"Shit!" Logan spat, feeling helpless in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.
The last time he'd truly been weak was when he first met Jinx.
But even then, he hadn't felt this powerless.
Things had gone too smoothly for him.
The twin cities' weak combat strength, the string of successes—Logan had started forgetting that Runeterra was always dangerous.
Now Styraatu was teaching him a lesson.
Logan was strong. In Noxus, he'd be considered elite—his raw fighting power was absolutely above someone like Darius, who was still "just" a human.
But in the eyes of monsters like this?
Logan was nothing more than a slightly larger ant.
"Janna—have the Zaunites reached the surface?" Logan asked.
"Not yet," Janna said. "We… might have to hold on a little longer."
But after she said it, she fell silent.
Hold on… and then what?
Even after everyone reached safety, they still couldn't kill Styraatu.
Janna let out a quiet sigh and made a decision.
If there truly was no other way, she would break her own soul apart and take Zaun with her—drag Styraatu into it—
No.
What Janna feared most was this: that even if she chose mutual destruction, her current weakness still wouldn't be enough to erase Styraatu completely.
With the power she had now, the best outcome might be forcing Styraatu's host to burn through its energy—draining her blood magic until it ran dry.
But Styraatu would come back.
Darkin were notoriously difficult to truly kill. Their strength was beyond human imagination.
Janna had seen what they were like in their Ascended days. She had seen what they became during the Darkin War, slaughtering each other across the world.
She knew what these monsters could do.
So… what do they do now?
"Zaun has trouble?" Councilor Hoskel frowned at Jayce inside Piltover's Council Hall. "Trouble they can't solve? What exactly do you expect us to do?"
Jayce stared him down calmly. "That's exactly why we have to help."
"Councilor Hoskel, I'm not joking. If Zaun's current strength can't resolve this, then sooner or later the disaster reaches us too."
"We're the upper city and the lower city. Their problem becomes our problem. Sitting back is the stupidest option. Or what—do you just want to watch Zaun suffer?"
"I think Jayce is right," Councilor Kiramman rose. "If Zaun is facing a real crisis, we can't pretend we don't see it. And like Mel said, Noxus will come again. When they do, we'll be hit first. If we refuse to help Zaun now, then when Noxus arrives, Zaun will have every reason to refuse to help us."
Sevika sat quietly, listening to the council, a flicker of surprise passing through her eyes.
These days as a councilor in the upper city, Sevika had taken plenty of cold looks. Publicly, they kept their manners. They gave her real authority. Any Zaunites who came to Piltover fell under her jurisdiction.
But privately, they edged her out at every turn.
Now, watching one councilor after another stand and voice support for helping Zaun, Sevika understood why they were willing.
But even understanding it, she couldn't name the feeling in her chest.
Now she understood why Logan had said—
Piltover may have done countless things wrong, but we're still one body.
Yeah.
Hundreds of years ago, the two cities were one family.
Family can fight all it wants—that stays inside the house. The moment an outside threat appears, the two cities can unite and stand together.
"Then it's settled," Jayce said firmly. "Vi said the thing is a monster covered in fire. If it's fire, then we use water to fight it."
"The trench by the bay—once the Zaunites reach the Promenade, I propose we breach it and release a flood!" Jayce's voice hardened.
"Now, councilors—vote!"
Mel raised her hand first.
Second was Councilor Kiramman.
Then Sevika. Then Salo. Then Hoskel…
"Mobilize the Enforcers," Jayce ordered with a sweeping gesture. "Go to the Bridge of Progress and maintain order at the Promenade!"
At 5:11 PM, the Entresol in Zaun—
Every resident from the Lanes had arrived, along with the residents already living in the Entresol. They gathered around the Shrieker, but it was obvious: two machines weren't even close to enough to carry that many people.
So the Undercity Enforcers hoisted children and anyone who couldn't move well onto their backs, then rocketed toward the Promenade on hoverboards.
A group of Piltover people in blue uniforms blended into the crowd as well.
Marcus had already been demoted—he wasn't Piltover's Sheriff anymore—but he was still directing the Enforcers, using Piltover's vehicles to ferry Zaunites up to the Promenade.
Above the Promenade, Piltover Enforcers were keeping order on the Bridge of Progress. Zaunites streamed across the bridge, entering Piltover in a steady flow.
In the center of the Enforcers, Councilor Kiramman stood watching, hands clasped tight in front of her chest, lips pressed together—overwhelmed.
This many Zaunites entering Piltover… they didn't know if it was good or bad.
But Jayce had been right about one thing—
If Zaun truly faced a massive crisis and Piltover did nothing, then Piltover would end up swallowing the same bitter result.
And right now, people in both the upper and lower cities didn't even know what the crisis truly was.
But—
They were racing the clock.
And they were united as one.
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