The Imperial Gardens smelled like conquest wrapped in jasmine.
TF crouched behind a Shuriman display—desert cacti that could shoot barbed spines at anything warm-blooded—and watched the patrol pass. Three Trifarian soldiers, moving with practiced efficiency, hextech lanterns cutting through carefully cultivated darkness.
They disappeared around a corner. He counted to thirty. Pulled a card—signaled forward.
Ekko materialized from shadows, Z-Drive humming low. Behind him, Graves moved with surprising quiet for someone carrying enough explosives to level a building. Samira brought up the rear, twin pistols drawn, scanning for threats.
Seraphine had stayed behind. Her role was done—they had the access card. From here, this was infiltration work. Combat specialists only.
"Wards ahead," Ekko whispered, pointing at shimmer-distortions in the air. "Magical detection grid. Standard Noxian defensive array with—wait." He pulled a small device, scanned. "They've got temporal sensors woven in. Anything moving faster than human-normal triggers alarms."
"Can you bypass?" TF asked.
"Can I—" Ekko shot him an offended look. "I'm the genius with a time machine. Yeah, I can bypass."
He moved forward carefully, Z-Drive's hum shifting frequency. The device on his back projected a field—temporal distortion that made his personal timeline slightly out of sync with the wards. He passed through the shimmer without triggering anything.
Turned back. Gestured.
One by one, they followed, staying within Ekko's temporal field. TF felt it as he crossed—weird sensation like moving through honey that wasn't there. His skin prickled. Then they were through.
"Show-off," Graves muttered to Ekko.
"Jealous?"
"Of looking like I got a generator strapped to my back? Nah."
"Quiet," Samira hissed. She'd frozen, hand raised. "Movement. Fifty meters, northeast section."
They dropped into cover among Ionian shadow-flowers—beautiful purple blooms that released paralytic pollen when disturbed. TF held his breath. Watched through gaps in petals.
Another patrol. Four soldiers this time, led by an officer whose uniform marked him as someone important. They were doing active sweeps, not just walking routes.
"Vasara's influence," Samira whispered. "She's increased security."
"Can we go around?" TF asked.
"Not without hitting more wards or the Freljordian section." Samira's jaw tightened. "Ice-roses over there. Touch them, you freeze solid. Sound carries differently on ice. Even quiet movement triggers responses."
"So we wait," Graves said.
They waited.
The patrol took seven minutes to pass. Seven minutes crouched among flowers that wanted to paralyze them, breathing shallow, not moving. TF's leg cramped. He ignored it. Watched Ekko fidget with his Z-Drive, making micro-adjustments. Watched Graves's trigger finger tap against Destiny's stock—unconscious rhythm. Watched Samira's absolute stillness, the discipline of someone trained to be patient before violence.
Finally, the patrol moved out of sight.
"Go," Samira said. "Fast but quiet. Next checkpoint is the fountain plaza."
They moved through curated wilderness. Past Shuriman displays that smelled like sun-baked sand and ancient magic. Through Ionian sections where bamboo grew in impossible patterns and wind-chimes made music from captured souls. Around Freljordian ice-sculptures that wept frozen tears.
Every plant was a trophy. Every section a conquered territory reduced to decoration.
TF hated it. Hated the casual imperialism, the arrogance of taking someone's homeland and turning it into garden aesthetics. But he used it—navigated by conquest markers, timed movements between regional transitions where guard attention focused on preventing contamination between incompatible magics.
They reached the fountain plaza. Central hub where paths converged. And standing in its center, illuminated by hextech lights and festival glow from above—
"Hell," Graves breathed.
Lieutenant Kael. The persistent young officer from their intelligence reports. Sharp-eyed, ambitious, too smart for his rank. He stood with two soldiers, studying a datapad, occasionally glancing around with focused attention.
"He's checking something," Ekko said. His enhanced temporal perception let him see micro-expressions. "Recent alert. Maybe Vasara's investigation."
"Can we go around?" TF asked.
Samira studied the layout. "Not without an hour detour. And that puts us past the guard rotation window. We need to cross now or abort."
Abort wasn't an option. TF's deadline ticked closer with every wasted hour.
"Distraction," he decided. "Graves—you got something subtle?"
Graves grinned. "I got explosives. None of them subtle."
"Not helping."
"Actually—" Ekko pulled a device from his coat. "I got something. Temporal echo projector. Creates phantom movement signatures in a different location. Makes guards think they see something three hundred meters that way." He pointed west, toward the Demacian section.
"That'll work." TF looked at Samira. "When they investigate, we cross. Fast and quiet."
"Not fast," Samira corrected. "Measured. Fast looks guilty. We're maintenance workers doing festival prep. Confident but not rushed."
"Right. Confident maintenance workers carrying weapons."
"Garden detail carries weapons. Dangerous flora." She pulled a festival worker's armband from her coat—stolen earlier. "Everyone takes one. Credentials in case we're stopped."
They put on the armbands. Ekko activated his device. Dropped it in the bushes, then retreated to cover.
Thirty seconds later, Kael's head snapped toward the west. He said something to his soldiers, gestured. They moved to investigate—not running, but purposeful.
"Now," Samira said.
They emerged from cover. Walked across the plaza with the confidence of people who belonged. TF kept his hands visible but relaxed. Graves carried his shotgun openly—festival security would be armed. Ekko adjusted his Z-Drive like it was standard maintenance equipment.
They were halfway across when one of Kael's soldiers glanced back.
Stopped. Stared.
"Sir," the soldier called. "Four workers. Unscheduled route."
Kael turned. Took in their appearance with those sharp, too-intelligent eyes.
TF felt the moment crystallize. Run or commit. Fight or talk. Everything balanced on the next ten seconds.
He chose talk. Walked directly toward Kael, pulling the confidence-con he'd used a thousand times.
"Lieutenant? Festival coordination. We're checking the eastern wards for the illumination ceremony tomorrow."
Kael's expression didn't shift. "Show credentials."
TF produced forged documents. Kael scanned them with his datapad. The forgeries were good—Marcus had done excellent work. But if Kael decided to verify against central records...
"These show you authorized for southern sections only," Kael said.
"Order changed an hour ago." TF pulled his own datapad—also stolen, also modified. "Coordination sent revised routes. Eastern illumination specs need verification before tomorrow's ceremony."
Kael studied the datapad. TF felt sweat on his neck despite the cool air. Beside him, Graves's hand drifted casually toward Destiny. Samira had angled herself for optimal firing solution if this went wrong. Ekko's Z-Drive hummed slightly louder—ready to rewind.
"This authorization code is outdated," Kael said. Not accusing yet. Just observing.
"Festival coordination's been chaos," TF said easily. "Three different departments issuing conflicting orders. We're just trying to get the work done before someone important complains about dark gardens."
Kael's eyes narrowed. He looked at each of them again. Longer this time.
TF felt the calculation happening. Saw Kael notice Graves's scars—too many for a maintenance worker. Saw him register Samira's stance—combat training obvious to someone who knew what to look for. Saw him process Ekko's age and the expensive tech on his back.
This was collapsing.
Then—distant explosion. Not huge, but loud. Northwest, toward the Colosseum district.
Everyone's attention snapped toward the sound. Festival fireworks? No—wrong timing, wrong direction.
Kael barked into his comm. "All units, report. Disturbance northwest quadrant."
Static. Confused voices. Someone saying "possible sabotage."
In the chaos, TF made his choice. "Lieutenant, we should move. If there's an incident, gardens might need securing—"
"Stay where you are." Kael's hand went to his weapon. "All of you. Until I verify—"
Ekko's Z-Drive activated.
Everything stuttered. Time hiccupped. The world rewound four seconds.
They were back at the moment before TF spoke. Before Kael's suspicion solidified.
"Different approach," Ekko whispered urgently. "He's too smart. We can't talk our way through."
The distant explosion happened again. Same timing. Some other crew's operation going wrong, or actual sabotage—didn't matter.
This time, when Kael's attention shifted to the sound, Samira moved.
Not attacking. Just stepping into his line of sight, making eye contact, speaking with absolute Noxian military authority.
"Lieutenant Kael. Trifarion Special Operations. Orders classified." She produced credentials—different forgeries, better ones. "These workers are under my escort. The illumination ceremony is cover for security assessment. You understand."
Kael hesitated. Special Operations trumped local security. But he wasn't stupid.
"I need to verify—"
"You need to investigate that explosion," Samira interrupted. "Which is your priority. We'll continue our assessment. If you want to file a report questioning Special Operations protocols, do so through proper channels. After you've handled the immediate threat."
The calculation on Kael's face shifted. Question authority and potentially be wrong, or handle the visible crisis.
He chose crisis. "Fine. But I'm logging this encounter."
"Expected." Samira's expression stayed neutral. "Proceed, Lieutenant."
Kael gestured his soldiers. They moved toward the explosion, double-timing.
The crew didn't run. Walked calmly toward the eastern edge of the gardens. Maintained the performance until they were out of sight.
Then Graves exhaled. "That was close."
"Too close," TF agreed. "Ekko, how many rewinds you got left?"
"Three, maybe four before the Z-Drive needs a full recharge. And each use is shorter—last one only got four seconds." Ekko looked worried. "We need to be careful. Can't afford to waste them."
"Then we don't waste them." Samira led them through a maintenance gate—access card finally used. "From here, it's underground. Service tunnels to the military district. Then the Archive entrance."
They descended into darkness. Festival sounds faded. The air changed—colder, damper, smelling of stone and old magic.
Graves lit a hextech lamp. The tunnel stretched ahead, carved from bedrock, reinforced with Noxian engineering. Water dripped somewhere. Their footsteps echoed.
"How far?" TF asked.
"Half kilometer to the Archive's outer perimeter." Samira checked her stolen map. "Then we're in their security proper. No more garden patrols. Real vault defense."
"And possibly Darius," Ekko added helpfully.
"Thanks for that reminder."
They moved through tunnels that had carried supplies, troops, and secrets for centuries. Noxus's underbelly—the infrastructure that kept the empire functioning while the surface celebrated.
TF's mind raced ahead. They'd made it through the gardens. Next came the real obstacle—the Eternal Archive itself. Magical wards, mechanical traps, elite guards, and maybe the Hand of Noxus personally.
After that? The vault, the Chronolith, and the question nobody wanted to ask: who uses it?
But that was future-TF's problem. Present-TF focused on not dying in the next three hours.
They reached a junction. Samira held up a fist. Everyone stopped.
Voices ahead. Boot steps. Another patrol—but these weren't garden security. These were vault guards. Heavy armor, serious weapons, the kind of soldiers who didn't ask questions before attacking.
"Can we bypass?" TF whispered.
Samira checked the map. Shook her head. "Only route forward."
Graves pulled Destiny. "Then we go through."
"No." Ekko's Z-Drive hummed. "Let me scout. I'll rewind if it's impossible."
He crept forward, temporal field active. The rest waited in darkness, weapons ready, breathing controlled.
Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.
Then Ekko was back, moving fast, eyes wide.
"Ten guards. Full vault security detail. Plus—" He swallowed. "Plus Darius. He's there. Doing personal inspection."
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Then TF pulled a card. The Tower. Again. Always the Tower.
"Right," he said quietly. "So here's where it gets interesting."