First came the pure, overwhelming power.
Under the power Syndra casually unleashed, countless Dark Spheres howled through the air like a swarm of deadly bees. Wherever they passed, the Noxian soldier formations were either pierced straight through or simply erased entirely.
Under the extreme compression of dark energy, whether it was armor, flesh, or weapons, everything disintegrated into fine dust the instant it touched the spheres.
Hovering in the air, Syndra's expression and posture were arrogant and languid. She showed absolutely no anger or care regarding the Noxians' reactions. This couldn't even be called a battle; it felt as if Syndra was merely casually sweeping away garbage blocking her path.
Her mind still occupied with thoughts of Karma, she didn't even bother looking at the soldiers. Her eyes, glowing with a cold purple light, were full of indifference, as if her mind had long since left this chaotic battlefield. However, the power continued to rampage under her will, and the ground fractured beneath her, as if space itself was screaming under her might.
Sensing Syndra's absentmindedness, Faen wasn't in a hurry. After all, to Syndra, the army before her truly amounted to nothing. Furthermore, the reason Karma needed Syndra's help wasn't to step in and kill these Noxians right now, but to stabilize Ionia's spirit in the subsequent developments. This was to prevent the positive and negative emotions of the Spirit of Ionia from fighting each other, which would lead to the old Ionia rotting away before the new Ionia could even be built.
Especially considering the sensory resonance contract on Syndra, Faen could more or less guess what she wanted to do. Since Syndra couldn't be bothered to exert herself right now, Faen was happy to help.
Stepping forward, Faen moved in parallel with the torrent of destruction Syndra was creating. At first, he walked slowly, but gradually, his pace increased into a jog.
In the eyes of the crowd, Faen's figure went from clearly visible to increasingly blurry, until finally, he felt like he had transformed into a streak of ultimate, precise, and razor-sharp death.
Under Faen's control, a massive amount of water mist surged around him. The mist then boiled and compressed, condensing into flowing water. However, this was not a gentle spring stream; under extreme pressure, it became crisscrossing cutting wires and piercing spears.
They were so thin they were almost invisible to the naked eye. Especially on this dust-filled battlefield, where the Dark Spheres roared into the ground and kicked up massive clouds of dirt, even if one strained their obscured eyes to the limit, they could at most catch the flash of a water line in the final split second.
But by the time the soldiers noticed these things, accompanied by the violent flow of water, they and their armor were usually sliced neatly in two. The wounds were as smooth as a mirror. In fact, right up until the diagonally severed bodies tilted and fell to the ground under gravity, they were still able to move their torsos, continuing their mad dash forward, or even swinging their weapons.
Although it looked like precision control, Faen wasn't actually tense or overly focused during the entire process. The surging water simply wove and flowed continuously under Faen's calm expression. In the next instant, it coalesced into a spiraling lance, transforming into a pale shadow that tore through the air, piercing through several people's chests in the blink of an eye.
When the lance pierced through their bodies and came into the crowd's view, it didn't even bring out any blood. What was left behind were shriveled husks, instantly drained of all moisture. Without a single wasted movement, a thin yet indestructible water barrier formed around Faen. Driven by magic, he flew forward at high speed, like a semi-truck driving in a straight line, smashing and pulverizing every human figure blocking his path with a thunderous rumble.
With an unstoppable posture, Faen's figure rapidly tore through the legion of steel and flesh, plowing a straight, vacuum-like path forward. Looking at the carriage guarded by numerous elite praetorians in the center, Faen extended his palm. Under the force of the flowing water, the carriage was continuously dismantled with teeth-setting screeches of tearing metal. A moment later, a familiar figure appeared in Faen's line of sight—Swain, currently still with black hair and possessing two perfectly intact, healthy arms.
Meeting Faen's gaze, Swain's face twitched repeatedly.
It was obvious that Swain was trying his best to control his emotions. But unfortunately, having already realized the outcome of this war—that a massive number of Noxian elites were about to be completely buried in Ionia—even someone with Swain's nerves found it difficult to maintain his usual calm in this moment.
But even so, in the very end, Swain simply said, "You win. There is no need to kill them. According to your Ionian traditions, the souls of the dead will also impact your spirit..."
"Before this, that was indeed the case." Hearing Swain's words, Faen shook his head dismissively. He then pointed to Syndra not far away and said, "But it is precisely because of your war of aggression that Ionia has been forced to complete its transformation. Those envoys you killed yesterday might still have held onto some thoughts of the past, but now they are just corpses you've tossed into the wilderness."
"War is war. Even if I had to do it all over again, I would make the exact same choice." Shaking his head, Swain calmly stepped down from the dismantled carriage.
Although it had only been a few short minutes, the span of just a few sentences, the current Swain had already organized all his thoughts.
"The winner is king, the loser a rebel, nothing more. The moment I set foot on this land, I was already prepared to face whatever destiny awaited me."
Hearing Swain's words, Faen felt a wave of boredom. He didn't have much desire to humiliate him further. He simply waved his hand, and the surrounding water swept Swain up, suspending and imprisoning him in mid-air.
Looking at the surrounding crowd, Faen said calmly, "As for the rest of you, set up camp right where you are. Of course, you can also choose to continue fighting or run away, but whatever happens to you then is none of my business."
Hearing this, the soldiers unanimously swallowed hard. After exchanging glances, they began dropping their weapons in twos and threes.
After that, Faen simply waved his hand and tossed Swain into the "little dark room" of the Spirit Realm. He then took Syndra and returned to the Temple of the Long-Standing.
"Swain's problem has been resolved. But you'll have to handle the remaining Noxian soldiers," Faen said, looking at Karma.
Karma nodded in understanding, then said, "The coastal regions of the Navori Province have suffered severe damage. We are in dire need of manpower."