Logan looked at the Watcher.
For a while, the creature said nothing. It only stared across the memory of Bilgewater, across the harbor lights, the black water, the crooked roofs, the ships swaying under lantern glow, and the distant storm gathering over the sea. In that memory, the world still felt alive. Dirty, violent, strange, but alive.
The Watcher studied it as if it were trying to understand why such a place existed at all.
Logan let out a tired breath.
"Unfortunately, this is where the tour ends," he said. "I hope Runeterra was interesting enough for you."
The memory broke.
The smell of salt, smoke, and rotten wood vanished. The harbor lights collapsed into darkness. The sea became nothing. Logan opened his eyes to the Void again.
Reality came back hard.
The platform beneath him was no longer whole. A huge portion of it had simply disappeared, torn away as if some invisible mouth had bitten through stone, metal, and whatever else kept the structure together. The edges did not crumble. They frayed, bending at wrong angles, drifting in small pieces that refused to fall because there was nowhere to fall to.
The gravitational field, still held.
Logan felt it around him, pressing against the madness outside. It was weaker than before, or maybe that was only his imagination, but it had not broken.
That was something.
He looked for Kassadin.
The armored man floated near the damaged edge of the platform, his posture steady despite the distance between him and the ground. Purple light gathered around his blade and armor in unstable pulses.
Farther away, the fuchsia Watcher waited.
Logan's jaw tightened.
He recognized it.
The shape was different now. The thing in front of him was not the deer-shaped Frost Watcher that had died in the Freljord. That body had been a shell, a frozen imitation, a thing forced into the limits of Runeterra. This was something else. Cleaner. Its limbs bent in ways that suggested both grace and sickness. Antler-like structures spread from its head, glowing with fuchsia veins that pulsed beneath the surface.
But Logan knew.
It was the same one.
The same Watcher that had died.
He cursed under his breath.
Now he understood why the Watchers in the Freljord had chosen self-destruction without hesitation. They had known something he had not.
Maybe they could return on their own. Maybe someone, or something, had pulled them back. Logan had no way to tell.
But they could return.
And here, in the Void, they came back as themselves.
That creature was stronger than before. It felt like the version in the Freljord had been a finger pressed through a crack, while this was the body on the other side.
Kassadin's voice cut through the pressure.
"Looks like it won't charge this time."
Logan narrowed his eyes.
The Watcher moved slowly toward Kassadin. Its attention shifted from the platform to the armored man, as if judging him. Then it raised one arm.
There was no hand at the end of it. Instead, the limb split into horn-like extensions, long and sharp, each curving inward. They twisted around one another, weaving together like roots growing in fast motion. At the center of the tangled tips, an orange eye opened.
It bloomed there like a flower.
Kassadin was already moving.
Kassadin drifted away from the platform. He was drawing the Watcher's line of fire away from Logan and Ahri.
The orange eye flashed.
A thin beam tore through the Void.
It was too fast to track. Logan saw the light only after it had already crossed the space where Kassadin had been. The armored man vanished in a burst of purple energy and reappeared off to the side, the edge of the beam grazing the afterimage he left behind.
The beam continued into the distance until it vanished among the black currents.
Then Kassadin attacked.
He did not rush in a straight line. He folded through space, appearing above the Watcher, then below it, then at its side, striking at joints, glowing veins, and the base of the strange antlers. Each attack carried that unstable Void energy around his blade. It bit into the Watcher's body, but never deeply enough.
The Watcher responded without hurry.
It turned with slow precision, using its long limbs to intercept Kassadin's strikes or force him back. Sometimes it opened more eyes across its body, small orange slits that spat beams in different directions. Sometimes the fuchsia veins on its torso brightened, and the space around Kassadin warped, trying to crush him in place.
Kassadin barely slipped away every time.
Kassadin should have died already.
If Kassadin fought Lissandra, Logan was fairly sure he would lose. Not easily, but he would lose. And Logan knew, with absolute certainty, that Lissandra was weaker than this Watcher.
Yet Kassadin was still alive.
Because this was his war.
This was what he had been shaped for. Every tool he had, every scar, every piece of armor, existed to survive this kind of horror. He could not overpower the Watcher, but he could endure it.
For now.
There was no chance he would win.
Ahri shifted beside Logan.
He looked down.
She was watching him, not the battle. Her ears had lowered, and the worry in her eyes was too clear to miss.
Logan glanced toward the blue Watcher. He had not moved yet. It still hovered at a distance, silent and unreadable.
"For now, we wait," Logan said. "The curious one still has to make a decision."
Logan lifted one hand.
Spiritual power gathered in his palm.
It came more easily now than before. He could use more power without immediately feeling the Void crawl through him.
Not much more.
He shaped the energy into a blade.
At first, he reached for wind out of habit, then stopped. Did wind even exist here? Did pressure? Did air? How the hell was physics supposed to work in the Void?
Fine.
He converted a little spiritual energy into air first, forced it into motion, and compressed it into the outline of a sword.
A translucent blade formed in his grip, pale and restless, its edge trembling.
Logan stared at it.
Then he looked at the Watcher.
"Great," he muttered. "I made a toothpick."
Against that thing, it was not even an ant.
Ahri suddenly collapsed.
Logan dropped the wind sword at once. It broke apart into a brief swirl of air and light as he reached her side.
"Ahri."
He caught her before she hit the platform fully, one arm around her shoulders, the other steadying her back. Her breathing had turned shallow. Her tails dragged across the ground, their glow dimmer than before.
The rest had not helped much.
Of course it hadn't.
Ahri was tied to the spirit realm. She was not like him. She was not meant to stay here, cut off from the world that fed her existence, after burning nearly everything she had against the Void. Every second in this place was another weight on her body.
She clenched her teeth.
"I'm supposed to protect you," she said.
"You did."
"Don't start."
"I'm serious."
Her fingers tightened weakly against his sleeve. "I can barely stand."
Logan held her closer. "I'm the Spirit Blossom Guardian, remember?"
Ahri gave him a look that would have been sharper if she had not been so pale. "That does not mean you get to die first."
Before Logan could answer, the battlefield shifted.
Kassadin struck the Watcher across the side of its head, leaving a burning line of purple energy along its surface. The Watcher turned, and one of its limbs snapped out with sudden speed. It hit Kassadin directly.
The sound did not travel normally. It reached Logan as pressure first, then as a crack that ran through his bones.
Kassadin was thrown far from the platform, spinning through the Void before stabilizing himself.
The Watcher immediately turned its arm toward Logan.
The orange eye bloomed again.
Logan knew.
The gravitational field would not stop that.
He grabbed Ahri and moved.
Or tried to.
In the first fraction of a second, his body obeyed. He lifted her, shifted his weight, pushed spiritual power into his legs.
In the next, he understood the distance, the angle, the speed of the attack.
He was not fast enough.
The beam fired.
Ahri's hand rose.
She did not push him away. She did not cast a spell. She simply touched the side of his face and turned his head toward her.
The orange line passed through the space where his skull had been.
Heat cut across his hair. The beam skimmed close enough that the edge of his vision flashed white.
Logan froze for half a breath.
Kassadin reappeared between them and the Watcher, blade already raised.
"Don't just stand there!" Kassadin shouted. "Be ready!"
The Watcher's attention snapped back to him as Kassadin forced it away with a burst of Void energy.
Logan looked at Ahri.
She was still in his arms. Still weak. Still glaring at him.
He laughed once, breathless and almost angry. "You can still defend me when you're like this."
"What was going through your head?" Ahri snapped. "You tried to carry me while dodging that?"
"You were on the ground."
"And you almost lost your head."
"I didn't."
"Because I moved it!"
"That's what I said. You defended me."
"Logan!"
Her voice cracked, not from fear, but from frustration.
She shoved against his chest with what little strength she had. It barely moved him, but the intent was clear.
"Get away from me," she said. "Prepare to dodge. That fuchsia Watcher is targeting you."
"I'm not leaving you lying here."
"Then you'll die beside me, and that will help no one."
Before Logan could reply, Kassadin's voice rang out.
"Dodge!"
Logan looked up.
The Watcher's arm had extended.
Not toward Kassadin.
Toward him.
The horn-like tips stretched farther than before, the orange eye forming at the end of a long, twisted spike. Logan shoved himself sideways, dragging his body low. The beam flashed past his shoulder.
He rolled, came up on one knee, and pushed himself away from Ahri.
Ahri was right.
The Watcher was aiming only at him.
Kassadin struck it again, forcing its head aside, but the moment he lost even a sliver of pressure, the arm bent around him and fired at Logan.
Another beam fired.
Logan dodged by instinct.
The first beam missed his ribs by inches.
The second cut the platform behind him.
The third forced him to throw himself flat.
Kassadin kept the Watcher occupied as much as he could. He appeared close, struck, vanished, then returned at another angle.
But he could not stop every attack.
The Watcher was learning the gaps.
It did not need to beat Kassadin immediately.
It only needed moments.
A half second here.
A wrong angle there.
A line of sight.
Each time it found one, it shot at Logan.
Logan's breath burned. His legs felt heavier with every movement.
He glanced at Ahri.
She was still on her knees, one hand pressed against the platform, trying to rise.
Kassadin was driven back again. Not far, but enough.
The Watcher turned.
Logan prepared to move.
Then the world slowed.
Not literally.
This was Logan's mind stretching a fraction of a second until it felt wide enough to drown in.
He saw the Watcher's arm extend toward him. He saw the orange eye forming. He saw Kassadin too far away to interrupt. He heard Ahri's strained breath behind him.
And then he felt something from the Watcher.
Something horribly familiar.
...
Malice.
Human malice.
The kind that chose pain because it understood the wound it would leave behind.
Logan's blood went cold.
The bastard learned evil.
The Watcher's arm began to shift.
Slowly, in that stretched instant, the eye turned away from Logan.
Toward Ahri.
She saw it too.
She was on her knees. Too weak to run.
Her eyes found Logan's.
And she smiled.
A smile meant to comfort him.
A thousand thoughts slammed through Logan's mind.
Grab her and dodge?
Impossible.
Block it with his body?
The beam would pierce through him and kill her anyway.
...
Then a calm voice spoke inside his mind.
"Cut it."
Logan's hand moved.
He seized Aatrox.
The blade came free in a rush of crimson-pink light.
The Watcher fired.
The orange beam crossed the space between them, thin as a needle.
Logan swung.
He cut along the line, edge against light, dividing the beam as if splitting a thread.
For one impossible instant, Aatrox's blade touched the attack.
Then the beam forked.
Two orange lines split around Logan and Ahri, passing on either side of them. One carved through the platform behind her. The other vanished over the broken edge.
Silence followed.
For Logan, everything narrowed to the sword in his hand.
Aatrox glowed crimson-pink, steady and alive.
Logan stared at the blade.
Then he let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
"About time."
Aatrox's voice answered with extraordinary calm.
"I needed serenity. Now I am ready to fulfill my duty. I will not fail this time."
Logan looked at the sword in surprise.
There was no rage in that voice. The old violence was still there, buried in the shape of the blade, but it had been drawn tight around something else.
Purpose.
Logan smiled.
Not because the situation was good.
It was terrible.
Kassadin could not hold forever. Ahri was exhausted. The curious Watcher still had not chosen a side. The fuchsia Watcher had learned how to hurt him, and now it knew Ahri mattered.
But Aatrox was awake.
Logan turned to Ahri.
She was staring at him, eyes wide, one hand still braced against the platform.
Logan stepped in front of her and raised the blade.
"No matter what happens," he said, "I will protect you."
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