Phoenix Sun [An Ahri Story]
Sequel to Dragon Rising [a Master Yi Story]
Abe no Mei-Kou, a powerful young Sealmaster of the Mei clan, lay nearly still in a slowly cooling puddle of his own blood and mud. The mixture of his blood and the water was soaking into his once-brilliant robes as he sat propped up against a great oak tree. All around him, a thousand corpses soaked in the mud, the aftermath of his small company's first encounter with Noxians. His friends, all so eager to fight the carven enemy, were slaughtered to a man by the battle-hardened Noxians. Still his magic flowed, forming a barrier around him that was supposed to protect him, for all the f*cking good it did now. Yet even now, the blue glow from his inscriptions was starting to flicker and fade. He coughed up some more blood.
He was a fool.
Like the other young men of his age, he was far too eager to rush out to do battle against the invading Noxians. Like the other young men of his age, he thought he was some level of invincible. And soon like the other young men of his village, all close friends or family, he would be dead in this muck. The worst part of it all was that his life, his own f*cking, worthless skin was still worth more than the rest of his entire village's combined, and he had brashly thrown it away like it was nothing more than the skin off a fruit.
He coughed again, and this time, he felt a knife of ice cut into his stomach. He would be gone soon.
To Grand Sealmaster Mejai… his glorious ancestor… Mei-Kou apologized deeply, again and again in his heart, for he had completely and utterly failed.
For his blood, his d*mn hide, was heir to the Key of Phoenix; only the direct male bloodline from his clan could ever break the seal placed by Grandmaster Mejai on the Phoenix Sun… which was the ultimate weapon of magic, and one of two of the necessary keys to destroy the ultimate evil.
Yet, he, the last of his family, the last of his name, would die. He had no bloodline, and he would be left rotting in the ground, leaving the Phoenix Sun to be lost forever. Sh*t. He should have asked out that Nurse's daughter before he left, maybe made a couple of sons. What was that girl's name, even? He could only vaguely recall the name of the old woman that was the girl's mother. Ahri? Hell. He couldn't even manage to remember that beautiful girl's name. He would have wept bitterly if he had the strength. But the Sealmaster could only lie back, and close his eyes in defeat.
"Kon?" Something chirped.
Mei-Kou opened his eyes. A beautiful white fox had happened upon his almost-corpse. The fox seemed to be drawn by the blue light of his barrier. The creature was curiously sniffing at Mei-Kou's limp, clammy hand.
Mei-Kou tried to lift his hand to pet the beast, but he had not the strength anymore. He gave the fox a ghost of a smile, to perhaps comfort the poor creature in such a field of death.
The fox seemed to get bored, and was starting to move away. Mei-Kou felt that sadness and darkness overwhelm him once more.
But then… in his greatest despair… he had an idea.
W….wait! Mei-Kou thought desperately. He reached out with his mind to tag the fox, and incredibly, the fox drew back to Mei-Kou.
He willed his magic to overtake the fox. Invisibly, his magical signature, and the honor of being of the Bloodline of the Grand Sealmaster Mejai overwhelmed and fused with but an ordinary fox. Confused, the white fox chirped again, and whined a bit, rolling about. She was beginning to change. Mei-Kou felt a spurt of triumph even as his life slipped away into the darkness. The color of the world was growing dim and gray. His insides felt as if they were doused in ice. He could feel death creep up his body, and the flow of blood from his puncture wound in his side start to slow, as there was no more blood to bleed.
You will carry on my bloodline... forgive me...
He thought that would be the end, yet as he died, he saw the form of a beautiful woman take shape. He could only see her silhouette as he finally died, but an insane, ridiculous last thought intruded on his fading mind.
She looks like the nurse's dau…g…h
Thumbnail art done by Deviant Art member Chezoo, and clumsily edited by me. Chezoo graciously let me use his image as base for iamge, and I'm paying back the favor by telling you all to f***ing go check out his profile page now! He has some amazing digitally reworked art of our favorite League Champions, and you should go check him out. Now.
Omg there's a sequel????!?!?!?!??!! Zomg
O.O *faints in shock and happiness*
Haha. Sorry to surprise this on you guys, but to be fair, it was pretty obvious I was setting up for a sequel. Let me make it up to you by hurrying up chapter 1.
“Of all magic, there are four schools. Invocation, Augmentation, Manipulation, and Spatial.”
Zilean turned to face the crowd of purple caster minions that was cowering in front of him. He stood solemnly on the blasted rocks of the Proving Grounds, gathering himself for his demonstration. The wizened, bearded old man seemed frail, even tiny against the enormous clock he kept perennially strapped to his back, his power was unmistakable. There was perhaps no one within the League that was more knowledgeable in the arts of magic than he was.
At the very least, no one that would not have attempted to blast Ahri into ash just for asking for some tips.
“First, the most destructive and basic of all magic, Inovcation."
Zilean stepped back, and swept his hands outwards, gathering magic at his fingertips. For a moment, he floated, and the light about him twisted and churned like paint on a palette. The ground started to shake with the concentrated energy. A light started to glow in the palm of his hands.
“Un’dah!” Zilean thrust his hands forwards, sending the magic racing at the minions.
A shockwave of blue magic thundered in front of him, rippling against the hapless crowd of minions, sending them scattering about like leaves in a gale of wind.
“Phew…” Zilean fell back to the ground, panting a bit, to the screams of purple caster minions. “Invocation is the art of projecting magic into the world around you and directly affecting it. You know several mages who are mostly Invokers on the Fields of Justice. Annie Hastur is one of them. Ryze is a rather famous Invoker as well. You will find that Invokers are a largely destructive, impatient lot. Brand, for a rather obvious example.”
“Woah…” Ahri gazed, amazed, as she watched the poor minions fly hundreds of feet off the bridge, and into the night. “Awesome! Teach me that!”
Zilean gave a smile at the praise.
“I tried my very best there. Every now and then, even shriveled men like me need to show off to girls.”
“Do it again! Again!”
“Next time, there are still three more schools to learn.”
Zilean rolled up his sleeves.
“The second school of magic is the one of self-empowerment, Augmentation.”
With a flick of his wrist, Zilean summoned another minion, this one armed with a spiked club and a shield, a close-combat fighter. Zilean whistled to it. The newly created construct looked about, slightly confused, right up until Zilean walked up to it and punched it with a magically strengthened fist.
“Ti’em!” The frail, scrawny old man smashed the minion into the stone rock of the Proving Grounds, as magic radiated off of his fist in short, chaotic bursts. The bare fist punched a hole a foot deep into the solid rock. Ahri immediately gave Zilean a one-fox round of applause.
“Augmenters, or Enhancers as they are sometimes known, are rather rare in the League, because theirs is the art of enhancing their own bodies with magic. You see, few who have the gift of magic chose to engage in close combat with their skills, but you know a few. The Grandmaster Jax, for one, chooses to enhances himself and his peculiar weapons to great effect. The Noxian General Swain has a rather famous augmentation that transforms him into that giant crow. And there is another one.”
“Huh?” Ahri cocked her head. “Who?”
“Heh. ”A small chuckle escaped Zilean. “You. Your Spirit Dash spell is quite the powerful enhancement you put on yourself there, dear. You put many of us dusty old mages to shame.”
Ahri smiled and blushed a bit at the praise. Her tails wagged about happily.
Zilean sighed, and gathered himself again.
“The last major school of magic is Manipulation. Watch closely.”
Zilean raised his arms, and closed his eyes.
All about him and Ahri, minions, rocks, and debris floated about them in a giant globe. Ahri looked on in wonder as Zilean manipulated the various objects to perform beautiful and complex motions in the sky. The minions started cheering and laughing as they soared through the air, like so many purple birds in the sky. They started to play tag with their weapons as they zipped back and forth about the proving grounds. It was like a snowglobe of minions.
Then Zilean, exhausted, let up the spell. The minion’s cheers turned to pitiful cries as more of them fell into the abyss. The Chronokeeper had to rest on his knees, panting.
“Grandpa!" Ahri rushed to the magus. "You ok?”
“I’m fine, Dear. It’s just that this magic, combined with my illness, tires me a bit.”
Ahri fell silent at this reminder. It was hard to tell sometimes, but all who knew him knows that Zilean was living two lives, with one foot in the present, and one foot in a lost, glorious past, thanks to his chronic, time-magic related illness.
It must be so hard, Ahri thought. But she said nothing as the old man bravely tried to laugh away his fatigue.
Ahri hurriedly changed the subject.
“Hey, don’t try and cheat me, old man. There’s still one more school.”
“Ah, yes.” The Chronokeeper patted his hands on his robes, and stood up straight. “You mean Spatial magic. The rarest and most difficult of all magic.”
Zilean raised his hand, and summoned a minion. The caster popped out of a portal, and started walking about.
“Is that it?”
“All summoners use a weak form of spatial magic to summoner avatars of their champions into the Fields of Justice. And like hell I have energy for a real Spatial spell.”
“I thought you said it was rare.”
“Well.. it really is, because it is so intensive and complex. Flash, for example, requires so much energy and coodination to transport champions but a few feet that it takes an eternity to gather up the power to use it again.”
“But…” Ahri’s face scrunched up in remembrance of dozens of bad experiences in the middle lane. “There’s that annoying Ezreal who flashes all over the place, and that stupid Veigar warps space or something with his giant stun, and… and...”
The Chronokeeper burst into laughter.
“HAHAHA!” Zilean wiped away a tear, “Ah, I'm sorry, Ahri, you must understand, in battle, most champions cheat. Ezreal uses a great amount of power only to enhance himself in pure light, and zip away. A great feat, but nonetheless, not spatial magic. Veigar hardly uses the full potential spatial magic with his stun, he only calls to the earth a great hole of absolutely nothing to stun enemies with a vacuum. And he still needs to conjure five enormous amplifying towers just to accomplish that! Yet even with that bland, unimaginative use of the art, it is still one of the most powerful spells in the Institute. That should give you some idea of the potential of Spatial magic.”
“Then… who? Who uses it, truly?”
Zilean fell silent as he contemplated the question.
“I hate to ring my own bell, but my own Chronomancy has much of its ground in the Spatial magic school. It takes some explaining, but time itself is an element of space, so you can imagine you I deal with that. You know the Void Walker, Kassadin. His magic is truly that of the Spatial, moving between dimensions to do battle, into that dark place that he and Malzahar call the Void”
Zilean gave a small laugh.
“And you know one more man who has mastered Spatial magic.” The Chronokeeper smiled. “He is very close to you, I believe.”
“Oh, you mean….”
Ahri snapped her fingers.
“….No.” Zilean sighed. “I mean, yes, Shen does have an element of Spatial magic in his Ninjutsu, but who I meant was the Wuju Swordmaster, Master Yi.”
“All Wuju masters, throughout the ages, have had an affinity with their ‘Wu’, which means ‘Nothingness’, in the Ionian dialect. It was the name they gave their gift for Spatial magic.”
Zilean gazed off into the distance.
“Even before his encounter with the Dragonsblade, Yi’s Alpha Strike had just about reached the pinnacle of Spatial Magic combat. Mages around the world were in envy of Yi’’s Spatial magic that synergized so well with his swordsmanship and courage.”
“Wow… I knew Yi was strong, but…”
“Not that strong? It is a shame that Yi’s former unofficial role in the League was to guide junior champions in the use of their skills. He, like many in the League, was limited in their applications. Yet released from his restraints, the world trembled and the ground shook.
“And you, Ahri my Dear, I will make like that. The world will shake and cower in fear at your will, because I see in you so much. In you is the look of the Masters of the old Rune Wars. In you is the heart of a good person. You will be the balance that scales the world.”
“...If that is what everyone wants me to be,” Ahri replied, in a slightly sad voice. Zilean was a little taken aback by her quieted response. “If that is what everyone wants me to be, then I’ll do it.”
Zilean sighed, and solemnly took the girl under her shoulder. He softly pat her hair as she stared off into the distance.
“No one can make you do anything you don’t want to. What makes us do what we do is the will of your heart. Your principles may force you to act, and in those moments, the power to do what is right for ourselves and our loved ones often is sorely needed.”
“Learn from me, my dear, and the only limit to your world and your life will be yourself.”
“...That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A dark figure sat in the shadows of some enormous statue in the Institute of War, running a whetstone down the length of his pitch-black sword.. The man had evaded the numerous palace guards with ease, and had situated himself in a remote location of the complex. Standing in front of him, in the little light that shone, was the Black Rose of Deceit, LeBlanc.
“Your plan is set, master. My subordinates have managed to place my mark in Councilor Kominye’s office.” LeBlanc turned to her colleague, another Black Rose, who was garbed in full palace guard armor. The double-agent guard gave a stoic nod in confirmation. “All we await is your call to strike.”
The dark figure said nothing, only to continue sharpening his sword. The grinding of stone on metal echoed into the blackness.
“Master? Is there anything else? When can we expect the attack?”
The dark figure continued grinding. Only when he was finished, and the edge of his blade managed to glint even in the twilight, did he speak.
“Soon. Do not fail me.”
At this, LeBlanc and the palace guard backed away into the shadows. Still the dark figure sat there. Looking again on his blade, the dark figure found the slightest imperfection, grunted in annoyance, and set back to grinding his sword.
Wowowowowowow, this is incredibly exciting, can't wait for more!
Well, I'm glad you like it. Starting on Chapter 2 now.
OK i just spent like an hour and 1/2 reading ur first fanfic bout Yi cuz i was bored but then I got really hooked on it once i started and now i started this and i cant wait to read the whole story
My God. The Yi story is 43000 words long. You read that in an hour and a half? (477 words per minute!)
You impress and terrify me, sir.
"Oh? It looks like you are doing well, for a pupil getting the stuffing beat out of her every day. Zilean's been working you hard."
Soraka, the Starchild, passed her Moon scepter over the bruises that Ahri had gathered from her practice sessions with Zilean. She looked the slightest bit annoyed as she cared after Ahri's injuries. Her yellow eyes, set in a light purple face, glinted in irritation. A brisk Tsk! Escaped her purple lips as the Starchild healed over a particularly nasty bruise left by Zilean, who had caught Ahri quite well on the head with a stick he manipulated during one of their practice sessions.
"Might I ask exactly why are you taking it upon yourself to slowly become Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Punching Bag?"
"No, he just wants me to know myself better." Ahri glanced down at her hand. Spread throughout her fingers and all over her palm were several vicious scars from third-degree burns that Yi said she sustained from fighting the demon Charred. "He said if anything like that time… that time with Singed… happens again, we'll have protection."
"Hm." Soraka mused skeptically, "Protection from the enemy? Or from you?"
When Ahri didn't respond, Soraka turned back to erasing her bruises. After a few more minutes of careful incantations, and a steady sweeping over all of Ahri's arms and legs, Soraka declared her largely fit. The Starchild was in the middle of chiding her on the values of looking after a young girl's health, when she stopped.
Her hand froze. The Starchild stared at where the Crescent hovered over right then.
"Soraka? what is it?"
Soraka had stopped her Crescent over Ahri's belly. She muttered a few incantations as if to check something. She finished, and lowered her crescent.
A smile slowly spread across her face. The Starchild's eyes softened, and she looked all the more human.
"Well, Ahri, my dear, this is good news."
"I have an excuse to pull you out of those **** lessons, now. I'll talk to Zilean to get him to stop beating on you with his magic clubs."
"What? What is it?"
Soraka laughed, and suddenly stood straight up on her goat-like legs. Her hoofs clattered against the stone of Ahri's quarters as the Starchild walked to the exit, grinning.
"Tell meee!" Ahri yelled, pleading. She followed the Starchild, beating lightly on Soraka's back.
"That's my secret for now, sweetheart." Soraka opened the door. "I do need to make you a present, though. When I give it to you, I'll tell you. Until then, no more lessons! Period!"
The Starchild clapped her hands in excitement, completely caught up in her own joy.
"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on your face! Ah, haha!"
Soraka left the quarters giggling like a schoolgirl, leaving Ahri sorely confused. She sat back on her bed. The fox's ears drooped in bewilderment. She did not know yet how to deal with being completely and utterly lost. Ahri tried to reason out what just happened there. She gave it a few seconds, before growling, and then flipped over on her bed. Screw her, Ahri reckoned, as she nestled in her fluffy tails. I'm tired and I want to sleep.
The Dark Battalion marched from the South. Thousands strong, they were armed with only the deadliest weapons, forged from volcano-forged obsidian and tempered by the most powerful of enchantments. Their armor was pitch-black, encapsulating the devils completely in protection. Only a miniscule slit cut into each of the face of their helms betrayed dark, dimly glowing eyes. So far, they had consumed several villages, both Noxian and Demacian in nature, coldly and mechanically butchering and putting every living soul in them to the sword. Not even the dogs survived the debauchery. In their wake, they left only bodies and blood. For what?
For their wood. The Dark Battalion dismantled the cottages that families had spent generations living in, killing every living thing in them, only because it was more efficient than cutting down the wood themselves.
The wood will assist our siege, their lieutenant ordered, and no living being can be left alive to preserve the element of surprise.
So ruthlessly efficient were the Dark Battalion that the lieutenant even ordered that garrisons be left behind in the corpse towns they had created, in order to ambush travelers and butcher them as well, so that their target would have no advance warning of their impending attack. None at all.
For their ultimate goal was the Institute of War. By their master's will, the Dark Battalion advanced on the League. They marched on with ruthless speed.
It was only a few days later that they reached the doorstep of the Institute. The League had only a few hours of notice of such a massive army on practically in their face. Immediately, the Palace Guard and the Champions were mobilized to combat this massive new threat.
Jax had assumed command of the Champions, barking orders out as soon as there was trouble. He sent them scurrying about, working on one project or another to combat the impending siege. The enemy was almost upon them.
"Alistar, move those turrets over by the barrels, we need those towers another twenty feet to the east, they're out of range! Caitlyn, take your men and scout the best vantage points for our snipers! We'll post you with Ashe and Tristana to cover the high ground!"
The minotaur grunted in affirmation, as he picked up a tower, and started hauling it closer to the front lines. Caitlyn turned, and shouted some orders, as a full rank of Piltover snipers filed behind her, and started jogging off into the mountainous crags, searching for the best overwatch areas.
Jax called out to an idle palace guard.
"Soldier, I order you to restock the supply of gunpowder in the eastern frontline. Their stockpiles have been running low after that fire a few hours ago."
Jax gazed out at the work they had done on the Entrance of the Institute of War. Behind every corner was a turret, hidden to be protected from siege weapons, but in crucial areas that would stop advancing the advancing army in their tracks.
Who were these men? Jax wondered as he gazed out into the distance at the camp of the invading army. They were neither Noxian nor Demacian, not in their pitch black armor. They seemed somewhat robotic— in the way that they moved, or how they twitched whenever it seemed that their orders had changed—they were eerily inhuman. Could they be from another world? Jax shivered at the notion of some inter-dimensional empire arrived on Valoran. They had enough problems of their own.
Master Yi, the Wuju Bladesmaster, came up behind him. The Master had brought out his most powerful battle suit, his Headhunter Armor for this battle. Six lenses gleamed viciously against his sharp, framed helm, offering advanced vision as well a small element for future sight. A tentacle ending in a cruel claw writhed behind his head, cancelling all ambient noise. Vicious claws were attached to the Master's forearm guards, allowing for a killing blow even when disarmed.
Finally, the blade he grasped in his armored hand was the finest in the world. It was a straight, flat slab that sported a simple, yet elegant guard ending in a dragon. On it, was carved the evil-killing inscription,
Rlung Tsi Hya Tyan Gaor,
Dragon Rises to where Ocean meets Heaven
It was the Dragon Rising Blade.
"Shen is ready, Grandmaster. So is the other rotation of our champions."
Jax nodded at this. Their entire defense rested on this crux of the strategy. They could not possibly defeat the entire army head on, so they had to funnel the enemy forces into tactical chokepoints. The ones who would hold these chokepoints were the League's very own champions. Once one champion would tire or get injured, the next would take his place, renewing the guard. Jax hoped that this would be enough to maybe delay and cripple the enemy forces.
There were three chokepoints to be held.
The first was at the entrance of the Institute of War. Here, at the widest area, was where the majority of their turrets were concentrated. There is where Jax would make his stand first. With his hammer, his true weapon Mjolnir, he would be able to destroy great swathes of the craven foe before he would have to retreat.
Jax, with the most raw power, would have to hold off the bulk.
The second chokepoint was deep, deep underneath the Institute. There no turrets stood guard, the heat would do most of the work over there. Yet even that god-forsaken place still had to be held against their dauntless enemy. Shen, the most durable of the first three to hold the chokepoints, would stand guard there, in the oppressive, murderous heat, until his will finally cracked, and some other champion would have to take his place.
Shen, the most focused of the Kinkou, would have to endure the Magma Chamber with those unfortunate enough to endure it with him.
Finally, there was a small bridge used to train new summoners in their arts. It was the area where Zilean held his numerous and painful practices with Ahri, and where summoners would sometimes mess about with the avatars of the champions. A small mountain pass around the Institute would perhaps allow an elite force to slip through, and attack unnoticed, that that point had to be held as well.
The Proving Grounds, an arena of endless duels, is where Master Yi would make his mark.
Yi gazed out at the encamped army.
"They will not wait long. I must go."
Jax nodded in affirmation.
"Good luck, brother."
"And you too, my friend."
Yi raised a hand in farewell, and walked off to the Proving Grounds. Jax gave him a passing glance, before jumping to his chosen spot, leaping down a twenty feet of steep, steep stairs, where he would make his stand. The Grandmaster slammed his hammer down in determination. He would not fail.
LeBlanc stood with her master in the shadows, from behind defender lines. They watched over the futile preparations of siege by the defenders. The Deceiver had a grin on her face, as constantly she mocked every bit of the defender's efforts, bit by bit.
"As you expected, master. They are sending out a champion at a time to meet our forces. Right into our plan" LeBlanc gave a sigh. "I'm surprised, though. I thought Jax would send ALL of the champions out. Too bad. Guess they weren't that dumb after all. But I guess fighting for so long, you get this kind of instinct. Too bad I was born a spy. Ha-ha!"
The dark figure grunted, watching solemnly over the siege procedures. His army was starting to move.
"Clumped champions… are too vulnerable to siege weapons." The dark figure scowled. "You know nothing of war, woman."
LeBlanc recoiled a bit at the rebuke, but quickly recovered. She quickly put on another sly smile, maybe to placate the master. The dark man did not respond. The Deceiver seemed to shrink at his silence.
"A-Anyhow, I must go to Councilor Kolminye's office. I have the next part of the plan to carry out." LeBlanc turned back to head to the Council of Equity's chambers, but the dark man's voice cut in.
LeBlanc froze immediately. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck as she gulped.
"Who was defending the bridge called the Proving Grounds?"
LeBlanc turned around, a smile fakely plastered on her face, her fear of the man palpable. Her voice came out quaky and weak.
"T-that was Yi, the Wuju bladesman, master. My scouts confirmed this-"
"Enough. Do not block off the bridge."
The dark figure rose, picking up his sword. LeBlanc hastily bowed as the man swept away into the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the glint of the dark figure's razor-sharp sword as it shone in the shadows. She quivered from the strength of the man's spirit, and sweat dripped all about the stone floor of the upper balcony they were on. Even longer after he was gone, LeBlanc still remained bowing.
"Y-yes… master. It will be done."
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