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墨書 Inktalez
Amidst the wreckage of the battlefield, Boyev sat helplessly on the ground, his face as pale as paper, exhaustion and despair evident in his demeanor. Swen approached him leisurely, his steps steady, a hint of disdain and triumph playing on his lips.
Boyev lifted his head, his dull gaze fixed on the approaching Swen. Swen halted, looking down at him with a mocking tone, "Hey! Boyev, why is there a wet patch on your pants? Did you spill some water?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and contempt, the malice in his smile mocking Boyev's incompetence and misery.
This scene caught the attention of the surrounding soldiers, their eyes drawn to the obvious stain on Boyev's trousers. A wave of humiliation washed over Boyev; he had intended to respond defiantly, but in that moment, all his anger and pride were crushed under an avalanche of shame. He lowered his head, opting for silence, no longer attempting to argue or protest, merely enduring Swen's ridicule and the stares of those around him.
Swen's smile widened as he turned to leave, leaving Boyev enveloped in an overwhelming chill and isolation. Everything before Boyev blurred; he understood that at this moment, he had utterly lost all dignity and strength. His heart brimmed with helplessness and despair, deeply regretting his own inadequacy. He longed to rise again and reclaim his honor, but he knew it was too late.
Boyev remained silent, staring blankly ahead while Swen slowly moved closer until he stood beside him. Swen said nothing but continued to watch him intently, a flicker of barely perceptible indifference in his eyes.
Above them, a flock of crows cawed as they circled ominously, as if heralding an ill-fated future. These dark harbingers traced somber paths through the sky, adding to the scene's oppressive atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the soldiers on the ground busied themselves with evacuating the wounded swiftly and methodically. Once the last stretcher was carried away, only a few soldiers remained on site alongside Wei Dong and God Tone—the Two Brothers—along with Swen and Boyev.
The tension in the air escalated; Boyev felt an indescribable pressure mounting within him as panic began to creep into his gaze. Swen's silence and piercing stare felt like an invisible judgment that ignited a deep-seated fear within Boyev. The surrounding soldiers no longer paid him any mind; their gazes avoided him as if he no longer belonged to this world.
Boyev realized that his hope of escape was dwindling. On this desolate battlefield, it seemed that his fate had been sealed, and what lay ahead might be his final moments.
In the charged atmosphere, Boyev's voice turned almost shrill as he struggled to maintain a defiant stance despite the deep fear reflected in his eyes. His body trembled involuntarily; fists clenched tightly in an attempt to mask his unease. "Damn it! Swen, come at me if you want! Stop whining over there; I’m telling you! I won’t be afraid of you!" Though his voice was filled with anger, it could not conceal the panic and despair lurking beneath.
Swen remained unfazed, wearing a mocking smile as he looked down at Boyev’s pitiful state. His laughter echoed across the empty battlefield, amplifying the cruelty of the scene. "It's laughable how pathetic you are," Swen taunted sharply; his laughter felt like a final insult that twisted Boyev’s expression further into one of desperation and helplessness.
Boyev stubbornly continued to speak, his voice imbued with unyielding resolve yet laced with hopelessness: "Do you think you can bully me? Let me tell you something—I’m not someone easy to mess with! Even if you're Swen from Noxus, it doesn’t mean you can treat me like this!" His words were filled with resignation as if he were trying to mask his inner fragility with bravado.
Swen listened and burst into laughter, his voice filled with disdain and contempt. "Oh? You really dare to say that! You, Boyev, are getting more and more amusing!" His tone was laced with mockery, completely disregarding Boyev as if he were unworthy of concern.
The scene left the surrounding soldiers astonished; they had not expected someone who usually appeared so strong like Boyev to be so helpless and pathetic in front of Swen. Swen's taunts deepened Boyev's despair, making him acutely aware that he had fallen into a dire situation from which he could not escape.
Frustrated and desperate, Boyev shouted loudly, his voice tinged with a mix of hopelessness and threat. "No matter what... someone from the Natanja Family will definitely avenge me... Noxus will never know peace! Swen... just enjoy your victory while it lasts!" His words echoed across the fading battlefield, filled with resentment and indignation.
Swen's smile widened, seemingly unfazed by Boyev's threats. He replied dismissively, "Boyev... you really underestimate us..." With that, Swen casually clapped his hands, a clear signal. This simple gesture seemed to be an order; nearby soldiers quickly sprang into action, rushing forward to grab Boyev roughly, lifting him as easily as one would pick up a small chicken.
As the soldiers seized him, Boyev's expression shifted from anger to terror. He struggled to break free, but the soldiers' strength far exceeded his expectations, rendering him immobile. Swen continued to watch the scene unfold with a mocking demeanor, showing no sympathy for Boyev's despair.
Boyev was filled with helplessness and hopelessness; he realized he had fallen into Swen's trap and could no longer escape. He regretted his earlier actions fiercely, but it was too late now. As he was carried away by the soldiers, a heavy weight settled in his heart, as if all his dignity and pride had been stripped away in that moment.
Swen's smile grew even more cunning as he observed Boyev's expression of despair, feeling a sense of triumph and satisfaction within. For him, this humiliation was exquisite, bringing him immense pleasure. He savored this moment of victory without mercy, relishing in having Boyev beneath his foot, turning him into both a laughingstock and a slave.
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