Rell turned her head. It was the first time she and Seraphine truly locked eyes.
Despite being younger, Seraphine looked at Rell like she could see straight through her.
Even Rell's mother, who had only bowed to power, once stood silently, almost reverently, before this woman.
"Love me?" Rell's voice was cold.
"She used to say, 'Sacrifice comes before achievement,'" Rell replied gently.
"That's how you gained your strength. That's why you're standing here now."
"You once doubted the Black Rose Academy. You questioned its purpose... but every sacrifice shaped you."
Rell's fists clenched at the memory.
Back at the Academy, battles were arranged every few days.
They demanded everything from her—no restraint, no mercy.
And no matter how hard she tried to hold back, she never saw her fellow trainees again.
Until one day... she learned the truth.
After each match, someone was ordered to finish off the defeated.
They would drain the fallen's magic, bottling it like a resource.
Rell recognized those bottles—they were the same ones the Academy used to "restore" her after combat.
And then she saw her mother.
Unharmed, standing by, watching as another student, barely older than Rell, was executed.
Her mother didn't flinch.
"They didn't deserve to die. But they died because of me," Rell whispered.
Guilt weighed on every word.
Seraphine said nothing, but she understood. She could hear the soul-songs echoing through Rell's thoughts—fragments of pain, grief, and regret.
Even Rell's mother's soul sang with sorrow.
But that didn't excuse the past.
Seraphine didn't want to outright condemn someone else's beliefs, but the consequences were undeniable.
"It wasn't my choice!" Rell snapped, her face contorting with pain.
"But you didn't have a choice," Seraphine replied, her voice soft, almost kind.
Rell's gaze hardened. "Then tell me—what makes you different from them?"
She glanced at her mother, still standing in silence, then back at Seraphine.
"It's simple," Seraphine said, spreading her hands casually.
"I can teach you how to make your own choices."
She paused, then added, "To put it bluntly—it's about strength."
Rell's expression darkened. Anger sparked in her eyes.
"Dirty methods. Don't worry—I've seen them before."
In that moment, Seraphine felt no different than her mother—just another person willing to sacrifice others to reach their goal.
Her parents had always treated her like a tool, a weapon to secure Noxus's future.
To them, power was everything. And the path to it? Sacrifice. Eliminate anyone who got in the way.
As a child, Rell had given everything for them. Now she was wondering if any of it had been worth it, especially at the cost of innocent lives.
"Smart girl," Seraphine said with a quiet nod, then shifted the subject.
"But do you really think I'd waste valuable resources on you?"
Rell frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"To train you, 67 mage candidates died. Another 29 were... rendered useless."
Rell inhaled sharply. "Ninety-six…"
Her voice dropped, heavy with horror.
"I didn't know…"
Seraphine saw the understanding dawn in Rell's eyes and pressed forward.
"A battalion of a thousand mages can conjure a battlefield strong enough to defeat the Winged Protector," she said calmly.
"With that level of power, how long do you think you could survive?"
Ryan reports that Rell's path to power couldn't rely solely on consuming magic.
If she hoped to stand against someone like Kayle, she would need more—a force as vast and unrelenting as Syndra herself.
Rell scoffed. "A thousand? No one could stand against the combined force of a thousand mages."
Then Seraphine sang.
Her voice rose—soft at first, then rising into a piercing, transcendent melody that split the silence.
It swelled and soared, breaking past sound and sky, resonating with something deep in the soul.
Under its influence, Rell's vision blurred.
The world around her dissolved, replaced by scenes of divine war—overwhelming, glorious, terrible.
She stood amid the chaos of battle, watching the Winged Protector's holy blade tear through the heavens.
Syndra's dark orbs whirled around her, pulsing with unchecked force. Ryan's towering torrents of water rose higher, swirling with arcane fury...
One after another, visions of celestial destruction unfolded, each more staggering than the last.
Rell held her breath. Her heart thundered in her chest.
Her wide eyes reflected the brilliance of magic beyond mortal comprehension.
"Is this real?" she whispered, stunned.
She had always known the power mages held—but this?
This was something else. If it wasn't real, she couldn't imagine how such vivid, magnificent devastation could be dreamed up.
Seraphine's voice slipped through the awe, calm and clear.
"See that floating castle?"
Rell turned her gaze.
"That's the seat of the Council head," Seraphine explained, a smile playing at her lips.
"It can channel magic on the scale of a natural disaster. In my hands, it could wipe out an entire army in moments. But on the battlefield... you've never heard it used offensively, have you?"
Rell frowned, puzzled. "No. Only as a barrier—when the god retaliated."
She saw that moment. The castle hadn't struck—it had shielded.
An amplifier, not a weapon. At least, that's how it had appeared.
Seraphine's smile shifted—admiration, awe, and maybe a trace of fear.
"Because both sides can launch attacks of that magnitude," she said quietly.
Rell was silent, reeling from what she had seen.
She had heard that gods had fallen before the Council's leader—but seeing it?
No words could do it justice. That vision would stay with her forever.
Then Seraphine spoke again, light amusement in her tone.
"So you think I'm sacrificing mages to help you grow stronger? What do I gain from that?"
Rell's expression darkened. She couldn't hide the tremor in her voice.
"Who are you?"
No ordinary person could show her a vision like that—could understand the depth of such cosmic power.
Seraphine smiled, flicking her pink hair over her shoulder.
"The President is my teacher."
Rell's eyes widened in shock, but she quickly steeled herself. After a moment, she asked, voice calm,
"Then how do you plan to teach me?"
She didn't doubt Seraphine's claim. It was too bold to be a lie, and too easy to disprove if false.
Seraphine's eyes sparkled with quiet challenge.
"Tell me—what do you think they've achieved?"
Rell paused, the question settling in. Her stance shifted slightly, weight redistributing, tension easing.
"Talent," she answered, her voice steady.
Seraphine smiled, satisfied.
There was nothing more rewarding than persuasion, not by force, but by understanding.