"Open fire! Full barrage! Stop them!" Noticing Hecarim's arrival, a look of grave seriousness flashed across Sarah's face as she let out a hoarse, desperate roar.
Without needing Sarah to say another word, Tristana immediately channeled her power, continuously firing her massive cannon.
A relentless barrage of booming explosions rang out. The cannon, crafted by skilled Yordle artisans, roared furiously. Enhanced by Faen, the cannonballs could be generated directly from the spiritual realm and fired out of the barrel. Yet this intense, concentrated firepower seemed as flimsy as paper before Hecarim!
The ghost-fire warhorse forming his lower half galloped forward, completely ignoring the artillery barrage. The cannonballs that struck his armor merely exploded into bursts of fire with muffled thuds, before vanishing entirely without a trace.
Hecarim then burst right through the flames once again. Radiating astonishing killing intent and pure, unadulterated violence, he charged across the black mist straight toward the port.
With a sweeping strike of his halberd—Squelch! Crack!
The sound of shattering wood and snapping bones intertwined. The barricades were smashed to splinters. The sailors at the very front didn't even have time to scream before the halberd pierced cleanly through their bodies, their souls turning into pale blue light motes that he inhaled straight into his mouth.
The Iron Order knights followed closely behind, hacking and slashing wildly with longswords and battleaxes. Bilgewater's defensive line collapsed instantly. Fresh blood stained the docks red, and agonizing wails rose and fell continuously. Hecarim rampaged through the crowd exactly like the Grim Reaper himself, leaving nothing but severed limbs and broken bodies wherever he passed.
This caused Faen to narrow his eyes slightly.
In this day and age, Faen rarely took the initiative to intervene in human wars, because the faith and worship forcibly catalyzed through such events were toxic. In the past, Faen needed to accumulate raw power, so he could afford to not be picky; gaining strength and surviving was the only thing that mattered.
But now, having long passed the stage of primitive accumulation, what Faen needed most was pure, untainted, non-directional joy that he could absorb directly.
Not the fanatical, toxic ecstasy generated by a god descending from the heavens to save them.
Under these circumstances, if the people of Bilgewater could achieve victory relying on their own strength, that would undoubtedly be the most ideal outcome for Faen's needs.
But unfortunately, due to a massive butterfly effect, Yasuo, Ahri, Braum, and Illaoi—who were all originally supposed to be here—had failed to arrive for various reasons. This meant that the sheer presence of Hecarim alone was enough to completely shatter the scales of victory!
Thinking this, Faen's eyes narrowed, and he roared:
"FOR SARAH!!"
Faen's voice exploded like a crack of thunder. Hearing Faen's voice, Sarah—whose face had just been filled with grave seriousness due to Hecarim's arrival, and whose attention had been so divided that the juices clamped between her thighs leaked out and soaked the crotch of her tight Oxford-cloth pants—was slightly startled.
Turning her body to look at Faen behind her, she then watched Faen shatter the wooden boards beneath his feet, his figure instantly lunging to the very center of the battlefield. Under everyone's panicked and bewildered gazes, he slammed both hands violently against the surface of the sea.
The next second, the seawater churned exactly like a boiling cauldron, and several massive, barrel-thick torrents of cyan water violently breached the surface.
Whoosh—SWISH—
The piercing howl tore through the air. The surging ocean currents, exactly like a ferocious, roaring T-Rex, slammed directly into Hecarim's path with an apocalyptic, earth-shattering momentum.
Sensing this astonishing, overwhelming power, a look of sheer shock appeared on Hecarim's ghastly face.
However, after thousands of years of reaping souls, the current Hecarim was no longer just the Commander of the Iron Order he once was. Under the effects of the mutated Life Rune, and through devouring countless souls, he had gained power that vastly transcended mortal limits.
Noticing Faen's attack, Hecarim swung his halberd in a furious arc. The terrifying momentum made it look as if he would slice the torrents of water completely in half the very next second.
But in the next instant, under Faen's control, the water coiled around his halberd exactly like a living creature, and with a violent jerk, violently flung it away.
The sudden change caused the soul-fire burning in Hecarim's eye sockets to tremble slightly. But before he could make his next move, another massive torrent of water lashed down exactly like a giant whip.
With a resounding, sharp CRACK!, Hecarim's lower warhorse body was smashed completely to pieces. The warhorse bones and armor—dyed an eerie, bizarre color by the blue-green ghost-fire—shattered continuously with loud crunching sounds, crashing heavily to the ground.
And right at that moment, another stream of water surged upward, tightly coiling around Hecarim's upper body. He roared and struggled wildly, but under the crushing pressure of the water, his armor shattered inch by inch, grinding down to powder exactly like a burial shroud wrapping around his spectral form.
"Shatter!" Faen shouted coldly. The swirling water suddenly intensified its force, spinning and tearing violently!
Sizzle—CRASH!
Accompanied by the endless, screeching sound of twisting steel, the eerie green ghost-fire was completely snuffed out and obliterated within the water.
And the exact second Hecarim's body was forcefully ground to dust, numerous pale blue soul motes began scattering into the surroundings. Sensing something, Faen's eyes narrowed slightly. He then controlled the flowing water, completely enveloping all those light motes.
Those were Hecarim's souls. During past Harrowings, the successive rulers of Bilgewater had certainly tried to completely obliterate the nightmare of the Harrowing. To this end, they didn't hesitate to spend absolute fortunes hiring so-called masters to fight against it.
And one time, even a blue-skinned, scroll-carrying wandering mage covered in magical runes had joined the battle against the Harrowing.
But even a legendary mage like him could only barely fend off the Harrowing, completely unable to eradicate it forever.
The reason for this was that even if the evil spirits of the Harrowing were killed, they would simply return to the mutated Life Rune. Once their "respawn timer" was up, they would resurrect on the Shadow Isles and return once again during the next Harrowing.
But now, with the sweeping water, those flickering light motes were entirely sucked in. In the next moment, Faen clenched his hand into a fist, and the power within the flowing water erupted violently, instantly crushing, compressing, and grinding those soul motes into absolute nothingness.
The remaining Iron Order knights had absolutely zero ability to fight back.
The streams of water wove into a massive net and swept across the battlefield. The sounds of shattering bones and weapons flying away echoed endlessly. In the blink of an eye, all the phantoms were crushed into black mist, completely obliterated.
In mere moments, the terrifying legion that had ravaged Bilgewater for centuries was utterly, completely annihilated.
After this, feeling the reverent, god-worshipping gazes of the crowd behind him, Faen realized that it was time to stop.
Thinking this, Faen shifted his gaze to the black mist in the distance that had yet to descend upon the area. As energy from the spiritual realm continuously surged out from him, a terrifying pressure—one that mortals couldn't see, let alone feel—poured out into the surrounding domain.
Sensing something, a figure hidden deep within the dense fog stared dead straight at Faen. A moment later, the figure that had yet to emerge from the black mist turned and left, leaving behind only some mindless, brainless phantoms to instinctively continue the Harrowing's assault.
Seeing this, Faen nodded secretly in his heart.
The figure in the black mist just now was none other than Viego, the Ruined King.
He was also one of the primary culprits behind the Ruination of Helia, and the current source of the Harrowing.
Unlike ordinary phantoms, Viego possessed more than enough patience to slowly reap souls.
For example, according to the intel Sarah provided, back when the Rune Mage Ryze was still around, Viego simply left directly after sensing his formidable power.
Possessing infinite life, Viego inherently possessed infinite patience. After all, a true powerhouse wouldn't stay and guard Bilgewater forever. Even if they did, Viego had more than enough capability to simply outlive them.
Especially as his power grew, and combined with the intel he received from Nilah, the current Faen more or less realized that the true nature of the Harrowing was absolutely not just the undead of the Shadow Isles wanting to plunder more power and souls.
In fact, the real reason Viego was so fearless wasn't because his soul resided on the Shadow Isles, allowing him to resurrect there even if he was killed.
It was because the power of the Harrowing could be accumulated. However, since this accumulated power didn't belong to Viego himself, he would intentionally unleash the Curse of the Ruination whenever it reached a certain threshold.
Firstly, he could reap souls to strengthen himself. Secondly, he could vent the mutated power of the Life Rune accumulating within the Shadow Isles. If it built up for too long, it could trigger a brand-new, apocalyptic "Ruination of Helia" that could potentially wipe out the entire southeastern coast of Valoran and the eastern regions of Shurima.
This was perhaps exactly why Viego had managed to survive until now—otherwise, the hidden, top-tier powerhouses of Runeterra would likely have teamed up long ago to eradicate the Shadow Isles, treating it as an unforeseen variable capable of causing total destruction.
And now, having forced Viego to retreat, Faen narrowed his eyes.
Once the Harrowing completely passed, it would be time to head to the Shadow Isles, thoroughly resolve all of this, and permanently consign the Harrowing to the annals of history.
Thinking this, Faen purposely put on a look of exhaustion, powerlessness, and extreme over-exertion. He looked back at the crowd behind him and yelled:
"FOR SARAH!!!"
Hearing Faen's words, the crowd didn't recognize who Faen was. After all, back when Faen brought Sarah here to conquer Bilgewater, he had only met with the various pirate captains and gang leaders of the city.
And those people were basically all thoroughly dead by now. As a result, compared to Zaun and Piltover, the vast majority of Bilgewater's citizens didn't recognize Faen.
In fact, under Faen's own orders, even Zaun and Piltover were slowly erasing traces of his existence to reduce the heavily directional, toxic faith.
Not knowing who Faen was to begin with, and since in most people's eyes, it was Sarah who had led them to slowly change Bilgewater step by step... seeing Faen shout like this now, they subconsciously assumed this was a secret weapon Sarah had prepared and arranged long in advance.
Instantly, they began loudly chanting Sarah's name, engaging the remaining undead with hearts full of hope, fighting fiercely for the sake of tomorrow.
Amidst all of this, feeling Faen's gaze land on her, a smile blossomed on Sarah's face.
She knew with absolute certainty that she was going to be ruthlessly ordered to "pay him back with her body" tonight.