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"You want to learn from Demacia?" Darkwill's voice, frail and unsteady as his life ebbed away, still managed to drip with sarcasm.
"Demacia preaches unity," he continued, his lips curling in disdain.
Noxus, on the other hand, thrives because of its willingness to embrace all paths, all rivers. Its strength lies in diversity and ambition.
Though its core may often seem fragmented, like a mass of loose sand, the Immortal Bastion's guidance provides a single, lucrative purpose—one worth dying for.
And so, even the most fractured elements unite when the time comes.
Demacia is the opposite. It values unity above all else. Its armies are bound by chivalry, by ideals of loyalty, nobility, and discipline.
These virtues often grant them the upper hand in smaller-scale skirmishes.
In battles of a hundred, Demacia's discipline surpasses Noxian chaos.
But in wars of ten thousand? The sheer ferocity of Noxus turns the tide.
Still, Demacia's fatal flaw lies in its numbers. Its population is a fraction of Noxus'.
And in a war of attrition, overwhelming quantity will always prevail.
Swain stood silent for a moment, his crimson eyes cold and calculating as they swept over Darkwill. He already knew all this, and it only reaffirmed his vision for the empire.
"The empire will maintain its current path," Swain declared, his voice resolute.
"Humanity holds limitless potential. If the strength of one can alter the course of history, imagine the power unleashed by ten, a hundred, or a thousand such individuals."
He paused, letting his words settle in the oppressive silence of the hall. Then he continued:
"Resources will be made fully accessible. Those who contribute to the empire will be rewarded with the tools to rise—knowledge, power, influence. Even if we lack what they need now, we will take it from others. Noxus demands growth, and it shall have it."
Darkwill let out a bitter laugh, his once-gilded arrogance now eroded by years of decay.
"How selfless you make it sound," he sneered.
He had once believed in those very ideals. But sitting upon the throne had changed him.
When you stand at the highest peak, why share its bounty with anyone else?
"It's over, Darkwill." Swain's voice was cold, final.
"Take a good look in the afterlife. Watch me reshape the Empire into something greater than your imagination ever allowed."
Snap!
A sharp sound echoed through the chamber, followed by silence. Darkwill's body slumped lifelessly.
Swain's hand ignited with scarlet flames, and the corpse in his grasp was reduced to ash.
Despite his frailty in his final moments, Darkwill had faced his end without fear—a death befitting his once-mighty stature.
"Such a miserable end," Kled muttered, barely lifting his head. His tone carried disappointment.
"Not enough blood, not enough fight. It was more like watching two old geezers gossip than a real showdown."
LeBlanc, standing nearby, cast a fleeting glance at Ryan, who remained impassive.
Bowing slightly, she addressed Swain:
"Black Rose will comply with the will of the Empire."
Swain spared her a brief glance but dismissed her with little interest.
His gaze lingered on Ryan for a moment longer, as if searching for something unspoken, before he turned toward the throne.
With deliberate steps, Swain ascended, his expression unreadable. Reaching the top, he turned to face the nearly empty hall—only LeBlanc, Kled, and Ryan remained.
But his words were not for them alone. His voice thundered as though addressing every soul in the Immortal Bastion and beyond:
"The Empire will enter a new era!" he proclaimed.
"From this day forward, the Trifarix Council will replace the Emperor and govern Noxus. Talent will determine one's place, not bloodline or birthright. The three strongest among us will lead the council as its president and vice presidents, carrying the will of the empire!"
The hall fell into silence, but Swain's words reverberated through the corridors of Noxian ambition, a clarion call for the dawn of a new age.
While Swain spoke, a massive water mirror hung high over the Castle, projecting the judgment and his announcement to all of Noxus.
His deep, commanding voice, amplified by magic and his own formidable presence, echoed across the land.
Through the mirror's reflection, every citizen—Trifarian soldiers, Draven himself, and even the common folk—could hear his words.
United by the strength and ambition Swain embodied, the people of Noxus raised their fists in the Noxian salute, a show of respect and tribute to the strong.
In the grand hall, Swain extended his scarlet left arm forward.
The power of the demon bound to him surged outward in waves of red and black energy.
Beside him, Ryan and LeBlanc acted in unison. Water and fire erupted from their fingertips, intertwining with Swain's power.
The combined forces swept through the room, converging in the center.
In mere moments, the empty, cold hall transformed. A grand round table materialized, surrounded by chairs—three larger and more ornate than the others, meant for the Trifarix Council's leaders.
Swain's voice cut through the charged air, his tone emotionless yet commanding.
"Ryan Meredith. Representing knowledge and magic. As President of the Trifarix Council, he will oversee all mages of the empire."
From his fingertips, demonic energy lashed out, inscribing a sigil on the high seat near the former throne—a symbol of an open book. It exuded an aura of mystery and wisdom, understated yet powerful.
Clad in a pure white robe, Ryan emerged from the shadows, his steps steady and deliberate.
Without hesitation, he approached his designated seat, the weight of his new title settling upon him.
Swain extended his hand again, crimson energy crackling as it carved another emblem into the round table.
"Darius, the Hand of Noxus. A symbol of the Empire's strength and one of the Vice Presidents. He shall lead the Trifarian Legion, the mightiest force in Noxian history."
The sigil of a battle axe adorned the seat to the left of the council president's. It remained vacant, awaiting its rightful occupant.
Swain paused, his gaze shifting to LeBlanc, who stood silently nearby.
Her expression was obscured beneath her hood, but her eyes glimmered faintly, unreadable.
After a long, tense moment, LeBlanc's form shimmered and fractured like a shattered mirror.
When she reappeared, she was seated gracefully among the ordinary council members, positioned just behind the empty vice president's seat.
"I prefer being watched," Swain remarked coolly, his tone almost dismissive.
"It forces me to tread carefully at every step."
Descending the steps of the throne, Swain extended his hand one final time.
A red light burst forth, carving a sigil into the last remaining Vice President's seat—a scarlet six-eyed crow, unmistakably tied to Swain's power.
"I, Jericho Swain," he began, his voice steady and solemn, "once served as the Supreme Commander of the Eastern Front. Now, as one of the Vice Presidents of the Trifarix Council, I wield the power of the demon. I swear—by my family, my name, and the demon within me—that I will dedicate my soul and every fiber of my being to the empire, with no room for selfishness."
The oath hung heavy in the air, its weight palpable.
To swear by one's family and name was a vow nearly unbreakable in Noxian culture.
To swear by the power of demons—feared and revered in equal measure—was to stake one's very existence on the promise.
The Noxians, gathered across the Immortal Bastion and beyond, felt the gravity of Swain's words.
To master a demon's power, as Swain had, was to transcend mortal limitations. It was proof of his strength, his cunning, and his right to lead.
Having completed his vow, Swain ascended to his seat at the council's table. His voice rose once more, addressing the three in the hall and the countless Noxians across the empire.
"Today, the new Empire is born. Let all of Runeterra bear witness to the might of Noxus!"
As his declaration thundered through the air, the round table glowed faintly.
A new imperial emblem appeared at its center—a battle axe adorned with scarlet crow eyes on either blade, set upon an open magic book.
The emblem was a perfect representation of Noxus' new vision:
Strength tempered by wisdom, insight paired with strategy, and knowledge guiding the empire forward.
The Trifarix Council was complete. The Empire stood poised to reshape the future of Runeterra.