Along with her words, a faint glimmer of magic appeared in Ambessa's eyes. Immediately following, distinct magical trajectories surfaced on the palm and back of her hand. When those magical lines reached their brightest peak, the hundreds of interwoven paths clearly formed the silhouette of a rose bound by countless chains.
"The Darkin, Styraatu... Ha, my 'original' is certainly cautious. To prevent any unnecessary complications, she didn't even mention that a Darkin was sealed in this land of the Twin Cities."
A cold voice reached Faen's ears from the side. Although Faen heard it clearly, no one else could even see, let alone hear, LeBlanc, who stood beside him cloaked in dark purple robes.
Although their departure had been hasty—so much so that due to Faen's rough treatment, LeBlanc's eye makeup was still smudged, leaving two faint tracks on her cheeks, and the muddy mess between her legs was only barely sealed by magic—it didn't affect the clarity of her thoughts.
While LeBlanc maintained a calm analysis under the cloak of her invisibility spell, her long, shapely legs trembled uncontrollably beneath her robes. In that coupling that could only be described as "ravaging," Faen had buried his thick, ferocious "baguette" deep into the furthest reaches of her womb, spraying a massive volume of scalding, thick white cum.
Right now, that essence representing absolute submission was being frantically churned and absorbed by the Mark of Pleasure within her womb. She could clearly feel that, even with the magical seal, those viscous juices were still making squelching sounds within her red, swollen, out-turned flower house. With every breath she took, it brought waves of aching pleasure that shot straight to the top of her skull.
"Ngh... Master..."
Hidden by the invisibility magic, no one could see this pale witch who once ruled Noxus. Her eyes were rolled back, her fragrant tongue slightly out, and she had completely abandoned her image, poking out her plump buttocks that had been thoroughly plowed by Faen, shivering blankly in the grip of that violent demonic power. Her sensitive inner walls, never before used by her original self, writhed greedily, trying to squeeze out more of the remaining male musk.
A large amount of white paste mixed with crystal-clear love juices was slowly seeping through the magical barrier on her inner thighs, soaking her expensive silk panties into a heavy, wet mess. This extreme sense of immorality—standing right under the noses of the city's elites and Noxian officers, knowing her lewd state could be exposed to the public at any moment if her magic faltered—caused LeBlanc's reason to collapse entirely. As she coldly reported the intelligence on Styraatu, she couldn't help but frantically rub her nutmeg-hard nipples under the cloak of invisibility, every chant slipping from her throat tainted with the depraved moans of a bitch in heat.
"It's no wonder she didn't give me this part of her memories. If it were me, to prevent a clone from awakening its own consciousness, I would leave an extra insurance policy beyond just the individual fail-safes," LeBlanc said. "An insurance policy that guarantees not a single witness in the region survives."
While LeBlanc was still speaking, on the other side, as the spell formula was completed, Faen could clearly sense a dark and eerie magic injecting into the ley lines of the Blue Harbor Estate, moving rapidly toward Zaun.
As beings that had dominated Runeterra for nearly six millennia (counting the era of ancient Shurima), Faen was naturally no stranger to the Darkin—or rather, the Ascended. According to the records of this world, during Shurima's most prosperous era, there were fully hundreds of Ascended serving the golden bloodline simultaneously.
Later, following the Twilight of the Gods event, the only surviving Ascended in all of Runeterra were Nasus and a scant few others. During the past millennia, there was no distinct difference between an Ascended and a Darkin. In terms of life level and life form, they were equal. It wasn't until after the Twilight of the Gods, when, under the effects of Aspect magic and flesh curses, all the Darkin warlords who violently ruled Runeterra were sealed within weapons, that a clear distinction emerged between Ascended and Darkin.
Among them, the Ascended maintained their original forms, like Nasus, Azir, and Renekton—half-man, half-beast giant creatures standing several meters, or even tens of meters, tall. The Darkin, however, were sealed within weapons; the weapon was their true body, and they could only parasitize those who touched it. If the person touching the weapon possessed enough willpower, they could even suppress the Darkin's mind in reverse, preventing possession. Take, for example, a certain embarrassing scythe Darkin.
And as for Styraatu...
She didn't officially appear in the core League of Legends game, but rather in the card game set in the same universe but a different timeline: Legends of Runeterra (LoR).
The PvP aspect of Legends of Runeterra was quite average, but its PvE was excellent, incorporating many roguelike elements. Once a deck and abilities were built, it was incredibly satisfying to play, with a very distinct Slay the Spire flavor. Unfortunately, the game had severe issues, such as having too many keywords.
It's hard to imagine a card game created years after Hearthstone having five major card types (Unit, Spell, Skill, Trap, Landmark), with over twenty subcategories for those types, and nearly eighty keywords... It's fair to say that every new addition increased the game's barrier to entry. Combined with a long delay in getting a publishing license for the Chinese server, the game eventually died a sudden death.
However, LoR's art assets were excellent, so in 2025, it was converted into a physical card game, Rune Battlefield, and launched domestically—the temptation of printing cards to print money is too great for any game company to resist.
Although Legends of Runeterra and the main League of Legends universe are on different timelines, ultimately, the main universe lore is a tangled mess anyway. So, regardless of the timeline—even skin universes—as long as the overarching worldview is roughly the same, even if it can't be used directly, it can serve as a reference source for intelligence.
Take Styraatu, for example. Though she never appeared in the main League of Legends universe, she debuted in the major "Darkin War" event in LoR. She was originally a female general in the Golden Army of Shurima, fighting under the command of Aatrox before he fell and became the Darkin Blade. After the Twilight of the Gods event, she was sealed within a harp.
In the game, her equipment effect granted the equipped unit +2 Power and the Quick Attack keyword (dealing damage before the blocker; if the blocker dies, the attacker takes no damage).
By paying 8 mana, one could directly summon Styraatu as an 8/6 unit with Quick Attack. Her card effect was drawing two cards upon attacking and reducing their cost by 2. It was a classic "as long as you summon it and attack once, it pays for itself" card.
In the lore of the Darkin War, Styraatu awakened immediately upon receiving Aatrox's summons. However, the first thing she destroyed was a factory facility in the Middle Levels of Zaun. Although her mind was constantly being eroded by the Darkin curse, she managed to maintain a sliver of sanity through Aatrox's call, following her general's orders and making her way to Shurima to participate in the Darkin War.
But now, guided by LeBlanc, the first thing Styraatu felt upon awakening was not Aatrox's summons. Instead, because her seal was brutally broken, before she could even feel joy at regaining her freedom, all her thoughts were instantly consumed by baseless, maddening rage due to the Darkin curse.
Following the unsealing path deliberately set by Ambessa, a pillar of fire erupted from the lowest levels of Zaun into everyone's view, the roaring flames shooting forth endless light and heat. Immediately after, accompanied by a shrill, maddened roar and wail that no human could ever produce, the surging flames traveled up the canyon walls of Zaun, rushing straight toward the Piltie Wardens' precinct located on the Mid-Level Boulevard of Piltover.
With a burst of firelight, a violently burning mass of flames took on the form of an elemental creature. It spread its dark red arms, which looked as though the skin had been peeled away, while fleshy eyes were embedded in a twisted manner across the surging heat waves. In her hands was a massive harp, radiating a terrifying, apocalyptic heat.