Bilgewater, Nightfall.
Not a soul wandered the streets or alleys. Every citizen hid inside their homes, praying for the protection of Nagakabouros. The roads were shrouded in the pale smoke of burning Queen's Grass.
As the grass burned, sparks flickered like scattered stars in the sky, twinkling without end.
The smoke produced by Queen's Grass did have some weak protective effects, but only against the undead, not against the Black Mist.
In the silence that swept through the city, Thieves Square was blazing with energy.
Over a hundred fully armed sailors stood at the ready, eyes fixed ahead, waiting for the Black Mist to arrive.
Duke sat casually on a crate, offering a sincere piece of advice to the man beside him:
"You sure you don't want to ditch that junk in your hand?"
"This curved blade got me through six Soul Erosion Nights," Raven replied proudly. "No way I'm throwing her away."
Raven tapped the hilt of his curved dagger with a smug look. "I offered the Lady with the Beard a full bottle of ten-year-old rum to get this thing."
"The guy who sold it swore the blade was forged from pure Sunfire Steel."
Duke glanced at the dagger Raven was so proud of. The guard and grip were crudely made, not the handiwork of any Demacian craftsman.
Demacian blacksmiths crafted weapons with millimeter precision. That sorry excuse for a dagger was good for one thing only: peace of mind.
"Alright, if you insist, I won't press you."
Duke pulled out a UV grenade and handed it to Raven.
"But considering how much Sarah values you, you'd better take this. Pull the ring, count to three in your head, then throw it as hard as you can. After that, turn and run."
"And don't throw it near a crowd!"
"Got it!"
Raven cheerfully took the grenade. Duke adjusted his gear. A little ways off, Twisted Fate and Graves stood side by side. Twisted Fate kept shuffling his cards while staring out at the sea, hoping to spot some sign.
As for Graves, the smoke from his cigar practically turned him into a walking smoke cannon.
"What's with this year's Soul Erosion Night? Why's it taking so damn long?" he grumbled.
Twisted Fate drew a red card, placing it on top of his deck. "Don't get cocky."
"I know you're itching to test out your new toys, but the longer it holds off, the better. No matter how late the Black Mist comes, dawn always arrives on time."
His words were pointed. Graves turned his gaze toward the Freljordian warrior hugging an oak barrel. The man wore only a frost-scaled breastplate, wild orange hair tied back, and a beard soaked in booze. Two True Ice axes rested at his feet.
"That Freljord guy, heard he volunteered for this fight."
"Already met him," said Twisted Fate, glancing at Olaf. The moment Olaf noticed them, he raised his mug with a boisterous grin.
"He's a berserker from Lokfar. He seeks death in glory."
Duke appeared beside the two without a sound. Twisted Fate tipped his hat at him. Graves exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Boss, where the hell do you find these lunatics?"
"On the street," Duke replied plainly, then warned both of them:
"Once the battle starts, stay away from Olaf. He carries corrupted power. When the blood rush hits, he'll cut down anything that moves."
"You serious?!"
Graves looked to Twisted Fate. The magician had already tucked away his cards. "If the boss says it, just listen."
"Still," Twisted Fate added, "there's someone else I'm more curious about than that Freljord man."
He gestured toward a woman outside the crowd, Camille, clad in her signature Hextech exosuit.
Camille stood atop a rooftop, high above Thieves Square, eyes scanning the sea. Her faceplate glowed faintly blue as she communicated with her suit's AI.
"So, Boss," Twisted Fate asked, "what weapon are you planning to use this time?"
"Take a guess."
Behind Duke, Pride released a hiss of scorching steam.
"Never mind, I'd better prep," Graves muttered with a chuckle, checking his exosuit and Destiny.
Suddenly,
"The Black Mist is coming!!"
Someone's shout tore through the air. Everyone turned. Duke slid E.D.I.T.H. over his eyes and looked toward the sea.
A tidal wave of darkness surged toward Bilgewater, skimming across the ocean surface.
Ripples stirred through the Mist, revealing twisted, monstrous shapes:
Vengeful wraiths.
Howling specters.
Knightmares on hellish steeds...
"Now that's something you don't see every day."
Using Edith's farsight mode, Duke snapped his fingers. WALL-E appeared obediently behind him, unfolding his armor plating. Duke stepped inside, the suit closing around him.
The darkness swallowed the coastline and surged inland.
The Black Mist moved like a tsunami, engulfing everything in its path. The ships at the Mourning Dock were pulled under, the lanterns on their masts flickering before the light was completely devoured.
A towering Dreadknight emerged from the Mist, riding a massive warhorse twisted like a chimera. Where its hooves struck, the Black Mist served as solid ground, letting him gallop freely.
Behind his helm, two cold, green flames flickered in his eyes.
It was the Day of Slaughter, again.
The festival of the undead had begun.
To the living, Soul Erosion Night was a nightmare.
To the dead, it was ecstasy.
A single night to purge their hatred, tear apart the breathing, and feed the Mist with souls.
The Dreadknight raised his axe, the blade glowing with eerie green flame. At his command, hordes of ghosts surged forward.
The docked ships were shredded like paper.
Sails rotted. Ropes snapped.
Huge vessels were lifted like toys and hurled into the houses nearby.
BOOM!!
Homes collapsed like dominoes. The souls of the first casualties were instantly absorbed by the Mist, becoming part of the ghostly horde.
Living victims were yanked into the sky and torn apart like rag dolls, their bodies discarded into the shadows.
The Mist pressed on, adding fresh souls with every breath. Even the dock rats were consumed.
Moments later, zombie rats, with rotting skin and burning eyes, crawled from the shadows, attacking their former kin and any surviving humans.
Within seconds, the anchor district was overrun. The last sparks of Queen's Grass disappeared, replaced by total darkness.
A thunderous rumble echoed from the Mist, reaching Thieves Square. Duke, now fully suited up in WALL-E, grabbed a UV grenade.
"Let's say hello to our guests."
He yanked the pin and tossed it.
The grenade, glowing blue, flew like a fastball and disappeared into the gloom.
BOOM, !
A blinding flash erupted.
The Mist was torn apart briefly, revealing what lay inside:
A swarm of zombie rats, and even a grotesque Rat King, a mass of corpses tangled together.
Other terrifying undead shapes were exposed. A Dreadknight waved his axe, and the Mist surged back, sealing the rupture.
The sound vanished. Silence fell.
Gulp.
Graves swallowed nervously. "Boss... got any more of those toys? Mind sharing?"
"Here, try not to blow yourself up."
Duke tossed him one. Jayce, wielding Mercury, gave Duke a complex look. The weapons Duke built went far beyond what he'd imagined.
The Mist advanced far faster than Jayce had expected. Before he realized it, the Square was surrounded.
Then a thunderous roar shattered the silence:
"Tonight, we fight to the death!!"
Olaf, brandishing his dual True Ice axes, charged headlong into the Black Mist before the stunned crowd.
"COME ON!!!"
"What a lunatic..."
Duke sighed.
"Never gives us a break."
"But... he's got a point."
"Tonight, we fight without holding back."
WALL-E's lenses turned from blue to glowing red, radiating danger.
"ROOOAR!!!"
Pride's roar shook the entire Square.
Tonight... they would fight without restraint.
End of chapter...
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