Piltover Ablaze (3)

Within Noxus's armies, there were many official posts. The nation had a comparatively loose administrative system, and many legions were scattered all across the world. However, there was only one legion that possessed the rank of "Instructor."

And only it was allowed to possess it.

With deep awe, Garen lifted his head and looked up at the man before him. To be fair, Garen's build was already terrifyingly burly, but compared to Kronos, he looked like a frail, ordinary man.

"No need to belittle yourself. We have all seen the speed of your promotions. Were those children rescued by you?"

Kronos removed his helmet, the Three Golden Nails on his forehead reflecting the tiny glimmers in the air. His stern face made the children let out a small cry in perfect unison—they had thought this giant simply looked like that, and had never expected there to actually be a person inside!

"Yes, Instructor."

Garen flicked his greatsword and traced out a beautiful flourish. In a somewhat subdued voice, he explained, "The orphanage's director ran away and abandoned the children inside."

"You cannot demand that others show kindness unconditionally."

Kronos nodded slightly and hung the Chainsword, which had long since stopped, back on his belt. He crouched down and carefully examined the private soldiers who had died miserable deaths, even sharing his observations with Garen.

"These men arrived very quickly," he said. "They were clearly prepared in advance. It seems these so-called 'families' of Piltover have already decided to join hands with their Council."

Garen frowned.

As the eldest son of Crownguard House, he possessed a broad perspective, and so he knew very well what sort of damn things Piltover's families were.

Relying on its geographic advantages, this city had accumulated unimaginable wealth over the past several centuries, but that wealth