The Glory of Noxus.

"Your Majesty Zerath, you are not going to stop me, are you?"

Hearing Huo Jixing's words, Xerath's blue flame eyes flickered slightly, and the arcane energy behind him became restless.

The strange legendary warrior before him had destroyed his dark sacrifice in Vikora and also killed his plan to consume Nasus' power.

Otherwise he wouldn't have been entangled until now.

Xerath's mind turned, and he suppressed the murderous intent in his heart. He looked at Nasus who had a disappointed expression, and slowly shook his head at Huo Jixing.

"will not!"

"I am about to break the seal of Azir's bloodline power, and then you can leave directly."

If he were in his prime, with the blessing of the sun god's power and the increase of arcane energy, he would never let Huo Jixing leave like this.

Just like he once wiped out the old emperor of the Shurima Empire.

However, he had just broken the seal of the dark room and was unable to stop the other party.

"The seal of Azir's bloodline power?"

Huo Jixing raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at Nasus and Sivir thoughtfully, guessing that this was something they were hiding in their cooperation.

"Forget it, let's leave first." He said to himself.

Only the chaotic continent of Shurima is in the interests of the Noxian Empire.

Leaving Nasus, Sivir and the others behind might help counteract Xerath when the dragon returns to the sea.

Nasus noticed the change in Huo Jixing's attitude and felt helpless. He gasped among the rubble.

His left arm was broken and hung limply at his side, shattered from shoulder to wrist and covered with burn marks.

Nasus tried to prop himself up with his free hand, but the white-hot pain from the broken spine made it difficult for him to breathe.

Given time, his body would be able to recover, but right now, he simply didn't have the time.

Xerath chuckled, reading Nasus’s thoughts: “You have fallen too far, Nasus.”

"As an ascender, you actually want to use tactics to stop me."

Xerath approached Nasus, liquid arcane fire appearing at his fingertips.

"If it weren't for what you did to me, I would pity you."

"But during the time you were wandering and blaming yourself, your spirit had already collapsed."

“Haha, being destroyed is better than being betrayed.” Nasus laughed and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Even if you have divine power now, you are still a traitor and a slave."

He felt Xerath's wrath, and it gave him great pleasure.

This is all he can do nowadays.

"I am not a slave. Azir's last command was to set me free."

Upon hearing this, Nasus looked extremely shocked.

How could Xerath be free? This doesn't make sense.

"Then why. Why betray Azir?"

"Azir is a fool, his grace comes too late." Xerath thought of the last scene he met with Azir.

Azir stood beneath the sun disk, and before the sun priests began the ceremony, he turned to face Xerath and granted him freedom as promised.

Xerath and all Shurima's slaves have been freed from their chains.

Azir also hugged Xerath and recognized him as his brother whom he would never forget.

At that time, Xerath stood there, at a loss. He was given everything he had ever wanted, but his plan would inevitably lead to the death of Azir.

At this point there was nothing that could stop Xerath from continuing.

Everything has begun. There are too many links in motion and too many sacrifices made. It is too late for Xerath to turn back.

No matter how much he wanted to stop.

"No reason!"

Nasus howled in agony as the broken bones in his shoulder began to come together again.

He felt strength beginning to return to the muscles of his arm, but he pretended that his arm was still useless.

"What are you going to do when I die?"

Nasus remembered how much Xerath loved to talk in public.

"What would Shurima become if you were emperor?"

He tried hard to suppress the pain in his heart and shoulders, waiting for his body to slowly repair the injury.

Zerath shook his head, looked at the completely collapsed dark room, and saw the golden palace complex.

"You think I can't see that your body is healing itself?"

“Then roll down and fight me!” Nasus propped himself up, raised his long-handled battle axe, and the power of death surged again.

"I have imagined your death thousands of times," said Zeratul as he rose out of the dark room.

“But I never made those myself.”

"The Desert Butcher will get what he deserves."

A brighter light than the sun's disk shone from Zerath's body, and rocks and sand fell from the palace dome.

He wants to break the seal of the mausoleum palace and return to the Shurima continent.

"He will use his claws to peel every inch of your flesh off. Remember to thank me!"

Nasus' eyes narrowed and he had a bad premonition in his heart, but his eyes were always fixed on Xerath.

Buzz!

The dark blue arcane energy spread throughout the mausoleum palace, making a dull sound like a thundercloud.

Sivir, who was hiding near the palace, looked at the arcane chains falling from the sky and her expression suddenly changed.

[Spell Shield]!

【Spinning Blade】!

She first summoned a spell shield in an attempt to resist the descending arcane chains.

Then she swung the charikar in her hand like a boomerang.

The golden cross-shaped weapon emitted an icy light as it spun and cut towards the arcane chains, intending to chop these energy bodies into pieces.

Sonorous!

The arcane chain fell and hit Charikar accurately, making a metallic sound.

Then, the spell shield was broken, wrapped around Sivir, and brought to Xerath who was floating high in the sky.

Sivir struggled violently, and when she found that she couldn't break free, she couldn't help but look at Nasus.

Pray that this legendary dog-headed ascended being with a human body can save himself.

But what I saw was a shocking scene.

Am I God?

He no longer confirmed.

Maybe it was once, the golden disk in my memory was shining brightly on the top of the Wanqing Palace,

He remembered holding a withered ancient man in his hands, and the two of them were carried up to the sky together by the sun's radiance.

All his wounds were washed away and healed, and his body was reshaped by the light.

If this memory belongs to him, then was he once mortal?

He thought so, but couldn't remember.

His thoughts were like a swarm of dune flies, a jumble of memory fragments dancing wildly inside his narrow skull.

[What is reality? Who am I now?]

He looked around at the darkness of the dungeon. Was this reality?

He felt so, but he was no longer sure he could trust his feelings.

Because in all his memories, he experienced only darkness, terrible, endless darkness that wrapped around him like a shroud.

Later, the Whisperers found him.

The shadows cast by the walls snaked around him, whispering constantly, feeding his pain.

He pressed his twisted, sharp claws to his temples, but he could not get this shadowy companion in the dark out of his mind. He could never do it.

The Whisperers told him of his shame and his guilt, of the thousands of lives he had caused, of the souls who had been denied a chance to be born because of his failure.

Part of him thought it was all just a lie, a lie repeated too many times.

He can no longer distinguish between truth and lies.

The Whisperer reminded him of the days when his light was cut off, and showed him the scene of the moment he was betrayed. The wolf-dog face that betrayed him looked down at him and threw him into the abyss of eternal darkness.

His cloudy eyes began to fill with tears, and he wiped them away angrily.

The Whisperer knew every secret passage leading to his mind, twisting every fact and virtue he once believed in, making him completely forget that he was once admired by everyone -

God of Shurima!

Shurima, he vaguely remembered this name buried deep in his soul, but all impressions were blurred and disappeared like a mirage.

The rest was locked deep inside his mind, locked tightly with chains of madness.

His eyes, once sharp, were now dimmed by eons spent in darkness.

His skin, once as hard as bronze armor, was now dull, cracked and broken, and fine sand flowed from the wounds all over his body like an executioner's hourglass.

Maybe he was dying.

He felt that there was a possibility that he might die, but the thought did not bother him too much.

He had lived too long and endured too much, so he was not afraid of the end.

The worst part was that he wasn't even sure he could die anymore.

He looked at the weapon in front of him, a crescent-shaped long-bladed axe without a handle—

It once belonged to a warrior king of Icathia.

At this moment, a scene suddenly flashed back in his mind, in which he destroyed the axe handle and at the same time destroyed the army of the axe owner.

He remembered that he had reforged the sharp weapon, but he couldn't remember why.

Maybe he'll use the weapon to rip open his thick throat and see what happens.

Is it blood or sand that is flowing out?

No, he would not die here.

Not yet.

The Whisperer told him that he still had a role to play on the stage of destiny.

He has blood that has not yet been shed, and hatred that has not yet been extinguished.

The figure with the wolf-dog face who had driven him into the darkness appeared in his mind. Every time he saw this face, his hatred and anger made him burn with rage and his whole body boil.

He looked into the shattered cavern, where the shadows retreated and golden sunlight shone through, revealing the pristine murals of the mortals.

Ancient paintings, peeling and almost invisible, depicted desert cities in all their glory.

The cool river water flows through the high canals, the sun brings the blessing of life, and before your eyes there is a magnificent green field and fertile land.

He saw an eagle-headed king standing on top of a tall building, with a black-robed figure standing beside the king.

Below them were two giants in armor. One was a majestic crocodile beast holding a crescent-shaped long-bladed axe; the other was a warrior scholar with a wolf-dog head.

Time had eroded the cuneiform inscription beneath the image, but it was still enough for him to make out the name of his betrayer.

"Brother Nasus"

The source of his torment was found, and his own identity emerged like the sun after a storm.

"I am Renekton!"

He hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"I am the Desert Butcher!"

He raised the crescent blade, stood up straight, and the dust of the years slid off his armor.

The ancient wounds were sealed and smoothed, the cracked skin was glued together again, his flexible and hard crocodile skin regained its emerald luster, and he found his goal again.

Once upon a time, the sun reshaped him.

But now, darkness is his ally.

His monstrous body was pulsating with energy, his muscles bulging, and his eyes burned with red hatred for Nasus.

He heard the Whisperer speak again, but he would no longer obey the voice's call.

He clenched his claws into fists, lightly touched the axe blade, and saw the warrior with a dog's head and a human body above him.

He began to imagine what it would be like for Nasus under that blade.

"eye for eye!"

"You abandoned me in the darkness, and you will pay for this betrayal with your life!"