A quiet room.
The 5 p.m. sun poured in through the windows, tinted faintly yellow—like the glow over a late-season cornfield—spilling across the floor.
Luke sat calmly at a long table piled with documents seized from the Shadow God cult.
He rarely cared deeply about any one thing.
But the appearance of the Shadow God cult had shaken his usual laid-back mindset.
Because as someone who "knew the script," he hadn't even heard of this so-called cult.
So for once, he put in a little effort to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Shadow God… Kliver… an eternal, undying deity, all-knowing death god, supreme being at the top of all things… what kind of bullsh—"
Luke forced himself to finish reading the cult's wall-to-wall praise of their "Shadow God." According to these writings, Kliver was omnipotent, an absurdly powerful god.
Unfortunately, Luke had never heard of him—and he nearly laughed.
They talked him up like some unstoppable god, but odds were he was just some dusty backwater trash deity nobody cared about.
Runeterra had plenty of things Luke didn't know.
His understanding of this world was limited to what he'd read back when it was only text on a page.
But after arriving in Runeterra, the world stopped being words and became flesh, blood, and unknowns.
On a planet like this, almost anything could happen without it being strange.
After all, Demacia was only one corner of one continent.
Luke flipped through the material for a while and confirmed the obvious: the Shadow God cult was absolutely trying to bring their so-called Shadow God down into Runeterra through some kind of method.
As for why this "Shadow God Kliver" didn't just descend directly—
There were obviously restrictions.
Gods—these conceptual beings that exist through mortal worship and belief—Luke was confident they were real.
Somewhere extremely far from Runeterra, there was a domain known as the Celestial Realm.
That was where "gods" lived.
The Judicator and the Winged Protector worshiped by Demacians supposedly came from there.
And supposedly, a small minority of Demacians also believed in a third divine figure—the Veiled One—but because her worship was so niche, her presence in the long river of time had grown fainter and fainter.
Luke didn't know what the Celestial Realm was truly like, but as far as entering Runeterra from there, he only knew two routes.
The first was finding a chosen one.
When someone climbed that mountain hidden above the clouds—Mount Targon—they would become chosen, and the celestial beings would grant them power.
The chosen would become an Aspect's host, bearing power that descended from the heavens—an existence almost impossible to match.
But gaining power that way also meant the celestial being could not interfere too directly with Runeterra's natural course.
It remained, in essence, an observer.
The second route was direct descent.
There was a well-known figure tied to this: the Starchild—Soraka.
She was born of the stars, a true celestial being. And yet even she, to enter Runeterra directly, had to abandon her divinity and shape a mortal body—enduring constant agony because a human vessel could not truly contain such overwhelming power.
At the same time, her strength would be drastically reduced.
Even so, after witnessing Runeterra's disasters and suffering, she still chose to descend without hesitation.
If a being as powerful as Soraka had to face limitations like that—
Then a nobody like Kliver, a "god" Luke had never even heard of, had no chance.
If he tried to descend directly the way Soraka did, he'd probably get erased in the process.
Otherwise, if he really had that kind of power, he wouldn't need human apostles to do his dirty work.
So it was clear: this thing was trying to minimize the cost of descending through some special method.
Luke just didn't know what that method was yet.
None of the documents here explained the cult's exact plan.
But from their behavior, Luke could roughly guess the shape of it.
He kept reading.
The Shadow God cult had existed for forty years. During that time, it stayed extremely low-profile, expanding quietly in the dark.
So why had it suddenly become so bold—pulling so many stunts practically within sight of the capital?
Luke suspected the reason was him.
His existence had clearly triggered a butterfly effect.
Which made sense. If he hadn't awakened in the body that had died from jumping off a cliff, then this kingdom wouldn't even have a second prince.
From the moment he set out for the capital carrying his mother Melli's keepsake, the path of this world had already changed.
Most of these records didn't contain much direct information about the Shadow God cult.
Instead, they were packed with secrets the cult had gathered over the years—demons, dark creatures, black magic, and mentions of ancient, mysterious places.
Luke read with growing interest.
For the next stretch of time, it felt like he'd stumbled onto scandal after scandal—juicy, fascinating, impossible to look away.
One entry in particular caught his eye: a description of demons.
It claimed there were ten entities in this world that stood above all demons—top-tier horrors, the highest class.
There was very little information about those ten. Even the Shadow God cult only seemed to know that ten terrifying existences were out there.
But beneath those ten, the cult knew more about the "second tier" of demons.
These demons had titles. They had true names. But very few beings could actually know those names.
They were everywhere—appearing across many parts of Runeterra.
For example, the cult's leader once encountered a horned, humanoid demon—a creature that delighted in human suffering.
That sounded familiar to Luke. It might have been the same demon he knew of.
The entry said the cult leader survived because of the Shadow God's protection.
Or rather—because the demon had no interest in him, so she didn't kill him.
The condition for his survival was that he would serve her for a period of time.
So for a while, the cult leader worked under this demon.
And through that service, he gained a certain understanding of her.
After he finally escaped her grasp, he wrote down what he'd learned, just in case it became useful later.
This part was all new to Luke.
He kept reading carefully—line after line—until his eyes narrowed.
"This…"
It described the demon of agony as someone who loved torturing people, feeding on their suffering.
Her methods varied wildly—physical torment, mental torment, emotional torment.
No matter what she chose, she would squeeze a target's suffering dry to the last drop, until the moment their life ended.
She was a predator who loved to toy with prey until the very end.
And in her mind, prey came in "tiers."
Low-tier prey weren't even worth tormenting. She called them "expired food," and she wouldn't touch them.
The next tier up she called "cheap bread"—bland, disappointing, but still not quite worth throwing away. She'd give them a little attention.
Above that was "quality cake." She especially loved prey of that tier, savoring them slowly.
And above even "quality cake" was the highest tier of all: "candy."
Sweet beyond compare—something she loved keeping in her mouth, slowly, slowly dissolving it.
Luke read that and could only think one thing.
So she was a Runeterra foodie, huh?
He kept going.
The demon of agony's torment methods changed based on the prey tier.
In the cult leader's view, nothing was more horrifying than being "candy."
The demon would never kill such rare prey outright. Instead, she would use methods that allowed her to drain them over a long lifespan—wringing out a constant, endless stream of suffering.
A "candy" would be tortured for life, and their ending would never be good. Even at their moment of death, they would still be entertaining the demon.
Even to the cult leader, this was far more cruel than simply killing prey.
Luke's brow furrowed slightly, sensing something beneath the words.
Further down, the record stated that after he left, the demon of agony began recruiting new underlings.
And it mentioned a location: a hidden valley northwest of Demacia's Uralus Mountains.
This seemed to match the lead Vayne and Frey had returned to Demacia to pursue.
Luke set the paper down, rubbed his temples, and glanced outside.
It was already evening, so he decided to stop reading for now.
He stood and walked out.
He wasn't at his courtyard anymore—he was at Edessa's government hall.
As he stepped outside, he happened to see Vayne finishing her last lap across the training ground, running toward him. Her lips were slightly parted as she exhaled, her chest rising and falling hard, sweat shining across her forehead.
Luke watched her closely, thinking.
Vayne noticed him staring and frowned, her expression turning hostile. "What are you looking at?"
Seeing her irritated face, Luke chuckled. "What? Not allowed to look?"
Vayne stared at him for a few seconds, then snorted and walked past, refusing to engage.
After days of dealing with him, she understood one thing clearly:
If she kept talking to this shameless bastard, she'd be the one who ended up furious.
So the best solution was to ignore him completely.
Luke watched her back for a moment. He suppressed his thoughts, pulled his gaze away, and decided to go talk to Frey first.
But before he could, someone came racing in from the distance on horseback.
"Your Highness!"
Luke looked up and saw it was Quinn.
He'd sent her into the city to keep searching for suspected Shadow God cultists.
The look on her face said something big had happened.
Her horse stopped in front of him. Quinn swung down, her expression heavy, and went straight to the point.
"The hunting forest's beast riots have started again. This time, a large number of combat-grade magical beasts have appeared. Injuries and deaths are too many to count."
Luke's brow tightened. "What's the situation out there right now?"
"A lot of hunters have fled back," Quinn reported. "From what they've said, the forest is packed with magical beasts."
As she spoke, more people came hurrying over, shouting before they even arrived.
"Your Highness, something huge happened outside the city!"
"The hunting forest—beast riots!"
"Your Highness, what should we do?!"
They stopped in front of Luke, panting—local officials and nobles, all rushing over the instant they heard the news, faces tight with panic.
Whatever was happening outside Edessa had clearly spiraled.
And Quinn's expression didn't soften. Based on experience, she gave her assessment.
"If I'm not mistaken, within the next few hours, a beast tide will hit."
"A beast tide?!"
"How is that possible?!"
"Edessa has never had a beast tide!"
"Then how do you explain what's happening outside the city?!"
"Oh my god… it can't be real, can it…"
More officials crowded in, and after hearing Quinn's prediction, the scene became chaos.
Some refused to believe a beast tide was even possible.
Others started to waver.
A beast tide could mean uncontrolled population explosion in beasts—but it also referred to mass migration.
And what did that mean here?
Edessa bordered a hunting forest full of powerful magical beasts.
If a beast tide truly hit, that meant those magical beasts would move too.
And that would be terrifying beyond words.
A beast tide had never happened in Edessa. Even in Demacia's history, it was extremely rare. And the season was mild—there shouldn't have been any reason for it.
Luke's eyes flickered as he considered it.
A beast tide didn't happen for no reason.
He remembered that on his first day here, there had been a beast riot too—though it calmed down quickly.
Now the beasts were surging again.
Luke's first thought was the Shadow God cult they'd uncovered today.
Because a beast tide—something Edessa had never seen—should be a major Demacian event.
Yet Luke had never heard of it.
Which meant this was another shift caused by the butterfly effect.
Seeing the officials in chaos, Luke spoke, voice low.
"Enough."
His tone wasn't loud, but the moment the words landed, the people in front went quiet and looked to him.
Luke looked at Quinn first. "Take two hundred Kingdom Rangers. Scout the beast tide's scale and its migration direction."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Quinn didn't hesitate. She turned and left immediately.
Then Luke looked at Cithria, who had just arrived in a hurry. He didn't even let her catch her breath.
"Gather all forces in the city. Assemble at the barracks."
"Yes!"
Cithria turned and rushed off.
Luke then looked at an official whose name he didn't know.
The official quickly volunteered, "My name is Aiden, Your Highness."
"Aiden," Luke said. "Take people and spread the word. Organize all civilians in the city and move them toward safe areas as much as possible."
After giving that order, Luke pointed at a couple more officials. "You too. Go with him."
"Yes!"
They left at a run.
"The rest of you," Luke said, sweeping his gaze across the remaining group, "head to the barracks."
Then he strode toward the military camp.
As the situation escalated, fear and unease spread through Edessa like wildfire. The city quickly fell into disorder.
The streets filled with frantic crowds—shouting, crying, terrified voices, children wailing, wagons rumbling as people tried to flee, and mounted soldiers riding hard through the chaos.
All the noise blended together until it became a single roaring mess.
Soon, under the soldiers' organization, part of the population began moving more orderly—gathering toward the center of the city.
They were still terrified. Faced with a beast tide that had never happened here before, fear churned everywhere—though some still believed the kingdom's power would protect them.
Others didn't believe it at all. They were already packing and trying to escape to anywhere outside the city.
Earlier, Luke had ordered the gates sealed to catch Shadow God cultists hiding in town.
But now, people outside wanted in, and people inside wanted out.
Both sides had numbers, and the safety of those outside also had to be considered.
So Luke could only order the gates opened.
If people fled the city, he didn't stop them.
He couldn't.
At the barracks, aside from the soldiers assigned to manage evacuation, most of the city's forces were gathered—rank after rank, white armor in neat lines as far as the eye could see.
They'd heard the beast tide rumors too, and the training ground buzzed with anxious chatter.
As time passed, Quinn returned fast with her scouting results.
"Your Highness," she reported, each word precise, her expression severe. "I am now certain the beast tide is one hundred percent. The scale is moderate. Combat-grade magical beasts are estimated at at least two thousand. The rest are too numerous to count. The migration direction is straight toward Edessa."
Even now, traces of shock lingered in her eyes.
When she had Valor carry her high enough to overlook the forest from the sky, she'd seen a sight that shook her.
Magical beasts—so many she couldn't count—charging forward in a rolling cloud of dust, destroying anything in their path as they surged toward Edessa.
And among them were creatures on the same level as the White Rock Grizzly and the One-Horn Striped Tiger.
The kind of monsters that could tear a person apart like paper.
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