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Ryan gazed at the people, his expression growing stern. He no longer resembled a mage wielding elements but an iron-willed general who had fought countless battles across the lands.
"As Noxians, we come from every corner of the world, united by a shared belief," he began, his voice steady yet commanding.
"Among us are Freljordian barbarians, Shuriman sand warriors, Zaunite alchemists, Piltovan inventors, Demacians, Ionians, and even the Vastaya of Shari…"
He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle.
"We are Noxians. We despise cowardice and take pride in glory. We strive to be stronger than we were yesterday."
"We are Noxians. We fight for the Empire. We fight for the glory of ourselves and our families. We fight to make ourselves stronger, and we fight to liberate the oppressed."
"We are Noxians. Each generation surpasses the one before it. From childhood, we carry a resolute belief and an understanding of our mission. The Noxian Empire belongs to all Noxians."
"We are Noxians. We trust that each other's actions are for the betterment of the Empire and our comrades. We understand one another, accept one another, and respect one another."
"Quiletta, Darius, stand tall! Neither of you has done anything wrong! Remember who you are. We are… Noxians!"
Ryan's resounding voice echoed across the wilderness, harmonizing with the flag fluttering in the wind above the Black Gate.
Noxus, One heart.
The crowd lowered their heads, their expressions complex, reflecting on Ryan's words.
For all Noxians, the Empire had always been the ideal worth striving for...
Yet, unlike most, Quiletta's expression remained conflicted.
Could everyone's ideals truly thrive within the Empire?
Was it possible for the Empire to avoid further unnecessary sacrifices?
"Quiletta, stand up!"
Ryan's powerful words jolted her from her thoughts, prompting her to straighten up instinctively despite her hesitation.
Struggling to rise, supporting herself with one hand on the ground, Quiletta met Ryan's gaze. He spoke calmly but firmly:
"Noxians respect only the strong. Strength isn't solely about physical power. The strong are those who refuse to stay down."
"Council President!" Quiletta's voice regained its strength, her expression hardening.
"I want to know what we stand to gain from all these sacrifices!"
"A good question," Ryan said approvingly.
He pointed toward the Immortal Bastion, the heart of Noxus, its shadow stretching across the land.
"Begin with your question. Go to the Immortal Bastion. Go to the War Academy. Seek the future of the Empire, and ask the veterans who have endured and built it. There, you will find your answer."
"Thank you for your wisdom," Quiletta replied, her tone conflicted but resolute.
Though Ryan's words didn't directly answer her doubts, she felt a glimmer of hope that, in time, she might find clarity.
Taking a deep breath, she knelt slowly on one knee, her head bowed low, her yellow-brown hair cascading over her face.
"Your Excellency, Quiletta submits herself for punishment."
In Ryan's unwavering demeanor, she sensed his unyielding determination to lead Noxus toward prosperity.
Perhaps, for the countless souls who had perished, she would one day see the Empire achieve the vision they had dreamed of.
"Always believe in yourself, Quiletta," Ryan said, his tone softer but no less resolute.
"But remember to act on your beliefs for the good of Noxus. Do not bury your doubts and questions—share them with fellow Noxians. Speak, and listen to how they respond."
"Noxus does not fear mistakes. It does not fear questions. What Noxus fears is the silence of doubt, the hesitation to rise again after falling."
"Fight for Noxus!"
Ryan's words rang out like a war cry, his expression solemn. As his figure faded into the distance, Swain's imposing visage lingered momentarily before disappearing as well.
After they left, Quiletta stood up slowly, drawing the longsword at her waist. She turned her gaze toward Darius and declared resolutely:
"Fight for Noxus!"
Recognizing her familiar stance, Darius grinned, hefting his massive battle axe with ease.
Clang!
The axe and sword collided, ringing out in a sharp, resonant clash.
"Fight for Noxus!"
Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, a shared understanding passing between them before they each turned and went their separate ways.
Without hesitation, Darius shouldered his axe and began marching westward.
Xin Zhao followed close behind, his spear in hand. Their destination was Demacia. Victory awaited them.
Quiletta turned in the opposite direction, returning to Basilich.
After passing the General's Seal to Invetia, she mounted her warhorse with unwavering determination. Her path now led to the Immortal Bastion.
The Empire was undergoing seismic change, and she would not remain on the sidelines. She would take part in shaping its future with her own hands.
High above the black gates of Basilich, the black-and-red battle flag of Noxus rippled in the sunlight. Soldiers stood in silence, gripping their weapons as they watched their former general ride away into the horizon.
"Fight for Noxus!"
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Inside the Trifarix Council Hall
Ryan and Swain's expressions softened as their magical projections dissipated, their visages returning to normal.
"An inspiring conclusion," Swain remarked.
Though he appreciated Ryan's charisma, he did not fully agree with his approach.
To Swain, hesitation and doubt had no place in the Empire's future.
The Empire thrived on strength and absolute conviction, not wavering ideals.
And yet, Ryan's final words had struck a chord within him.
No matter their origins or differences, one unshakable truth united them all: they were Noxians.
Ancient Shurima had crumbled with the fall of its Sun Emperor.
Ionia remained stagnant, bound by its rigid equilibrium.
From history, humanity could glean endless tales of failure and hubris. Yet, humanity always believed that its present path was unquestionably correct.
In the grand scheme of time, even Swain himself could not know if Ryan's vision would lead the Empire to ruin or glory.
Rising from his seat, Swain cast a glance at the throne perched high above the council hall.
The seat of power was imposing, positioned so high that all who entered had to tilt their heads upward to behold it.
With measured steps, he moved toward the hall's massive doors, pausing to take in the awe-inspiring view of the Immortal Bastion beyond.
"The Empire belongs to every Noxian," Swain murmured to himself, a rare glimmer of reflection in his voice.
For the first time, he began to fully grasp the deeper meaning of those words.
Every Noxian had a voice, a vision of the Empire's potential. Their collective aspirations made the Empire greater.
As Swain stepped into the sunlight, his form dissolved into a flock of six-eyed, scarlet crows. The birds scattered into the air, spreading their wings and weaving through the streets and alleys of the Immortal Bastion.
They moved as though to witness every corner of the Empire, observing the lives of its people.
From her perch in the Floating Castle above, Seraphine glanced up from the book in her lap, her gaze following the movement of the crows.
From such a vantage, she could see the swirling mass of birds painting the sky, their formation resembling a pair of immense, outstretched wings.
"The Floating Castle shelters the heavens, and the crow's wings embrace the earth..." she mused softly, her voice carrying a note of awe.
Her eyes gleamed with wonder as she looked out over the city below.
The Immortal Bastion thrummed with life and purpose. A collective hope seemed to radiate from every soul within its walls.
A scholar honing their craft. A soldier standing vigilant at their post.
A general leading with fearless resolve. A gladiator fighting with an unrelenting spirit.
The future of Noxus would not be shaped by a single individual.
It would be written by the hands of every Noxian.