Legends of Runeterra

Chapter 1088 T1 enters the World Championship again

My name is Akzam Vakoy Koali Ekaser.

Axam was my ancestor's name, meaning "He Who Bears the Blade." It's both a warrior's name and an auspicious title. Axam was the last of the Mage Kings. He fell before the golden legions and gods of the Shurima Sun Queen, leaving the kingdom of Icathia wide open.

Va is my mother, Koi is my father, and Ikaser is the name of the bloodline tribe I was born into. Ikaser has a glorious history and was once loyal to the Mage King.

I inherited these names from the moment I was born.

My name is Akzam Wa-Koi Kauali Ekaser.

Only the Kohari are new. Though newly chosen, their name feels entirely natural. It's become part of me, a name that ignites a burning pride within me. The Kohari were once the Mage King's personal guards, each a dedicated warrior, willing to sacrifice their lives for their master. When King Axam fell before the god-warriors of the Sun Queen, and Icathia became a vassal state of Shurima, every Kohari committed suicide to avenge their sin.

But the Kohari have been reborn, serving the new Mage King once more, and regaining their former glory. Their symbol is branded upon my arm—a sword wrapped in a scroll.

My name is Akzam wa-Koi Koali Ekaser. I repeat it over and over again, clinging to what it represents.

I don't want to forget. This is all I have.

Was I dreaming this morning? It felt like a lifetime since I last stalked the streets of Icathia with the reconstituted Koari.

Thousands of men, women, and children gathered along the broad main thoroughfare. Dressed in their brightest clothes and adorned with their finest jewelry, they cheered and saluted our advance. They had come to witness the rebirth of their kingdom.

Because it was Icathia, not just Kohari, who was reborn today. I puffed out my chest, my pride surging.

We marched in unison, armed with vine shields and nimcha scimitars. Shuriman law forbad the bearing of Icathian weapons, but the city had secretly forged and stored sufficient armaments for the day of rebellion.

It was an unforgettable day.

The city echoed with screams, cries of vengeance as the people hunted down every Shuriman official. For centuries, humiliating laws had threatened to eradicate our culture, punishing those who refused to submit with bloodshed. On this bloody day, the people's anger reached a climax. It mattered not that these men were merely notaries, merchants, and tax collectors; they were all lackeys of the hated Sun Emperor, and they deserved death.

Overnight, Icathia was liberated!

The sun disc statues were torn from rooftops and smashed, Shuriman books were burned, their treasures looted, statues of dead emperors were desecrated, and I myself vandalized a massive mural in a way that would have shamed my own mother.

I remember the smell of smoke and flames. It was the smell of freedom.

I was thinking about it as I walked.

My memories are filled with smiling faces and cheers, but I can't make out any specific words. The sun is too bright, the noise too intense, and it keeps roaring in my head for a long time.

I hadn't slept a wink the night before, nervous for the impending battle. My skill with the Nimcha scimitar was average, but the serpentine recurve bow slung over my shoulder was my ultimate weapon. The bow was made of weathered wood, painted a moisture-resistant red. The arrows were feathered with azure raptor feathers, and their tips were made of sharp-edged obsidian, which I had hand-carved. This obsidian itself was the work of the sorcerers—those who manipulate earth and stone magic. Long runs along the forested coastline of Icathia gave me the stamina for a day's battle, and the treacherous paths of the high mountains gave me the arms to draw the bow with full force.

A young girl, with braids of silver and the deepest green eyes I'd ever seen, placed a wreath of flowers on my head. The fragrance of the flowers intoxicated me, but when she pulled me close and kissed me on the lips, I forgot everything. She wore a necklace with an opal encircled by spirals of gold. I recognized it as my father's work and smiled.

I wanted to catch her, but I was carried forward by the group, so I could only imprint her face in my mind.

I can't remember much now, only her eyes remain, a deep green like the forests I ran through as a teenager...

Soon, even this little remnant will disappear.

“Don’t worry, Aza,” Saijax Kayo-Rains Koali Ikason said, popping a freshly peeled egg into his mouth. “She’ll be waiting for you after this is settled today.”

"That's right," Colgrim Ivor-Esa Kohari Ikazon said, nudging me with his elbow. "Wait for him, and twenty other good fellows."

Colgrim's words made me blush, and then he laughed heartily.

"Forge her a fine necklace of Shuriman gold," he continued. "She's yours forever—at least until tomorrow morning!"

I should have said something to rebuke Colgrim for his disrespect for the girl's honor, but I was a junior, seeking to prove myself before the veterans. Saijax was the true heart of the Kohari. He was a burly man with a shaved head, pockmarked by childhood ailments, and a thick, two-parted beard held in place with wax and chalk. Colgrim was his right-hand man, a steely, cruel man with a tattoo of his engagement, though I never heard him speak of his wife. These men had grown up together and, as soon as they were old enough to hold a sword, had been trained in the secret ways of the warrior.

But military life was new to me. My father trained me as a jeweler, specializing in identifying gemstones and crafting jewelry. Unlike me, he was meticulous and cautious, so such vulgar remarks must have been a bolt from the blue to him. Of course, I found it quite amusing and wanted to quickly become part of this tough crowd.

“Don’t pick on that boy, Colgrim,” Saijax said, patting me on the back with his broad hand. It was meant to be a friendly pat, but it knocked my teeth raw, but I appreciated it nonetheless. “By nightfall, he’ll be a hero.”

He shifted the long-handled axe slung across his shoulder. It was a massive weapon, its black handle inscribed with the names of his ancestors, its bronze blade as sharp as a razor. Few of us could lift it, let alone swing it, but Saijax was a master of all weapons.