Arcane: Red Sands

---------8 years ago------------------

The rhythmic march of boots echoed across the plains as the Third Company approached the mining city of Kimir. Their banners, black and crimson, cut through the golden expanse like a tide of shadow and blood. Kimir's walls stood tall in the distance, but its defenders knew they faced more than just soldiers.

Among the ranks, the soldiers murmured in low voices, their conversations a mix of anticipation and unease.

"I heard the militia here are mercenaries," said Titus, his voice carrying above the din. The Decurion walked beside Su'Rhaal, his shield slung across his back. "Rebels, deserters, locals—probably desperate enough to throw themselves at us with whatever they can find."

"They're defending their homes," Zanaiya said, walking on Su's other side. "Desperation makes people dangerous."

Titus scoffed. "Dangerous? Maybe. But we've seen worse."

Ahead of them, Captain Rictus rode at the head of the formation, his massive frame silhouetted against the horizon. His silence carried authority, his very presence a reminder of the discipline that bound the company together.

Behind Su, a young soldier whispered nervously to his comrade. "Do you think they'll hold out like Urtis did?"

"Urtis fell in days," the older soldier replied. "Darius crushed them like ants. It's only a matter of time before Kimir joins them."

"Enough," Su interrupted, his scarlet eyes flicking back toward them. His tone left no room for argument. "Focus on the task ahead. Nothing else matters on the battlefield."

The soldiers fell silent, but Su felt the weight of their unease. 

---------------

The siege engines roared to life as the Third Company reached the outskirts of Kimir. Great stones smashed into the city walls, sending shards of rock raining down on the defenders. Arrows flew in deadly arcs, striking shields and armor with dull thuds.

"Forward!" Rictus bellowed, his voice carrying over the chaos.

Su led his unit in the first wave, his twin blades gleaming as they reflected the crimson sky. The defenders met them at the breach, a ragged line of militia armed with spears and rusted swords.

The first man to charge at Su fell in an instant, his weapon shattering against Su's blade. The young sergeant moved like a shadow, his strikes precise and deadly. One by one, the defenders fell, their blood staining the earth.

Beside him, Zanaiya fought with a grace born of experience. Her Spear swept through the enemy ranks, each strike calculated to maim or kill. When an arrow struck her shoulder, she barely flinched.

Blood seeped into the wound, then out again, her body knitting itself back together.

Su's own body moved with a similar rhythm. Each injury he sustained seemed to fuel him, the blood of his enemies mingling with his own. The battlefield became a blur of crimson and steel, his mind detaching itself from the screams of pain and terror around him.

The defenders' line began to break under the relentless onslaught. Su pressed forward, his blades carving a path through the chaos. But as he fought, he felt something stirring within him—an unease that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

These weren't trained soldiers. They were farmers, miners, fathers, and sons. Their fear was palpable, their strikes wild and desperate.

"They're just trying to survive," a voice whispered in his mind.

But another voice, louder and colder, drowned it out. "You must become stronger. You must become worthy."

A man lunged at him with a broken spear, his eyes wild with terror. Su's blade cut him down before he could even cry out. The sergeant's face remained emotionless as he stepped over the body, his focus shifting to the next enemy.

Behind him, Zanaiya shouted, "Su! Hold the line!"

But Su barely heard her. His vision narrowed, the sounds of the battlefield fading into a dull roar. He felt invincible, unstoppable. He was a weapon, a force of nature.

By the time the battle ended, the streets of Kimir were littered with bodies. The city's defenders had been wiped out, their blood soaking into the cobblestones. The survivors—a handful of civilians huddled in the ruins—were rounded up by Noxian soldiers.

Su stood in the center of the square, his blades hanging at his sides. His armor was slick with blood, his scarlet eyes staring at nothing.

"You lost control," Zanaiya said, her voice sharp as she approached him.

"I did what needed to be done," Su replied, his tone flat.

"No," Zanaiya said firmly. "You abandoned your men. You left the line. That's not what a leader does, Su."

He turned to face her, his expression hard. "They were weak. If I hadn't pushed forward—"

"They needed you," Zanaiya interrupted. "You're strong, Su. But strength isn't enough. You have to lead, not just fight."

Her words stung, but Su said nothing.

--------------------

Later that night, Su stood in the command tent, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. The air inside was heavy with the scent of sweat and oil, the map-strewn table at the center illuminated by a single flickering lantern. Captain Rictus stood behind it, his broad frame casting a shadow over the charts and documents.

Rictus' gaze was sharp as he looked up. "Sergeant," he said, his voice as rough as the grind of steel on stone. "Do you know why you're here?"

"To answer for my actions," Su replied, standing rigidly at attention.

Rictus grunted. "You abandoned the line today. You broke formation and risked the lives of your squad. Discipline, Sergeant. That's what keeps men alive."

"I understand," Su said, though the words burned his pride.

"Do you?" Rictus asked, stepping around the table. His boots thudded against the dirt floor as he stopped in front of Su. "You've got strength, Su'Rhaal. More than most. But strength without focus is just chaos. Wars aren't won by chaos."

"I want to prove myself," Su said, his voice low but steady. "To Noxus. To my tribe."

"Then start proving it by not acting acting like a Rabbid animal." Rictus said, his tone cutting. "You want to be a leader? Then lead. Show your men they can trust you, not just your blades."

Rictus crossed his arms, studying Su for a long moment. Finally, he spoke again. "You've got potential. Enough that I'm taking a risk on you."

Su blinked, caught off guard. "Sir?"

"I'm promoting you to Lieutenant, Effective imediate" Rictus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Effective immediately. You'll have more men under your command, more responsibility, and no excuses. This isn't a reward, Su. It's a test. Prove to me—and to yourself—that you're worthy of this rank."

The words hit Su like a hammer. He had dreamed of rising through the ranks, of earning the respect of his peers and his superiors. But now, standing in the dim light of the command tent, the weight of the promotion felt heavier than any blade he had ever wielded.

"I'll prove it, sir," Su said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him.

Rictus studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "There's something else."

He reached behind the table and pulled out a small scroll, placing it on the table between them. The Noxian seal gleamed faintly in the lamplight.

"I'm putting in a request for you to acquire runic blades," Rictus said.

Su's scarlet eyes widened slightly, his heart pounding.

"Don't look so eager," Rictus growled. "After Captain Riven's betrayal in Ionia, the Warmason Council is reluctant to hand out relics of power. They see what happened with Riven as a failure of judgment—of Darkwill's judgment. And you can bet your life the council won't make that mistake again without a damn good reason."

Rictus leaned closer, his gaze piercing. "If you want those blades, you'll have to prove yourself. Not just as a warrior, but as a leader. As someone who can wield power without losing sight of their duty. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Su said, his voice low but resolute.

"Good," Rictus said, straightening. "Now get out there and earn it."

The camp was quiet as Su stepped out of the command tent, the distant sounds of soldiers mingling with the crackling of campfires. The weight of his new rank—and the promise of the runic blades—pressed down on him, but it did not break him.

He found Zanaiya near a fire, her trident resting against a log. She glanced up as he approached, her sharp eyes catching the tension in his stance.

"Well?" she asked.

Su sat down beside her, his movements slower than usual. "I've been promoted. Lieutenant."

Zanaiya raised an eyebrow. "That's… unexpected. Rictus must see something in you."

"He does," Su said, his tone distant. "He's also requesting runic blades for me."

Zanaiya's expression turned serious. "Runic blades? After Riven? That's… ambitious."

"It's a test," Su replied. "Rictus wants me to prove I can lead. That I'm worthy of the rank—and the blades."

"And what do you think?" Zanaiya asked.

Su stared into the fire, his thoughts swirling. "I think I have to be more. For Noxus. For the tribe. For everything I've lost."

Zanaiya nodded slowly. "Then listen, Su. Leadership isn't just about strength. It's about trust. Your men will follow you into the abyss if they believe in you. Show them you deserve it."

Su clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "I will. I'll prove to Rictus, to the Warmason Council, to the tribe, and to myself that I'm worthy of it all."

Zanaiya smirked faintly. "Then you'd better get started."

The fire flickered between them, its light casting long shadows over the camp. For the first time, Su felt the weight of his potential, not as a burden, but as a challenge.