"Everything's gone."
Duke exhaled a faint breath laced with alcohol. His expression remained unreadable, calm to the point of indifference. Slowly, his gaze drifted toward Kai'Sa, Sivir, and Taliyah — each of them wearing the exact same look, as if carved from the same mold.
Fear. Unease. Dread.
Especially Taliyah. The little sparrow sat collapsed on the ground, her vacant eyes staring into the bottomless crater before her. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she muttered something under her breath, lost in shock.
Sivir's fingers clenched tightly around her crossblade, Chalicar — knuckles white, muscles tensed. The only way she could ground herself in that moment was through the cold, familiar weight of her weapon.
An area of nearly six hundred square kilometers had vanished in an instant, leaving behind nothing but an abyss that stretched endlessly downward.
"Is this… really something a human can do?"
Sivir's voice came out as a low, disbelieving murmur. Kai'Sa's fists were clenched tight, though she said nothing. The air between the four of them grew heavy — strange and suffocating.
Duke didn't speak. He just held his flask, silent and distant. Sometimes, revealing too much power was not a good thing.
Fear breeds suspicion.
Suspicion breeds hysteria.
He sighed softly, lifting his flask and taking another long drink.
"This," he murmured, "is humanity."
Though a trace of weariness lingered in his voice, Duke forced a faint, reassuring smile — one meant to comfort the three women, pale and trembling before him.
"This is the power of science, my dear ladies."
His words drew their attention at once.
Taking another drink, Duke exhaled a slow breath, his tone soft yet resolute.
"A power capable of achieving anything."
"Gods?" He chuckled quietly. "They're nothing more than powerful lifeforms."
"In the face of science, even they're insignificant."
Draining the last of his liquor, Duke let out a small burp.
"Alright, ladies — time to move out."
"Don't forget our schedule."
The floating platform turned northward, gliding away until it disappeared beyond the horizon.
——
Time passed — minute by minute, second by second — until the curtain of night finally fell.
Beneath the starlit sky, a lone figure drifted closer from the distance. His feet hovered several inches above the ground, arms relaxed at his sides. A haze of violet energy surrounded him like a living mist, both shielding and empowering his form.
He wore a long, sleeveless hooded robe in the same deep shade as the Void, brass bracers clamped around his forearms, veins glowing faintly beneath the skin with pulsating violet patterns.
A strange mask — shaped almost like an incense burner — covered his face, purple light spilling through its narrow slits.
A scarf wrapped around his neck fluttered behind him as he moved forward, its edges rippling with the current of his floating motion.
Before long, he arrived at the crater's edge. Gazing downward through his mask, his voice came soft and hollow — filled with both wonder and unease.
"I did not foresee this… Who has clouded my sight?"
"And who dares hinder the advance of the Void?"
Malzahar's thoughts churned with confusion. He could think of no one who might possess such power. The Xer'Sai had toiled tirelessly here for countless years, digging, burrowing, weakening the veil between reality and the Void.
Led by their queen, Rek'Sai, they had been so close to success — to opening the path that would bring the Void's arrival upon this desolate world.
And now, in an instant, the entire Xer'Sai swarm was gone. The excavation, years in the making, obliterated without a trace.
Individually, the loss of one race meant nothing to the Void. But the interruption of a near-complete plan — that was intolerable.
"I must know the truth."
Spreading his arms, Malzahar invoked his power, seeking to glimpse the events of the past — or the future yet to come.
Under Shurima's relentless sun, many were born gifted with strange abilities. Malzahar was one of them.
As a child, he could glimpse fragments of what was yet to be. But the day he discovered that gift was also the day he lost his parents — both consumed by an incurable illness.
To survive, he began using his foresight to earn coin and bread — a few coppers here, a crust of stale bread there.
As his mastery grew, so did his reputation.
He foretold marriages for caravan riders, gambled on knife-throwing games in the market, and soon his clients changed — from peasants in muddy sandals to nobles in jeweled slippers.
And yet, even as he read the fates of others, Malzahar could never see his own.
His future was veiled — obscured by a darkness he could not pierce.
With time, he saw only more pain. Humanity's endless cycle of suffering — always self-inflicted. Even the brightest prophecies could not break that curse.
An emptiness took root within him — the kind that comes from knowing the world's truth while the rest remains blissfully blind.
At last, he abandoned everything he owned, left Amakra behind, and wandered into the wilderness.
Years passed in solitude and meditation, until his mind opened wide enough to glimpse the depths of despair — not just of men, but of the world itself.
Mad visions plagued his waking hours, and from beyond the veil came whispers — of war, conflict, and eternal suffering.
The yellow sands beneath his feet turned pale, like salt. Leaving the desert behind, he reached Icathia — the land of forbidden knowledge.
There, peering into the chasms of the earth, Malzahar surrendered his mind to revelation.
And the Void answered.
Thus, the Prophet of the Void was born.
To him, all things — every struggle, every breath — were mere illusions preceding the inevitable: the embrace of nothingness.
For in the end, the Void is all.
And so he began his work — gathering followers, offering sacrifices, and guiding the Void's corruption into the waking world.
Every step, every ripple, had been under his control.
Until now.
This sudden, inexplicable crater — this, he had not foreseen.
But it was not too late.
Spreading his arms, leaning backward, Malzahar called upon his Second Sight once more, forcing the veil open.
Images began flashing before his eyes.
Caravans trudging across the sands of Kalixé, seeking life amid desolation. Guides with sorrowed faces but wise eyes. Streaks of light cutting across the sky.
Then, amidst it all — a man in white.
Malzahar's pulse quickened. "Now… to see the future."
The man wore a white coat down to his knees, black hair, black eyes, a calm, gentle smile on his lips — and yet, behind that smile lay the cold precision of one who had dissected the world itself.
"So, it's you…"
Malzahar pushed his power harder, visions multiplying wildly.
Around that man stood seven shadows — monstrous silhouettes radiating divine power. Scenes of creation and destruction spiraled around him, life and death flickering in eternal alternation.
Then, everything was drowned in gold — a shifting, endless curtain of light that swallowed the vision whole.
"What… is this—?"
Malzahar's sight snapped apart, severed by a backlash that tore through his mind.
Hic.
A drunken burp echoed in his ears.
And then came the voice — lazy, slurred, yet heavy with impossible power.
"You really shouldn't peek where you shouldn't, little grasshopper."
Crack!
Malzahar's mask shattered. The violet energy around him imploded, leaving his body trembling violently. Purple mist burst outward as he collapsed, clutching his face and screaming in agony.
"AAAAHHH!!"
He writhed on the ground, his body twisting and convulsing as pain ripped through his mind. Even with the Void's blessing, the backlash was unbearable.
"He must die… He must die!"
Malzahar's voice trembled with raw terror. "No matter what it takes — he has to die!!"
"No matter the cost!!"
His scream echoed across the barren desert — a desperate, dying roar swallowed by the night.
——
Beneath a dune, a gray laboratory stood half-buried in the sand. Pipes snaked across its surface, glowing faintly with different streams of energy.
Inside, Duke sat before a holographic screen, sipping his drink as he watched the playback.
"The Reality Annihilation Bomb's effect exceeded expectations."
"There's still room to push the limits of Pym Particles. And the quantum field studies... those must continue."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "If Pym Particles can truly interact with quantum space, maybe they can even alter the perception of time — or blind those who try to foresee it."
His eyes narrowed. "If that's true, then anyone attempting to glimpse the future… would see nothing."
"Or perhaps — they wouldn't see at all."
Duke ran his fingers along his flask, smiling faintly. "Quantum field research, then… must go deeper."
Ding, ding, ding…
A crisp chime interrupted his thoughts. Duke blinked, glancing at the time — past midnight.
"Who's calling me this late?"
"Patch it through, Edith."
"Right away, boss."
The screen flickered to life — revealing Camille. The blue veins at her temples pulsed with faint light.
"Staying up late will give you wrinkles, Camille," Duke teased.
"There's a strange man at Blue Perfume Manor," she replied flatly. "Carries a lantern, says he has business with you — claims you two have a deal."
"A man with a lantern?"
Duke blinked. "You don't mean… Jax, do you?"
He grinned. "Guess he finally decided to talk."
"Is he available right now?"
"If so," Duke said, leaning forward with a smirk, "let's make it a video call."
End of chapter....
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