Obligations Leaves A Fortress
Chapter 5: Obligations Leaves A Fortress
Vi scaled the jagged cliffs of Ironspike Mountain with a precision that bordered on unnatural, her every movement deliberate and calculated. Her hextech arm, a masterpiece of raw power and engineering, dug into the frozen stone with ease, its metallic fingers gripping the rock as though it were soft clay. The cold bit at her exposed skin, the wind tearing at her cloak and braid with a fury that could unnerve even the most seasoned warriors. But to Vi, the frigid assault was nothing more than background noise. The shimmer coursing through her veins pulsed like molten fire, its glow faintly visible beneath the scars that crisscrossed her flesh. It radiated an unnatural warmth, warding off the merciless elements of the Freljord and fortifying her against the mountain’s relentless hostility.
The cliffs were unforgiving, their icy surfaces slick with frost and fractured by jagged outcroppings that jutted out like the spines of some ancient beast. Snow whipped around her, obscuring her vision, but Vi didn’t falter. She moved with grace, her boots finding purchase on narrow ledges that would have crumbled under the weight of anyone less precise. Her mechanical arm bore her weight without effort, its hum a constant reminder of the strength she wielded, a power she had mastered under Ambessa’s exacting guidance.
Ambessa’s orders rang clear in her mind: Watch but do not engage. The words echoed like a mantra, grounding her even as the adrenaline in her blood begged her to act. Vi’s jaw tightened as she reached for the next handhold, her natural fingers digging into the icy rock as she pulled herself upward. Below her, the abyss yawned wide and black, the sound of the wind and distant crashing ice filling her ears. There was no room for fear here—only focus.
The faint lights of the Delverhold fortress came into view as she neared the mountain’s peak, their flickering glow barely visible through the swirling storm. Vi paused on a narrow ledge, pressing herself against the cliffside as she surveyed the stronghold below. The massive iron gates stood like a wall of teeth, reinforced with layers of steel and stone, a monument to Noxian engineering and arrogance. Even from this distance, she could see the movement of soldiers along the battlements, their figures hunched against the cold, their patrols slow and listless.
Vi narrowed her glowing eyes, her sharp gaze catching the subtle signs of weakness Ambessa had spoken of. The soldiers’ formations lacked the discipline expected of Noxus’s elite. Their movements were sluggish, their furs tattered and patched—a testament to the scarcity of supplies. The once-proud banners that hung from the walls now sagged under the weight of frost and neglect. Darius’s forces were breaking, their morale splintering under the unrelenting grip of permanent winter.
Vi tightened her grip on the ledge, her hextech arm groaning faintly as the gears adjusted under the strain. The cold bit into her exposed fingers, but the discomfort barely registered against the simmering frustration boiling inside her. Her glowing black eyes locked onto the Delverhold, every detail searing into her memory—the uneven patrol routes, the poorly reinforced sections of the outer walls, the exhausted slouch of the guards. Weaknesses. She could see them so clearly, feel them calling out to be exploited. Her instincts screamed at her to act, to leap from the shadows and tear through the cracks with the raw power Ambessa had trained her to wield.
But Ambessa’s voice rang louder in her mind: Watch but do not engage.
Vi clenched her jaw, the muscles in her face tightening as she exhaled sharply. Her breath billowed into the freezing air, a cloud of frustration dissipating into the night. She adjusted her stance, the icy rock beneath her boots slick and treacherous. The faint hum of her hextech arm pulsed with energy, itching for action, but she forced herself to stay still, to channel that fire into focus. This was her first mission alone—her first chance to prove she was more than a weapon. Ambessa had given her a purpose, and Vi would not fail. She couldn’t fail.
Yet the waiting gnawed at her, each second stretching painfully thin. Her mind raced with possibilities, her muscles coiled with the urge to strike. She could already picture it: slipping into the fortress undetected, dismantling their defenses one by one, returning to Ambessa with more than just observations. Proof of her worth. Proof that she could do more than follow orders. But no—her hands flexed against the rock as she forced herself back.
Ambessa’s voice returned, steady and commanding in her mind: Discipline makes us strong, makes us precise.
Vi sighed, long and slow, her anger cooling like embers beneath ash. She shifted her focus back to the fortress, letting her frustration bleed into sharp concentration. She was Ambessa’s Hand, and her task was to observe. The storm rolling in would mask her presence, and from the shadows, she would see the cracks in Darius’s fortress deepen. She would study their patterns, their vulnerabilities. She would learn them better than they knew themselves. And when the time came, when Ambessa unleashed her wolves, Vi would be ready—not as the chaotic force she once was, but as a blade sharpened to perfection.
Vi lay flat against the icy ground, her heavy cloak blending seamlessly with the snow-covered terrain. The faint shimmer of her scars was muted beneath the thick fabric, leaving her entirely hidden from view. Her black eyes scanned the fortress before her, taking in every detail with the precision of a hawk. The Delverhold, for all its grandeur, was riddled with vulnerabilities. She noted the uneven placement of stones at the base of the foundation, the way frost had eaten into the mortar over decades, weakening the structure. The heavy iron gates groaned faintly each time they opened, the sound echoing across the frozen expanse—a telltale sign of strain. Every detail she observed was another advantage for Ambessa’s army, and Vi committed it all to memory.
She had been watching for hours, her patience unwavering. The men guarding the fortress moved in predictable patterns, their weariness evident in their sluggish pace. Vi could see it in the way their shoulders drooped, their heads hung low, and their movements lacked the sharpness of well-rested soldiers. Every thirty minutes, the shift would change, and a new group of tired, frostbitten guards would shuffle to their posts. The routine was clear, their weaknesses laid bare for anyone willing to look closely enough.
She allowed herself a faint smile. Ambessa will be pleased, she thought, her mentor’s voice ringing clearly in her mind. “This mission is yours, Violet. But know this: no matter the shadows, you do not stand alone.” The words had been both a blessing and a challenge, and Vi had carried them with her every step of the way.
Her fingers flexed beneath the cloak, the shimmer in her veins pulsing faintly as if in response to her determination. She could almost picture the approving nod Ambessa would give when she returned with this information. Soon, Vi thought. ‘Soon, I’ll stand before her again, and she’ll know I didn’t fail her.’
But then, something unexpected caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a flicker of movement. It was subtle—so subtle she might have missed it if she hadn’t already been tuned into the rhythm of the landscape. Her glowing eyes narrowed as she focused on the tree line below the fortress, scanning the shadows where the pale snow gave way to deeper darkness. There, dark shapes shifted against the white expanse, barely discernible from the trunks of the trees.
At first, Vi thought it might be stray animals or perhaps scouts venturing out from the fortress. But as she continued to watch, her brow furrowed. Their movements didn’t match the clumsy, routine pace of Noxian patrols. These figures moved with a grace and purpose that set them apart—silent, deliberate, and precise. Each step was calculated, their forms melting into the shadows as though they were a part of the wilderness itself. Despite the uneven terrain and the encroaching storm, they moved effortlessly, as though born to this harsh environment.
Vi’s sharp gaze picked out details as they emerged from the shifting gloom: heavy pelts draped over their shoulders, thick boots designed for the frozen ground, and the faint gleam of sharp axes at their sides. These were no frostbitten soldiers struggling to survive the Freljord’s brutal winters. These were warriors—seasoned and united. Their synchronicity, the way they moved without a single wasted motion, marked them as a tribe, perhaps even a warband.
Her mechanical fingers tightened against the rock, the faint hum of her hextech arm intensifying as her interest sharpened into focus. Freljordians. The word carried weight in her mind, a mixture of admiration and caution. These people weren’t allies of Noxus—she could see that in the way they avoided the fortress’s patrols, slipping through the shadows like ghosts. Their presence here was no accident, no mere hunt for food or shelter. They had a purpose, one etched into their every movement, and it set Vi’s pulse racing.
Her lips curled into a wider smile, a flicker of excitement mingling with curiosity. Her heart quickened, and for a brief moment, her earlier frustration was forgotten. The possibilities swirled in her mind. ‘What are they here for?’ she wondered. Were they opportunists looking to exploit Noxian weakness? A rival force bent on claiming the fortress for their own? Or perhaps something else entirely, a threat or an advantage Ambessa had yet to consider?
Vi’s glowing black eyes followed their movements, her mind running through scenarios. ‘If they’re enemies of Noxus, they could be allies to Ambessa. Or…’ Her smile faded slightly as the thought crossed her mind. ‘They could just as easily stand in the way of the grand design.’ Whatever their intentions, she would need to find out—and soon.
She shifted slightly, careful to keep her movements silent as her hextech arm dug into the icy ground for support. The faint hum of its internal mechanisms blended with the howling wind, muffled by the thick snowfall around her. Her black eyes tracked the Freljordians’ every step, cataloging their movements with the same meticulous precision she had used to map the Noxian soldiers. These were no ordinary raiders; they moved like predators, deliberate and methodical, their steps leaving barely a trace in the snow.
The group moved in a loose formation, their coordination seamless yet unspoken. At their head was a tall figure cloaked in thick wolf pelts, the fur ruffling in the icy breeze. The leader’s movements were deliberate, his presence commanding even from a distance. He paused, raising a hand—a simple gesture, but one that carried immediate weight. The other warriors stopped in unison, their axes glinting faintly as they crouched low, blending into the shadows of the trees. Vi’s eyes narrowed, trying to make out the leader’s face, but the hood of their cloak concealed it entirely. Still, their authority was unmistakable. No words were exchanged, yet the others responded to their commands without hesitation, spreading out silently as they approached the outer perimeter of the fortress.
‘What are they planning?’ Vi wondered, her excitement tempered by a flicker of unease. The warriors moved with an air of confidence, their discipline rivaling that of Ambessa’s finest soldiers. Every detail spoke of their readiness: the polished edges of their weapons, the way their feet found purchase on the icy ground without faltering, and the precision of their movements as they closed in on their target. They were not here for show or hesitation—whatever their purpose, they intended to carry it out with deadly efficiency.
Vi’s thoughts raced as she weighed the possibilities. She had gathered everything Ambessa needed: the fortress’s weaknesses, the soldiers’ routines, and the state of Darius’s forces. But this new development shifted the balance. If these warriors intended to strike the fortress, their attack could create the perfect distraction for Ambessa’s assault. Or, worse, it could unravel the entire operation, forcing Ambessa to face an unpredictable element in the midst of her carefully laid plans.
The wind howled louder, whipping Vi’s cloak against the frozen ground as if urging her to act. But she stayed perfectly still, every muscle tensed as her mind worked through the situation. ‘Do I risk moving closer? Do I engage them to learn more?’ The choices swirled in her head, each one carrying its own dangers. She could almost hear Ambessa’s voice in her mind, a steady anchor against the storm of thoughts. “Observe. Learn. Adapt.”
Her excitement grew as she watched the Freljordians inch closer to the fortress, their movements like shadows against the pale snow. For the first time, she felt the weight of the mission Ambessa had entrusted her with—not as a burden, but as a purpose. She was not just a scout; she was the blade in the dark, the unseen force that could tip the scales. Whatever these warriors intended, Vi knew it would fall to her to decide how their actions would serve Ambessa’s grand design.
They were studying the fortress, just as she was. Their movements were precise, each step deliberate and calculated. They moved like predators surveying their prey, their sharp eyes scanning the walls and battlements of the Delverhold with an intensity that mirrored her own. Allies to Darius? Or enemies? Vi couldn’t tell, but the mere possibility of their alignment with him made her muscles coil beneath the weight of the thick cloak. The icy wind bit at her exposed skin, but she didn’t flinch. Every inch of her unnatural glow was concealed, her position undetectable even to these skilled trackers, who prowled the snowy expanse with the stealth of wolves.
The Freljordians lingered near the outer perimeter of the fortress, gesturing toward weak points in the structure before retreating toward the tree line. Their purpose was clear: they had found what they were looking for. The leader, cloaked in heavy wolf pelts, glanced back at the fortress one last time before slipping silently into the shadows of the forest. They moved as one, their fluid retreat as disciplined as their approach.
Vi’s glowing black eyes narrowed beneath the shadow of her hood, the faint shimmer of her scars flickering dimly in the darkness. Her mind churned, her thoughts returning to Ambessa with an almost magnetic pull. Her mentor’s voice echoed in her memory, its edge sharp and unwavering. ‘Darius killed Kino’ That single truth had burned itself into Vi’s mind, and the memory of Ambessa’s grief—the subtle crack in her stoic exterior, the pain she carried in her golden eyes—fueled Vi’s resolve like fire in her veins.
Her jaw clenched tightly as the thought solidified in her mind: ‘Ambessa’s vengeance is my purpose.’ The words repeated like a mantra, steady and undeniable. She flexed her mechanical hand beneath the folds of her cloak, the faint hum of her hextech arm vibrating softly against her skin. The sensation steadied her, anchoring her to the task ahead. Her mission had always been clear: to serve Ambessa’s will, to be her weapon in the shadows. Darius’s death wasn’t just a tactical necessity—it was a personal reckoning. And Vi knew, with an unwavering certainty, that when the moment came, it would be her hand that delivered the final blow. Not for herself, but for Ambessa. For the woman who had carved purpose from her chaos, who had shaped her into the weapon she had become.
As the Freljordians melted into the darkness, Vi’s expression hardened. These warriors, whoever they were, were not part of Ambessa’s design. Their presence here was a complication, a variable that threatened to upset the careful balance of her mission. It didn’t matter whether they were allies of Darius or enemies with their own agenda. Their purpose was irrelevant. If they weren’t part of Ambessa’s plan, then they didn’t belong.
Her decision was made. Vi shifted slightly, her mechanical arm tightening against the icy ground as she prepared to follow them. These Freljordians, with their silent steps and confident movements, might have posed a challenge to others. But to Vi, they were obstacles—ones that would be swiftly and efficiently removed. Whatever their intentions, they would not live to interfere. They were expendable.
Vi exhaled slowly, her breath misting in the frigid air as she began her descent. Each movement was deliberate, her body flowing like water against the frozen rock face. Her mechanical arm, its grip unyielding, sank into the jagged stone with silent precision, while her natural hand searched for stable holds. The wind howled and battered her, but it was a willing ally tonight, its relentless scream drowning out the faint scrape of her boots against the icy surface. Her cloak billowed faintly behind her, blending into the darkness and masking the faint shimmer that pulsed from her scars. To the untrained eye, she was nothing more than a fleeting shadow against the snow-dusted cliffs.
Her heartbeat remained steady, the shimmer in her veins pulsing in quiet rhythm, fueling her resolve. The icy wind bit at her face, but she didn’t feel it. Vi’s focus sharpened with each passing second, her mind clearing of all distractions. She was entirely attuned to the scene below, her senses heightened as she drew closer to the Freljordian warband. Every lesson Ambessa had drilled into her came rushing back—the importance of silence, precision, and patience. ‘Quick and silent. No hesitation. No mistakes.’ She repeated the mantra in her head like a commandment, Ambessa’s voice echoing in her mind.
As she neared the bottom, the low murmur of the warriors’ voices reached her ears, carried on the biting wind. Though the words were indistinct, the tone was unmistakable—measured, deliberate. The leader stood at the front of the group, a tall figure clad in thick wolf pelts that rippled with the gusts of wind. His presence exuded authority, his gestures sharp and purposeful as he motioned back toward the fortress. The others listened intently, their heads nodding in unison. Axes glinted faintly at their sides, the blades catching the thin slivers of moonlight that filtered through the thickening clouds. These were no ordinary raiders—they were seasoned warriors, disciplined and focused, but they had not yet sensed her presence.
Vi’s lips curled into a faint smile, a flicker of satisfaction passing through her. ‘They think they own the shadows,’ she thought, her glowing black eyes narrowing with predatory intent. ‘But they’ve never met me.’
Her movements grew slower as she neared the forest’s edge, each step calculated, every sound minimized. The faint shimmer beneath her scars dimmed further, subdued as though her body itself understood the need for stealth. As the group began to move deeper into the tree line, Vi’s body tensed, coiling like a spring. Her mechanical arm flexed slightly, the faint hum of its power a subtle reminder of the weapon she carried at her side.
With fluid grace, Vi darted from the rocky surface and slipped into the underbrush, her cloak trailing behind her like a phantom. The warriors ahead moved steadily, their boots crunching faintly against the snow, but Vi had already chosen her next position. She scanned the path ahead, her sharp eyes locking onto a sturdy pine tree just ahead of the group’s route.
Without hesitation, she leapt, her hextech arm latching onto the trunk with an faint audible thunk as she scaled it with ease. Her natural hand gripped the icy bark, her movements swift and sure despite the slickness beneath her fingers. The branches groaned softly under her weight as she climbed higher, stopping just above the path the warband was taking. Her perch offered a perfect vantage point, the thick needles of the tree providing ample cover while allowing her to observe every step they took.
Vi crouched low on the branch, her mechanical arm braced against the trunk for stability. Her glowing eyes followed their every movement, cataloging every detail—the way they carried their weapons, the rhythm of their steps, the subtle cues in their body language that spoke of their training. She became the shadow Ambessa had forged her to be. The faint smile returned to her lips as the leader came into clearer view, his wolf-pelt cloak brushing against the snow-dusted ground. ‘Quick. Silent. Ruthless.’ The words rang in her mind, steady as the pulse of the shimmer coursing through her veins. The hunt had begun.
Her muscles coiled, ready to strike.
Vi crouched on the branch, her glowing black eyes locked on her target. Slowly, with deliberate care, she reached beneath her cloak and began to unwrap the chain coiled around her flesh arm. The links gleamed faintly in the moonlight, their metallic sheen dulled by frost, but their weight was familiar, comforting. Each movement was precise, her grip steady as she guided the chain into her palm. She didn’t rush—there was no need. Patience was a weapon, one Ambessa had drilled into her again and again.
With a practiced flick of her wrist, Vi sent the chain hurtling through the icy air. The links unraveled in a fluid arc, moving like a living thing toward the warrior at the back of the group. The faint whistle of the chain cutting through the wind was masked by the storm above, and Vi’s aim was true. The chain coiled tightly around the woman’s neck, the links biting into the exposed skin beneath her thick cloak.
The warrior’s eyes widened in shock, her hands flying to the chain, but it was too late. Vi gave a sharp twist, the motion so swift and efficient that the sickening snap of the woman’s neck was lost to the howling wind. The body went limp, the weight of it tugging at the chain for a brief moment before Vi hauled it upward with ease, her mechanical arm humming faintly as it bore the strain.
Carefully, Vi positioned the lifeless form against the bark of the tree limb she perched on, arranging the body as though it had merely settled there to rest. The wolf pelts draped over the woman’s shoulders helped to obscure the unnatural angle of her head, and from below, it would seem as though she was still keeping watch. Satisfied with her work, Vi exhaled softly and melted back into the shadows of the branches.
Like a cat stalking its prey, Vi moved with silent grace, her body fluid as she scaled down the tree. Each foothold was deliberate, her mechanical arm anchoring her with unerring precision. The cold bite of the wind was nothing to her; her focus was absolute. The group below hadn’t noticed her or their missing companion, their attention still fixed on the path ahead.
Reaching the ground, Vi moved through the snow with eerie quiet, the thick fabric of her cloak muffling her steps. Her glowing eyes locked onto the two warriors nearest to her, their postures relaxed as they whispered quietly to one another. They were close enough that Vi didn’t need her chain. She stepped into their space with confidence, her movements so smooth and precise that neither had time to react.
Her arms shot out, wrapping around their shoulders in a vice-like grip. Her flesh hand clamped over the mouth of one warrior, silencing him instantly, while her mechanical arm mirrored the motion with the other. There was no struggle—Vi’s strength made resistance impossible. With a sharp, simultaneous twist, she snapped their necks, the sound barely audible over the wind. Their bodies slumped into her arms, dead weight that she handled with ease.
Without hesitation, Vi dragged the lifeless forms into the nearest bush, the branches trembling faintly as she concealed them beneath the thick foliage. Her movements were methodical, her breathing steady as she worked. The shimmer in her veins pulsed faintly beneath her scars, a rhythmic glow that matched the calm, unrelenting efficiency of her actions.
The storm continued to howl around her, masking her every step, every kill. As she straightened, her glowing eyes darted toward the remaining members of the warband, still oblivious to the predator in their midst. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘They’ll never see me coming,’ she thought, her body already moving toward her next target.
One of the three remaining warriors, a lean man with sharp eyes and a jagged scar running down his cheek, froze mid-step. His gaze darted to the empty space where their comrades should have been. His brow furrowed, and he quickly scanned the surrounding forest, his breath visible in the frigid air. Without a word, he moved toward the leader, his steps swift but cautious. When he reached the towering man, he gestured sharply toward the absence of their fallen companions, his voice low but urgent. “They’re gone,” he said, his tone a mix of confusion and unease. The leader’s piercing gaze swept over the treeline, his massive shoulders stiffening as he realized the truth. He clenched the hafts of his axes tightly, his knuckles turning white against the worn wood, but his expression remained calm—too calm. With a single, deliberate motion, he signaled to the remaining men, sending them to search for the missing warriors. Whatever had taken them, it would not remain hidden for long.
The hulking leader stepped forward into the moonlight, his massive frame towering over the sparse tree line. He was a mountain of a man, his shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of two men. Draped in a thick wolf-pelt cloak, the fur bristled with frost, adding an almost supernatural aura to his presence. The leather straps across his chest strained against the sheer bulk of his muscle, scars crisscrossing his exposed arms like jagged lightning. His bare skin seemed impervious to the Freljord’s biting cold, the icy wind only accentuating the brutality etched into his form.
Two axes hung in his massive hands, their blades darkened with wear but gleaming wickedly in the pale light. Runes carved into the steel glowed faintly, as if pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. His fists gripped the weapons tightly, the veins in his arms bulging with raw power. Each axe bore the marks of countless battles—chips in the blades, dried blood staining the runes, and leather-wrapped handles worn smooth from use.
His face was a map of fury and endurance. A thick, unruly beard framed his square jaw, frost clinging to the wild tangles as he exhaled slow, steady breaths. His nose was crooked, broken long ago, But it was his eyes that caught Vi’s attention—icy blue and sharp as blades, filled with an unyielding hunger for battle. His gaze swept the area unflinching and unafraid.
A heavy iron helm, dented and scratched, rested on his head, the curved horns protruding from its sides adding an almost mythic quality to his silhouette. Every movement he made was deliberate, the slight roll of his shoulders and the way his fingers flexed around his axes betraying a readiness for violence. He was chaos in human form, raw and untamed, exuding an aura of primal danger that even Vi couldn’t ignore.
Vi’s glowing black eyes narrowed beneath her hood as she studied him from the shadows. He was no ordinary Freljordian; that much was clear. The confidence in his stance, the scars that told a lifetime of war, and the faint hum of power emanating from his weapons all spoke of a man who thrived on carnage.
As the three remaining men spread out into the trees, searching for their vanished comrades, the leader remained still, his massive chest rising and falling with measured breaths. His grip tightened on his axes, and for a moment, it seemed as though he could sense Vi’s presence—a predator aware of another in its territory. He scanned the treeline again, his brow furrowing as the storm above howled louder, but Vi stayed perfectly still, her grin widening.
This was her game now.
The storm raged on, snow whipping around the clearing as the leader muttered something low in his native tongue, his deep voice carried away by the wind. Vi silently descended from her perch, stalking the three men with ruthless precision, her mind already turning to the moment when only she and this beast of a man would remain.
Vi’s grin widened as she moved through the shadows like a wraith, her heavy cloak swirling around her with each silent step. The storm above raged on, masking her movements with its relentless howl. The three men, scattered and unaware, were like lambs to the slaughter. She had no interest in prolonging their lives; each would fall in a manner that reminded her why Ambessa had forged her into a weapon.
The first man, nearest to her, was adjusting the fur-lined strap of his armor when Vi struck. Her chain, still slick from the previous kill, lashed out with deadly precision. It coiled around his leg like a viper before he could react. With a vicious tug, she yanked him off his feet, his body slamming into the frozen ground with a bone-crunching thud. Before he could scream, Vi’s mechanical arm shot forward, its steel fingers clamping around his head. The faint hum of her hextech arm was the only sound before she crushed his skull like an overripe fruit, shards of bone and blood splattering onto the snow. She dragged his body into the shadows, leaving the crimson-stained snow to freeze over as if nothing had happened.
The second man turned sharply at the faint crunch of snow, his hand reaching for the axe strapped to his side. Vi was already behind him. She sprang from the cover of a nearby tree, her hextech arm slamming into his back with the force of a hammer. He let out a guttural gasp, the air knocked from his lungs as he staggered forward. Before he could recover, Vi grabbed his head with her flesh hand, twisting violently. The snap of his neck echoed briefly, drowned out by the roaring wind. She lowered his lifeless body to the ground, her movements quick and efficient, her glowing black eyes never once leaving the clearing where the leader stood.
The final man, now slightly more cautious, gripped his weapon tightly as he scanned the darkened forest. His breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, visible in the frigid air. Vi stalked him silently, her every step deliberate, instincts honed to perfection. She let him hear her this time—a faint crunch of snow behind him. His head snapped around, his eyes wide with terror as he swung wildly, his axe cutting through empty air.
Vi moved faster than he could process, her mechanical arm shooting out and grabbing his axe mid-swing. The man froze, his eyes flickering between the glowing veins of her arm and the faint shimmer of her scars. He barely had time to let out a strangled cry before Vi drove his own axe into his chest. The blade cleaved through fur, leather, and bone, burying itself deep in his sternum. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips as he slumped forward, his wide eyes staring into Vi’s cold, unyielding gaze. She wrenched the axe free with a sickening squelch, his body crumpling to the snow as crimson pooled around him.
The storm raged on, its icy wind whipping through the clearing as Vi wiped the blood from the axe onto the dead man’s cloak. She tossed the weapon aside, her glowing scars pulsing faintly beneath her hood. Her job wasn’t done yet. She turned her gaze toward the leader, now alone in the clearing, his massive frame outlined against the raging snowstorm.
Vi stepped forward, silent as a shadow, her grin sharp. The leader didn’t move. It was time for the real challenge to begin.
Vi shrugged off her heavy cloak with deliberate precision, the thick fabric falling to the snow in a dark heap. The storm’s wind clawed at her exposed frame, the faint glow of her scars illuminating her figure against the swirling darkness. Her hextech arm pulsed softly, a single blue vein coursing through it radiating an otherworldly light that made her appear more spectral than human. She rolled her shoulders, stretching out her arms, her mechanical fingers curling and uncurling as if eager to strike again. The faint hum of the hextech machinery filled the air, sharp and steady against the chaotic roar of the storm.
The leader stood still, his massive frame outlined by the falling snow. His wolf-pelt cloak rippled in the wind, and the twin axes in his hands gleamed faintly, their blades honed to deadly perfection. His thick beard was speckled with frost, and his piercing eyes glinted with a dangerous light as they locked onto Vi. Fury burned in his gaze, but so did something else—curiosity, and perhaps even respect. He took a step forward, the ground crunching beneath his weight, his breath visible in the frigid air.
Vi remained rooted in place, her black, glowing eyes unflinching as they met his. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, an expression as calm and self-assured as it was taunting. She tilted her head slightly, her scars shimmering faintly beneath the darkened sky. The bodies of his fallen men lay scattered, hidden in the shadows of the forest around them, but the blood in the snow told the story. She had dismantled his warband with surgical precision, leaving him alone to face her.
The leader’s voice broke the silence, deep and guttural, carrying over the storm like the growl of some ancient predator. “Are you the one who can finally give me my glorious death?” His words were laced with anticipation, his grip tightening on the hilts of his axes. He was angry—that much was clear—but there was no fear in him. Instead, he stood tall, his sheer presence a testament to years of battle and unrelenting will.
Vi tilted her head further, her expression unreadable. She couldn’t speak, but her movements said everything. The faint smile that lingered on her lips, the casual flex of her mechanical arm, the unflinching stare that met his—all of it made her answer clear. ‘Of course it would be her. Who else could it possibly be?’
The leader chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating in his broad chest. “We’ll see,” he muttered, his lips curling into a feral grin. Slowly, he raised one of his axes, resting it on his shoulder as he squared his stance. His other axe remained low, its blade gleaming faintly as it cut through the falling snow. He shifted his weight, his boots digging into the ground for traction, his posture one of a seasoned warrior readying himself for the fight of his life.
Vi mirrored his movements, her body instinctively falling into a fighting stance. Her mechanical arm glinted faintly in the storm’s light, its hum steady and unyielding as her fingers flexed once more. The glow of her scars seemed to intensify, the shimmer beneath her skin pulsing in rhythm with her quickening heartbeat. She clenched her fists, her flesh hand matching the tension of her mechanical one, her entire frame coiled like a spring.
The air between them was electric, crackling with tension as they sized each other up. The storm raged on, the wind shrieking through the trees, but neither warrior moved. This was the calm in the storm, a brief moment of stillness before violence erupted. Each of them knew it would only take one step, one motion, to ignite the battle. But for now, they waited, their eyes locked, their breaths steady, their weapons—or, in Vi’s case, her very body—ready to clash.
Above them, the darkened sky churned, the promise of chaos hanging heavy in the air. And as Vi stared down the towering leader, her smirk widened. Whatever came next, she was ready.
The leader moved first, his hulking frame surging forward with surprising speed, twin axes gleaming like jagged fangs. The snow erupted beneath his boots, the storm above roaring as though it urged him onward. Vi stood her ground, her glowing black eyes narrowing as she braced herself. Her sleeveless black outfit clung to her frame, the icy wind biting into her exposed skin, but she didn’t flinch. Pain was an old friend, one she lived in, one she thrived on. She flexed her hextech arm, the soft hum of its energy growing louder, and prepared to meet the charge.
His first strike came low and vicious, an axe sweeping upward toward her midsection. Vi leapt back, the blade missing by inches, carving a jagged line in the icy ground. She landed with practiced precision, her body twisting mid-air as she lashed out with her chain of arcane energy. The glowing chain unfurled from her flesh arm, crackling like a whip, and wrapped around the handle of the axe in his left hand. With a sharp pull, she yanked the weapon free from his grip, sending it skittering across the bloodstained snow.
Her hextech arm followed immediately, glowing fiercely as she delivered a devastating uppercut to his chest. The force lifted him off his feet, his ribs cracking audibly beneath the blow. He hit the ground hard, a spray of snow and blood marking his landing. But even as he lay there, the man laughed—a guttural, unhinged sound that echoed through the storm.
“You fight like no one I’ve ever faced,” he growled, blood trickling from his mouth as he pushed himself up. His remaining axe glinted in the faint light of dawn, its edge slick with ice. He grinned, a feral expression that matched the wild storm around them. “Let’s see how long you can last.”
Vi didn’t reply. Words were a luxury she didn’t need. Instead, she snapped her chain again, the glowing links slicing through the air with deadly precision. The leader batted it aside with his axe, the clash of arcane energy and steel sending a burst of sparks into the swirling snow. He closed the distance between them with shocking speed, his axe swinging down in a brutal arc. Vi raised her hextech arm to meet the blow, the impact reverberating through her frame, but she held firm. Sparks flew as the blade grated against the reinforced metal, the sound sharp and violent.
With her free hand, Vi drove a punch into his exposed side, her knuckles slamming into flesh and bone. The force of the strike made him grunt, his body twisting slightly as he staggered back. Vi pressed her advantage, her chain lashing out once more to wrap around his ankle. She yanked hard, sending him crashing to the ground. Before he could recover, she pounced, her hextech arm descending like a hammer toward his chest.
But he was ready. Rolling at the last second, the leader avoided the blow and surged to his feet, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The blade caught Vi across the thigh, cutting deep and sending a spray of blood onto the snow. She stumbled slightly, her leg buckling under her weight, but she didn’t falter. The shimmer in her veins flared, glowing brighter as the wound began to seal itself, the torn flesh knitting back together almost as quickly as it had been opened.
The leader’s eyes widened for the briefest moment, his grin faltering as he took in the sight of her regenerating body. But then, the exhilaration returned. “You’re a monster,” he snarled, his tone filled with equal parts admiration and fury. “Good. Monsters are the only ones worth killing.”
Vi smirked, as she raised her mechanical arm. She flexed her fingers, the energy coursing through it intensifying until the faint glow became a blazing light. She charged, her chain snapping out to entangle his weapon arm as her hextech fist swung upward, aiming for his jaw. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, but her knee shot up to meet his face instead. The impact was brutal, his head snapping back as blood sprayed from his nose.
He roared in defiance, wrenching his arm free of the chain’s grip with sheer brute strength and retaliating with a wild slash. The axe grazed her shoulder, cutting deep enough to draw blood, but Vi didn’t stop. She drove her hextech fist into his ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath her knuckles. The leader staggered, coughing blood, but his wild grin never wavered.
The snow around them was painted red, the battlefield a chaotic blur of blood and fury. Vi’s chain whipped through the air, entangling his limbs and forcing him off balance. Her mechanical arm delivered devastating blows, each one cracking bone and denting armor. The shimmer coursing through her veins kept her moving, her wounds closing almost as quickly as they were inflicted.
The leader swung his axe in a desperate arc, the blade catching Vi across the abdomen. The wound was deep, blood pouring freely as her body jerked from the force of the strike. But she didn’t slow. Pain was her element, and she used it to fuel her rage. Grabbing the axe’s handle with her hextech hand, she tore it from his grip and drove the weapon into the ground, snapping the shaft in two.
“You don’t quit, do you?” the leader snarled, his breath ragged as he circled her. His body was battered, his movements slower, but his resolve was unshaken.
Vi tilted her head, her smirk widening as she beckoned him forward with a flick of her fingers. The storm raged around them, the first rays of dawn breaking through the clouds and casting a faint light over the blood-soaked snow. This had to end. For her mission. For Ambessa.
The leader roared, charging her one final time, and Vi surged forward to meet him, her chain and hextech arm glowing with unrelenting energy. This would end now, one way or another.
The storm raged on, the wind howling like a wounded beast as Vi and the leader faced each other in the blood-stained snow. The man was unarmed now, his twin axes either shattered or buried deep in the frozen ground. His hulking frame was battered, his body bruised and bloodied, but he stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. His grin, feral and wild, remained. Vi didn’t understand how he was still alive, much less standing. Any other man would have been reduced to a crumpled heap long ago.
But this man—this brute—was something else entirely. Just like her.
Vi felt the shimmer pulsing in her veins, heating her blood and dulling her sense of exhaustion. She flexed her hextech arm, its energy humming louder with every moment. Her chain of arcane light whipped through the air, crackling like an extension of her fury. Her body ached from the brutal blows she had received, her sleeveless outfit torn and bloodstained, but her wounds had healed as quickly as they’d been inflicted. She lived in pain—it was her constant companion, her greatest strength. And now, she would wield it to end this.
The leader growled, spitting blood onto the snow. “You hit like a mountain falling,” he said, his voice thick and rasping, but full of manic pride. “But I’m still here.”
Vi’s glowing black eyes narrowed, her smirk returning. ‘Not for long,’ she thought, though she said nothing. Words were wasted on this man. Her patience was gone. Time was running out. The sun was rising, and she had a mission to complete.
She moved first this time, closing the distance between them with blinding speed. Her chain lashed out, wrapping around his thick neck like a noose. The leader’s massive hands clawed at the glowing links, but Vi yanked hard, pulling him off balance. He stumbled forward, and her hextech arm swung upward in a devastating uppercut that connected with his jaw. The force of the blow sent him airborne for a moment before he crashed to the ground with a thunderous impact, snow and blood spraying in all directions.
Vi didn’t stop. She stalked toward him as he struggled to rise, slamming her mechanical fist into his ribs with enough force to crack bone. The sound of shattering ribs echoed through the storm, but the man didn’t scream. He only groaned, his body folding slightly before he forced himself upright once again. Vi’s chain struck next, wrapping around his leg and pulling him off his feet. She dragged him through the snow like a ragdoll, the ice beneath him stained red as his blood smeared across the ground.
Her hextech arm rose again, this time coming down like a hammer onto his chest. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the ground, snow and dirt flying outward. Vi felt the man’s chest cave slightly under the blow, his breath coming out in a wet, choking gasp. But still, he didn’t die.
‘Why won’t you die?’ she thought, frustration and curiosity flickering in her mind. She had fought countless men—warriors, brutes, soldiers—and none had withstood what this man had endured. Every blow she landed was meant to kill, to obliterate, and yet he rose each time, his eyes blazing with the same feral fire that mirrored her own.
The leader shoved her off, his massive arms trembling as he pushed himself upright once more. Blood streamed from his mouth, his nose, his countless wounds, but his grin remained. “You fight like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he rasped, his voice strained but still full of that maddening pride. “You’re… different. Like me.”
Vi tilted her head slightly at his words, her expression unreadable. She didn’t care what he thought they had in common. All that mattered was that he stayed down. She surged forward again, slamming her chain against his chest and sending him sprawling back into the snow. Her hextech arm followed, driving blow after blow into his body. She heard bones break, saw his blood splatter across the snow, but he refused to die. He simply refused.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the leader lay on the ground, his massive body limp but not lifeless. Vi stood over him, her chest heaving, her blood-slicked arms hanging at her sides. Her chain coiled back around her flesh arm like a serpent, its glow dimming slightly. The shimmer in her veins pulsed steadily, its light visible through the tears in her clothing. She stared down at him, her glowing black eyes narrowing as she studied his battered form.
‘You’re not like any man I’ve fought before,’ she thought, her smirk returning despite herself. ‘But you’re done.’
The leader’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze hazy but still sharp. His grin widened, blood staining his teeth. “You’ve earned my respect,” he said, his voice weak but filled with the same unrelenting fire. “No one’s ever brought me this close to the end.”
Vi didn’t reply. Instead, she stepped back, her focus shifting to the horizon. The first rays of dawn pierced through the storm clouds, casting faint light across the battlefield. She had lingered too long. Her mission was complete, and Ambessa was waiting.
With deliberate movements, Vi retrieved her discarded cloak from the ground, shaking off the snow before pulling it over her shoulders. The heavy fabric concealed her glowing scars, her weapons, and the blood that stained her body. She turned back to the leader one last time, her gaze steady and her smirk still in place.
She nodded to him, a small gesture of respect for the fight he had given her. He had tested her, pushed her, and reminded her of the raw strength she carried within. For that, he had earned her acknowledgment.
‘Oh, how I enjoyed this, she thought as she turned away, the wind whipping her cloak around her as she began her trek back toward the fleet. Behind her, the leader lay in the blood-soaked snow, his laughter faint but audible as it mingled with the howling storm.