On the Bridge of Progress, Marsen was among the first group to arrive.
The bridge's single passage formed a natural defensive line. Staring at the countless enemies, Marsen made his plan in an instant.
"Take cover! Throw smoke bombs—don't let the Pilties push through!"
"Willa, take people and set up a strongpoint. Block their advance!"
With the orders snapped out, the men Marsen brought immediately split up—some hauling supplies, others lobbing grenades.
In no time, the bridge was choked with smoke, explosions cracking one after another.
Piltover Enforcers weren't physically strong—most of them were even weaker than Zaunites. They lived easy lives, drowning in comfort. While they sat in offices sipping afternoon tea, Zaunites were fighting tooth and nail just to survive.
Brawling in the streets, grinding in the mines—those things had long since forged Zaunites into bodies and wills like iron.
And besides…
Behind them was home.
The home they'd finally built—how could they possibly let these people destroy it?!
"Counterattack! Don't be scared—don't fall back! The boss is bringing people right now! We just have to hold until then—boss will deal with all this!"
But something felt wrong to Marsen.
Even through the bombs and the thick smoke, a line of towering silhouettes kept advancing.
No…
Piltover people couldn't do that.
Those Enforcers didn't have that kind of nerve—or that kind of grit!
A rumor flashed through Marsen's mind, and he understood immediately. He yanked up his rifle and fired at the nearest figure.
Clang.
Sparks burst. The bullet ricocheted away as a massive crimson tower shield emerged from the fog.
"Piltover is working with Noxus? What the hell are they thinking?!"
A wall of red shields pressed forward. At the rear, a white-haired woman stood with her arms crossed atop a moving platform—golden mask on her face, ash-gray hair tied back. Behind her, a great banner whipped in the evening wind, bearing the sigil of Noxus and a family crest Marsen didn't recognize.
"Noxus—advance!" The white-haired woman swung her arm down. A warhorn blared. She stepped off the platform, hefting two enormous weapons. Split apart, they were a pair of gigantic hooked blades; locked together at the forearm, they became a colossal shield.
The Noxians parted, clearing a lane for her to walk through.
The front row of crimson soldiers raised their heavy shields—and then a second wave surged out from behind the shield wall. Not as huge as the first line, but still broader and stronger than Zaunites and Piltovans alike.
They carried long spears. Fully armored.
Bullets striking their plate had only two outcomes: the best was punching through and biting into flesh; the worst was bouncing off and flying away.
Whoosh!
Spears tore through the air. The wind seemed to shriek as the weapons streaked across the night like meteors, hurtling into Zaun's position.
"Aaagh!"
Behind Marsen, a Zaunite screamed. Marsen whipped his head around and saw a spear punched straight through the man's skull, leaving a horrifying hollow.
"Fuck you, Noxian bastards! What the hell does our fight with Piltover have to do with you?!" Marsen's eyes went bloodshot as he roared his curses at them.
More Zaunites saw it too—fear flared instantly, and the line started to unravel.
There were too few of them.
Even adding the original bridge defenders to the men Marsen brought, they had fewer than sixty people!
Sixty… against hundreds of Noxians and hundreds of Piltover Enforcers?
Impossible.
Everyone on Valoran knew Noxus' reputation. Some of them truly believed Noxus could send ten soldiers and still beat all sixty of them!
In a heartbeat, fear stole their reason.
But Marsen fired another shot toward the front—then vaulted over the sandbags of their makeshift barricade, planting himself at the very front. He turned back and shouted at the wavering crowd:
"Don't be afraid! Don't panic!"
"We can't let them enter the Promenade—absolutely not! If they get in there and the fighting spreads, the boss and the others will have a nightmare on their hands!"
"Willa!"
"Call your mother yourself! I'm busy as hell right now!" Willa was hauling artillery shells. A spear was jammed right through the crate on his shoulder. His hands were slick with blood as he whirled and bellowed at Marsen in fury.
You got to play the hero. You got to say all the big lines. What the hell am I supposed to say?!
"Get the chem-bombs!" Marsen barked. Then he drew a deep breath—and, like a madman, shouldered his rifle and charged the Noxians.
Me… fighting Noxians?
Ha. Yeah, right.
Like I could win. Hell would freeze over first.
But… if I don't charge, then what?
I can't.
Zaun is right behind me. The Promenade and the Entresol don't have any defensive force at all—if these bastards get in, what's the difference between that and tossing wolves into a sheep pen?
And seriously… how long have I even been with Logan? Calling a kid younger than me "boss" is one thing, but he hasn't even paid me yet—why am I risking my life for him?!
When did I start going crazy?
Oh…
It started when people began respecting me. When I wasn't treated like a tumor or some worthless thug anymore…
Marsen's eyes brightened. He locked onto the white-haired woman at the front, raised his barrel, and fired.
Clang.
She lifted her right hand. The massive blade blocked the bullet.
Ambessa's eyes gleamed with approval. She glanced at the terrified Zaunites—many were already backing away—but this man was charging straight at her.
Ambessa dropped her center of gravity, the muscles in her legs bulging—then, in the next instant, she exploded forward and arrived right in front of Marsen.
Marsen barely had time to react before a powerful arm slammed him down into the ground.
Then a military boot came down hard on his chest.
"You have courage. Very good." Ambessa looked down at him and spoke calmly. "I'll give you an opportunity. Come, child—join Noxus. Zaun doesn't deserve a warrior like you. Your future belongs to Noxus."
She watched him with satisfaction, then said again, "Come."
"I—"
"Fu—"
"Yo—!"
"Guh—!"
Choking, Marsen sprayed blood from his throat, staining his chin.
Ambessa had started pressing down the moment she heard his second word, increasing the crushing force of her boot on his chest.
"What a waste." Ambessa sighed. "After you die, I'll have your body collected and buried somewhere. Noxus respects people like you."
As she spoke, she raised her hand, the curved blade angling toward Marsen.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, green firelights flared on both sides of the bridge—then came a wave of Zaunites.
Logan soared up into the air. The moment he saw Marsen pinned under that boot, his expression turned instantly dark.
He clenched his fists, stepped forward, and was ready to jump straight down from dozens of meters up to save Marsen.
But then—
A terrifying roar tore through the night.
The Bridge of Progress was already slick with blood—mostly Zaunite blood—but under that monstrous bellow, the blood seemed to take shape, as if fear itself had become something tangible.
Even the fearless Noxians froze mid-motion.
All across Zaun's side, people went still.
Ambessa's eyes narrowed. Startled, she halted her strike.
Then a shadow appeared at the far end of the bridge on Zaun's side.
One second. Two—
"ROOOAAAR!!!"
In the darkness, a massive shape dropped low and sprinted. The ground screeched under clawed impact, sparks bursting. From dozens of meters away, the monster launched itself—becoming a huge black streak that slammed straight at Ambessa's face.
The iron-blooded Noxian general reacted in a heartbeat. Twin blades came up; her whole body tensed.
When it came to raw strength, Ambessa never flinched. In Noxus, you didn't become a general through seniority, money, or family background.
You became one through ability.
But at the instant she collided with that monster—
A tremor of shock flashed through Ambessa's pupils.
In front of her was a humanlike face, smothered in thick fur. A horrifying maw yawned open, dagger-like fangs flashing with cold silver light. One blood-red eye locked onto her with murderous focus, and a pair of enormous claws knocked one of her weapons clean out of her hands.
And then—
Ambessa was carried backward, blasted away by the impact.
She flew dozens of meters.
Noxian soldiers rushed to her at once, hauling her up.
Held upright by her troops, Ambessa stared in alarm at the center of the bridge—at Noxus' formation.
The monster had crashed straight into it.
That huge body spun again and again, scarlet claws whipping in a frenzy. Noxians were torn apart—some thrown bodily off the bridge, plunging into the sea.
"ROAR!"
The beast drew its claws in against its chest, then planted itself in front of Marsen and bellowed toward the combined forces of Noxus and Piltover. The sound echoed across the entire Bridge of Progress.
The bridge fell deathly silent.
Even Logan in the air went wide-eyed, forgetting to shout any orders.
He could beat Vander—he knew that, and it wouldn't even be that hard.
But charging into a formation and turning it into slaughter like this…
Wasn't Vander's pressure a little too terrifying?
Nearly three meters tall, two meters broad—an enormous frame, a nightmare face, and claws that promised death.
Tap. Tap.
Footsteps clicked on the stone.
A man in a suit, holding a cane, appeared within Zaun's position and walked toward the monster.
He raised his head and looked up at Logan, who had been stunned by Vander too.
And it wasn't just Logan—Vander's outburst had scared Jinx and Vi half to death.
That was Vander?
The Vander they knew?
If Silco knew what the sisters were thinking, he would have said: yes.
That is Vander.
The Hound of the Lanes.
Zaun's former king.
Now, he had become a wolf.
The wolf had arrived.
"Logan," Silco said evenly, "what are you waiting for?"
He'd ridden in on Vander.
And Vander's performance… made him thrilled.
This bastard might be able to kill every single Piltovan all by himself.
But in front of outsiders, Silco still played the part—deep and composed, looking steadily up at Logan.
Logan grinned, stepped forward, and dropped toward the ground.
"Boss!"
"Holy shit—psycho!" Vi recoiled in horror.
"Logan!" Jinx lunged as if to leap after him, but Isha clung tight around her, snapping her back to herself. Jinx stared at the bridge, shaking with nerves.
That was dozens of meters up!
But the next instant—
BOOM!
Dust and smoke erupted like a blooming flower. When it cleared, Logan stood between Silco and Vander, fist clenched.
A huge crater yawned at the landing point. If Vander hadn't been in front of Silco, the flying rubble really could have smashed into him.
Logan looked out at the Noxians and the Piltovans.
Then he turned with a smile toward Vander and said, "Vander—kill all the Noxians. Leave a few of the ones in charge alive for questioning. As for the Piltovans… well, we'll see whether they live or die."
At first, Logan truly hadn't planned to cripple Piltover—just slap them twice and force them to surrender.
But now you want to launch an attack first?
Zaunites are dead.
And not just one or two.
If Logan and Vander had arrived a little later, Marsen—one of the Spirit Blossom Gang's core men—would've died too.
More than thirty dead.
Zaunites.
"They're the ones who sounded the horn of war," Logan said, eyes dark as he stared at Ambessa. "So when it ends… is up to me."
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