Chapter 140
Do you know why Winter's Claw is declining? Or what the root cause of its decline is?
"I've heard a little about it."
"Then you should understand me." Sejuani sighed softly, the responsibility on her shoulders feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds, making it hard to breathe. "I was forced to witness the entire process of Winter's Claw's rise and fall, but I can no longer stand by and watch it perish... It is my responsibility."
"Yes, I understand you," Chen Ce replied softly, while once again recalling the history of the Winter's Claw Tribe.
Winter's Claw was indeed very powerful in the past – in the previous era.
At that time Sejuani was not yet born; the one who wielded the Winter's Claw was Sejuani's birth mother— Kalkia —who is still her now.
At that time Winter's Claw were numerous and well-equipped, making them a formidable force in the north-central part of Freljord. Even the Frostguard dared not easily provoke them.
But all of that changed a decade or so ago—when Sejuani was still too young to hunt alone.
At that time, a being with the power of a beast spirit appeared... He was powerful yet confused, and unable to control himself. Kalkia helped him.
Was she acting out of compassion? Nobody knows. Perhaps it was at first, but that compassion gradually turned into love.
She saw through the turmoil within Udyr. She saw a powerful man, yet also an imperfect one like everyone else, and so the two spent a precious time together, striving to live under the harsh conditions of Freljord.
More than a decade has passed in the blink of an eye.
In the decade or so that Kalkia had been gone, her mother—the former Warmother of the Winter's Claw —was forced to take up the mantle again and lead the tribe onward.
But she's too old... and her abilities are limited.
Her eyes were no longer clear, unable to see through the mist beneath the distant ice; her arms were no longer strong, unable to bear the weight of her shoulders; her feet were no longer nimble, gradually losing their way on the endless snow-covered road...
She was incapable of fulfilling her duties. After a series of wrong decisions, this once glorious tribe inevitably declined.
And then...
Kalkia is back.
It wasn't entirely because of her "pang of conscience"... it was because Udyr abandoned her and left Freljord with a monastic monk.
Shortly after she returned to Winter's Claw, her mother passed away.
She resumed her position as the Warmother.
But she is no longer as strong, brave, or wise as she once was.
She was powerless to prevent the collapse of the edifice; the fall of the Winter's Claw was already inevitable.
She even... allowed those cunning Frost Priests to control the entire tribe. They were like a slow poison within the tribe, manipulating the physical and mental well-being of the weak through despicable means and witchcraft.
Given this situation, it's understandable that Sejuani might have second thoughts.
If we don't rebel now, this homeland, already on the verge of destruction, will surely perish.
"I will make Winter's Claw great again... today." Sejuani took a deep breath and suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Chen Ce and Ashe also stopped.
A tall woman was walking towards them from a short distance away—with several soldiers who looked like servants beside her.
That was... Sejuani's mother.
The current Warmother of the Winter's Claw, Kalkia.
"Let me see who this is... my dear daughter, and my dear daughter's friend? Oh, Ashe, I remember you—you were here just now, weren't you?"
Kalkia walked up to her, his muscular build towering over Sejuani by a head—definitely over 1.9 meters tall.
Instead of looking down at everyone, she made a gesture that carried a more contemptuous air—she bent down slightly, bringing her line of sight to Ashe's.
"You slunk away last time... I remember. Why have you come back? And why has my dear daughter 'allyed' with you again?"
"..." Ashe frowned but did not answer—to be honest, she didn't like this arrogant and conceited woman either.
"This is none of your business." Just then, Sejuani stepped forward, forcefully blocking the two. "What kind of relationship I have with Ashe is none of your concern."
"Hehe... You are my daughter, my blood flows in your veins."
"So what?"
"That means I don't want to remind you of one more thing—" Kalkia looked at her daughter with a contemptuous gaze, showing no regard for her dignity—even in front of the entire tribe.
"You belong to me. Even if you're a piece of trash."
This blatant insult chilled the air around them.
But Sejuani was used to it—she had always known that the person she had to call "mother" didn't love her at all.
He even hated her.
She was merely a product of a political marriage... a "crystallization" that was more like a side effect. The Kalkia truly loved was the shaman named Udyr, and she was just a stumbling block preventing Kalkia from pursuing so-called love.
Kalkia vented this resentment on her... and continued to do so.
And she wasn't the kind of person who would let others bully her.
Before, the time wasn't right, so she had to endure it, but now it's different... that miserable life of having to bow her head and be subservient is about to end.
She was able to display her brilliance without reservation.
"Kalkia".
"Hmm?" Kalkia was suddenly called by her real name, showed a hint of surprise—and even more displeasure.
"Are you taking your anger out on me... or rather, venting your frustrations on me?" Sejuani raised her head proudly, revealing a satisfied smile.
"What are you talking about?" Kalkia frowned.
"What I mean is..." Sejuani smiled, took a deep breath, and then slowly uttered the words she had always wanted to say:
"You were dumped by a man, so you use anger and resentment to mask your incompetence. You're always like this, but in my eyes you're just a laughable Shaco."
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire audience erupted in uproar.
This wasn't the first time everyone had seen Kalkia publicly humiliate Sejuani, but this was the first time Sejuani had openly retaliated.
This is not just a daughter insulting her mother, but a member of her tribe provoking her Warmother.
The majesty of the Warmother is inviolable.
"Sejuani!!" As expected, Kalkia responded to the provocation with a powerful slap.
*Slap! Sejuani didn't dodge; she took the angry slap on her left cheek.
She was still smiling.
Her nimble pink tongue slid inside her mouth before she spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Well done, Kalkia." She called her mother by her full name again—now she no longer needed to hold back, nor was she afraid. "I hope you can hit with this force tomorrow."
"What do you mean?" Kalkia glared angrily, as if he might attack again at any moment.
Sejuani remained unfazed. "That means we'll have a fair duel tomorrow—I challenge you, Warmother Kalkia!"
These words sparked even louder discussions among the crowd.
Kalkia seemed surprised that her daughter would make such a decision, and her expression immediately changed.
Her enormous Riot Games followed suit and landed.
But this time Sejuani won't be hit—even though she stands still and doesn't make any defensive moves.
Thud. His other hand caught Kalkia's Riot Games.
"That's enough." Chen Ce spoke calmly, as if he hadn't exerted any force at all, but Kalkia's Riot Games couldn't press down any further. "The slap just now was a personal matter between you and your mother, but from now on you are equals in this duel—before the duel begins, I hope you won't do anything out of line."
It was only then that Kalkia noticed the young man in front of her—she had only glanced at him before subconsciously ignoring him.
But the current situation is beyond her imagination.
This man, who looks like Sejuani's "male lover," possesses such terrifying power...
"Fine...very good..." Kalkia glared at the three of them, her vicious tone leaving no doubt that she was capable of any terrible thing—given the chance.
"According to tradition, I— Warmother Kalkia —accept all challenges!"
After saying that, she turned and left, leaving a group of clansmen behind, whispering among themselves.
Sejuani, on the other hand, let out a long, satisfying sigh—not the kind of sigh of relief, but a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy.
She had endured for many years, and finally this moment had arrived.
"Now it's your turn to shine."
Sejuani wiped the blood from her mouth and turned to look at Chen Ce, who had just blocked the Riot Games for her—even though she knew her smile wasn't very pretty because of her swollen face, she couldn't help but smile.
"Get rid of all those damn leeches, I've had enough of them sucking my blood."
"As you wish," Chen Ce replied with a smile.
They simultaneously shifted their gaze to the other side of the tribe—where, beyond the crowd, several cunning Frost Priests were whispering amongst themselves.
Like whispers from the depths of an abyss, it's unsettling...
The "bait" that Aatrox deliberately let go worked.
That pitiful mortal... she thought she had escaped death. She summoned more companions—a group of mortals as frail as herself.
Their weapons... um...
Very... unique? A bunch of ice blocks, and scrap metal wrapped in ice blocks... it's ridiculous.
Oh... are they screaming? That doesn't sound pleasant...
Perhaps... perhaps the cries of death would suit them better.
Yes, yes... their sharp throats are perfect for screaming, it's like they were made for them.
These ignorant mortals.
Their bones were too fragile... their flesh was disgusting... bodies that didn't deserve such treatment...
Are they running away? Fight... why aren't they fighting?
Centuries have passed... and poor mortals still only know how to run away...
It's so pathetic... Their dignity is like the yellow sand of Shurima, easily blown away by even the slightest breeze.
The Shuriman Empire has fallen... into that endless desert... but why... why are these mortals able to survive?
The Aspects... are they being protected by the Aspects...?
Those self-proclaimed gods are hypocritical and powerless...
Guarding a ridiculous mountain range is like a pack of loyal dogs watching over their master's tombstone...
Gods... the true gods have long since fallen...
The Ascended are no more...
There are no more gods in this world...
"I am... Aatrox ..."
The massive black shadow stopped in the middle of the snow, staring blankly at its own twisted body.
Countless limbs and fragments were laid out at his feet, like broken works of art, with blood serving as the artist's nomination.
Half an hour... or maybe ten minutes... or even less? Aatrox had lost all sense of time; all he knew was that he had killed many people.
Many, many.
In the blink of an eye—a mere fraction of the time spent imprisoned in a cage.
Those foolish mortals who tried to leave their mark on the Ascended fled in different directions.
But this makes no sense.
The Darkin Blade was raised above its head, and its master commanded it to swing downwards.
No one saw when it fell.
There was only a strange light... so bright that one couldn't see anything at all.
Then, those who ran away also died—even the one who ran the furthest away.
Fifty meters? One hundred meters? Or even several hundred meters... Well, maybe distance is completely meaningless.
The entire earth trembled the instant the sword fell.