After answering questions for the remaining students, Seraphine left the classroom alone.
As for Allie, who had been lazily sprawled across the podium earlier, she had long since vanished.
Seraphine figured she'd returned to Lady Syndra's side.
Allie adored Syndra's magic.
Stepping onto the stage, floating through the quiet halls of the academy, Seraphine once again felt that familiar sense of satisfaction settle over her.
She was living in the present, but her thoughts often drifted to the past—a past that felt like a different life entirely.
Back in Piltover, she had feared her powers, tormented daily by voices that weren't hers.
But then, through a series of fateful events, she met her teacher.
Under Syndra's guidance, she learned to embrace her gift and wield it purposefully.
Since then, she'd been pulled into events far larger than herself.
Just earlier, she'd been thinking how much Annie had changed.
Honestly, she wasn't so different either.
Everyone in their group had grown, in one way or another.
Thinking of Jinx still at the arena, Seraphine shook her head with a quiet laugh.
Even that wild, chaotic girl had found her reason to fight.
Ekko, having taken up a course in administration, was showing up at the arena less these days.
But Seraphine had always known—Ekko was special. The way his soul sang never changed.
"All for Zaun!"
His voice echoed in her memory, vibrant and full of defiant energy.
Every time she heard it, it made her blood surge with inspiration.
Humming softly, Seraphine tossed back her flowing pink hair and guided her floating stage toward the Mechanical Department's experimental lab.
Today was her scheduled meeting with Sister Orianna.
If the Magic Department was a peaceful kindergarten, the Mechanical Department was a madhouse laboratory—chaotic and brilliant.
She hadn't even arrived yet when the sounds hit her.
"The beauty of machinery!"
"I want to be the greatest craftsman in the world!"
"A tool forged by hand beats a machine!"
"My designs will shock even Noxus!"
"For Noxus, I need to master engineering!"
"Boom boom boom!"
...
The clamor of ambition and the roar of machines instantly filled her mind.
She pouted, wearing her usual expression of I knew it would be like this.
Despite the noise, she didn't activate the sound-shielding feature on her stage.
Instead, she listened calmly.
She'd spent plenty of time in the marketplaces and barracks of the Immortal Bastion—this chaos was nothing compared to the chorus of souls there.
Gliding into the lab, a few idle students nodded her way.
Most were too absorbed in their work to notice her.
Seraphine didn't mind and continued.
Enrollment in the Mechanical Department worked differently compared to others.
It was closer in structure to the Administration Department—only experienced artisans were accepted.
Orianna had explained it once.
The idea was to gather seasoned artisans to develop a proper system before taking on inexperienced recruits.
Eventually, the Mechanical Department would be renamed the Department of Mechanical Forging—something Professors had long dreamed of.
As the stage floated forward, Seraphine glanced to her right.
Molten lava glowed in a far corner of the proving ground—a burning, fiery red like a miniature sun.
Metal and flame. That was the heart of the forge.
And in the center of that heat, stood a man.
Calling him an old man might not have been quite right.
Although his hair and beard were pure silver, and deep lines framed the corners of his eyes, his bare upper body revealed clearly defined muscles, glistening with sweat, radiating heat.
Each swing of his hammer was full of raw power, crashing down with the force of a thunderclap.
If you covered his face, you'd mistake him for a young, battle-hardened man.
Bathed in the forge's glow, he continued striking the red-hot metal without pause.
He was Professor Hearthfire—the legendary blacksmith revered even among the Noxians.
"If it were Ezreal, I doubt he could even lift that hammer," Seraphine muttered with a wry smile as she watched.
The Mechanical Department's workspace was divided into two zones.
To her left, students focused on mechanical design and theory.
The atmosphere there was lively, but more restrained.
To her right, seasoned blacksmiths labored at the forge.
Sparks flew. Hammers clanged. A few observers stood nearby, scribbling notes diligently.
Seraphine scanned the space but saw no sign of Orianna.
A faint wave of disappointment passed through her.
Just then, a craftsman not far away waved and called out with a grin, "Looking for Professor Orianna, Teacher Seraphine? She's over in the private lab."
"Second Lieutenant Mill, thanks for the tip. How's the arm treating you?" she asked with a warm smile.
She recognized his voice instantly, but still replied out of courtesy.
Seraphine remembered Mill clearly.
He'd come to enroll his child, Ryder, while adjusting to life off the battlefield.
A valiant soldier who'd lost his right arm during the war.
"Hah! Still getting used to it, but it's better than my old one!" Mill chuckled and raised his mechanical arm with pride.
He smacked it twice—bang, bang—the sound firm, solid.
Though he no longer fought on the frontlines, serving the empire in this new capacity gave him a sense of renewed purpose.
He and his wife wouldn't have survived the chaos without the empire.
"Dad! A little help here!" Ryder, dressed in oil-stained overalls, struggled to carry some heavy equipment.
"I'm coming, you rascal! You only remember your old man when there's work to be done?" Mill laughed and jogged over, lifting the load easily thanks to his new arm.
Watching them, Seraphine smiled softly.
"Very nice…"
Now that she had her answer, she floated forward without hesitation, guiding her stage through a long corridor until she reached the private testing ground.
This chamber was slightly smaller but densely packed with strange prototypes and scattered tools.
But what drew her attention immediately were the two towering constructs at the center.
One was a massive humanoid frame, several meters tall.
The other, a full-body cyan armor suit, is equally immense.
These two mechanical giants alone occupied nearly all the central space.
And then, Seraphine noticed someone who caught her off guard.
"Professor LeBlanc. It's been a while," she greeted, nodding politely.
The slender woman—elegant and ever enigmatic—stood with her back half-turned, her presence unmistakable.
LeBlanc was the main professor of the Magic Department, though Seraphine hadn't seen her around lately.
Rumor had it she'd been tangled in affairs concerning Demacia.
"Seraphine," LeBlanc purred, her voice rich and beguiling.
"How does it feel, standing before these creations?"
Seraphine's heart tightened at the question.
She looked again at the towering figure before her—its presence strangely... familiar.
After a long moment, she replied, uncertainly:
"A corpse... an armor... and... a raging soul?"
"That's all?" LeBlanc exhaled, sounding almost disappointed.
Seraphine blinked.
"Isn't there?"
From what she could sense—aside from Orianna, who was quietly sketching diagrams off to the side—those were the only things here.
Still, something about the armor unsettled her.
It radiated a powerful spiritual presence...
A soul. Angry. Dormant. But not gone.
She had only felt something similar once before—from Meredith's Soulstealer Scroll.
And yet, this armor's presence was far, far more intense.
"Maybe not..." LeBlanc shrugged, her tone vague, evasive.
She neither confirmed nor denied.
Seraphine frowned, focusing harder. Still, she couldn't find anything more.
"Is there something special about it?" she asked cautiously.
Her voice was hesitant, curious, but guarded.
With LeBlanc, it always paid to be wary.
Seraphine couldn't hear her soul's voice, which was deeply unsettling.
It meant LeBlanc had protections—or something far worse.
"A war machine who once took Jarvan I's head," LeBlanc said with a sly smile, "and a tyrant nearly worshipped as a god."
Seraphine froze.
She glanced back at the towering cyan armor instinctively.
No matter how she probed, it remained silent, like a lifeless shell.
Yet something about LeBlanc's words lingered in the air like smoke.
Seraphine knew of the undead warlord Sion, the executioner who felled King Jarvan I.
Rumors claimed he had returned from death more than once, soul chained to flesh by arcane methods.
The last time he'd been spotted was alongside Mr. Ryan, as the empire's brutal spear on the battlefield.
She had always assumed the cyan armor at his side was Sion's.
But now...
Could it be that the armor was not his, but the tyrant's?
She concentrated again, sensing the lingering energy, but still found nothing clear.
Only echoes of fury, sealed deep.
"Professor LeBlanc," Orianna spoke suddenly, as if noticing Seraphine's subtle probing.
"We've found no trace of a soul within the underworld armor."
LeBlanc's gaze flickered, but her voice was unreadable.
"Perhaps not yet... But there's no better vessel."
"Vessel?" Seraphine repeated in her mind, more puzzled than before.
She said nothing aloud, only listened intently.
Orianna shook her head, her tone firm and clinical.
"According to teacher Ryan's directive, the goal is to fuse Sion's body and soul into the armor."
LeBlanc's brow twitched.
"And if that succeeds—how powerful would it become?"
Sion's body had been reforged over generations by imperial spellcraft.
His soul, carefully bound, still obeyed orders and fought for the empire.
But there was a fatal flaw.
Death upon death had frayed his soul—each resurrection leaving him more unstable.
In recent deployments, he had begun lashing out blindly, unable to tell friend from foe.
Any soul-wielder could shatter him now, with ease.
"If the fusion succeeds," Orianna said calmly, "his strength would surpass any mortal limit—perhaps even rival Kayle."
Seraphine's eyes widened slightly.
LeBlanc—who rarely showed surprise—turned to Orianna with uncharacteristic sharpness.
"You're serious?"
Orianna nodded once. She wasn't the type to exaggerate.
But no matter how powerful the body becomes, if the soul cannot sustain it...
"Professor LeBlanc, you understand the flaws in Sion's soul," Orianna said evenly.
"That's why, after studying this set of Underworld Armor, I've opted for a different plan."
"Oh?" LeBlanc's alluring voice held a flicker of genuine curiosity.
On the other side, Seraphine's eyes widened slightly.
She could sense this conversation was about something serious—perhaps even classified.
Orianna gathered the notes spread before her and began explaining, her tone methodical:
"General Swain can collect soul fragments. With the help of Ms. Syndra, we've developed a magic circle capable of integrating those fragments into a host's soul, enhancing and stabilizing it during fusion. In my design, this soul-forging circle will be engraved into the Underworld Armor itself."
"Sion is a God of War—anyone he slays will have part of their soul absorbed, feeding his power…"
"Furthermore, I discovered a rare magic circle in archives—its function is extraordinary: the soul can reinforce the body."
LeBlanc raised an eyebrow.
"Using soul power to fortify the physical body? That's usually an inefficient trade. Most mages would call that a waste."
Orianna smiled slightly and shook her head.
"For a mage, yes. But for Sion—or synthetic life like myself—it's vital. According to underworld sources, Teacher Ryan intends to prevent as many souls as possible from returning to the afterlife."
The word underworld made Seraphine's breath catch.
She had learned much from Syndra.
Still, hearing soul and underworld used so casually stirred unease in her chest.
Could her teacher's ambitions stretch even to dominion over life and death?
After all, Syndra already possessed power comparable to that of a World Rune.
What else could draw her attention now but the authority of the gods?
LeBlanc, unlike Seraphine, was less alarmed and more pragmatic. She frowned slightly in thought.
"And the odds of success?" she asked pointedly.
"I'd like to know why I'm asking. That armor... It's no ordinary artifact."
Orianna's face grew solemn.
"The Head anticipated that question. His answer was: 'The reforged Sion will always belong to Noxus.'"
LeBlanc exhaled slowly. A tension seemed to lift from her, and Seraphine noticed it.
"I'll look forward to good news then," LeBlanc said softly, stepping away.
"By then, I imagine you'll be the greatest mechanist Noxus has ever known."
With a faint chuckle, her figure faded into the air.
"The greatest mechanist..." Orianna echoed in a murmur, her voice thoughtful.
Her eyes shimmered faintly as she stood still, lost in memory.
She recalled her past conversation with Ryan... the idea of surpassing her Clockwork Demon—the most advanced creation she had ever built.
But this?
Wraith Sion...
That would be her masterpiece.
"Sister Orianna?" Seraphine called softly, blinking in surprise.
It was her first time seeing that fire in Orianna's gaze.
Until now, Orianna had always been gentle, composed—a girl of gears and grace.
But at that moment, she seemed almost alive.
This might be who Orianna truly was—before the mechanical transformations, before the silence.
After a pause, Orianna composed herself again and offered an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Sera. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
Seraphine grinned. "It's okay. It's nice to see you like this—so full of spirit!"
"Let's go," Orianna said warmly.
"We've still got work to do. Mr. Grotte doesn't like being kept waiting."
They stepped out together.
Every seventh day, the Academy closed for rest. Tomorrow was one such day.
Usually, the evening before, Orianna and Seraphine would volunteer at Hayden's Pavilion, the largest merit exchange center in the outer districts of the Immortal Bastion.
Following Councilor Morgana's urban reforms, Bastion had been divided into distinct zones: the ancient inner city, still bristling with fortress-like architecture from wartime, and the outer expanding town, now subdivided into southern, northern, eastern, and western quarters—home to most of the newly integrated Noxian populace.
As they exited the academy, Seraphine spotted a massive structure bustling with life nearby.
She drew a breath in awe.
"So many people... If Ezreal saw this, he'd probably lose his mind."
The building was the headquarters of the Explorers' Guild.
At its entrance stood a life-sized statue of Ezreal, dramatically posing mid-vault.
The statue alone had cost him two years' advance pay.
Just yesterday, the Empire had issued a new announcement:
Ezreal, Chief Explorer of Noxus, and Commander Katarina had jointly uncovered the long-lost Tomb of the Mage King of Icathia—a trove of arcane relics and ancient weapons, deemed invaluable to the empire.
The reward in merit points alone had left Seraphine speechless.
She hadn't earned that much in five years of teaching.
Let alone the generous material rewards…
"Well, they braved enormous danger," Orianna said, amused.
"They've earned their accolades."
In front of the Guild, many paused reverently by the statue, some whispering words of admiration.
While Darius and Ryan were legends among the soldiers, Ezreal was something else entirely—a symbol of hope and adventure, an explorer's patron saint.
But Ezreal, far off in Shurima's shifting sands, couldn't see this moment.
Seraphine shrugged. She was content with her life.
Having two brilliant teachers was already a blessing.
Soon, the two reached Hayden's Restaurant.
Orianna greeted the door host, Seth, with a nod and stepped inside.
Seraphine took Seth's assignment board and skimmed it.
"Looks like we're free today, Sister Orianna?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Only five prosthetic fittings for Orianna, and zero clients for psychological counseling.
Seth chuckled as he took back the board.
"Teacher Seraphine, most of those veterans only needed to hear your voice once. After that, their hearts began to heal. Noxians are strong people, but many break because of family…"
At the mention of family, his smile faltered.
Seraphine noticed. She tilted her head, reading his expression—and then, with a sudden flash in her eyes, declared:
"Well then! Since I have no clients today... How about a special performance?"