"Who are these guys?" the new arrival asked, glancing over the Sentinels with open curiosity. "They weren't here earlier, were they?"
Kahina gestured toward the group. "These are the Sentinels I mentioned earlier, young Darryl. They are heroes, real heroes, who fight back the darkness of the Black Mist."
Then she turned and motioned toward the boy. "And this is Darryl of the Black Bulls."
Lucian frowned slightly. "He's just a kid."
Gwen beamed. "An amazing kid," she said brightly. "Did you see him flying? He made it through the mist all on his own."
Senna nodded and lightly struck Lucian's shoulder with the back of her hand. "Gwen's right. Darryl here made it through the mist by himself. That's something even we struggled to do."
She stepped forward and extended her hand. "I'm Senna, commander of this unit. We've heard good things about the Black Bulls."
Darryl hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand. "Uh… good, I guess?" He tilted his head, studying them more closely. "So you guys are Sentinels. You don't really look that strong."
Lucian scoffed. "And a kid would know what strong looks like?"
"I may not look it," Gwen chimed in cheerfully, flexing her slender arms, "but I'm stronger than you think."
Senna sighed softly. "We're not here to antagonize anyone, Lucian." She looked back at Darryl. "Trust me, we can handle ourselves. What we need is a way to reach the capital. As you've probably noticed, the mist out there is far more dangerous than usual."
Darryl shrugged. "I wouldn't really know. This is my first Harrowing." He rubbed the back of his head. "I spent most of the time flying around outside." After a brief pause, his eyes brightened. "But I can take you through the shortest route to the city of Demacia."
"Thank you," Senna said with a warm smile. "That would be greatly appreciated."
Lucian frowned and gently pulled her aside. "Are you really going through with this? Letting a kid guide us?" he whispered. "We shouldn't be putting our lives in the hands of a child. I can lead us there myself."
Senna placed a hand flat against his chest, and Lucian quieted almost instantly. "Lucian, just trust me, okay?" she said softly. "I don't fully understand it myself, but I can feel a kind of strength in that boy. I'm even considering recruiting him, if I can't convince this Asta to join us. We need all the help we can get."
Lucian's expression darkened. "I don't like this, Senna," he said solemnly. "Maybe we should slow down. Take a step back. Just for a moment. A breather…"
"No." Senna cut in firmly. "We can't slow down. We can't stop. The Ruined King has to be stopped, before it's too late." Her voice softened as she stepped closer and rested her forehead against his chest. "Please… I need you with me on this."
Lucian was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. "I'll follow your lead. Always." A faint smile touched his lips. "You know that, right?"
Senna smiled in return. "I love you."
"I love you too," Lucian said, smiling back.
By the time they returned, Darryl and Kahina were already finishing their conversation.
"I'll send them the message while I'm at it too," Darryl said, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Don't worry, miss. Alright, I guess I'll see you again in about six hours." He gave the Illuminator a small wave as he turned away.
Senna approached him then. "Darryl, we're ready to move. Are you?" Gwen and Rookie hurried over to her side, clearly eager.
"Yeah, just about," Darryl replied, reaching for a nearby waterskin and slinging it over his shoulder. "We'll head straight for the city. Shouldn't take long." He hesitated briefly. "There is one issue, though."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"There's a massive spider that's set up a nest a few clicks from the walls," Darryl explained. "Webs everywhere. It's not a problem for me, I can just fly over it, but for the rest of you…" He shrugged. "You'll have to fight."
Senna shook her head calmly. "Like I said," she replied, "you don't have to worry about us."
Lucian flipped his guns. "Nothing a few blasts of light can't fix."
Darryl studied them for a second longer, as if trying to decide whether they were bluffing. Then he shrugged again, clearly unconcerned. "Alright then. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
He stepped back and hopped onto his staff, which lifted smoothly from the ground with a low hum. With that, he shot forward, keeping low enough that the group could track him as he led them out of the central district and back toward the edge of the city.
The moment they crossed beyond Havenfall's protective veil, the air changed. It grew heavier, damp and cloying, carrying the faint, sour stench of rot and something sharper beneath it. The Black Mist welcomed them back into the fray.
The further they moved from the city, the more warped the land became. Streets gave way to broken roads, then to uneven stone and debris half-swallowed by creeping webbing. The Black Mist grew thicker here, not in density, but in intent, clinging low to the ground, curling around ankles and broken pillars like something alive and curious.
"Lady Kahina spoke of your captain when I asked about the veil. Is there anything you can tell us of him." Senna said to the hovering boy. "I didn't know someone like that existed in Demacia."
Darryl kept his staff low, gliding ahead at a measured pace instead of rushing forward. "Well, Captain just kinda appeared one day. Literally, I didn't really see it, but I heard it. One moment I was helping my mother with the dishes, the next the whole of Wrenwall was shaking. I thought a dragon was finally attacking. Ran outside, and he was just standing there."
"I still don't get how Demacia did nothing about that. The MageSeekers should have been all over him by now. Any kind of magic is banned by the laws of stone in Demacia." Lucian pondered.
"Well according to Emilia, she's another Black Bull, the captain's so strong, that Demacia doesn't want to make him an enemy." Darryl smiled.
"Seriously? That strong?" Lucian asked, skeptical.
"For sure." Darryl replied. "I saw with my own eyes. This one time, Captain made his sword so big, that it pierced through the clouds and swallowed the sky! I'd never seen anything like that in my life!"
"That was him!?" ×3
Senna, Lucian and Rookie yelled in surprise.
"Holy shit. So he's the one who did that?" Rookie's eyes were wide.
"So that pillar of darkness was caused by our mysterious mage huh?" Lucian frowned. He turned to Senna. "Back then you said that the pillar brought so much dread within you. You sure you want to meet the guy who's apparently the source?"
Senna nodded. "What I feel now doesn't matter. All that matters is stopping Viego and ending the Harrowing.
"This area used to be clear," Ahead of them Darryl paused as he said over his shoulder. "The spider didn't build everything at once. It's been expanding outward."
Senna noted how the webs changed as they progressed. Near Havenfall, they were thin, scattered, easy to step around. Here, they layered over one another, some as thick as rope, others stretched taut between ruined buildings like tripwires.
Lucian stopped suddenly, lifting a hand. "Hold."
Everyone froze.
A faint vibration passed through the ground, subtle, almost imperceptible. Gwen crouched, pressing two fingers to the stone.
"…ooh, strange vibrations on the ground," she murmured. "So ominous."
Darryl nodded. "She feels movement through the web network. If we rush, she'll come to us."
They adjusted their formation. Lucian and Senna took point, carefully burning away strands that blocked their path rather than tearing through them. Each pulse of light was controlled, deliberate, leaving just enough space to pass without sending vibrations rippling outward.
Rookie followed close, eyes darting constantly upward, while Gwen moved with an almost unnatural lightness, stepping where the webs sagged instead of where they were anchored.
Time stretched.
Minutes passed. Then more.
The silence became oppressive, broken only by the faint creak of webbing and the distant, rhythmic scraping of something massive shifting far ahead.
Then the terrain dipped.
The ruins opened into a wide basin, once perhaps a plaza or collapsed courtyard. Here, the webs converged, layered thick enough to resemble walls rather than strands. Black Mist pooled between them, slow and heavy, as though reluctant to move further inward.
Darryl slowed to a stop, hovering just above the ground. "Naturally I would have gotten rid of her the first chance I got," he said. "But with the black mist, anything I kill just comes back, no matter how many times I kill it."
Senna's gaze lifted.
At the far end of the basin, partially obscured by mist and webbing, rose a massive structure of tangled silk and broken stone. It clung to the remains of an old tower, wrapping around it in grotesque spirals. The webbing there was darker, reinforced, pulsing faintly as though breathing.
A nest.
Red points of light flickered awake in the darkness, one after another, until too many eyes stared back at them to count.
Lucian exhaled slowly, guns lifting. "Yeah," he muttered. "Without sentinel weapons, you can't put them down for good."
Senna raised her relic cannon, the glow of its light cutting a clean line through the mist as she took aim.
"Alright," she said, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on her senses.
"Sentinels let's go."
---
"Darryl isn't back yet," Mira murmured from where she sat cross-legged atop a paved stone, her pumpkin staff hovering horizontally in front of her.
Around the stone, several pumpkins slowly emerged from the ground, their rounded forms pushing through the earth as if being gently coaxed upward. Each one glowed with a warm orange light, soft and steady.
Her healing pumpkins.
Nearby, Emilia moved methodically, lifting the pumpkins one by one and placing them into a woven basket. Surprisingly, she wasn't alone. Several maids and servants worked alongside her, carefully gathering the glowing produce with practiced efficiency.
Encircling the group were Demacian knights and guards, standing watch with weapons at the ready, their attention split between the surrounding streets and the unusual harvest taking place at the center.
"I wouldn't worry too much about him," Emilia said calmly as she set another pumpkin into the basket.
"I know," Mira sighed. "Darryl's strong. Really strong." She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around her staff. "I just… he was supposed to be back from his supply run by now. I can't help wondering what happened."
Emilia nodded once. "Perhaps he ran into something unexpected. He is a Black Bull, after all." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "And he does look up to Asta."
"Don't you?" Mira asked, glancing at her.
Emilia shrugged, tossing a pumpkin lightly into the air before catching it with ease. "I'd rather not base my decisions on something so uncertain. If I wanted another opinion, I'd ask myself."
Mira laughed softly at that, then closed her eyes. "Looks like the captain's still trying to train Shyvana on mana reinforcement."
Emilia raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think she'd struggle this much with it."
Mira nodded. "Yeah. Even you learned it eventually."
Emilia shot her a flat look. "You seem to be enjoying yourself," she said dryly. "Physicality has never been my forte."
Mira chuckled again, the soft glow of her pumpkins reflecting faintly in her eyes.
---
Atop a large wall, a slim, small creature looked down upon the training grounds below, where two figures were locked in relentless practice.
This creature was a pumpkin wight.
The creature had a pumpkin for a head, its surface smooth and faintly ridged, with glowing eyes set deep within. Stalks and vines were woven together to form a rogue-like garment that covered every part of its body. A hood, formed from the same tangled growth, draped over the pumpkin head, casting it in shadow and making the soft orange glow of its eyes stand out all the more.
Those glowing eyes belonged to Mira.
Through them, she watched silently as her captain attempted to teach the half-dragon below the very first thing Mira herself had ever learned.
On the training grounds, Shyvana skidded violently across the stone after taking yet another punch from Asta, her boots scraping as she struggled to keep from tumbling completely.
"At this rate, you won't be joining the defense efforts, Shyvana," Asta said as he strolled toward her, his tone calm but firm.
Shyvana groaned and forced herself upright. "I can do it," she muttered.
She turned inward once more, searching for that familiar burning sensation in her chest. It was always there, the same as it had ever been, like molten lava flowing through her veins, searing hot and desperate to escape.
She forced that heat downward, pushing it into her limbs, trying to use the power to reinforce her body.
Certain she had it this time, Shyvana charged, swinging a right hook with everything she had.
Asta didn't even bother to dodge.
Her fist struck his forehead head-on, and failed to move him even an inch.
Asta sighed. "You didn't get it this time either," he said evenly. "Defend yourself."
Shyvana reacted instantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
The impact that followed felt like the force of a thousand dragons crashing into her at once.
She was introduced to the ground again, sliding across the stone as her body came to a painful halt.
Asta watched her for a moment longer as Shyvana lay still, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
Shyvana's fingers dug into the stone. She pushed herself up again, muscles trembling as she forced her legs beneath her. Dust clung to her scales, small cracks spider-webbing through the ground where she'd landed.
"I am doing it," she snapped, breath heavy. "I can feel it. It's there."
Asta tilted his head slightly.
Her eyes flared, pupils narrowing as heat surged through her veins. The burning in her chest roared louder this time, no longer a distant pressure but a violent tide clawing for release. It crawled up her spine, down her arms, into her fists.
"I'm not weak," Shyvana growled.
Flames licked briefly across her shoulders, vanishing almost as soon as they appeared. The stone beneath her feet darkened, scorched.
She moved without waiting for permission.
This time she didn't throw a punch.
She lunged low, sweeping in with her shoulder, claws raking forward as draconic strength exploded outward. The air cracked from the force of it.
Asta's foot shifted.
Just one step.
He caught her by the wrist and pivoted, redirecting her momentum with terrifying ease. Shyvana barely had time to realize she'd been turned before the ground rushed up to meet her again, harder this time.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs.
She slid, rolled, and finally came to a stop near the edge of the training grounds, stone gouged deep beneath her trail.
Silence followed.
Shyvana lay there, staring at the sky, vision blurring at the edges. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms.
"Damn it…" Her voice shook. "Why isn't it working?"
Asta walked over and stopped just out of reach, looking down at her.
"You have to push harder," he said simply.
She sat up sharply, glare burning. "You think I don't know that?"
The heat flared again, stronger this time. Not just frustration now. Anger. At herself. At him. At the helplessness clawing at her chest.
"I've fought my whole life," Shyvana continued, teeth clenched. "I've survived things that should've killed me. I can tear monsters apart with my bare hands. And you're telling me I can't even manage something supposed to be basic?"
Asta didn't answer right away.
Instead, he crouched down so they were eye level.
"I think I know the problem," he said.
Her breath slowed. "Then tell me."
"Let's have an actual fight between the two of us," Asta said as he straightened, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back. "We fight until one of us can't fight anymore."
Shyvana blinked.
"What?" The word slipped out before she could stop it. Was he serious? Or was this just another way to grind her into the dirt? The thought of it made her chest tighten. What was the point of a battle this one-sided? What was she supposed to learn from being overwhelmed again and again?
"You heard me," Asta said firmly. "On your feet. Here I come."
He reached behind him and drew his largest sword.
The moment the blade cleared its sheath, Shyvana shivered. A heavy, dreadful pressure settled over her, instinct screaming at her to run.
From atop the wall, the pumpkin wight watched in silence. What followed could barely be called a fight.
For over ten minutes, Asta advanced without pause, his movements relentless and precise. Every attempt Shyvana made to retaliate was crushed. Every opening she thought she saw vanished the instant she acted on it. The sound of steel, the shock of impact, the ache of bone and muscle, it all blurred together into a single, merciless rhythm.
When it finally ended, Shyvana lay sprawled on the ground.
Her body trembled uncontrollably, cuts and bruises covering her from head to toe. Each breath came shallow and painful, her chest burning as though it might give out entirely. She couldn't move. Couldn't even gather the strength to push air properly into her lungs.
She didn't think she was dying.
But it felt terrifyingly close.
"C'mon, get up," Asta said.
The words reached her like they were coming from very far away. Shyvana tried to respond, but all that escaped her throat was a weak groan. Even speaking felt impossible.
"So this is your limit, then," Asta continued, his voice closer now.
Her blurred vision shifted just enough for her to see him crouching beside her. He looked down at her, expression unreadable.
"Then this is where we break past it," he said quietly. "Get up, Shyvana."
Shyvana glared at the ashen-haired man from where she lay sprawled on the stone floor. Her limbs felt like dead weight, her muscles screaming in protest, her breath shallow and uneven.
She couldn't fucking get up.
Asta sighed once again, the sound low and almost disappointed, as he looked her straight in the eye. "What does it mean to surpass your limits?"
Shyvana coughed, pain flaring through her chest as she tried to answer. She wanted to snap back at him, to tell him that she already knew, that she didn't need a lecture. But before the words could leave her mouth, he continued, and she realized, slowly, bitterly, that the question hadn't been meant for her at all.
"When I first heard Captain Yami say this to us Black Bulls," Asta said, his voice steady and calm, "I thought it was a lazy lesson. I treated it like encouragement rather than advice. Something you say to make people feel better about losing."
He paused briefly, eyes never leaving Shyvana's battered form.
"But later, I realized what the lesson actually was. If you want to be good, then all you need to do is get better. Train harder. Refine what you already have. But if you want to be great…" His tone sharpened slightly. "Then you have to surpass your limits."
The air around them felt heavier as he spoke.
"And most people don't understand what that means," he continued, "because they've never truly encountered their limits. They stop just short of them. They turn back when it gets painful, or scary, or uncertain. Because reaching your limits usually ends in failure." His gaze hardened. "And failure hurts. It breaks you. It humiliates you. It's not easy."
As Asta spoke, he subtly adjusted his stance, his presence expanding without any visible effort. His voice carried, just loud enough for the obvious construct of Mira perched atop the wall to hear, and just precise enough to reach the illusionary clone of Emilia observing from well beyond the training grounds. Distance and trickery meant nothing to him, it would take far more than that to slip past his ki sense.
"You have to go to the very edge of what's possible," he went on, "to the point where there's nothing left. And then…" He clenched a fist. "You blow past it and create something new."
He straightened slightly, the ground beneath his feet faintly cracking.
"And it is possible," Asta said firmly. "It's doable. We see it all the time. New cures. New inventions. New fighting styles. New spells. They don't come from comfort. They come from people who stood at the limits of what could be done, and refused to stop there."
His eyes dropped back to Shyvana, sharp and unyielding.
"But if you never reach those limits," he finished, "if you never stand at that edge… then you can never surpass it. That's what Captain Yami meant when he told us to surpass our limits." His voice lowered, carrying undeniable weight. "Know your limits. Approach them. And then, surpass them."
Shyvana didn't know what to do now.
How did someone even respond to that? How was she supposed to respond? Had she ever done what he was talking about, truly done it? Had she ever reached her limits, let alone tried to surpass them?
No.
She hadn't. Not once.
Her eyes narrowed, heat burning behind them as she grit her teeth hard enough to hurt.
"Not yet…" she growled.
Her muscles screamed as she flexed them, every fiber protesting as she slowly pushed herself upward. Stone scraped beneath her palms. Her arms trembled violently.
"I'm not done yet."
Even so, she felt like a sagging sack of rocks. Heavy. Useless. She couldn't straighten up fully, still bent forward, breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as sweat dripped onto the cracked training ground.
'Find the strength. Draw it out. Into your body, into your very being.' She repeated the words like a mantra, forcing them through the haze of pain. 'I have to do it. I have to push through. Damn it...'
Her thoughts twisted, frustration boiling over.
'The only way I could move like this is if I transformed… but I'm not allowed to transform. If I did, this wouldn't even be a problem.' And then, she remembered.
The feeling.
That moment when she gave in, when she embraced the hunger instead of suppressing it. When the furnace beneath her skin ignited fully, when new power surged through every fiber of her being until it could no longer be contained.
'That's it.'
A low growl tore from her throat as her body suddenly ignited in vibrant red flame. Heat exploded outward, the air around her warping as fire wrapped around her form.
She was activating her dragon transformation.
The flames expanded violently, consuming her silhouette entirely. She could already feel her muscles swelling, the furnace within her chest roaring louder, no longer a controlled blaze, but a raging storm of molten power.
Her bones ached as they reinforced. Scales pushed through skin, thickening, hardening. Her fangs lengthened, sharp and cruel. Her eyes burned like lanterns, glowing fiercely through the inferno as massive wings of flame began to take shape behind her.
But then, she stopped.
Right at the edge.
She held back.
The flames raged, but she refused to let the transformation complete. She locked it in place, trapping all that overwhelming power inside her human form. Her body felt like it was about to burst apart under the strain, veins glowing faintly as heat radiated from her skin.
It hurt.
Gods, it hurt.
But she stood.
With blazing strength, Shyvana straightened fully and turned to face Asta, fire licking off her shoulders and arms.
"I stood up."
Asta's face split into a massive grin, wild and proud. "That's it! That's the way!" he roared.
He didn't hesitate.
Drawing back his fist, he launched himself at her in a blur of motion.
Shyvana barely had time to react. Her eyes widened as instinct kicked in, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Bang!
The impact was thunderous.
The ground cracked beneath her feet as they carved deep trenches into the stone, her body driven backward several feet under the sheer force of the blow.
But..
She didn't fall.
Shyvana remained standing, flames flaring violently around her as she lifted her head, eyes blazing brighter than before.