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At this moment, Boram Darkwill suddenly exuded the commanding presence that an Emperor should possess.
His aura, though faint like the waning moon, still carried an undeniable weight of authority.
Through the enormous mirror suspended beneath the floating castle, his actions and words reached the ears of every Noxian.
"Even if you are just an ordinary Noxian, you have the right to challenge authority. I will respect your wishes. However, the ruling requires at least three witnesses," Swain declared calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The Noxian Reckoning, a time-honored tradition, was an unyielding test of strength and resolve. Under the watchful eyes of three credible witnesses, a trial by combat—an undead confrontation—would be held.
But with Darkwill's identity, finding witnesses of sufficient stature was no easy task. His sharp gaze turned toward the shadows as if seeking counsel from the figures lurking there.
"Count me in."
A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping forward with quiet confidence. His voice was low but carried undeniable authority.
"Ryan Meredith!"
Darkwill muttered the name under his breath, his expression twisting into something between fury and despair.
The man's presence here spoke volumes—Ryan's allegiance meant that Darkwill's elite legion, his strongest force, had been utterly annihilated.
"I should also be qualified," said a cold, melodic voice that echoed through the throne room.
From the throne itself, a single black rose bloomed, its petals unfolding to reveal a pale, hooded woman. She rose gracefully, her presence commanding and unsettling all at once.
"LeBlanc," Darkwill breathed, a flicker of hope flashing across his face.
But before he could speak further, his hope turned to despair. LeBlanc stepped away from his side, crossing the room to stand behind Swain.
"The Black Rose will continue to watch you from the shadows," she said, her words as sharp as a dagger.
Swain, unfazed, replied with measured calm.
"The thorn may pierce the throat, but a blooming rose is a vision of beauty in this world."
The exchange carried a deeper meaning—Swain's acknowledgment of the Black Rose, an ancient cabal that had influenced Noxus for centuries.
To him, they were dangerous yet inevitable, both a threat and a necessary part of the empire's power.
For thousands of years, the Empire and the Black Rose had been intertwined, inseparable like vine and trellis. Anyone could be part of the elusive Rose in the shadows.
Yet, because of their machinations, Noxus stood as a bastion of strength today.
Swain and Ryan had debated the role of the Black Rose in their vision for Noxus—a great empire built on merit and power.
If the Black Rose wielded strength and served the empire's greater purpose, then they could be accepted as a blade in Noxus's arsenal.
"We still need one more witness," Swain remarked, his gaze sweeping the room. His tone was flat, but the implication was clear: the final witness must be someone of equal renown.
Ryan's eyes turned toward the doorway. "I meet an old acquaintance before I arrived here. I think he would suffice."
At that moment, a gruff, enthusiastic voice echoed through the hall.
"Ah, what's all this fuss about? Oh, wait—has anyone seen my lizard?"
A short figure entered the room, his bloodthirsty grin stretching across his face. Barely a meter tall, he wore a battered military cap atop his scruffy, bearded face.
His stout frame and wild demeanor marked him as a yordle, but his aura was anything but diminutive.
Ryan's smile deepened as he addressed the newcomer.
"General Kled, there's a Noxian Reckoning taking place. Care to act as a witness?"
"What? A Noxian Reckoning? Well, I'll be damned! It's been years since I've seen one of these! Of course, I'm in!"
Kled strode into the hall with gleeful energy, completely forgetting whatever purpose had brought him here.
His eyes darted around, taking in the scene with unrestrained excitement.
"Is this the place? Doesn't look formal enough to me. The floor's too clean—it's gonna look awful once it's soaked in blood!"
Ryan inclined his head respectfully. "General Kled, this is the throne room. I'm certain the ruling will conclude swiftly."
The unpredictable yordle let out a bark of laughter.
"Heh, 'swiftly,' huh? Guess we'll see about that!"
Swain observed the room, his expression unreadable. With himself, Darkwill, LeBlanc, Ryan, and now Kled, the stage was set.
The Noxian Reckoning would begin—an unrelenting trial to decide the fate of Noxus itself.
Kled was more than just a general—he was the founding father of the Noxian empire.
For millennia, he had fought in countless wars, earning his place as a symbol of Noxian victory and resilience.
His might not have been as formidable as Darius, but Kled's presence carried a weight far beyond mere physical strength.
He was a living totem of Noxian pride.
"Hahaha! The blood's running high, boys! What are we waiting for? Let's get this started!" Kled roared, his face lit with wild excitement.
With a calm yet commanding voice, Swain addressed the room.
"The three witnesses are here. Your Majesty Darkwill, do you have anything else to say?"
Unfolding his black crow-like wings, Swain descended from the throne and strode to the center of the hall.
In this final moment, Swain was willing to grant Darkwill the respect of a dying emperor.
Darkwill stood, descending the steps of his throne with measured movements.
His hand, trembling as it gripped his sword, betrayed his age and fear. Yet, he asked for no mercy.
"Swain, there's nothing left to say. The judgment has been made, and we'll fight until one of us falls," Darkwill declared.
Though he hadn't wielded a blade in decades, he was still the Emperor of Noxus.
His courage, at least, hadn't faltered completely.
Swain's sharp gaze bore into Darkwill.
"This is a good look for you. I remember when you were a leader who worked tirelessly for Noxus," he remarked coldly, his eyes shifting briefly to LeBlanc, who stood silently nearby.
The Black Rose had corrupted Darkwill over the years, feeding his vanity and selfishness until he had become a shadow of the leader he once was.
Darkwill snarled in response. "Everyone grows old, Swain. Ambition turns to greed. My fall will one day be your future."
With a roar, Darkwill lunged forward, his sword arcing toward Swain in a desperate attack.
The blade struck Swain's iron armor, producing a shrieking sound of grinding metal. Swain stood unmoved, his expression calm as ever.
"I will never let myself fall into incompetence. If I sense my mind slipping, I will end my life before I disgrace the empire," Swain declared, his voice unwavering.
"Death doesn't frighten me. Only the empire's future matters."
Darkwill's attacks were sluggish, each swing slower than the last. The once-great emperor who had led armies and won battles now struggled to even lift his weapon.
Swain grew tired of the futile strikes. Raising his left arm—its scarred, crimson surface a stark contrast to the rest of his body—he caught Darkwill's blade mid-swing.
"Do you know why this arm is like this?" Swain asked, his voice cutting through the hall like a whip.
As his scarlet palm met the steel sword, the weapon began to emit white smoke, as though burned by intense heat.
"In Ionia, during the war, this arm was severed in battle," Swain continued, his voice calm but filled with conviction.
"Defeat teaches you things that victory cannot. I learned what it means to be weak, to let cowardice and selfishness stall the progress of an empire."
Swain threw the melting blade aside, his hand shooting to seize Darkwill by the throat. Lifting the former emperor effortlessly, he stared into his eyes.
"The empire doesn't need rulers who cling to their thrones out of fear. It needs strength, vision, and ambition."
Darkwill, choking under Swain's iron grip, managed a mocking smile.
"And you think you're that person? Look around you, Swain. LeBlanc, Darius, Ryan—all of them are stronger than you."
Swain's expression didn't falter.
"It doesn't need to be me. The future of Noxus will not rest on one man's shoulders. True strength doesn't come from a single ruler but from unity, from the combined power of many."
He lifted Darkwill higher, his voice resounding across the hall.
"Noxus was never built on the strength of one. From the beginning, we embraced the barbarians of the Freljord, allowed the Vastaya Shari of Ionia to share their wisdom of nature, freed the slaves of Shurima, and respected the good faith of Demacia. This is what makes Noxus strong—diversity and inclusion."
Swain's grip tightened as he delivered his final words.
"The future empire will be stronger and more united than ever before. No matter the path, Noxus will prevail."
With a final motion, Swain hurled Darkwill to the ground, his eyes blazing with determination.
The Reckoning was over.
The old Emperor had fallen, and a new vision for Noxus was about to rise.