The moment he traced the target, Ryan vanished without a trace.
Even before he arrived, the sky above the area had already begun to change.
In the previously dim skies, a radiant rune formation suddenly materialized.
Dark blue runes cascaded down like a waterfall, weaving a tight magical web.
The runes shimmered as they melted and merged together—magic fusing into itself like molten metal.
Then, in an instant, a massive black water curtain formed overhead.
It was darker than night, like a shadow dragon devouring clouds, churning violently in the sky before surging downward.
Whoooosh—
The sound of rushing water echoed everywhere, an overwhelming force plummeting toward the yellow sand and dry earth.
"Whoo, whoo, whoo!"
As soon as the magic-formed black dragon struck the ground, the desert sizzled with a sound like fire meeting water.
White smoke rose from the surface, laced with a sharp, acidic stench.
When the smog lifted, what lay beneath was shocking—what had seemed like mere water had carved a massive crater into the earth. It didn't soak the sand; it corroded it.
Whoosh—
The continuous pressure of the black dragon's torrent gouged a sinkhole tens of meters wide.
The bottom wasn't even visible.
Under the weight of the magic dragon's presence, the hollow ground below was revealed.
"Ho—!"
A sudden roar thundered from the cave's depths, echoing across the wasteland.
The crater became a natural amplifier, magnifying the sound countless times.
Then, a black and purple creature leapt out from below.
A massive Voidborn.
Its roar had come from deep within its twisted form.
Triggered by the black water, it emerged snarling, its limbs scorched and smoking where the liquid had touched it.
The Voidborn's ethereal body stood nearly three meters tall, its gaping mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth.
A thick, purple tail lashed violently behind it, cracking the ground.
As the runes faded, the dragon dispersed. Ryan's figure slowly drifted down from the sky.
He glanced at the Voidborn once—as if he had already seen everything he needed.
"Remote-controlled soul. The fragment you split off is as weak as an insect."
After extensive research with Syndra, Ryan had concluded that Voidborn didn't possess souls—at least, not in the traditional sense.
They were fundamentally different from material beings.
Lacking true consciousness, their behavior was driven purely by instinct.
Even the captured Voidborn had followed this same principle.
He and Syndra had even tried injecting mortal souls into Voidborn, but every experiment had ended the same way—those souls were devoured by the Void, turned into fuel.
A disappointing outcome, perhaps, but it confirmed their theory: the Void could not contain true souls.
Or rather, it could only accept ones already tainted by it.
Like Kai'Sa.
Or... the one inside this massive phantom.
"Ryan...Maradish...Void...great...all-consuming...unstoppable!"
The giant phantom roared, its guttural voice laced with the cadence of ancient Shuriman.
Ryan smirked, his tone light and amused.
"Amakra? There was a legend about a 'prophet' when the Empire's army passed through that region."
Even though the Voidborn's speech was warped, he could still catch its meaning.
Shurima's regional dialects were notorious—many cities had their own names for the same things.
In the Kennesser region, "Meredith" was pronounced "Mereteth," flat and clipped.
But only in the Amakran dialect did it become "Maradish."
Amakra, a coastal city now under Noxian control, had been one of the first desert cities to establish a Noxtola outpost.
"Hoo! I...from...the Void! I...finally...belong to...the Void!"
The phantom howled again, rejecting Ryan's words with a fierce sense of conviction.
Ryan didn't respond right away.
Sensing that Kai'Sa remained calm and safe, he turned his thoughts inward.
"Let me remember how the story went…"
"They spoke of a prophet who could glimpse the future. He lived in seclusion in Amakra, often disguised as a desert traveler walking through the city…"
Ryan's voice was casual, almost nostalgic. He smiled slightly as he added:
"An excellent temporal affinity. If you'd been born during the Icathian era, you might have made it onto the Mage Council."
"Icathia... embraced the Void... they are...heralds…"
The Voidling's voice trembled with reverence, its devotion nearly religious.
"Void—the forbidden power they uncovered. A force that devours everything. In their eyes, it could even bring down mighty Shurima. So tell me… what is it you seek?"
Ryan hovered in the air, gazing at the massive Void spirit before him, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He couldn't tell if the creature was fearless—or simply lacked the spiritual depth to comprehend fear.
If their roles were reversed, he would have erased the soul inside this Void creature in an instant.
Souls split from the same origin could share information across vast distances—even across continents.
He knew this from experience.
But such transmission was never without trace...
The more often it happened, the easier it became for others to track... or even interfere.
"Void... all... will return... home. The Void... brings... equality."
The Voidling's eyes flickered with unease.
Its long tail slammed into the ground as it roared out its beliefs.
Ryan stood before it, yet the creature couldn't see even a fragment of his future.
That—aside from the Void itself—had never happened before.
"The Void? Is that truly worthy of being the final destination for material life?"
Ryan's voice carried both mockery and curiosity.
"Swallowing all living things might be a form of equality... but would it include you and me as well?"
Thanks to the Empire's support, Syndra had gathered everything she could about the so-called "prophet."
Eventually, it reached Ryan's hands.
Among the records was the "Legend of the Prophet" of Amakrah.
The prophet wasn't just a seer of fate—he accepted payment for his visions.
In the beginning, his readings were for the poor, asking only a few crusts of brown bread.
He expected little.
But fame never remains simple.
As his name spread, so did his fees.
Eventually, only a cart full of jewels could buy a single glimpse into the future.
At the peak of his influence, the prophet vanished from Amakrah.
Soon after, rumors of him surfaced across Shurima—in deserts, ruins, abandoned temples...
Only those deemed "chosen" ever saw his face or heard their futures told.
But after he neared Icathia… there was no further word.
Ryan's gaze never left the Void spirit as he recalled the details, analyzing them mentally.
A Voidborn with power wasn't terrifying in itself.
A prophet with no strength but limited foresight wasn't a threat either.
But a prophet with Void power?
That was dangerous—even to the Empire.
Perhaps Ryan's earlier question had been too pointed, too complex.
The massive phantom paused for a long time, even its tail falling still.
Then, it howled again:
"The Void... is equality... and I... am already... part of it. You... embrace... the Void... you will... become... a new... god!"
Ryan's eyes lit up with interest for the first time.
So this wasn't just about the "prophet."
That phrase didn't sound like something he would say.
It likely came from the being behind him—something more powerful.
Empires have resources that most cannot imagine.
If Ryan needed information on the "prophet," the Empire could provide every trace of his appearances within days.
At the same time, their intelligence division would launch a full psychological profile on him—detailing his tendencies, motivations, and likely future behavior.
All major figures related to the Empire had such records—kept in the most secure vaults in Noxus.
He understood things that most people could never perceive.
Back then, Swain had offered a line of analysis in his report:
"If one sees all, yet believes in nothing—they will inevitably long for the end of the world."
To the "prophet," status and hierarchy had no meaning.
He likely viewed them as delusions of man.
Therefore, placing him in a position of power—let alone as a leader of the Void—would be inherently contradictory.
If not for an even more terrifying presence behind him… then perhaps...
He had seen his own future—and in it, he did become a god of the Void.
Two possibilities.
Both... deeply intriguing.
Ryan's lips curled slightly, his expression relaxed, a rare pleasure lighting up his features.
Magic had always been his way of exploring truth, of chasing the unknown.
And now, in front of him, a new mystery was unraveling.
"Void gods... I wonder just how powerful they truly are."
The Voidling sensed the disdain in his voice. Its massive eyes burned with violet light as it roared, fury boiling from within:
"The Void... gods... will... devour... the world!"
"Such confidence," Ryan sneered.
"Then let's see how this 'Void' intends to destroy us."
He let out a mocking chuckle, but his tone quickly sharpened:
"Once, the ancestors of the Freljord stood against you. And under the glory of ancient Shurima, the Void was repelled by force."
"Heh… it seems you creatures never learn."
His expression turned cold.
Raising his chin slightly, Ryan floated upright in the air, the hem of his robe trailing like a banner caught in frozen wind.
At that moment, the commanding aura of the Noxian Empire radiated from him—its weight, its ruthlessness, its unshakable dominance—all etched into his very presence.
In the next breath, the light of runes ignited in his eyes.
They flared with piercing brilliance, as if they could see straight through the soul of the Void spirit before him, stripping away all its illusions.
He lifted his head and looked toward the distant depths of Icathia.
"Let the Void come. My Empire and I await your invasion!"
His words weren't just a declaration—they pierced through the barriers of space itself, echoing into the true location of the so-called "prophet."
There, a massive Void rift had already formed—unstable, shifting, and dangerous. And within that swirling darkness, a humanoid figure stood motionless at the threshold of the Void.
The passage was growing—slowly but steadily.
Each passing moment widened it, bit by bit.
Left unchecked, it would one day become a gate large enough to usher the Void into Runeterra itself.
"Ryan Maradish..."
From within that humanoid figure, countless shadowy shapes stirred—lurking deep in the Void.
One of them twitched.
Then, in a low, ancient tongue—an old Icathian dialect warped by the chaos of the Void—a voice rang out:
"The Void... greets you."