Now, both Zelas and Renekton are free. Azil didn't know why, but he defeated death and turned into an ascender. Under his will, Shurima was reborn. Ancient cities have risen from their bones under the sand, shaking off the weary dust that had accumulated during the millennia of sleep. However, if the news from the desert is true, then the brother whom Nasus once knew and loved is gone. Renekton has completely turned into a mad butcher, mercilessly killing everyone in the name of revenge.

"I made you do this." Nasus said.

He climbed to the top of the temple and tried his best to banish the thoughts about Renekton from his head. Across the boiling sea of sand, a monster roared Nasus's name.

A monster he was destined to face.

Nasus stood at the top of the temple, the votive band wrapped around his arms and belt tossing in the wind. He pestled the axe against the rough stone and looked around.

The solar disc reflects thousands of flakes of sunlight, and the metal surface is very rough and obviously unpolished. The hemp rope is extremely unsightly, and the clumsiness of the Vikola people's meticulous work is exposed here. The top floor is almost devoid of ornamentation, no huge stone platform carved with a star dome, no crimson drape, and no heroic reliefs that have passed the ascension ceremony.

Ten warriors, clad in dusty cloaks and covered in bronze plate armor, stood between Nasus and the Priesthood. It was a tall, lanky man, dressed in a robe full of iridescent feathers, with large sleeves like flying wings, and a turban like an ebony beak. The face under the turban looks extravagant, without mercy, and awe-inspiring.

It's no different from Azir.

"Are you Nasus," the cleric asked. His voice was deep and wide, with a royal tone, but Nasus felt his fear. It's one thing to claim to have seen a god coming, but it's another to see it with your own eyes.

"If you ask, it means that I have been gone for too long. Yes, I'm Nasus. But more importantly, who are you?"

The priest straightened his back and puffed out his chest, like a male bird in mating season. "I'm Azrahir? Seram, descendant of the Eagle King, the first precursor of Vikola, the Man of Light, the Lightwalker, the Firekeeper, the Briller of the Dawn"

"Descendant of the Eagle King" Nasus interrupted him: "You said you are the blood of Emperor Azir"

"Needless to say, I am." The priesthood grew impatient, and confidence returned to him bit by bit. "Come on, tell me what you want."

Nasus nodded, then drew his axe and held his hands across his chest.

"Your blood." Nasus said.

He slammed the handle of his axe into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. The smoke and dust stopped in mid-air, like a shimmering veil, and then slowly fell in circles around the clergyman and his warriors

"What are you doing?" the other party snapped.

"I said, I want to see your blood."

In the blink of an eye, the round cloud of sand turned into a hurricane. The samurai involuntarily covered their faces, and the priests couldn't see clearly, choking and coughing, and bent their waists in half. The sandstorm envelops the furious winds of the deepest part of the desert and can wring a group of Icasur into skeletons in an instant. Armor is useless, and grains of sand will creep in and break through people's skin from every nook and cranny. The solar disc swayed back and forth in the wind summoned by Nasus, and the slings in the hoops tightened.

Nasus let the fury of the sea of sand fill his body, his limbs filled with strength and his body swelled, as if the roaring desert poured its anger into his dark flesh. He grew larger and larger, towering terribly, like the original Ascended in legend.

Without warning, he made a move, swinging his axe left and right, smashing the guards to the sides with the handle or bladeless side. He didn't want to kill these people, after all, they were all Shurima's heirs. They just happened to get in his way.

He passed the tumbling and struggling bodies of the samurai and walked towards the priesthood. The guy was lying on the ground curled up in a ball, his bloodied hands covering his face. Nasus bent down and pinched the back of his neck so that his feet were a foot off the ground, as easily as a hound picking up a pup. Nasus pressed close to his face.

The clergyman's face was covered with blood from the sand, and there were scarlet tears on his cheeks. Nasus carried him closer to the solar disk. Although this disc is a fake, it has not melted into half a cent of gold, but it is still able to reflect sunlight, and that is enough.

"You say you're a descendant of Azir, so let's check it out."

He pressed the clergyman's face to the disc, the sun-scorched metal burning his wounded skin, and all he could hear was a scream. Nasus tossed the weeping man aside and stared at the hissing stream of blood on the disc. The blood had been roasted into brown lumps, and the smell of blood wafted into his nose.

"Your blood does not belong to the Ascension Bloodline." Nasus said sadly, "You're not the person I'm looking for. ”

Suddenly, a flash of blue light flashed on the surface of the disk, reflecting the scene from far away. His eyes narrowed.

Nasus turned to look at the end of the horizon. There was a cloud gathered there, dust stirred up by the marching troops. Through the smoke, Nasus could see the glittering sunlight reflected off the tip of the spear and armor. He heard the beating of war drums and the sharp sound of military trumpets. The figure of the pack mount appeared in the dust. The screaming beasts were tied to their yokes with thick ropes and driven away by soldiers with bars in their hands. With calcified scales and crooked fangs, these monsters are natural battering rams that effortlessly bulldoze the already crumbling walls of Vikola.

Behind the war beast was a large tribal warband. Holding aloft all kinds of totems, they are heading towards the city. There were at least five hundred lightly armed guerrillas, mounted archers, and warriors armed with scaly shields and heavy axes. Nasus realized that there was a will-righteous ruler who led them. Because under normal circumstances, these tribes will fight to the death once they meet.

Nasus sensed the presence of ancient magic, and his mouth smelled metallic. All his senses became sensitive. He heard hundreds of chattering whispers beneath the temple, saw every flaw in the copper disc, felt every grain of sand beneath his feet. A pungent smell of blood rushed into his nostrils, a wound that should have just stopped. The smell reminded him of the old days, and the echoes of a time long since it had been lost. His attention was directed to the eastern part of the city, where at the very edge, the ruins of the city met the mountains.

The awakening magic floated above the host. It was a dark energy crackling spirit, wrapped in chains of cast iron and fragments of an ancient sarcophagus. It was the disobedient man of Shurima and the accomplisher of the fall of the ancient empire.

"Zelas." Nasus said.

The ruined house on the eastern edge of Vikola was barely a part of it, with a large skylight on the roof and ankle-deep sand on the ground, but still four walls. When the day is hottest, there is just a shade overhead that can be slightly shaded. Taliyah's package stood in the corner of the room, ready to pick it up and leave as usual. On the walls hung skins containing water and goat's milk, and beside the clothes lay dried meat that lasted for several weeks, and the leather bags were filled with stones collected from all over the Valoran continent.

Taliyah knelt down against the wounded woman, who was lying in the shade of a tree and wrapped in bandages. She glanced at the blood that had crusted around the wound and shivered, even though the wound had been stitched up by her own hands. She wasn't sure, the wound looked like a sword wound. Taliyah helped her take off her armor and cleaned her body as much as she could. Aside from the almost fatal wound, the woman's body is a map of scars. It's been a lifetime of hard work, and it's almost always in front. Whoever this woman is, it seems that there is only one enemy, and it is not a face-to-face confrontation with her. Taliyah changed the bandage, and the woman grunted in pain, her body struggling to recover from her slumber, and only the Weaver Mother would know how much she had suffered in the desert.