Kill Again

A pair of eyes stayed calm even in the dark, hidden beneath the shadow of a hat brim. The face showed no expression. The lips were pressed together, and an old scar crossed the bridge of the nose. The coat collar was turned up, hiding the chin and neck.

The Vice Warden opened his mouth to shout.

Jack shoved a fragment of Seastone straight into the Vice Warden's mouth.

Where had the Seastone come from? He had pocketed it before escaping, of course.

Jack's two hands clamped around his neck at once.

His left hand gripped one side of the man's Adam's apple, his right the other. His steel-hard fingertips dug into the skin, crushing the windpipe and carotid arteries. The Vice Warden's shout caught in his throat. All that came out was a muffled gasp, like a duck with someone's foot on its neck. He raised his hands to grab Jack's wrists, but the moment his fingers touched that steel-hard skin, he knew something was wrong. It was far too hard to be human.

He tried to activate his fruit power.

The Chain-Chain Fruit needed no incantation or gesture, only a thought. The word "chains" flashed through his mind, and the power activated, firing iron chains from his palms to bind his opponent's hands, feet, and neck.

But with Seastone in his mouth, he could not use his power.

Jack squeezed with both hands. His steel-hard knuckles crushed the thyroid cartilage with a crisp crack, like a thin branch snapping underfoot.

Fragments of cartilage pierced the windpipe and esophagus. Blood poured from the tears, blocking his airway. The Vice Warden's eyes bulged, his pupils dilated, and blood vessels streaked the whites of his eyes. His lips turned purple. His tongue protruded, and a wet gurgle rose from his throat as blood bubbled in his windpipe.

His hands slipped from Jack's wrists and fell to his sides, fingers still twitching. His legs kicked wildly beneath the chair, his leather shoes thudding against the carpet. His body twisted in the chair, its legs scraping across the floor with a harsh creak.

But his struggle was weak. Not because he lacked strength, but because Jack's grip was too powerful. Those steel-hard fingers held his neck like iron clamps, cutting off the blood supply. Within seconds, his brain began to starve of oxygen. His consciousness faded fast. Color drained from his vision, then shapes blurred, then everything went dark.

A cheer rose from the direction of the arena. The guards had probably finished fixing the iron cage and were testing whether the new wire mesh could withstand an impact. The cheering came through several layers of concrete, muffled and indistinct, just loud enough to drown out the Vice Warden's last few kicks against the carpet.

The Vice Warden stopped moving.

His eyes remained open, pupils unfocused, lips purple, tongue hanging out. Deep grip marks ringed his neck. Jack's fingertips had left four bluish-purple dents in the skin. Where the thyroid cartilage had shattered, there was a visible hollow, as though something had struck him there.

Jack let go.

The Vice Warden slid from the chair and landed headfirst. His neck bent at an unnatural angle with a faint crack. He lay sprawled on the carpet like a crushed insect. His expression was not one of fear, but confusion. His final thought had been "chains," but those chains would never appear.

A system notification lit up in the center of Jack's vision.

"Sacrifice complete. Paramecia Chain-Chain Fruit Lineage Factor extracted."

"Heartsteel maximum +10. Current maximum: 70. Heartsteel stacks: 6/70."

"Random selection in progress..."

Option One

Category: Hextech ARAM Rune

Name: Imperial Mandate

Effect: When your skill or basic attack slows or immobilizes an enemy champion, it marks them. When an allied champion attacks the marked target, they deal additional explosive magic damage and grant you one stack of "Retaliation," increasing the damage of your next skill.

Description: A rune based on the Imperial Mandate item's mechanics, ideal for mages or supports with crowd control. It greatly amplifies your burst damage alongside your teammates', especially in small fights where you outnumber the enemy.

Option Two

Category: Item

Name: Blade of the Ruined King

Effect: Grants attack damage, attack speed, and life steal. Basic attacks deal bonus physical damage equal to 9% of the target's current health for melee users, or 6% for ranged users. Active effect: Steals an enemy's movement speed and deals magic damage.

Description: A tank killer suited to champions who rely on attack speed and on-hit effects. Excellent against tanks and at kiting enemies.

Option Three

Category: Champion Skill

Name: Yasuo [W Skill — Wind Wall]

Effect: Yasuo cast a wall of wind that moved slowly forward and lasted four seconds. It blocked all enemy champion projectiles, including basic attacks, projectile skills, and even some summoner spells.

Description: Used well, this skill could change the course of a teamfight. A perfectly timed Wind Wall could shut down an enemy ADC's damage for several seconds or block a crucial crowd-control skill. It was central to Yasuo's ability to survive and turn fights around in a melee.

Yasuo's Wind Wall is powerful, but I'm choosing the Blade of the Ruined King. Not for the attack damage or attack speed. I keep running into fast opponents, and all I can do is defend and counterattack. With the Blade, I can steal some speed.

Jack chose the Blade of the Ruined King and closed the notification.

He looked down at the Vice Warden's corpse and was silent for two seconds. He felt no guilt, no pleasure, no unnecessary emotion. The man deserved to die. He was Bege's spy in Iron Cage City. He controlled the chains that bound the slaves, and his hands were stained with the blood of countless people. Killing him needed no justification, only an opportunity.

A full-length mirror stood in the corner.

It had an iron frame, and its surface was scratched and water-stained, but the reflection was clear enough. Jack stood before it and looked at himself.

An old dark-gray coat, its collar turned up to hide his chin. A fisherman's hat pulled low over his forehead and eyes. Only part of his nose and his lips showed beneath the brim.

Blood stained the coat. Not from today—it had splashed onto him yesterday when he crushed the fruit and killed Doberman. It had dried to a dark brown, barely visible against the dark-gray fabric. Bandages protruded from his cuffs, the white cloth soaked pink with blood.

His face was different from a week ago. His features had not changed; his eyes had. A week ago, this body had belonged to a terrified boy from a fishing village, his eyes full of fear and despair. Now Jack's eyes held nothing. No fear, no despair, no anger, no murderous intent. Only an absolute calm, untouched by emotion. Like a mirror reflecting everything before it while holding nothing of its own.

He stared at himself for a second.

Then he looked away.

The Beli was still on the desk, bundled in stacks worth at least several million in total. He did not touch a single Beli. He leafed through the betting slips. A few bore the names of the Arena Master and Bege, so he folded those and put them in his pocket.

He took the keys from the wall. The bunches were linked by iron rings and hung heavy in his hand. He hooked them onto his belt and pushed open the door.

The corridor was still empty.

Jack stepped out from the corner and headed for the stairs.