The Defenders of Kalstead
The defenders stood in tense silence, their eyes fixed on the water. The sea had turned unnaturally still, its surface glinting under the pale moonlight. The earlier ripples and bubbling had ceased, replaced by an eerie calm that set every nerve on edge.
Then, without warning, the first monstrous head broke the surface, followed by a grotesque, twisting body. Water streamed from its pale gray skin, which glistened unnaturally in the light. Its unblinking, bulbous eyes swept over the defenders with a cold, calculating malice, and its mouth opened in a gaping grin, rows of jagged teeth gleaming.
More shapes began to rise from the depths. The water erupted in a frenzy as hundreds of the creatures clawed their way onto the docks, their twisted forms writhing and dripping with brine. Tendrils lashed the air, and limbs that seemed too many for a single body slithered and skittered over the wood. Some had elongated, spiny fins running down their backs, while others had shifting, unstable forms that made it impossible to look at them for too long without a sense of vertigo.
One of the creatures lunged forward, its claws striking the water’s edge. The impact shattered the planks beneath it, splinters flying like shrapnel. It reared up, taller than any man, and released a piercing, guttural shriek that made the very air tremble.
A moment later, a second creature followed, then a third, their movements fluid and unnatural. They moved like predators testing their prey, but there was no hesitation in their approach—only the overwhelming certainty of a hunger that would not be denied.
"These aren’t just monsters," one of the revolutionaries whispered, his voice trembling. "They’re nightmares."
Another creature pounced, dragging a revolutionary into the water before he could even scream. The defenders recoiled as the man’s blood bubbled to the surface, staining the once-pristine waves.
The realization sank in: this was no ordinary attack. The creatures were an endless tide, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm the defenders. Fear spread like wildfire through the ranks, some revolutionaries and locals gripping their weapons tighter while others began to edge backward, unsure if they could face the horrors before them.
Garen stepped forward, his massive blade gleaming in the moonlight. "Steady yourselves!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the panic.
Beside him, Jarvan IV raised his sword high, his presence a rallying point for the soldiers. "We cannot falter! Protect the city! Hold the line!"
The creatures began to surge forward, their guttural whispers and growls rising to a deafening crescendo. The defenders braced themselves for the onslaught, their fear warring with determination. The docks trembled under the weight of the advancing horde, and the salty air carried the unmistakable stench of decay.
The soldiers formed a defensive wall, shields locked together, spears bristling like the quills of a porcupine. The first wave of creatures slammed into them with terrifying force, claws scraping against steel. The defenders grunted as they pushed back, but the monstrous strength of their foes was undeniable.
Garen surged forward, his massive sword swinging in devastating arcs that cleaved through the grotesque forms. Each strike was calculated and powerful, cutting down monsters with brutal efficiency. "Lux, fall back!" he barked over his shoulder, his voice sharp and protective. Lux’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as she stood frozen amidst the chaos. Her wide blue eyes were locked onto the grotesque forms of the monsters crawling from the sea, their slick, writhing bodies an affront to nature itself. She tried to look away but couldn’t tear her gaze from the sight of their too-many limbs and glowing, unblinking eyes.
A spray of blood arced through the air as one of the creatures was cleaved in half by Garen’s blade, the crimson mist catching the moonlight like something out of a nightmare. Lux felt her knees weaken, her grip on her staff faltering. The cries of the wounded and the clash of weapons against monstrous flesh filled her ears, drowning out her thoughts.
Her hands trembled violently. She tried to take a step back, but her legs refused to obey. Her chest heaved, each breath coming harder than the last as if the weight of the horror before her was suffocating.
“Lux!” Garen’s voice broke through the chaos, sharp and commanding. She flinched, her brother’s tone snapping her attention to him as he cleaved through another abomination. “Get out of here! Quinn—take her!”
Quinn, perched on a stack of crates nearby, turned at his shout. Valor let out a piercing screech, swooping low as Quinn landed gracefully beside Lux. Her sharp eyes took in Lux’s ashen face and her trembling frame.
“Lux,” Quinn said firmly, stepping in front of her and gripping her shoulder. “Hey! Look at me.”
Lux’s panicked eyes darted to Quinn’s, her breathing still erratic. “I—I can’t—” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.
“You can,” Quinn said, her tone steady but urgent. “But not here. You’re not safe.”
Lux shook her head, her fingers tightening around her staff. “I—I can help—I just—”
“No!” Quinn interrupted, her grip tightening on Lux’s shoulder. “Not here. Not like this. Your brother gave me an order, and I’m not about to let him down.”
Before Lux could protest further, Quinn pulled her arm over her shoulder and began leading her away from the docks. Valor circled above, his cries keeping any stragglers from getting too close.
As they moved, Lux cast one last, desperate glance over her shoulder. She saw Garen, Vi, Jarvan, and the others holding the line, their movements a blur of steel, fire, and chaos. For a brief moment, guilt flashed across her face, her need to help clashing with the reality of her helplessness in that moment.
“Focus on your steps,” Quinn said, her voice softer now as they moved further from the front line. “They’ve got this. You need to trust them.”
Lux swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. She kept moving, even as tears of frustration stung her eyes. As the sound of battle began to fade behind them, her breaths slowly steadied, though her hands still trembled.
Quinn glanced at her, her expression softening. “It’s okay to feel scared, you know,” she said gently. “But sometimes, staying alive is the best way to help.”
Lux didn’t reply. For now, all she could do was follow Quinn, the weight of the battle she had left behind heavy on her shoulders.
Amidst the chaos, Ekko wove through the battlefield on his hoverboard, a blur of motion that seemed almost impossible to track. The board's hum mingled with the guttural snarls of the advancing creatures as he ducked and swerved, using his speed to outmaneuver their clumsy but relentless attacks. His pipe, gripped tightly in his hand, whistled through the air before striking home with resounding thuds.
One creature lunged at him with a gaping maw lined with jagged teeth, but Ekko leaned low, letting the beast’s attack sail overhead. He pivoted sharply, spinning his hoverboard to bring the heavy end of his pipe crashing into its side. The creature crumpled with a wet, sickening sound as Ekko zipped past, already scanning for his next target.
"Ekko! Watch your six!" Vi’s voice cut through the chaos.
Ekko glanced over his shoulder just in time to see another monster leaping at him, its sinewy limbs outstretched. With a sharp kick, he launched himself off the hoverboard, flipping in midair as the creature slammed into the ground where he had been. Landing gracefully, he brought his pipe down in a vicious overhead swing, shattering the creature’s bulbous skull.
“Thanks, Vi!” he called out, jumping back onto his board and darting toward her.
Vi, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of destruction. Her massive gauntlets pulsed with energy as she smashed through the creatures, her blows sending shockwaves that rippled across the docks. A particularly large monster, with fins protruding from its back and tendrils lashing wildly, reared up before her.
“Outta my way!” Vi roared, slamming her fist into its chest with enough force to send it skidding backward into the horde. It knocked over several smaller creatures before collapsing into a heap, twitching feebly.
Above them, Caitlyn perched on a stack of crates, her rifle steady as she picked off targets with chilling precision. She fired one shot after another, each bullet finding its mark. When she spotted a creature slipping past Ekko and heading for a group of cowering locals, she shifted her aim and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
“Gotcha,” she muttered, the creature dropping mid-lunge.
"Nice one, Cupcake!" Vi shouted, slamming her gauntlet into another foe.
Caitlyn smirked, reloading her rifle. “You’re welcome.”
Not far from the group, Powder stood with a determined gleam in her eyes, her beloved gatling gun, “Pow-Pow,” securely gripped in her hands. The barrels spun into action, releasing a steady barrage of bullets that tore through the advancing creatures. Her aim was precise, each shot finding its mark as the creatures staggered and fell, their grotesque forms collapsing in a spray of ichor.
Powder’s expression was intense, her focus unshakable as she worked the trigger, firing in controlled bursts. There was no wildness in her movements, just a quiet, resolute determination. She knew what needed to be done, and she would see it through.
“Keep it steady, Powder,” Ekko called out as he zipped past her on his hoverboard, narrowly avoiding a swipe from one of the larger beasts.
“I’m on it!” Powder responded, not looking away from her target. Her shots cut down another wave of monsters that were creeping up behind Warwick and the local defenders.
Her fingers tightened around the gun’s handle as she shifted her aim, tracking a particularly large creature that was making its way toward the heart of their defenses. With calm precision, she let the gun do the work, her shots punctuated by the sound of bullets hitting their target with ruthless efficiency.
She didn’t need to yell or make a spectacle of her actions—every pull of the trigger was a steady, methodical effort to ensure the safety of her friends and the people around her.
Vi’s voice called out to her. “Powder, cover me! I’m making a run for it!”
Powder’s gaze flickered toward Vi as she barreled forward into the fray, her gauntlets slamming into the ground with shockwaves. Without hesitation, Powder adjusted her aim, firing a quick series of shots to clear the path for Vi.
The monsters were relentless, but Powder’s steady hand and calm demeanor made her an anchor in the chaos. Every time she pulled the trigger, another threat was neutralized, the tide of battle momentarily shifting in their favor.
As Powder’s relentless firestorm continued, Warwick—his primal growls cutting through the chaos—was a whirlwind of ferocity. His claws, long and razor-sharp, tore into the grotesque creatures with animalistic precision. He surged forward, his monstrous form a blur of violence as he swiped, shredded, and tore through the oncoming beasts. Each swing of his claws sent creatures sprawling to the ground, their bodies ripped open in a gory display of raw strength.
With every crushing blow, Warwick seemed to lose himself even more in the heat of battle, his animalistic instincts pushing him beyond the limits of mere mortal combat. His growls resonated through the battlefield, a warning to anyone who dared approach.
Rengar, not far from Warwick, observed the carnage with a detached, almost amused expression. He danced through the chaos with his twin blades in hand, cutting down monsters with the precision of a predator hunting its prey. But his eyes kept drifting back to Warwick, his grin widening.
"That beast," Rengar growled, his voice low and tinged with amusement. "He’s nothing but an animal. But... an effective one." He sliced through another creature with a fluid motion, its body falling apart under his expert blades.
The two were like opposites, one primal and savage, the other calculated and deliberate. Yet, both were deadly forces in their own right. As Rengar continued his work, he couldn’t help but watch Warwick rip through his foes, intrigued by the sheer force of nature the beast embodied.
Meanwhile, the tide of battle seemed to shift. The defenders, their weapons coated in monster ichor, began to believe they had gained a momentary advantage. The last of the creatures were either slain or scattered, and the docks felt momentarily quieter.
But just as they allowed themselves a brief moment of relief, the ground shook with a violent rumble—a terrible reminder of the true nature of the threat they faced.
From the water, the Noxian warship, sleek and ominous, emerged from the mist, its black hull cutting through the water as it slowly crept toward the shore. The massive ship’s arrival had been expected, but not like this.
In a flash, the defenders realized the gravity of their situation. The anti-ship artillery that had been set up to defend the docks—vital for repelling any such attack—was under assault. The monstrous creatures, in their unrelenting assault, had reached the artillery positions. With vicious efficiency, they tore into the mechanisms, smashing the artillery guns apart.
As the final shots of the artillery rang out—useless against the beastly forces—the Noxian ship slowly pulled into the dock, its dark silhouette looming over the wreckage of the battlefield. The defenders, already battered and exhausted, looked on in dread.
Just as the last of the monstrous creatures were torn apart or scattered, the Noxian soldiers came pouring out of the ship in droves. Armored and deadly, they advanced with cold precision, their weapons drawn and ready.
Jarvan IV, already worn from the relentless battle, stood firm as the Noxian soldiers moved to engage. His sword, stained with the blood of monsters, gleamed under the harsh moonlight.
“Form up!” Jarvan roared, his voice still strong despite the overwhelming odds. “We’re not done yet!”
The battlefield had just become far more dangerous, and the defenders—already exhausted from fighting the monstrous horde—now had to face an enemy army with one goal: to destroy Kalstead.
Vi, who had been in the thick of the fight, saw a massive figure cutting through the battlefield with terrifying ease. His broad shoulders and towering frame were unmistakable, his battle-worn armor gleaming even in the chaos. A massive axe, stained with the blood of Demacian soldiers, hung by his side, ready to strike.
Her heart raced as she saw the man—Darius—was cutting through the ranks of her comrades with brutal efficiency. The soldiers around him fell like wheat before a scythe, and her anger ignited at the sight of his carnage. She didn’t know who he was, but the sheer brutality of his attacks made it clear that this was no ordinary fighter. This was someone she’d have to face if they stood any chance of surviving.
Vi clenched her gauntlets, a growl rumbling from deep within her chest. This is the kind of fight I was made for.
With a primal shout, she charged toward Darius, her gauntlets slamming together in anticipation. The force of her impact sent shockwaves through the air as she dove into the fray, her body moving faster than thought, her fists like hammers that crushed anything in their path.
Darius turned, his eyes narrowing as she closed the distance. Without a word, he swung his giant axe in a sweeping arc, the blade slicing through the air toward her. She ducked just in time, the tip of the weapon grazing past her hair. Vi pushed herself forward, throwing a rapid flurry of punches. Her gauntlets smashed into his armored side, but he barely flinched. His strength was immense, his movements deliberate.
The fight raged on, each blow she delivered absorbed by his thick armor, while each swing of his axe forced her to dodge or block with all her might. Vi could feel herself tiring, but there was no turning back now. This was a fight she had to win.
Darius grinned—teeth bared—clearly enjoying the struggle. Vi’s breath came harder, her legs threatening to give way under the weight of his relentless assault. Damn, he’s stronger than I thought, she thought, barely managing to sidestep another deadly swing.
Just when Vi thought she couldn’t keep up any longer, a low growl broke through the din of battle.