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"I did say that."
Morgana's tone was calm, almost distant—an echo of a conversation she'd once shared with Ryan, years ago.
Through centuries of wandering, she had come to define justice in her own way.
As Ryan had said, justice is merely the extension of personal will.
When someone declares another guilty, especially in haste or ignorance, that judgment becomes little more than a reflection of their own bias.
You believe your actions are just. They believe the same of theirs. So who, then, holds the truth?
Justice, she had come to believe, should never be forged through strength alone.
"Every nation, every tribe, every group—even every individual—upholds different values. True justice must embrace those differences. It should allow diverse perspectives to exist, to challenge one another, and ultimately to find harmony," Morgana murmured.
"Yes, inclusivity," Ryan replied, a faint smile on his lips. He extended a hand toward her.
"Ms. Morgana, isn't Noxus already living by the ideals you hold dear? The Atonement Corps gives those who stumble a second chance. Everyone makes mistakes, but the Empire doesn't cast them aside. It offers a path to redemption."
Of course, his philosophy—and that of Grand General Swain—diverged from Morgana's in its methods.
Morgana sought personal redemption. Ryan and Swain saw justice through a lens of strategy and power.
Noxians hailed from every corner of Runeterra.
That convergence inevitably sparked conflict.
And in such a world, justice could not be as simple as punishing dissent.
The Atonement Corps existed to offer an alternative, to rehabilitate rather than to destroy.
Through service, atonements proved their loyalty. In doing so, they helped to strengthen the Empire from within.
"The Atonement Corps… does reflect many of my beliefs," Morgana admitted.
She had seen much in her travels. She could no longer deny the parallels between her ideals and the principles that Noxus was beginning to uphold.
The Empire's willingness to give people another chance resonated with her view of justice.
But Morgana was no idealist. She understood that not everyone in Noxus received that chance.
Still, unlike her sister Kayle, she wasn't absolute in her views.
She did not believe everyone was worthy of redemption.
"Kayle enforces her justice in Demacia," Ryan said, glancing at Morgana.
"We don't condemn her version of it. She rules in a land shaped to reflect her will. Her ideals are upheld there."
He paused, then added, "But Noxus could be your home. A place where your vision of justice could evolve and thrive. If you accept, you'll serve on the Empire's council. You'll speak for Noxus, both within our borders and beyond them. You'll help shape what justice means to the Empire."
"A tempting offer," Morgana said, thoughtful.
"And....I see no reason to refuse."
She stepped closer until they stood face-to-face, their gazes locked in silent understanding.
Then, she gave a soft, unexpected laugh.
Finally, she extended her hand and clasped his.
"May this be a meaningful and fruitful alliance with the Empire," she said.
"It surely will be," Ryan replied, confident.
As their words settled in the air, the shadows of Morgana's robes shifted.
Slowly, the crimson emblem of Noxus emerged—bold and unmistakable.
"Your Majesty," Morgana said, lifting an eyebrow and offering a subtle smile.
"Might I make a small request?"
Now seemed the perfect time to ask.
"Speak freely," Ryan said, already anticipating her request.
He made a subtle gesture for her to continue.
"The Lightshield family once showed me a small kindness," Morgana began, her smile calm, her tone light—but the weight behind her words was unmistakable.
"I'd like to sever any remaining ties with Demacia."
Her gaze remained steady.
"Your Majesty, President of the Council, Vice Presidents—I ask that you release Prince Jarvan."
Morgana chuckled softly. Though she had once shared a thread of history with the Lightshields, she owed them nothing.
Still, this request aligned with her ideals and offered Noxus a graceful excuse to release the prince without sacrificing face.
Ryan raised an eyebrow, his eyes drifting toward the city walls, where Prince Jarvan stood bound, a flicker of hope dawning across his face.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Ryan's lips as he turned toward the city's commander.
"Commander Darius, your thoughts?" he asked, calm but measured.
Before Darius could respond, a cold, dismissive voice answered first.
"He's insignificant. It doesn't matter."
Swain's image dissolved into a flurry of crows, scattering into the sky.
He had no interest in the prince. His part in the Empire's strategy was complete, and the Immortal Bastion awaited.
Darius grinned, his expression dark and amused.
"Prince Jarvan, I look forward to our next encounter. I hope your halberd proves more worthy than."
Without another word, he swung his massive axe, severing the rope that bound the prince.
Darius's methods were never subtle. If not for the Empire's broader plan, he'd have gladly ended Jarvan here.
But with their objectives met, bloodshed was no longer needed.
"Aren't you afraid I'll speak of what happened here today?" Jarvan asked, stunned as the shackles clattered to the ground.
The war between Noxus and Demacia was deep-rooted and bitter.
In Demacia's place, a Noxian captive would never be freed so easily.
His gaze drifted downward to Morgana. The black-winged woman looked up at him, unreadable.
Though her intervention had helped secure his release, it offered him no comfort.
In a single day, Demacia had lost two beings of god-like power.
And now, Jarvan realized, Noxus had drastically underestimated his homeland's strength.
Darius barked a laugh.
"Tell the whole world! Let your words sing of Noxus's might!"
With a casual motion, he took Jarvan's halberd from Xin Zhao and hurled it through the air.
Jarvan caught it mid-flight. Straightening, he faced his captors with grim resolve.
"Demacia may have lost today," he said, his voice low and firm, "but when war returns, I will see every Noxian buried."
There was no bluff in his tone—only cold, clear conviction.
In this, he resembled Garen. Wisdom might have called for a quiet withdrawal, carrying home the intelligence he had gathered.
But Jarvan's pride would never allow a silent retreat.
Darius's grin widened.
"I'll be waiting. And next time, my axe won't hold back."
His laughter echoed off the stone as he turned away, the respect in his eyes betraying more than his words.
Noxus revered strength, and Jarvan had shown no fear.
The prince turned one last time to glance at the figures gathered below—the four who had changed the day.
He carved the moment into memory.
Then, without a word, he turned and leapt from the wall.
Landing hard, he rose, lifted his halberd, and sprinted toward the distant figure of Garen, who stood waiting in the shadows beyond.