The occupation of Noxus has shaken the fragile peace of the Newborn Lands. Even the sect leader, Karma, is said to have been forced to use magic to fight back against her invaders, but now her followers have all retreated to the Temple of Eternity, deciding not to condone any violence. In Navoli, opinions begin to converge, and a force of resistance has formed, vowing to fight to the death to set Ionia free. Irelia joined them. At the camp in the woods, she would dance her favorite dance for everyone, in order to preserve some of the fading customs of her hometown.

When she returned to Precidian, Irelia had just turned fourteen. The rebels merged with the local militia and swore to defend the temple and sacred grounds to the death.

But the Noxians know very well the value of this place. The cunning general Jericho Svein had already taken Presidian and captured the defenders as hostages, intending to lure the troops who came to support him into the trap.

This is the moment when Irelia stepped forward to face her fate. She no longer restrained herself, and the power of the ancient blade dance surged out, surging and surging, knocking down a dozen of Svein's men in the blink of an eye, causing a fluster. The captives fought alongside her until the general himself became one of her defeated men, and the scene was the turning point of the war when Irelia raised his severed arm above her head.

This victory, also known as Navoli's uprightness, made the name of Irelia known to all Ionians. They saw her as the leader of the resistance. Reluctantly, she led the growing rebel army to fight bloodily for nearly three years, until she finally cornered the defeated Dougur at Talu Bay, and completed the revenge she had longed for with her own hands.

Although the war has been over for many years, Ionia is no longer what it used to be. The newborn lands were torn apart and hostile to each other, and the war was no less tragic than during the Noxian invasion. Many still count on Irelia to solve this situation. Perhaps they couldn't ask for it, but Irelia was still apprehensive.

In the bottom of her heart, she still longs for simple dancing.

"I believed you, Blade Dancer!" the man said as he choked up with blood foaming at the corners of his mouth. "You showed us the way......"

Irelia held her stance, looking down at the Brotherhood's believers. He knelt in the mud, his body pierced many times by her blade.

"We can be stronger...... Just join forces ......"

"All souls don't do that. She said. "You'd be wrong to think that. ”

He came to the village and waited patiently for his chance to get his hands dirty. But he was clumsy on his hands and feet, and he was stumbling. Irelia could easily dance around him.

He had made up his mind to take her life, but unfortunately, he wasn't the first to do so. Irelia's blades were hovering over her shoulders, fluttering as her gracefully rounded hands fluttered. With just one gesture, it's all over.

He spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes burning with resentment: "If you don't want to lead Navoli, then let the Brotherhood come." ”

He weakly raised his dagger and pointed it at her. There is no way this man will survive.

"I believed you. He said it again. "We all believed it. ”

She sighed. "I've never asked you to do that. I'm sorry. ”

Irelia's arms danced softly like waves. She turned to the side, and the blades came out in unison, drawing an arc of death, slicing lightly and crisply through his body, as if in self-defense, ending his pain.

A simple turn, a step of extreme grace, and all the blades were back to her. The blade was stained with blood, and the man's body fell weakly forward.

"May all spirits give you rest. Irelia said.

She returned to the camp with a heavy heart. When she finally walked into her tent, she finally let out a long breath and sat down on the reed mat.

She closed her eyes.

"Father. She whispered. "Once again, I bleed the honor of my family. Forgive me. ”

Irelia lined up the blades in front of her. Like Ionia, these blades, once a greater thing, have come to a terrible end. She poured water into a wooden bowl and dipped it in a rag. The process of cleaning the blade has become a ritual. After every fight, she felt indispensable.

As she moved, the water slowly turned red. But in addition to the blood, the metal blades were stained with darker colors, stains from older ages that seemed to never be removed.

It was the blood of her compatriots, the blood of Navoli herself.

In a trance, she gathered the blades together and slowly put them together into the shape of her family crest. In front of her are three fragmented motifs, representing the Zan's family, her hometown, and the rest of the Newborn Land, harmoniously connected together. Her ancestors had lived according to Karma's teachings: no matter what the circumstances, do no harm to anyone.

And now, the seals and insignia they left behind have been turned into weapons, taking countless lives.

She could feel her brothers watching her. Even though they had slept with the spirits of Ionia, she was still afraid that she would disappoint and resent. She also thought of her dear grandmother, looking at everyone's death, and her heart was like a knife sobbing.

Countless times, the thought of this image made Irelia's tears no longer hold back.

The blade is never clean anymore. She knew it in her heart, but she wouldn't give up on getting justice.

On the way to the cemetery, she met many of her own followers. Although they all regarded her as the leader, and there were more of them than before, she didn't recognize a few familiar faces. As each winter passed, there were more unfamiliar faces, and the old rebels had all been replaced by fanatical new fighters. They had come from faraway provinces and towns where she had never even heard of them.

Even so, she would often stop to respond to their salutes and bows, but refused to allow anyone to help her carry the corpses of the Assassins wrapped in the cloth.

Under a large tree whose flowers had lowered its branches, Irelia found a clearing. She carefully placed him on the ground, turned around, and mourned with a group of widowers, widows, and orphans and widows.

"I know it's not easy. She said, placing one hand on a man's shoulder as a gesture of comfort. He was kneeling in front of a new pair of graves. "But every life, every death, belongs—"

He slapped her hand away and stared at her until she backed away.

"I had to," she murmured, as she prepared to start digging. However, she couldn't convince herself herself. "It's all a last resort. The Brotherhood will rule the land with an iron fist, no better than Noxus......"