Hecarim is a stubborn behemoth that rushes out of the Isle of Shadows and leads a band of ghost cavalry in hunting for life. Hecarim is a fusion of man and beast, his curse making him run for eternity, killing him ecstatic, and Iron Hoof crushing all living things.

The country in which Hecarim was born was long gone, and he was an attendant of a legendary Order of Knights, the Iron Order, who swore allegiance to defend their king's territory. There, he underwent the harshest training, and the harsh iron laws of the army shaped him into a fierce warrior.

Hekarim grew into a single man, and he mastered every fighting style and tactic with ease. He soon outpaced the other squires in cavalry combat, and the commander of the Iron Regiment saw great potential in the young man, even believing that he had the potential to become the commander's successor. However, years later, with Hecarim and his crotch horse, the Knights Commander finally discovered that a dark force was surging in his adjutant's heart. Hecarim's obsession with slaughter and thirst for merit were eroding his honor, and the Knights Commander knew in his heart that the young man would never become the leader of the Iron Order. One day, the Knights Commander privately told Hecarim that he would not be his successor, and although the lieutenant was furious, he swallowed his anger and returned to his post.

When the Iron Regiment set foot on the battlefield again, the commander was disconnected from the large force and surrounded by the enemy. Only Hecarim could help, but he just gave him a vicious look, then rode back and left the commander to die. When the battle was over, the surviving knights were all kept in the dark, and they fell to one knee on the blood-stained ground, swearing to follow their new leader, Hecarim.

Hekarim came to the capital and met the king's general, Callista. Sensing Hecarim's extraordinary qualities, she appointed the Iron Order to protect the King, who was wounded by the Assassin's poison blade and Callista was out looking for an antidote. Hecarim accepted the mission, but the mission, which he considered humble, sowed the seeds of discontent in his heart.

Hekarim stood by the king's side and watched as the king descended from grief to madness. The king's obsession began to become extreme, and some people tried to persuade him to die and mourn, but the king was furious, and he ordered the Iron Order to purge the whole country of disobedience. Hecarim led the Iron Order in a bloody crackdown on all discontented voices, and his reputation as the King's ruthless magistrate terrified countless people. The Iron Regiment's iron cavalry burned and killed in vain, and hundreds of residents were punished on the spot. The kingdom was shrouded in darkness, and when the queen died, Hekarim weaved rumors around the king, falsely claiming how he had discovered the true face of the queen's death, and obtained the king's permission to lead the Iron Order on an expedition beyond the realm to claim more dark prestige.

Just before he departed, Callista returned from her expedition. She found the antidote to the queen on Fukuko Island, but it was too late. Horrified by the state of the kingdom, Callista refused to publish her findings, and was imprisoned for the crime of bullying the king. Seeing an opportunity to gain more weight, Hecarim visits Callista in prison. He persuaded Callista to make her discoveries public by promising to keep the king under control and not to act aggressively. Callista reluctantly agreed, and she led the king's fleet through the Curtain of Magic to the hidden island of Fuguang.

Hecarim leads the ruined and decadent king to the heart of the enchanted island, where he meets with its guardians and asks for their help. The Guardians expressed their sympathy, but they told the King that the Queen's condition was beyond their means. Enraged, the king ordered Callista to kill the guardians one by one until they gave in. Calista refused to carry out the order and stood in front of the islanders.

Hecarim made a fateful choice that would cause him to suffer an eternal curse. Instead of helping Callista, he impaled her with a spear from behind, and then ordered the Iron Regiment to slaughter all the inhabitants of Fukuko Island. Hekarim and his knights slaughtered all the Guardians until the last Miscellaneous Piece with the lantern led the King to his goal – the secret that would bring the Queen back to life.

But when the queen is resurrected, she becomes a horrific rotten zombie, and she only asks that she can die again and sleep forever. When the king saw his beloved queen become like this, he was full of hatred and remorse for himself. So the king cast a spell that ended their lives and bound their souls together forever. His spell succeeded, but the effect of the spell was unexpectedly amplified hundreds of times due to the presence of numerous powerful magical relics on the island.

A storm of black mist enveloped the king, and then began to spread across the island, killing everything he touched. Hecarim abandoned the dying king and led the Iron Regiment to retreat towards their ship, killing everyone who stood in his way, for all those who were touched and killed by the black mist turned into undead spirits. One after another, the knights were devoured by the undead, and in the end only Hecarim was left alive. As uncontrolled sorcery gradually infused into his body, he and his tall horse fused into a monster full of hatred, which reflected his true dark soul.

He roared in rage, the legendary Shadow of War sculpted in painful fusion shapes, furious and vicious monsters, invulnerable behemoths. His sins during his lifetime were strengthened by the vortex of dark magic, and a monster filled with endless resentment and terrifying power was born.

Now, Hecarim is imprisoned in the Isle of Shadows, roaming his nightmare beaches, killing all life in his path, just as his duties in life requires. When the Black Mist extends beyond the Shadow Isle, he and the Ghost Knights of the Iron Regiment will go on a killing spree in search of distant memories of the glory of battle.

Waves mingled with ice crashing against the desolate shore, and bright red blood trickled from the corpses beneath Hecarim's butcher's knife. The mortals to be slaughtered are retreating in terror towards the coast. The black rain soaked them, and the storm clouds churned under the mourning of the heart of the island. He heard them shouting something to each other, what seemed to be some kind of tactical code language he didn't understand, but the meaning was obvious; They thought they had hope of making it back to the ship alive. Indeed, they know some tactics. Their movements are uniform, and their shields are interlocking. But they were mortals after all, and their fear of the smell of flesh made Hecarim drench.

He circled around them, treading on the shattered wreckage, the shadows of the white sand obscuring his tracks. His iron hooves trampled on the black rocks, bursting into sparks and echoing with thunderous sounds, each of which ate away at their courage. He watched the group of mortals through the cracks in his helmet's visor, their poor souls glittering faintly through their flesh. The soul's dislike for him is as strong as his desire for the soul.

"No one survives," he said.

His voice was muffled in his helmet, like the deathbed wail of a hanged man. The sound creeped them out, like a blunt knife scraping their nerves. He drank their fears and smiled as a man dropped his shield and ran desperately to the boat by the sea.

With a loud roar, he leapt out of the overgrown ruins, lowering the barbed halberd in his hand slightly, feeling the ancient and familiar charge. A memory flashed through its mind, and he led a silver cavalry regiment to the top of the line. The memory faded, and the man had reached the dark shallow of broken waves, and looked back.

"Please! No! He shouted.

Hecarim's blow was like a thunderbolt, slashing him directly from his collarbone to his lower abdomen. The black blade of his halberd pulsated in the blood. This mortal fragile soul wants to fly to freedom, and the black mist of hunger will not spare any soul. Hecarim watched as his soul was twisted and blackened, a dark reflection of what he had been like in life.

Hecarim drew strength from the island's magic, a commotion erupted on the blood-stained beach, and a group of dark knights in shining armor floated out of the water. The ancient armor of their entire bodies shone with a strange cold light, and the black swords in their hands shone with the edge of a shadow. Hecarim felt that he should know these cavalrymen. They had been his subordinates and still obeyed him, but he had no memory of them. He turned back to the mortals on the beach. He burst out of the black mist, allowing these mortals to see his true identity clearly for the first time, and reveled in their fear.

His burly body is a terrifying fusion of man and horse, an invulnerable monster of invulnerable iron armor. The black plate armor on his body had some words engraved on it, but he could only vaguely remember the exact meaning. Behind the visor, there is a raging spiritual fire, and the soul in it has long been cold and dead, and at the same time vicious and vivid.

Forked lightning tore through the sky, and Hekarim raised his front hooves and stood high. He lowered his blood-stained halberd slightly, leading the knights behind him to charge, large chunks of blood-soaked sand and bone splinters in his back. The mortals raised their shields in exclamation, but the charge of the ghost knights was unstoppable. Hecarim rode first and rushed in front of the head, slashing left and right with his halberd, killing people with every blow. The Ghost Knights trampled everything in front of them, slaughtering and slaughtering with roaring iron hooves, and rampage. Mortals were strewn with flesh and blood, broken bones and tendons, and souls drifted out of their broken bodies, immediately imprisoned in an immortal state by the cruel magic of the Ruined King.

The souls of the dead surround Hekarim because he gave them death. Hecarim, on the other hand, was immersed in the ecstasy of the battle. He ignored the howling spirits around him. He has no interest in enslaving them. This trivial cruelty is left to the Warden of the Soul Lock.

All Hecarim cared about was one kill.

The world's unparalleled warrior Pan Sen is a formidable and unstoppable fighting elite. He was born in Lakoor, a martial nation at the foot of the Giant God Peak, and later he successfully climbed the steep cliff of the Giant God Peak, proved his qualifications, and became the Chosen One, becoming the flesh 1 body incarnation of the War Star Spirit. Given powers beyond humans, he relentlessly searched for the enemies of the Giant God Peak, strewn with corpses everywhere he went.

Atridis was a proud Rakore boy whose name comes from a star that forms the constellation of warriors in the night sky with three other stars, known as the constellation Pansen in the Lakol culture. Although Atrius was not the fastest and strongest of the young warriors of Titan's Peak, nor was he the most skilled in swords, guns, swords, halberds, and weapons, Atridus had the determination and perseverance to never give up, and his endurance was the most famous among his peers. Every day before dawn, when the others were still asleep, he would get up and run along the rugged mountain roads of the Giant God Peak, and after dark, he would always be the last to leave the training ground, his hands like lead from the training of weapons.

Atrius and another young samurai named Pyras gradually became rivals. Born into a prestigious samurai family, Pyras is highly skilled, physically strong, and popular. He seemed destined for an extraordinary life, and no one of his peers could beat him in the arena. Only Atrius refused to admit defeat, and every time he got up from the ground and continued to fight, bruised and bloodstained, he was knocked down again and again, and got up again and again. Although Atrius earned the respect of the aging instructor, it made Pyras hostile, and he saw Atris's refusal to admit defeat as a contempt for himself.

Alienated by his companions and often beaten by Pyras and his followers, Atrius carried it all with his own forbearance and perseverance. He kept his ostracism strictly secret from his family, knowing that telling them would only cause them pain.

One day, the young samurai and their instructor went out on an early winter patrol, and after a day's march, they came to a Lakol outpost, but all they saw was smoke-filled ruins. The snow was stained red with blood, and the corpses lay on the ground. The leader immediately gave the order to retreat, but it was too late, and the enemy had already pounced.

The strangers, covered in fur and heavy armor, leapt out from under the covered snow, their tomahawks glistening with a cold light. None of the young warriors had yet to complete their training, and their captains were old and frail and had long since passed their prime, and even so, each of them would have killed several enemies before they fell. However, the enemy was outnumbered, and the Rakor fell one after another.

Atrius fought back-to-back, and the last of the Rakor people still stand. Both men were wounded and bleeding. The battle would only take a few moments to end, but they knew they had to go back to the village and sound the alarm. Atrius stabbed one of the barbarians in the throat, while Pyras slashed down the other two, making a brief opening in the enemy's encirclement. Atrius told Pyras to go first, stopping the enemy himself. There was no time to argue at that time, Atrius had already charged the enemy - Pyras fled.

Atrius fought hard, but as a tomahawk sliced into his chest, he eventually collapsed and fell into a coma.

When Atrius woke up, to his surprise, he saw not the heavenly afterlife, but the same place where he had fallen. The sun had set below the mountains, and his body was covered with a layer of freshly fallen snow. Numb and confused, he struggled to stand up with his hands. He walked among his fallen fellow Lakoor, but no one survived. To make matters worse, Pyras collapsed not far away, with a throwing axe embedded in his back. Their village was not alerted.

Atris staggered to Pyras, where he found his former rival alive but badly wounded. Atatris slung the young warrior on his shoulders and began to trek in the direction of home. Three days later, he reached the outskirts of the village and finally allowed himself to collapse.

He woke up to find Pyras guarding him, his wounds stitched and bandaged. He breathed a sigh of relief to learn that his village had not been attacked. But then he was shocked by the news that neither the Rakol nor the Sun Cult elders had sent Rakolak to track down and kill the invaders, instead they had decided to stay where they were, fending off any possible attack.

In the months that followed, Atrius and Pyras quickly became close friends. All the old resistance was erased, and they threw themselves into training with a new energy and purpose. During this time, Atrius's dissatisfaction with the Sun Cult grew. He believed that the best way to protect the Rakor was to be proactive, seeking out and eliminating potential enemies who posed a threat to them, but the new leader of the Sun Cult's warriors—Leona, who had been part of the same clan as him—advocated an alternative approach to protection, which Atrites saw as a sign of weakness and passivity.

Like all Rakol boys, Atrius and Pyras grew up listening to stories about great heroes who climbed to the top of the Titan and were given divine powers. Together, the two friends passed the brutal trials of the Lakore warriors, and they began their most devout training, intending to climb the heights themselves. Atreus hoped to gain divine power to find and destroy the enemies of the Rakor Clan himself, as it seemed that the Sun Cult did not intend to take the initiative.

Only the strongest would challenge the Titan Peak, and few out of a thousand people had caught a glimpse of the peak. Even so, Atrids and Pyras had many companions from the scattered Lakol villages at the foot of the mountain, and once they had gathered, they began to climb. Soon after they set out, the silver moon passed directly in front of the sun, and the day turned into night. Some people think this is a bad omen, but Atridus thinks it means that he made the right choice – meaning that he is not biased in his opinion of the Sun Cult.

After weeks of climbing, the team was reduced to half of its original size. Some retreated halfway, while others were carried away by the giant peak, or stumbled into the abyss, or buried in an avalanche, or frozen to death in the cold night. They have gone far beyond the clouds, and the sky presents unpredictable light and shadows and illusions. They're still moving forward.

The air thinned out, from weeks to months, and the cold grew bone-chilling. Several of the climbers stopped and sighed, but they didn't move a bit, and the cold united their flesh and blood with the giant peak. Others, losing their minds due to lack of oxygen and exertion, jumped off the cliff and fell like small rocks. One by one, the Giant Peak took away those who tried to challenge it, and in the end only Pyras and Atreus remained.

Freljord is a harsh, harsh and unforgiving land. The people here are all proud and independent. All of them were born samurai, and the bandit culture has a long history. Although there are many different clans in Freljord, the conflict between them is divided into three camps, and the outcome of this civil war will determine the future of all clans. One camp is unwavering in its adherence to the traditions necessary to survive in the face of adversity; The other camp follows the dream of unity, the ideal of a young man; The third camp kneels under the powerful magic of a mysterious witch and worships. The two friends were exhausted and cold, their minds were blurred, and they finally managed to reach the summit, but they finally found that this place... Nothing.

They didn't see the city of legends at the summit, and there were no celestial warriors waiting to greet them – only ice, death, and rocks twisted into oval shapes. Plars fell, his last strength finally exhausted, and Atrius let out a roar of disappointment.

Knowing that Piras had no strength left to descend the mountain, Atrius came to him, sat down on his knees, and watched his friend's life pass by.

At this time the gates of heaven are opened. The air around him shimmered like water, and a door appeared in front of Atris. From the other end of the door, a golden glow poured out, warming his face, and through the soft curtain he could glimpse a city – a sight of architecture and grandeur beyond mortal comprehension. A figure stood in front of him, holding out a hand to him, waiting for his response.

Tears of astonishment welled up in Atrice's face. He was reluctant to leave his friend, but he looked down to see that Piras was dead in his arms, a blessed smile on his face. Atrices stood up, helped his friend close his eyes, and gently placed him on the melting snow. He walked forward, towards his guide, through the veil of reality, into the real city of the gods.

Months passed. At the foot of the mountain, people thought that Atris and Pallas had died like the other climbers. People mourn for them, but this kind of thing has become so commonplace that even such an outcome has long been expected. Only one person in each generation is able to come down from the peak with divine power.

At this time, another troop of northern barbarians suddenly appeared in the mountains, and almost exactly a year earlier, on that day, they slaughtered the Rakol watchtower and the peers of Atris. This time they attacked many isolated villages, burned and looted, and then began to lay siege to a Sun Sect ancestral hall on the mountain. The guards of the ancestral hall are outnumbered, but they are all ready to defend the ancestral hall and the treasures and secrets it hides to the death.

As the marauders approached, a strong wind blew down from the mountains and made it difficult for a man to get up, angrily rolling up the snowflakes and whipping the rocks. At the center of the storm, the main peak of the Giant God Peak was fully revealed. The warriors on both sides were struggling and had to hold their hands in front of them to keep out the storm of ice crystals. At this time, they saw a city looming at the top of the main peak, shining with golden light.

The four stars of Panson's constellation shone brightly, then dimmed. At the same time, a dazzling meteor light appeared in the Mirage Sky City1, cutting through the sky down the mountain range.

The light roared towards the ancestral hall, and the barbarians trembled and prayed to the gods they believed in. The light smashed into the earth, landing in the open space between the two opponents, and in an instant the sky fell apart.

This is not a fallen meteor, but a samurai clad in starlight, and his golden shield and spear are exactly the same as those in legend. He landed crouching in the midst of a samurai's battle, landing on one knee and looking up at the group of enemies who had defiled the Giant God Peak. At this time, the surrounding Rakol people recognized him as Atreus... But not Atridus. The War Star Spirit had been infused into his body, and now he was both a mortal and a god, and he was the physical incarnation of the God of War. He has become Panson himself.

He stood up, a spark of light in his eye, and the enemies realized that their lives were short.

The battle was over quickly, and no one was Pan Sen's opponent. Outlander's blood was left strands from Panson's armor and weapons, revealing its original metallic sheen, glittering in the starlight. Panson defeated the enemy, then strode into the still-raging ice storm and vanished.

Atris' family mourned for their son and the funeral was officially held. Although his family had been ready to accept his death after he had climbed the mountain and never returned, his death had now been confirmed. The Panson Star Spirit has erased his personality, memories, and emotions. Atrius' flesh 1 body became a shell, carrying the supernatural War Spirit; His mortal soul had followed the ancestors of the Rakor people to the heavenly afterlife.

Atrius wasn't Panson's first appearance on the Runeterrae Continent - he had other incarnations before, and most likely there would be more to come. These avatars are not invulnerable, they are also limited by the limits of human flesh and body, and they can also be killed, but they are very difficult to kill. Pan Sen's last appearance was a source of controversy among the elders of the Sun Cult, as his arrival was both a blessing and a curse, and he was often followed by long periods of darkness......

A lonely figure awaited the armed brigade, his silhouette outlined by the oncoming sunlight. His heavy cloak and crown fluttered in the hot desert wind, and the long spear clenched in his hand stood high at his side.

The brigade consisted of thirty prime men. Most of them were mercenaries – weathered men and women, dressed in leather and buckle robes, armed with crossbows, halberds, and short swords. As they walked through the dust, they were accompanied by heavily laden mules when they stopped abruptly, and their swear words and meat jokes came to an abrupt end. For they saw the warrior and stood motionless in front of them. The black-clothed captain of the expedition team strangled the black horse under his crotch and frowned.

The figure stood on an abrupt boulder, not giving an inch.

"You have murderous intent in your hearts," he said.

His voice was hard as iron, and his accent was strange.

"I represent Kyoho. You can't move on. ”

There was a joking mockery among the mercenaries.

"Get out of here, madman," one of the mercenaries shouted, "be careful that we stick your head in a stick as a signpost." ”

"You're a long way from home, friend," the brigade leader began, "we just want to go up the mountain." There is no need for bloodshed here. ”

The lone samurai didn't move.

"We're just pilgrims, and there's still a long way to go," the captain continued. "Besides, there's no turning back for us. Our ship is already offshore, see? As he spoke, he pointed behind him.

Behind the brigade, less than a mile away, the sea shimmered like scales in the setting sun. Three sailboats are faintly visible, full of sails, turning around and heading north, heading home far away.

"We have no ill will, I assure you," the captain continued, "that we are only seeking wisdom. ”

"You are as open-mouthed as a snake and scorpion," said the lone warrior. "You want the blood of the prophets. Turn back, or die. ”

The man in black on the horse frowned even more, and he turned to the side and shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Come on," he said. "Kill him."

When it was too late, the crossbow was raised to his shoulder, and a dense stream of arrows whizzed. However, the lone warrior did not fall, and the arrow hit his heavy round shield, and it was bounced away. Then he began to move forward.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry. Every step forward was resolute and determined, the sun still outlining his silhouette as he slowly lowered his spear and pointed it straight at his foe. Another rapid salvo from the Crossbow. Once again, the arrow was blocked by his shield.

The mercenary group shouted, and the female soldier standing at the front took the brunt and pounced on him, the sawblade scimitar in her hand swinging at his throat. In the blink of an eye, she was dead, and the lone samurai's long spear plunged deep into her chest. The next two men died almost at the same speed, and the samurai's long spear cut a blood-colored arc through the throat of the first, and the edge of the round shield shattered the second person's head.

"Take it for me!" The captain of the expedition roared as he pulled out a finely crafted pistol from his belt.

Dark clouds obscured the sun, and people could see the posture of the samurai clearly. He was dressed in ancient armor, but his arms and legs were all exposed, and his muscles were bulging. His cloak was crimson in color, and seemed to shimmer with stars in the light of the setting sun. The starlight was also present in his eyes, shining a relentless gaze through the shadows through the gaps in his helmet.

The lone warrior moves smoothly, neatly and deadly. His speed was so fast that it surpassed the limits of any mortal. More and more mercenaries are dying, and their blood stains the dry desert red. No one was able to hit the deadly samurai. He calmly walked through the battlefield, unstoppably approaching the captain of the ride. One mercenary after another, the mercenaries died, and it was not long before all the remaining people fled in the face of the huge enemy.

The captain on horseback aimed his pistol at the lone samurai and opened fire. Incredulously, he dodged at the last minute, and the bullet only scratched the side of his helmet. The captain cursed and loaded the pistol, ready to fire a second shot... But he was too slow.

The samurai's shield hit him in the chest, and he fell from the saddle. He fell heavily to the ground, and his body was immediately trampled under the feet of the samurai, unable to move, revealing a pained face.

"Who are you?" He said through gritted teeth.

I am your god of death," said the lone samurai. "I'm Pan Sen."

The brigade commander turned his head and saw that his pistol had fallen in the dust next to him. He reached out to take it, but it was just a pointless act of desperation.

"Laugh, mortal," said Panson. "It's a great honor for you to die under the spear of the titan."

The desperate man tried to say something, but was blocked back, and Panson's long shot pierced him in the chest. He vomited a stream of blood before he died, and then lay motionless.

Panson1 drew his weapon and turned to leave. At sunset, countless stars light up the night sky.

A comet trailing with a trail of flames is in motion, pointing to the mountains hundreds of miles to the east.

Pan Sen's eyes locked.

"So, it's time," he said to the darkness, and set off for the distant Titan Peak.

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