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'Syndra? Who is that?'
Ezreal muttered to himself, his curious gaze sweeping across the empty hall.
Though he wasn't physically present, he had a way of accurately monitoring every detail here.
After all, this was one of the most critical locations in Noxus—a place steeped in power and history.
"Ms. Syndra? She's another mage from the floating castle. Don't let your ignorance lead you to underestimate her strength," Camille said sharply, noting Ezreal's distracted expression.
Her words, cutting like a blade, sent a shiver down Ezreal's spine.
He caught the subtext immediately: this was someone far beyond his league, someone he couldn't afford to offend.
Ezreal had grown up hearing tales of Camille—her precision, her ruthlessness.
If someone like her was issuing a warning, he had better listen.
Well, at least until his position as a council member was secured.
Ezreal straightened his posture, his playful demeanor giving way to something more disciplined, almost like a soldier awaiting recognition.
Meanwhile, the discussion between Swain and Viktor was drawing to a close.
Camille exited the hall with Viktor, seemingly to continue their conversation elsewhere.
The council hall was quiet now, sparsely populated.
Besides Ezreal, only two figures remained: Xin Zhao, standing vigilantly near the door, and Swain, who turned his piercing gaze toward the explorer.
"Ezreal... an unusual explorer," Swain said, his voice calm yet commanding.
"Present!" Ezreal instinctively straightened, his chest puffing out as excitement flickered in his heart.
'Look at that! The leader of Noxus himself knows my name! That means I'm already famous, doesn't it?'
But Swain's crimson gaze didn't linger on Ezreal's face.
Instead, it drifted to the shimmering armguard on his wrist.
"An unusual artifact... Perhaps the blessing of gods? Or a shadow of something darker. Interesting."
His observation was eerily similar to what Ryan had once said about Ezreal's gauntlet.
Through his connection with the demon, Swain could discern the extraordinary power emanating from the armguard.
However, that power was not of the Void nor inherently dark.
It seemed to aid Ezreal rather than harm him.
Perhaps, Swain thought, this boy is simply... lucky.
"Hahaha! Everyone says I'm blessed by the gods!" Ezreal grinned, his confidence unshaken.
"Not to mention, I was born with a face people love!"
Swain's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"Quite impressive," he replied.
The two seemed to converse on the same topic, but Swain knew otherwise.
What Ezreal believed and what Swain observed were two entirely different matters.
Still, Swain had no intention of delving further. Instead, he shifted the conversation.
"Your talent for exploration has caught the eye of the Council's President. Noxus does not have a precedent for explorers, though we have many mercenaries. We welcome anyone who can bring value to the empire."
Ezreal didn't miss a beat. His face lit up with a radiant smile as he responded eagerly:
"The profits from exploration are unimportant to me. I'm willing to dedicate my earnings to the empire's growth. I only have one small request—grant me an honorary title!"
Of course, Ezreal had done his homework before coming here.
Noxus was nothing if not pragmatic. For every service rendered to the empire, a point of military merit was earned—an immutable credit no one could take away.
But Ezreal had little interest in military accolades. What truly drove him was the thrill of discovery, the allure of dangerous expeditions, and the idea of his name echoing across continents.
In the past, the logistics of expeditions—equipment, supplies, and funding—had been a constant worry. But now, with the might of the Noxian Empire backing him, such concerns were a thing of the past.
And Noxus, of all places, understood the power of glory. Those who achieved greatness were immortalized, their deeds woven into the empire's grand narrative and spread far beyond its borders.
He thought of Darius, whose name was synonymous with strength, and the mysterious legend of Ryan. Their stories were told and retold, cementing their places in history.
Ezreal didn't care for wealth or material rewards. He wanted a legend of his own—a tale that would be told for generations.
"For glory, yes, you are well-suited to Noxus," Swain remarked, his tone measured.
"Many mercenaries double as explorers, though few achieve anything noteworthy. The Empire will establish an Explorers' Guild, which you may lead. You'll recruit your team, but remember—Noxus values results. Simply discovering Vazuan was not enough to impress the masses."
Ezreal nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Understood! I need a bigger discovery. Does the empire have any leads?"
When it came to adventure, Ezreal was in his element.
The prospect of becoming president of an Explorers' Guild dangled just within reach—how could he let it slip away?
His confidence was so unwavering that he spoke of the empire as if it were his own home.
If Noxus needed him to explore, then wherever they pointed, he would go.
Swain's crimson gaze lingered on him as he finally spoke:
"There is one lead. A tomb was recently uncovered in the southeast of the Shuriman continent."
Ezreal's ears perked up. "A tomb? Oh, I'm quite familiar with Shuriman history. Which monarch's tomb is it? If I can see the specifications or murals, I might even deduce which Shuriman Emperor it belonged to."
He puffed out his chest, confidence radiating from him. After all, he had done extensive research on Netzuk's tomb before. This couldn't be much different.
Swain's voice was even as he said: "Axamuk."
Ezreal froze, his excitement faltering.
"Axamuk... No Shuriman Emperor was ever named Axamuk. But why does that name sound so... familiar?"
He scratched his head, his expression troubled.
Swain remained silent, allowing Ezreal to puzzle it out. Both Swain and Ryan knew the origin of the name, but for now, they needed Ezreal to connect the dots himself.
Suddenly, realization struck. "Wait! I remember now! The last Mage King of Icathia… Axamuk!"
Ezreal's face paled as he stared at Swain, his earlier confidence replaced by horror.
After escaping from Vazuan, he had poured over countless texts in his pursuit of knowledge about the Void.
In one ancient tome from Lymere's collection, he had read a detailed account of Icathia's dark history.
The Mage King… A title held by only a few rulers in the annals of Runeterra—thousands of years ago, in Icathia.
That land was now a desolate wasteland, scarred by its rebellion against Shurima and its subsequent fall to the Void.
"I heard..." Ezreal's voice wavered.
"After the last Mage King's failed rebellion against Shurima, they nailed him to the city gates until his body rotted to the bone. Even if someone later built a mausoleum for him, it wouldn't hold much value."
Ezreal shivered at the memory of the Void's power.
He knew he wasn't prepared to face such forces again—not yet.
Swain's expression didn't change. "There have been multiple Mage Kings with the surname Axamuk. This particular tomb is not in Icathia."
Hearing this, Ezreal let out a small sigh of relief.
"The site belongs to Shurima," Swain continued.
"This may not be the tomb of the last Mage King. He was buried there by the Ascended of Shurima."
Ezreal frowned, deep in thought. "No, that doesn't make sense. Icathia was a Shuriman colony for centuries. Why would they take such measures for an Icathian ruler?"
Swain's lips curved into a faint smirk.
"The head of the council believes it may not be a tomb at all. It could very well be... a seal."
"Seal?" Ezreal muttered, his mind flashing back to the temple in Vazuan, where a Void creature had been sealed.
Anything worth suppressing was bound to bring trouble.
A bead of sweat trickled down Ezreal's temple as he asked, almost hesitantly:
"What should I do?"