Kenneseth, a modest residence.
A cloaked woman moved carefully through the bustling marketplace, avoiding the hands of vendors reaching out from their stalls and staying alert to pickpockets along the streets.
She disliked Shurima, yet orders from above left her no choice but to be here.
As a War Mason, any command from superiors demanded absolute obedience—failure meant risking one's life.
Tamara skirted past a Shuriman swordsman reeking of alcohol. These dark-skinned men were merciless killers; half a silver coin could make them betray even their own mother.
Her last encounter with a Shuriman swordsman ended similarly, dragged out by that woman from Piltover.
War Masons scouted for Noxus, infiltrating enemy territory to gather intelligence, charting the fastest routes, and preparing the way for large-scale invasions.
They usually operated in pairs. When necessary, one would be sacrificed to preserve the other.
Tamara had been the sacrificed one during a mission in Piltover.
After being sent back aboard a Shuriman vessel, she finally disembarked at Bilgewater, but before she could rest, a new mission came down: verify a piece of intelligence in Kenneseth.
The intel claimed that an ancient weapon from Shurima's classical era had resurfaced, recently unearthed and secretly stored by a local shopkeeper.
The informant had provided this information, hoping for a hefty profit from its sale.
If true, the nearest garrison needed to be contacted immediately to secure the weapon for Noxus.
"Where is it?"
Tamara weaved gracefully through the crowd. A man and a woman brushed past her. The man wore a white coat exclusive to Piltover citizens—a trend started by a genius artisan that many tried to imitate.
Tamara had worn the same coat in Piltover. It had cost her a silver coin, expensive but worth it.
The woman was draped in Ionian robes, her skin sun-baked to a deep brown.
A strange pairing.
But Tamara didn't concern herself with them. She had a location to find.
"Mr. Duke, what should we eat?"
Taliyah asked as she kept pace with Duke, who deftly avoided several reaching hands while keeping his hands in his pockets. He smiled at the little stonebird beside him.
"Whatever you think is best. Try some local specialties."
"All right, I'll find a restaurant."
"Good."
The couple's voices faded behind Tamara. She glanced instinctively at the man in the white coat.
Duke?
Duke Sanchez?
The legendary genius artisan of Piltover?
Was it really him?
If so, why here?
Tamara committed this seemingly incidental information to memory. Whether true or not, intelligence about a top-tier artisan appearing alone was valuable and sure to draw the attention of higher-ups.
But now, she had to focus on her task.
After a few steps, she turned into an alley and followed it until she stopped in front of a small shop with a weathered sign.
The paint had long faded from wind and sand, leaving only a faint outline of a dilapidated furnace.
This indicated a weapons shop, also handling repairs and scrap weapons.
Knock, knock, knock… knock!
Tamara tapped the agreed-upon code and waited patiently. The door cracked open, revealing a single cloudy eye.
"Who's there?"
"Buying something."
"What?"
A hoarse voice came from behind the door. Tamara produced a piece of black stone from the mountains near the Fortress of Unrest and handed it over. The man accepted it. Tamara whispered, "I want to buy a weapon not of this era."
The figure behind the door scrutinized her, a mocking tone lacing his voice.
"I expected someone… more credible."
"Sometimes, strength can't be judged by age or appearance," Tamara shrugged. She ignored his skepticism. The man snorted and slowly opened the door.
"Come in."
Tamara slipped through the narrow opening. This mission was critical—failure was not an option.
The weapon was said to date back to Shurima's earliest era, containing power capable of annihilating all.
One had already been lost once; this one could not be allowed to vanish.
As she entered, a group approached the shop from the other end of the alley.
Their leader glared at a young man, held tightly by his subordinates.
"I hope your grandfather has a treasure to cover your debt, or I'll have to sell you in pieces at the butcher's stall."
"Of course, Boss Rama!"
"Yes, sir!"
The young man shrank, terrified.
Inside, Tamara's eyes narrowed against the dim light. The person she spoke to earlier was a hunched old man in heavy robes, his exposed arms wrapped in thick bandages.
Only one eye was visible, clouded and unsettling.
He barely reached Tamara's waist.
"Follow me," he croaked, taking a lit oil lamp and leading her into a tunnel.
As they moved, the deformed elder rasped, "He's restless lately. You'd better take him away quickly."
"Or else, I won't have feed left for him!"
He? Tamara caught the unusual pronoun. In the common tongue of Runeterra, objects are referred to neutrally—not as "he" but "it."
"You'll see soon enough, little girl," the old man said, guiding her to the deepest door, beyond which lay the stone chamber housing the weapon.
At the entrance, he asked, "When will you take him?"
"That depends on what I see!"
"Better hurry. Many are after him!"
"If you hadn't bid the most, I wouldn't have gone to such lengths to wait for you!"
He pulled out a ring of keys, unlocking the stone door. Tamara caught the faint sound of a heartbeat, though the chamber held only a single sarcophagus. The old man's frail body produced almost no sound.
Where was the heartbeat coming from?
"Inside," the elder pointed at the sarcophagus.
"The weapon you seek is here. Hundreds have died over it. Human life may be cheap now, but I hope you honor your promise."
"Don't worry. Noxus rewards value."
Tamara stepped toward the sarcophagus, but each step made her body tremble uncontrollably. Muscles shook, and the stench of blood filled her nostrils.
Illusions flickered before her eyes.
Reaching the sarcophagus, she placed her hand upon it. Before she could open it, a cold blade pressed against her neck, a sinister voice whispering like a viper:
"I advise you not to move!"
Tamara slowly raised her hand, eyes flashing dangerously. She had been followed—when did this happen?
Before she could think, a slap to her head sent her sprawling into a corner. The man with the blade turned toward a youth behind him.
"Noxo, is this it?"
"Yes, Boss Rama. My grandfather says it's worth a city."
The youth, Noxo, was held between two burly men, terrified.
"This should cover my debt, right?"
Recovering from the pain, Tamara realized she wasn't being stalked—things had spiraled out of control.
The shopkeeper's grandson planned to use the weapon to settle a gambling debt.
Had his mind been eaten by worms?
But when she saw the elder's eyes, she understood. Despair and resignation filled them. Everything he sought was only to pave the way for his grandson.
Unexpectedly, the grandson stabbed him.
"Let me see first!"
Rama kicked open the sarcophagus lid. Inside lay a strange polearm.
Its blade was as black as night, with dark red veins along its length. Where the shaft met the blade was a forged heart, still faintly beating.
"What is this?"
Rama swallowed, his curved dagger dropping from his hand. He reached for the polearm, dazed.
The elder cried out in despair.
"No, don't touch it! He is—"
Rama's hand grasped the polearm. Blue veins bulged on his arm as the weapon's veins crawled up, a long-dormant consciousness invading his mind.
"Ah!!!"
Rama's scream echoed, the elder uttering the final words: "...alive!"
A sense of dread gripped Tamara. While others stared at Rama's transformation, she darted past those blocking the door, fleeing toward the tunnel exit.
Not far behind, a roar unlike any human voice sounded.
"Maesha!!"
The sound of steel cutting flesh reverberated through the tunnel as a monstrous figure tore through its surroundings.
"Maesha, you deceived me!!"
"Why?"
"You promised to end it all, to restore our glory!"
"Why did you lie to us?"
"Maesha!!"
Rama, now wielding the polearm, was no longer himself. The blood and flesh of those he had slain were violently absorbed into the weapon.
A leopard-headed beast shattered the ceiling of the stone chamber, leaping high from below.
"Maesha!!!"
"Where are you?"
"Come out!"
"Because of you, I've killed my closest brother, yet all you've given us is deceit!"
"Maesha!!"
The blood-curdling roar echoed across all of Kenneseth.
Duke, having just finished breakfast, instinctively looked up. His gaze pierced the clay walls and rooftops, landing on the leopard-headed, humanoid beast wielding the seemingly breathing polearm.
"Why did you deceive us, Maesha!!!"
End of chapter....
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