Chapter 3: Obsidian and Answers

I pushed myself upright despite the spear point hovering near my throat. The weapon glowed with contained magical energy that made my skin prickle, my body instinctively rejecting the forces channeled through the metal. I ignored the discomfort and scanned the courtyard, taking in details I'd missed during the violent landing.

Obsidian towers rose around me, their surfaces carved with script I'd never encountered. The symbols shifted slightly when I stared at them directly, rearranging themselves into new configurations that suggested meaning without revealing it. Crimson banners hung from the buildings, displaying emblems that bore no resemblance to any nation or faction I'd studied during my military service. Above, the sky stretched in a shade of purple-red that shouldn't exist in nature—too deep for sunset, too vivid for storm clouds.

The lead figure spoke in a language I didn't recognize. The words came sharp and commanding, accompanied by gestures toward the ground. I caught the tone—stay down, don't move—but understood none of the actual content. The spear point moved closer, close enough that I could see intricate patterns etched along the blade. Magical reinforcement, I guessed, based on how the metal hummed with energy.

I remained still, counting the eight armored figures surrounding me. They maintained their tactical formation with practiced precision, spacing themselves to avoid crossfire while covering every escape route. Military training, definitely. Each one carried weapons that radiated visible magical energy—not the subtle enchantments I'd seen on Demacian equipment, but blatant displays of power that saturated the air around them.

The figures began speaking rapidly among themselves. I watched them point at me while keeping their defensive positions intact. One pulled out a crystalline device from a pouch at their waist, holding it up toward the sky. The crystal activated with a pulse of blue light, projecting a three-dimensional image above the courtyard.

I recognized the image immediately—the rift's location, rendered in perfect detail. The projection showed the dimensional tear as it had appeared moments ago, complete with the purple corruption spreading from its edges. As I watched, the image updated, showing the tear collapsing in on itself. The projection displayed the rift shrinking, pulling back from both realities until it sealed completely.

The figure holding the device stepped closer to me, studying something on the crystal's surface. I saw data scrolling past in script I couldn't read, updating rapidly as the device scanned. The crystalline surface began sparking.

Small bursts of energy erupted from the device, crackling across its facets. The figure holding it jerked back, nearly dropping the crystal. The others tensed, weapons rising slightly. The device sparked again, more violently this time, and I realized what was happening.

My anti-magic aura was destabilizing their equipment.

The spell matrix collapsed entirely. The three-dimensional projection flickered twice, showed a fragmented image of something I couldn't identify, then vanished. The crystal went dark, its surface cracked in three places. The figure holding it shook the device, trying to reactivate it. Nothing happened.

Three of the armored figures clustered around their companion, examining the malfunctioning device. They spoke quickly, voices rising with what sounded like confusion or alarm. One gestured at me, then at the crystal, apparently connecting the device's failure to my proximity.

I rolled hard to my left.

The spear point missed my throat by inches, striking obsidian stone where my shoulder had been. I came up on my hands and knees, scanning the courtyard ground. A fallen ceremonial blade lay three feet away, half-hidden beneath debris from the courtyard's decorative statues. I grabbed it as I stood, testing the weight.

The blade felt wrong. Too light for its size, balanced in a way I didn't recognize. I adjusted my grip, compensating for the unfamiliar weapon design, and charged toward the weakest point in their formation.

Two of the armored figures had broken from the circle to examine the malfunctioning device. That left a gap in their defensive line, a space wide enough for me to exploit. I sprinted toward it, watching the others react too slowly to close the opening.

The courtyard wall loomed ahead. Magical reinforcements ran through the obsidian structure—I could see the energy patterns glowing beneath the stone's surface. But as I approached, the enchantments began flickering. The magical matrix destabilized in proximity to my anti-magic aura, exactly as the crystalline device had failed.

Cracks appeared in the wall's surface. The obsidian developed visible fractures where the enchantments collapsed, compromising the structure's integrity. I lowered my shoulder and crashed into the weakened section at full speed.

The wall exploded outward. Obsidian fragments burst across my vision as the compromised structure gave way. I tumbled through the opening, unable to control my momentum, and crashed onto different pavement on the other side.

I rolled twice before getting my feet under me. A narrow street stretched before me, built from corrupted dark stone that resembled obsidian but showed different properties. Buildings leaned at angles that shouldn't be structurally possible, defying geometry I understood. Some tilted twenty degrees from vertical yet showed no signs of collapse. Others curved in the middle, bending like they'd been partially melted then frozen again mid-transformation.

Shouts erupted from the courtyard behind me. I didn't look back. I sprinted down the street, searching for cover or another exit. The pavement struck wrong beneath my boots—too smooth in some places, too rough in others, changing texture without visible cause.

The pursuing armored figures' voices echoed off the impossible architecture. I heard them spreading out, coordinating their search. One shouted what sounded like commands, directing the others to different routes through the labyrinthine streets.

I turned a corner and nearly collided with a structure that appeared in my path without warning. A twisted pillar of dark stone blocked the intersection, forcing me to dodge left. I ran past it and heard something activating behind me—a spell being cast, based on the surge of magical energy I sensed.

The spell failed immediately. I heard one of my pursuers curse in their incomprehensible language, the frustration clear even through the foreign words. Their tracking spell couldn't lock onto my position. My anti-magic aura disrupted whatever matrix they'd tried to establish, rendering their magical detection useless.

I exploited the advantage, turning down another street at random. The city twisted around me in ways that made navigation impossible. Streets curved when they should run straight. Intersections connected at wrong angles. I passed the same crimson banner twice, hanging from buildings that couldn't occupy the same location yet somehow did.

A figure dropped from a rooftop directly into my path.

I skidded to a halt, raising the ceremonial blade I'd grabbed from the courtyard. The figure landed silently in a crouch, absorbing the impact with practiced grace. She rose to full height, revealing segmented purple armor that covered her from neck to boots. A mask concealed the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

She carried psi-blades. I recognized the weapons despite never having seen their exact design—twin blades forged from pure psychic energy, shimmering with violet light. They hummed with power, but not magical power. Something different. Something my anti-magic properties wouldn't affect.

The masked woman raised one hand in a gesture I interpreted as non-threatening. She held the palm out, fingers spread, making no move toward her weapons. She spoke, and I understood her.

"I've been monitoring the dimensional breach." Her accent marked her speech as foreign, clipping certain syllables while elongating others, but the language was comprehensible. Common, or close enough to it. "I tracked your arrival through the rift."

I kept the ceremonial blade raised, maintaining defensive stance. She noticed and didn't move closer.

"Both Radiant and Dire factions are hunting you." She gestured back the way I'd come, indicating my pursuers. "You registered as a reality-breaking anomaly the moment you crashed through. Those soldiers work for the Dire. They'll try to capture you for study or eliminate you as a threat."

"Who are you?" I managed to speak despite my racing thoughts, forcing words past the confusion and disorientation.

"Templar Assassin." She lowered her hand slowly, returning it to her side. "Though names matter little here. I represent interests that transcend factional conflict."

Shouts echoed from multiple directions now. The armored figures had spread through the surrounding streets, coordinating their search pattern. I heard boots striking stone, getting closer.

"I can offer information about this world." Templar Assassin moved slightly left, positioning herself between me and the approaching sounds. "Safe passage through territories you don't understand. In exchange, I need intelligence about Demacia's anti-magic technology."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because you're valuable." She gestured at the street around us, at the impossible architecture and the alien sky. "You destabilize magical constructs just by existing near them. In a universe where magic saturates everything, where reality itself bends to arcane forces, that makes you uniquely dangerous."

She tilted her head, studying me with eyes that revealed nothing.

"The Radiant will want to weaponize you. The Dire will want to dissect you. I simply want to understand how Demacia created an anti-magic warrior, because that knowledge could shift the entire balance of power in this reality."

The pursuing soldiers rounded a corner three streets away. I saw them spot us, saw them raise weapons and begin advancing. Templar Assassin noticed my attention shift.

"Choose now. Come with me and learn how to survive in the Dota universe, or let them take you and discover what experimentation feels like when performed by forces that view mortals as expendable resources."

She turned without waiting for my response and ran toward a section of wall that looked identical to every other surface in this twisted city. She pressed her hand against specific points on the stone, activating some mechanism I couldn't see. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing darkness beyond.

I looked back at the approaching soldiers, then at the concealed entrance. Templar Assassin had already disappeared into the opening. I heard her voice echo from inside.

"The tunnels run beneath the entire city. Multiple exits, dozens of routes. They can't track you underground."

The soldiers shouted something. I heard the sound of spells being prepared, magical energy gathering despite knowing their tracking magic would fail. They were switching to direct attack spells instead.

I ran through the concealed entrance.

Darkness swallowed me immediately. The opening closed behind me with a grinding sound of stone on stone, cutting off the purple-red sky and the pursuing soldiers. I stood in complete blackness, unable to see anything.

"Stay close." Templar Assassin's voice came from somewhere ahead. "The tunnels are trapped. Step where I step, touch nothing, and you might survive the next hour."

I heard her moving deeper into the darkness. I followed the sound, extending one hand to feel the wall beside me. Cold stone met my palm, smooth and featureless. I moved forward carefully, counting steps to maintain orientation.

"What is this place?" I asked the darkness.

"Ancient." Her voice echoed strangely off the tunnel walls. "Older than the current conflict between Radiant and Dire. These passages predate the modern factions, built when this reality followed different rules."

Light bloomed ahead. Templar Assassin had activated something—a small crystal that radiated pale blue illumination. The light revealed a tunnel carved from the same dark stone as the city above, stretching forward into distance I couldn't calculate. Symbols covered the walls, similar to the script I'd seen on the surface but arranged in different patterns.

She moved forward at a steady pace, following a path that looked identical to every other direction. I watched where she stepped, memorizing the route. Left around a pillar of stone. Right at an intersection. Straight through a section where the tunnel narrowed significantly.

"In the Dota universe, there are no heroes." She spoke without looking back, her attention focused on navigation. "That word exists, but it doesn't mean what you think. Everyone here is a weapon. Everyone serves forces beyond mortal comprehension, whether they acknowledge it or not."

We passed through a chamber where multiple tunnels converged. Templar Assassin paused, examining each passage before selecting one that looked no different from the others. She continued walking, and I followed.

"The Radiant and the Dire represent cosmic forces locked in eternal conflict. They manifest as opposing sides in battles fought by champions—beings of power drawn from across multiple realities. Some champions serve willingly. Others were conscripted. Many don't fully understand what they fight for."

She turned down another passage, descending deeper underground. The temperature dropped noticeably. I saw my breath condensing in the cold air, visible in the crystal's pale light.

"Your anti-magic properties make you an anomaly in this system. The Radiant can't enhance you through their standard methods. The Dire can't corrupt you with their usual techniques. You exist outside the framework both factions use to control their forces."

The tunnel opened into a larger space. Templar Assassin stopped at the threshold, raising her crystal to illuminate more of the area. I saw a chamber carved from solid rock, empty except for a single stone platform in the center. Strange markings covered the platform's surface, glowing faintly with residual energy.

"That's why both sides will hunt you." She moved into the chamber, circling the platform while maintaining careful distance from its edge. "You represent something they can't integrate into their existing power structures. Unknowns are dangerous. Unknowns that can destabilize magical constructs are existential threats."

She reached the far side of the chamber and activated another concealed entrance. This opening led to a different tunnel, angling upward instead of down. We entered it, leaving the platform chamber behind.

"Tell me about Demacia's petricite." She spoke the demand casually, as if asking about weather. "The substance that nullifies magic. How is it refined? How do you incorporate it into human physiology?"

"I don't know the technical details." I answered honestly, watching her reaction. "I'm a soldier, not a mage-seeker or researcher. They exposed me to petricite through years of training. Equipment, architecture, controlled doses mixed with food and water. The process built resistance gradually."

"But you don't know the exact methodology?"

"No. That information is restricted to the mage-seeker order and certain high-ranking officials."

Templar Assassin made a sound that might have indicated disappointment or acceptance—the mask muffled it too much to interpret clearly. She continued up the tunnel, moving faster now.

"Then you're valuable as a subject rather than an informant." She glanced back at me, eyes unreadable. "Unfortunate. Direct knowledge would have been cleaner. Physical examination will require more invasive methods."

I stopped walking.

She noticed immediately and turned to face me fully. The psi-blades at her sides hummed slightly louder, responding to some subtle command.

"I helped you escape immediate capture." She stated it as fact, no emotion in her voice. "I provided information about this reality's dangers. That assistance has value. Payment is expected."

"I didn't agree to be your research subject."

"You entered these tunnels. You followed my guidance. Implicit agreement through action." She shifted her stance slightly, weight moving to the balls of her feet. Combat stance, I recognized. "Resistance now seems counterproductive."

I raised the ceremonial blade I'd been carrying. The weapon still felt wrong in my hand, unbalanced for techniques I'd trained. But I'd fought with worse equipment during border skirmishes where proper arms weren't available.

Templar Assassin watched me take defensive position. She didn't move to attack immediately. Instead, she studied my stance with what seemed like professional interest.

"You have combat training. Formal military education, based on your form." She tilted her head slightly. "But you're wounded, disoriented, and holding an unfamiliar weapon in tunnels you can't navigate alone. Even if you defeat me, you'll die lost underground or get recaptured the moment you surface."

"Maybe." I adjusted my grip on the blade. "But I won't cooperate with someone who views me as an experiment."

She stood silent for several seconds, apparently considering options. The psi-blades continued humming, casting violet light that mixed with the crystal's pale blue.

"Revised offer." She relaxed her stance fractionally, though I noticed her hands remained close to her weapons. "I provide safe passage to a neutral location. You answer questions about Demacian military tactics, political structure, and general knowledge of your reality's magical theory. No physical examination. No forced study."

"Why the change?"

"Because killing you wastes potential information, and I'd prefer cooperation to conflict." She gestured at the tunnel continuing upward. "I'm skilled enough to win this fight, but you'll likely damage me in the process. That compromises my ability to extract you safely, which defeats the entire purpose."

I kept the blade raised but didn't advance. She maintained her position, waiting.

"How do I know you'll honor this revised agreement?"

"You don't." She answered immediately. "But consider your alternatives. Trust me and possibly gain valuable intelligence about surviving in this reality, or reject my help and face certain capture by forces with no interest in negotiation."