Crows flew in from the north.

It crossed the untowering but rugged mountains of North Freljord, and rushed along the cold winds that blew from the shores of Lockfa in the far north, and with the smell of the polar ice sea, to the fortress that had risen abruptly.

A cold wind blew through the city, sweeping the long scarlet cloak behind Svein and blowing off the thin snow from his shoulders, revealing the five murderous blood-bladed battle axes and the massive eyeballs.

The crow lands right in the center of the eyeball.

The whole air was filled with the sound of hunting in the wind and cloaks.

Svein teased the crow on his shoulder to the sound of the hunt, leaned in again and began to whisper to the crow.

The cold wind blew through the city, and the broken cold currents passed through the cracks of the buildings, all the way to the narrow passages under the fortress, and they moved inch by inch on the uneven rocks, spreading through the frozen blood, splashing flesh, completely freezing the heads that still had a trace of warmth, and finally merging with the cold currents that passed through the canyon, and whistling throughout the narrow tunnel of death, as if singing an elegy to the dead souls.

"Scratch—" was the sound of the stone sliding sliding, and a crack suddenly opened in the floor to the left under Svein's feet, and then the entire floor slid to the side.

Darius's angular, murderous face peeked out from under the floor, and he slowly walked up the stairs to the top of the city, standing beside Svein, looking at the endless snow-covered corpses beneath the city, and gently resting his hand on the snow-covered walls.

No one spoke.

The wind continued to blow.

The whispering didn't stop until much later.

"The envoy of the council is twelve hundred yards from here." Svein coughed, grabbed a worm from his bosom and fed it to the crow on his shoulder.

"I'm going to kill him?" Darius gently twisted the snow under his palm, twisting the soft snow like sand.

"How's that berserker doing?" Svein shook his head noncommittally and began to tease the crow on his shoulder.

"He wouldn't." Darius slowed down his palms and began to stroke the delicate lines of the snow, "I used eighteen sets of criminal laws, and he wouldn't even spit out a word. It seems that I am better suited to kill people directly, this kind of living ......" He shook his head self-deprecatingly after saying the most.

"I don't blame you." Svein still teased his crow noncommittally, his fingers brushing the crow's sparse black feathers, his eyes were the kind of warmth that an opponent who knew Svein well would definitely be scared to death when he saw it, "Lockfar's men always have to be stubborn, not to mention Olaf, who once single-handedly killed the Frost Serpent, the ultimate monster of the North Sea, known as Lockfar's strongest Olaf." It's always going to take a little more thought, I'll do it. ”

"Then the envoy ......" Darius nodded, returning the conversation to the previous one.

Svein did not answer him directly, but continued to tease the crow on his shoulder, and after a long time he said, "It's from Zuan." ”

Darius sighed at this answer, as if he understood something, and began to turn and walk back: "I'll go and get ready." ”

Svein nodded, still not looking up.

"Don't kill that guy if you can."

"He misses you so much?"

"He's a lot like me."

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The emissary sent by the council to subordinate to Zaun did not even see Svein's face, so Darius, who was ready to go, dragged him out of the Noxus camp and returned the same way.

Svein had been looking at the scenery for a long time before he could get down from the hole in the stone slab.

Walking down the brand-new stone steps, down to the point where even the stone flakes were falling, Svein turned left and right, and came to a door in the light of the burning and pungent smell of lizard oil lamps.

The Noxian soldier who motioned to guard the door opened the new black rock wooden door with three magic locks, and Svein walked in.

It was dark in the room, there was not a single window, only a half-mutilated corner of a long-lit lizard oil.

Svein waved the door shut, and stood silently in the doorway.

After the door was closed, the already turbid air in the room became more and more unbearable, and the ubiquitous pungent stench mixed with the strong smell of blood made people smell sick.

The whole room was filled with the smell of rot, but perhaps the smell of rot was the crow's favorite, and the bird on Svein's shoulder hissed a long time.

In this cramped and dark little room, it was abruptly like the scream of a demon.

"Jingle bell—" The hiss seemed to finally catch the attention of the man in the room, who probably moved his hands and feet, and moved the shackles on his body to make a slight noise.

Without saying a word, Svein walked over to the source of the sound, stopping at the brightest spot of the lizard's oil lamp.

In this place, he could faintly see the face hidden in the darkness.

It was a face more angular than that of Darius, and even if Svein didn't look into his eyes, just looking at the sharp side face through the blurred light, he could feel the murderous intent and wildness on his face.

It's not just something that can be accumulated by killing a few people at random, but a fearlessness and invincibility that can only be exchanged for by completely devoting one's life to killing and charging.

Still not speaking, Svein took the crow from his shoulder, put it in his palm, and teased its beak little by little with his fingers, a smile on his face.

The light from the lizard oil lamp stretched his silhouette very long, and the crow in his hand reflected it on the wall, like the devil who seduced the good and good people in those third-rate dog blood stories.

The whole chamber was silent to death.

"Crackle—" The lizard's oil lamp burst into a spark, breaking the silence.

"Mr. Olaf." Svein finally spoke, his tone so long and careless that it sounded like a dream babble.

The strongest man in Lockfa, hidden in the darkness, did not answer, and the faint light spread from the side of his face to his rugged and thick beard, outlining him like a statue of the legendary god of war in the Far North.

"Sejuani is gone." Svein let go of the crow in his hand and looked fixedly at the cold side face in the darkness, "Foolish loyalty is not the tradition of the Locke Method. ”

The man in the dark ignored him.

"In the tradition of the Lockean Corporation, the worst thing is not to die, but to grow old, to become weak, to be forgotten." Svein withdrew his gaze and turned to the lizard oil lamp, "It's hard for a great warrior like you to tolerate an obscure death, to die in this dark, smelly room, like a ...... Mouse? ”

Olaf was still silent like a stone statue, except that his fingers twitched invisibly.

"Sejuani can promise you a great death, and I ......," Svein gently stirred the wick soaked in lizard oil with his hand, and his tone began to grow high, "will give you a legendary death, a glorious death, and when you die, your name will be engraved into the annals of Valoran, and you will be immortalized." At the last sentence, he was almost roaring, his fingers tensing at that moment, and the wick in his hand let out an overwhelmed moan.

Olaf's eyes, which had been closed, suddenly opened, and a piercing sword-like light shot out of his eyes, like a meteor that pierced the night.

He opened his mouth to say something.

"Knock-" There was a knock at the door.

"What's the matter?" Svein's eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction.

"The general is coming."

As soon as the words landed, Svein's hand shook violently, and all the broken wicks fell into the oil lamp, making a continuous pop.

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