The Last Thread
Just when Vi thought she couldn’t keep up any longer, a low growl broke through the din of battle. Warwick, the monstrous beast who had been tearing through the monsters like a rabid animal, charged into the fight with feral intensity. He lunged at Darius, claws extended, and with a brutal swipe, knocked the man off balance.
Darius staggered but quickly regained his footing, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the hulking, blood-drenched form of Warwick. Recognition flickered in his eyes, and his grip on his massive axe tightened. He had heard of this creature—the infamous beast fueled by shimmer and hex-infused rage. The stories of the carnage it left behind now stood before him, terrifying and raw.
“So, this is the beast,” Darius muttered, a grim smile crossing his face. The stories had been right. Warwick was a monster forged for destruction. But Darius was no stranger to monsters.
Warwick snarled, his glowing yellow eyes locking onto Darius. His claws flexed, dripping with the blood of the enemies he’d already torn apart. A low, guttural growl escaped his throat, the sound vibrating through the air. With a primal roar, Warwick lunged, his claws gleaming in the moonlight as he closed the distance in a heartbeat.
Darius barely raised his axe in time, the sheer force of Warwick’s attack sending him skidding backward. Sparks flew as claws met steel, the sound of grinding metal echoing across the battlefield. Darius gritted his teeth, his muscles straining against the monstrous strength bearing down on him.
With a grunt, Darius shoved Warwick back, swinging his axe in a wide, brutal arc. The blade connected with Warwick’s side, but the impact didn’t even slow the beast. The shimmer-fueled regeneration worked instantly, the gash sealing before Darius could follow up. Warwick roared again, his claws slashing through the air in a flurry of wild, devastating strikes.
Darius ducked and weaved, using his brute strength and experience to parry each blow. “You’re tougher than I thought,” he growled, his voice laced with grudging respect. But even his strength began to wane as Warwick’s relentless assault continued, the beast attacking with feral precision.
Finally, Warwick broke through. One massive swipe of his claw slammed into Darius, sending him crashing into the rubble. The Noxian general groaned as he forced himself to stand, blood dripping from his lip. He raised his axe, his breathing heavy, but it was clear Warwick had the upper hand. The beast roared and pounced, claws aiming straight for Darius’s throat.
Before the killing blow could land, a wave of dark energy erupted through the air, slamming into Warwick and forcing him back with a howl of pain. The feral beast staggered, his glowing eyes snapping toward the source of the attack.
Swain stepped forward, his crimson eyes glowing with malice, his arm raised and pulsing with dark, unholy magic. His voice was calm, yet dripping with authority. “So, we meet again, beast,” Swain said, his gaze locking with Warwick’s. “Let’s see what you’re truly made of.”
Warwick growled, his claws digging into the ground as he prepared to lunge, but before he could attack, Vi and Powder appeared from the side. Powder raised her weapon, her face grim but focused, while Vi clenched her fists, the energy crackling from her gauntlets illuminating the chaos around them.
Vi’s voice rang out, sharp and defiant. “Not on our watch.”
Swain’s gaze shifted to the newcomers, his lips curling into a cold smirk. “How quaint,” he said. “Two more to the slaughter.”
Powder stepped closer to Vi, her hands steady as she aimed her weapon at Swain. “We’ve taken down worse,” she said, though the weight of the moment hung heavy in her voice.
Darius pushed himself to his feet, his axe once again at the ready as he joined Swain’s side. “These insects aren’t worth the effort,” he growled, but the tension in his stance betrayed his wariness.
Warwick, unfazed by the interruption, crouched low, his glowing eyes darting between Swain and Darius. He roared again, the sound raw and animalistic, and launched himself at Swain.
Swain raised his hand, unleashing another blast of dark magic, but Warwick tore through it, his claws swiping at the Noxian Grand General. Swain narrowly evaded the strike, the sheer force of Warwick’s attack ripping through the ground where he had stood.
Vi and Powder joined the fray, Vi charging at Darius with her gauntlets raised while Powder unleashed a volley of fire at Swain, forcing him to divide his attention.
The battlefield erupted into chaos as the three defenders clashed with the Noxian duo. Warwick’s feral strength, Vi’s relentless fists, and Powder’s precise firepower collided with Darius’s unyielding might and Swain’s dark, calculating magic. Each side pushed harder, their determination burning bright as the fight for Kalstead reached a fever pitch.
The chaotic battlefield raged on as Jarvan IV entered the fray, his petricite-embedded armor gleaming in the moonlight. His arrival brought a wave of hope to the defenders as he charged directly toward Swain. The Noxian Grand General turned, his crimson eyes narrowing as he unleashed a dark, spiraling mass of magic toward Jarvan.
But as the spell hit the prince, it fizzled into harmless sparks, absorbed by the petricite. Jarvan didn’t falter. He pushed forward, deflecting a second blast with his shield and pointing his sword toward Swain. “Your dark magic won’t work here,” Jarvan growled, his voice commanding and steady. “Face me!”
Swain’s lips curled into a snarl, and with a flick of his hand, shadowy wings of demonic energy erupted from his back, spreading wide as he prepared to flee. "Your resilience is admirable, but futile," he said coldly, lifting into the air with a gust of dark power.
But just as Swain ascended, Warwick roared—a primal, ear-shattering sound that made everyone on the battlefield freeze for a moment. The beast crouched low, his muscles coiling like a spring, before launching himself into the air with astonishing force. His claws extended, gleaming in the light, as he reached for Swain’s face.
At the last moment, Swain twisted his demonic hand toward Warwick, seizing the beast mid-air. The two figures hung suspended, an eerie stillness momentarily overtaking the chaos below. The battlefield, once filled with cries of war and the clash of metal, now seemed distant, the noise muted as Swain’s dark magic coiled around Warwick like an inescapable prison.
Swain’s crimson eyes gleamed with malevolent purpose as he locked his demonic hand onto Warwick’s head. The connection between them was immediate, and both fell into a trance, an oppressive silence washing over them as their consciousnesses collided.
Inside Warwick’s mind, Swain’s dark magic probed the depths of the beast’s consciousness. He searched, seeking remnants of the man who had once been a protector—a father to two daughters. But all Swain found was the raw, primal energy of an animal—a mind clouded by instincts, a mind driven only by an overwhelming desire to protect, but with no memory of why. The human connection was gone, swept away by the hex magic that had twisted him into this monstrous form.
Swain’s magic twisted tighter, his demonic hand gripping Warwick’s head with a cruel, unrelenting force as they hung high above the battlefield. “There’s nothing left of you, beast,” Swain hissed, his voice a blend of triumph and contempt. “No memories. No love. Only the instinct to protect.”
Warwick’s eyes, burning with a fierce, animalistic light, locked onto the figures of Vi and Powder far below. He remembered them—not as his daughters, but as the ones he must protect, the ones who had become his sole reason for existence. The instinct to shield them, to keep them safe from harm, was all that remained. The emotional connection was gone, leaving behind only an animal’s unyielding drive.
Swain's eyes flared with malevolent intent. He sought to seize control of that instinct—to twist it, break it, and bend it to his will. “You were once a man, but now you are a tool—nothing more than an instrument of destruction. I will control your mind. Your instincts are mine.”
As Warwick struggled against Swain's grip, a strange, heartbreaking moment passed. The beast, in its ferocity, was unaware that the last connection—the last vestige of humanity it had—was something Swain couldn’t destroy. He couldn’t erase what remained: the instinct to protect. That was all that was left of Warwick, the only thing tethering him to the past.
But Swain's power was overwhelming. Slowly, his magic began to twist that primal instinct, trying to rewrite it, to make it serve him, to erase even the faintest hint of what Warwick once was.
Warwick roared in defiance, thrashing against the magic, but the struggle was fruitless. The last thread of his humanity—the bond he had once shared with his daughters—was slipping away, becoming a mere echo in the animal’s mind.
Then, just as the connection seemed to shatter, Ekko flew in on his hoverboard, his speed and precision cutting through the tension in the air. His pipe attack struck Swain, disrupting the dark magic that had entranced Warwick.
Swain’s hold on Warwick snapped, and the beast fell to the ground with a deafening crash.
As the dust settled, Vi, Powder, and Ekko stared at the unconscious form of Warwick, the beast slowly stirring as his feral eyes flickered open. There was something different about him now—his movements more mechanical, more unsettling.
Vi and Powder rushed to him, their voices trembling with hope, “Vander?” Vi whispered, her heart aching as she looked at the creature who had once been their father.
“Dad?” Powder whispered, her voice breaking, as she reached out with trembling hands.
But there was no response. Warwick simply looked at them with cold, empty eyes. The recognition was gone. There was no trace of Vander in his gaze—just the mindless animal, no longer driven by the instinct to protect them.
Then, in a split second, Warwick’s posture shifted. He lunged at them, his claws extended, moving with frightening speed and force. Vi and Powder stood frozen, caught off guard by the ferocity of the attack.
But before he could strike, Caitlyn fired her hex bullets, each shot landing with precision. The bullets slowed Warwick down, but his healing ability from the shimmer was powerful, and with each passing moment, the wounds began to heal. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
Vi and Powder watched in horror as the creature that had once been their father tore toward them, driven by an instinct that could no longer recognize them as his daughters. The creature was no longer a protector—it was a monster.
The battlefield around them seemed to stand still as they faced the terrifying reality that the man they had loved was gone, replaced by a mindless beast, and the last thread of connection had faded away forever.