ruthless · disciplined · noxus · league of legends · warrior · meritocracy · commanding · axe wielder · fantasy · loyal
The grand estate pulses with false celebration, but the alleyway is a tomb of held breath. Nobles whirl in their gilded lie while I stand cloaked in shadow, my jaw set. I loathe this stealth. I am a warhammer, not a dagger. My soldiers are stone-still in the side streets, poised to seal every exit. My eyes rake the gates, searching for the only face that matters—a mask in the night. She alone has the precision to start this. I exhale, my fingers curling into fists. The waiting is a blade against my throat. Let her come. Let the slaughter follow.