"Heh… The one on top. Disgusting."
Sylas sneered, eyes shadowed with the weight of memory.
He couldn't hold back the venom in his voice.
"We're supposed to die just because we were born poor, right? Thrown into cages like this, because that's all we're worth?"
"Before you ended up here, you were a Mage Seeker," Luxanna said calmly.
"Everyone knew you had magic. You followed your own beliefs. Some even said you were proud of what you did."
Sylas fell silent, his expression unreadable.
Luxanna, though composed on the outside, felt uncertain.
She whispered inwardly:
"Teacher… was it right for me to say that?"
She didn't like to reopen old wounds, even in someone like Sylas.
[He's been imprisoned for fifteen years,] the voice in her mind said.
[Maybe he was once like you. But after so much torment, all that's left in him is hatred and the need to lash out.]
A pause.
[If you want him to fight for Demacia, break him. If you only want the ideal version of Demacia you've imagined, then killing him is your best choice.]
"Why?" Luxanna asked aloud before she could stop herself.
"Because of what he's become…"
Luxanna had read everything her teacher told her about Sylas.
She already knew his power, but hearing it confirmed made something flicker in her eyes—shock, quickly buried.
She wasn't a perfect actor, but she was learning to play the roles needed to survive in the shadows.
Thankfully, Sylas seemed lost in memory, his head bowed, ignoring her presence.
Luxanna kept her voice cold, standing firm.
"I've read your file. You didn't need to kill your supervisor and your comrades back then. At first, I thought it was for the mage girl, but… she died too."
She paused, eyes locked on his.
"Killed by your magic."
"Hahaha… yeah. Dead. Dead because of my magic."
The laughter cracked, raw and bitter. It was like she had peeled open the deepest wound inside him.
His face twisted into something terrifying.
Were it not for the Petricite chains binding his arms, there was no doubt he would've lunged at her.
Flames of fury danced in his eyes as he stared her down, teeth gritted.
"So why are you here?" he growled.
"To gloat? You think I won't shout to the guards about your magic?"
Luxanna tensed. He had struck a nerve.
But guided by the calm of her teacher's voice, she let a small, careless smile touch her lips.
"You're not wrong," she said.
"But I can tell you this: I'm not afraid of being found out."
"Because you're a noble? Of course. If you can walk into this place, who will believe a word I say?"
Sylas clenched his fists, the Petricite cuffs digging into his wrists.
He remembered all too well how nobles in Demacia hoarded their secrets, especially magical ones.
"Your ability to detect magic in others… People listen to what you say. I'm not denying your suspicion. But I'll say this—"
Luxanna stepped closer, her voice calm but sure.
"I could shout on the street that I'm a mage, and no one would dare touch me."
"Impossible."
Sylas stared at her, suspicion etched into every line of his face.
For a moment, it almost seemed like magic wasn't taboo anymore.
"Nothing's impossible, Sylas," Luxanna said, quieter now.
"Times are changing. We lost badly to Noxus not long ago."
She meant it. The war had changed everything—Demacia most of all.
And herself, perhaps more than anything else…
Had this been the old her, she might have run away the moment Sylas called them "the same."
"Lost?" Sylas scoffed, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.
"We haven't won in years. So now the nobles want magic on their side?"
He understood their kind far too well. When power was on the line, no taboo was sacred.
Maybe that's why Luxanna had the nerve to say what she did. He was already piecing it together.
"I'm not fighting for Demacia," Sylas spat.
"This isn't the same as before. The Winged Protector was defeated," Luxanna said.
"And not by just anyone—by the leader of the Trifarix."
She spoke steadily. It had already become history; no emotion was left in telling it.
"The Winged Protector… defeated?"
Sylas' eyes widened in genuine shock.
He'd known of the Winged Protector—how could he not?
Among the elite, rumored to be a god, surrounded by fellow aristocrats who wielded magic behind closed doors.
And now?
"Trifarian Legion… Who is this leader?"
"They say he's the strongest mage alive today—powerful enough to rival a god. I mention him because he proved something: the Winged Protector's strength came from magic."
She didn't hold anything back. She didn't need to.
Their brief exchange made it clear that the teacher had been right.
Sylas hated Demacia.
But he still cared about it.
When she spoke of Demacia's defeat, Sylas didn't rejoice.
He burned with anger. Not grief.
He might dream of destroying Demacia—but somewhere deep down, he wanted to reshape it. To build something new in its place.
Even if that new world looked nothing like the one she envisioned.
"The Winged Protector…" he muttered.
"Magic… Of course it was."
Sylas looked away, his voice low as it echoed through the dim dungeon.
After a moment to process what he'd heard, he lifted his head again to meet Luxanna's gaze.
"So, because the Winged Protector used magic, you turned against her. Ironic. The Winged Protector is gone… and Demacia's on the brink."
Everyone knew Noxus wouldn't waste a chance to strike while Demacia wavered.
Now, with the kingdom still torn over magic, how could it survive?
"Demacia isn't finished," Luxanna replied, her tone cool.
"We still have strength to spare."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And don't overestimate yourself, Sylas."
Listening to her teacher's voice, she hesitated but stepped closer to the cell, stopping just outside the bars.
Close enough for Sylas to strike, even with his hands bound.
And he did.
With a sharp motion, Sylas yanked the chains taut and swept his leg through the bars without hesitation.
There was no killing intent—his movement was calculated, meant to grab or trip, not to maim.
But Luxanna didn't flinch. Her mind turned crystal clear.
Light gathered at her palm—and exploded.
Boom!
The blast sent Sylas crashing into the wall behind him.
He groaned, the impact brutal. His outstretched leg bent at a sick angle, broken.
"You aren't like the noble ladies," he hissed, grinning through the pain.
"You're the one who underestimated me," Luxanna replied, calm and unshaken.
"If I were exposed in daylight, I could still walk away untouched."
As she spoke, her body began to glow.
Sylas squinted, the radiance forcing his eyes to narrow.
Then he saw something that stopped him cold.
Luxanna stepped through the iron bars—light curling around her like silk—until she stood inside the cell.
"You—!?" Sylas's eyes went wide.
"Don't rely too much on brute force," she said softly.
Then, without waiting for permission, she knelt beside him and placed a glowing hand over his twisted leg.
Warm light flowed from her fingers, seeping into the injury.
A sharp crack echoed as the bones snapped back into place.
Within moments, Sylas was healed.
He sat still, uncertain, wary.
He didn't move—not out of fear, but respect.
She was stronger than he.
Far stronger.
He could feel it now, unmistakably. Her power radiated like the sun, blinding and vast.
No mage he'd met, not even himself at his most furious, had held that overwhelming force.
Even his magic-sensing instincts had failed to detect her earlier. That realization chilled him.
If he had power like that… he would've never been locked in this dungeon to rot.
"…What do you want from me?" Sylas asked quietly, settling cross-legged on the floor. His voice had lost its edge.
For the first time, he understood: she hadn't come here because she needed him. And after everything she'd said… she wasn't here to make him a pawn, either.
"I want to hear your story," Luxanna said, smiling faintly.
Inwardly, she sighed, grateful to her teacher's insight. He'd been right again.
In this world, only strength allowed you to chase what you wanted.
Whether that strength came from power, position, lineage… or something else.
You needed something that made others pause.
Sylas blinked, surprised. Then he let out a short, disbelieving laugh
"You came down here… just to hear my story?"
A girl like her—radiant, powerful—deliberately stepping into a place most had forgotten, just to listen?
"Before you ask anything else," Luxanna said gently, "I need to know who you are."
Sylas tilted his head back and chuckled. The sound was raw, but real.
"Hah… You want a story? Fine. I'll tell you the tale of Demacia—ruled by nobles, built on silence."
His voice was hoarse, but steady now. There was no hesitation left.
Because in all his time down here, through beatings, torture, and loneliness, not a single soul had ever asked to hear his story.
No one had cared about his truth.
No one…
As if having magic had made him guilty from the moment he could breathe.
"You already know how I joined the Mage Seekers," Sylas began.
"I was born to a Demacian family. When my powers surfaced, my parents turned me over to the Seekers. Loyal citizens, right?"
He laughed again—short, bitter.
And the story began.
Luxanna gave a slight nod, standing just a few paces from Sylas. Her voice was steady:
"After that, the Mage Seekers noticed your talent. They assigned you to a special discipline—to hunt other mages across Demacia."
Sylas grinned, his voice thick with mockery.
"Do you know the first thing that 'discipline' told me?"
Luxanna remained silent, so he answered for her.
"He told me to test only the people they pointed out. As for the rest?" His lip curled.
"Don't ask. Don't tell."
"I didn't get it at first," he continued.
"But then it clicked. Every single one of those so-called 'demon-hunting' assignments targeted only peasants and commoners. Powerless people."
His expression darkened.
"None of the mages walking the streets of High Silvermere ever ended up in here."
"I spent years like that. Eventually, I started to see through it all. The lies. The rot."
He looked at her, half-smiling.
"I started to doubt everything—my orders, Demacia's rules, even myself."
Luxanna's face was unreadable. Sylas searched her expression for something—shock, disgust, sympathy—but found nothing.
He scoffed, a little disappointed, and pressed on.
"While I was neck-deep in that mess of right and wrong, I came across that incident… You know the one."
Luxanna said nothing, but her fingers twitched at her side.
Sylas's voice quieted, as if reliving the memory.
"I found her first. A girl. Young… so young I couldn't bring myself to do anything."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"But the Seekers arrived too fast. I didn't have time to get her away."
His tone cracked.
"When I touched her… something inside me snapped."
"Magic erupted. Out of control. It tore through everything." He gave a hollow laugh.
"The girl died. The Seeker died. My handler, my discipline—dead. All of them."
Luxanna's expression flickered briefly. She knew Sylas wasn't telling the whole truth.
But when he spoke of the girl, the raw sorrow in his voice felt painfully real.
"After that, I ran. I was wanted—hunted. But I didn't stop."
His grin returned, sharp and defiant.
"I killed Seekers. Freed mages. I became a symbol."
"They called me the worst criminal in Demacian history. Fitting."
He chuckled.
"But the others- those I saved—they called me something else. A pioneer."
Luxanna broke her silence at last.
"In the end, you failed."
Sylas nodded.
"Yeah. I did. Trial. Life sentence. A neat ending for their worst nightmare."
He tilted his head, watching her carefully now.
"But you-you came here. You listened. So tell me…"
His voice dropped, almost hopeful.
"You want change?"
Luxanna didn't answer directly. Her voice was calm.
"Maybe. The story was well told."
She took a step closer. "But there are parts that need correction."
Sylas raised an eyebrow.
"Correction?" He looked genuinely caught off guard.
"What do you mean?"
"You left something out," she said.
"Your true ability isn't just sensing magic. It's stealing, drawing it out, and turning it against others. That's what caused the incident. Your power activated when you touched the girl."
Her words were cool, but her heart was not. She had to force herself to remain composed.
Sylas didn't flinch.
"Yeah," he said.
"I figured that out later."
He lifted his chained hands.
"Why do you think I've earned these fancy Petricite cuffs?"
There was a long pause.
Then, Luxanna asked, suddenly:
"What would you do if you were freed?"
Faced with the sudden question, Sylas was briefly stunned. He hadn't expected it to come so soon.
"Help the mages get justice," he answered honestly.
"Build a Demacia where we're allowed to exist."
Luxanna tilted her head, smiling faintly.
"Anything else?"
Sylas looked up at the dark ceiling, as if trying to see through the stone.
"No," he said.
"That's enough."
Luxanna's smile deepened slightly, though her eyes remained unreadable.
"I trust you, Mr. Sylas. It was a pleasure talking with you today. I'll be back in a few days."
Sylas raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
He watched as she passed effortlessly through the iron bars again, her body once more dissolving into radiant light.
The sight still surprised him, though he kept it hidden beneath a smirk.
"Nice to have someone around who breaks the boredom," he said, settling back into a cross-legged position.
He watched her calmly as she picked up the torch near the door.
But just as she opened it, Luxanna suddenly shouted back, her tone sharp and angry:
"Unreasonable! You should read more about the founding of Demacia! You're twisting everything into black and white!"
The shout echoed through the corridor. Even Kuris, standing guard outside, blinked in mild surprise.
Then the door slammed shut, and the light disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.
"…Funny girl," Sylas murmured in the silence.
His eyes shimmered faintly, lost in thought.
After leaving the dungeon, Luxanna couldn't wait to report to her teacher:
"Teacher, his last sentence—he was lying."
The voice in her mind replied with calm certainty:
"It doesn't matter whether it was true or not. What matters is that he said it."
Luxanna frowned, thinking deeply. Then she spoke, slightly unsure:
"Do you mean… whether he's sincere or not, we still need to let him out—before he comes to believe it himself?"
"Good," the teacher affirmed.
"The fact that he chose to tell you his story is already the first step."
Luxanna nodded slowly, then recalled something else:
"I remember what you said before. When someone opens up again and again, they eventually come to trust you. Because you know them, perhaps better than anyone else."
She paused. "Does that apply even to someone like Sylas? Someone with other motives?"
"Everyone seeks recognition, Luxanna," the teacher said.
"Especially someone who has been forgotten by the world for over a decade."
"To him, you are the only connection to something beyond this cell. He wants to leave. That longing will draw him toward you. In that process, you can reshape his mind—your way."
Luxanna shivered slightly at the words. Her teacher's voice was calm, logical… but to her, it felt ruthless.
Before, she could never have imagined doing something like this.
Even now, some part of her hesitated.
"Teacher… is this necessary?"
The voice softened, but its edge was undeniable:
"If you think your beliefs are wrong, it's unnecessary."
Luxanna froze. And then, like the sun breaking through a clouded sky, her doubts cleared.
She did believe. This was the right path.
Helping Sylas think like her wasn't manipulation—it was justice.
"I understand, Teacher."
"Good. Have you chosen what book to bring him next time?"
At that, Luxanna hesitated again, a little embarrassed.
Her outburst had served two purposes: to convince Kuris and the others she hadn't been swayed, and to signal that she would return.
And when she returned, she needed to bring something.
He had been isolated for 15 years. If he were to follow her, he needed knowledge—new ideas, new perspectives.
"…Teacher, do you have a recommendation?"
She had thought of bringing a Demacian history book, but now… she wasn't so sure.
The teacher's answer came with the calm confidence she had come to rely on.
"The book you've just read—On Empire. It's perfect. Though it's written by Noxians, by their president and vice president, many of its ideas fit your current situation. You can use it to begin guiding him toward your vision."
Luxanna's eyes lit up.
"On Empire… that book truly changed the way I think."
She nodded with conviction. Lately, under her teacher's suggestion, she'd read more and more Noxian texts.
Their ideas were bold, even dangerous—but undeniably powerful.
Even as a Demacian, she had to admit… Noxus was far ahead in thought and governance.
There was so much to learn.
Demacia could not afford to stay stagnant forever.
With that in mind, Luxanna quickened her pace toward the estate.
She had heard that a new shipment of books had arrived today.
Not smuggled goods—official imports.
The first fruits of the tentative, quiet trade between Demacia and Noxus…