Runes determine our path

The power hierarchy of Runeterra can be roughly divided into eighteen tiers: six mortal tiers, five transcendental tiers, five divine tiers, and two tiers beyond the divine, unknown to the common world.

The six mortal tiers are of little concern to him; they have nothing to do with him. Even without much martial skill, his immense magical power alone makes him stronger than a sixth-tier mortal grandmaster, even those who have already condensed their essence. They are no match for him.

This is also why all mage apprentices are categorized within the mortal six tiers, because the moment one becomes a true mage, they step into the transcendental fifth tier. Mortal-tier individuals, no matter how refined their footwork or how elusive their movement techniques, pose almost no threat. A mage can bombard them from every direction.

Balyard is at the seventh tier. The starting point of transcendence. At this level, the strong are no longer susceptible to damage from mundane weapons. Only powerful rune-enchanted magical weapons can penetrate their physical defenses.

This tier is known as the Body of Endurance. However, attaining this body is not instantaneous; it involves a long and gradual transformation.

Balyard has been stuck at this stage for over ten thousand years. Even Karl can't explain why he still hasn't stepped into the eighth tier.

To step into the eighth tier, the requirement is mental: in simple terms, bravery, the courage to battle any existence, facing combat without fear, or becoming even braver in the face of fear.

But in all of Shadow Isles, even in the entirety of Runeterra, no one can truly challenge him to a satisfying battle.

Weaker beings don't dare face him. Those a bit stronger recognize his identity and avoid conflict. Even if they secretly disdain Balyard, they wouldn't risk offending the mighty Shadow Isles.

As for beings stronger than him, well, he can't beat them.

Take Kalista, for example. She could knock him out with a single kick. The powerful named figures of the Shadow Isles aren't they all demigods? A battle that ends in less than a second doesn't qualify as "bravery." A heroic moment shorter than a snarky remark...

If not for the fact that Runeterra's material world can only accommodate beings up to demigod level, these guys might have become even stronger. Perhaps even the great archangel wouldn't be their match if they had ascended to godhood.

Maybe it's because the celestial realm lacks a place like the Shadow Isles that's suitable for them to inhabit. Otherwise, they'd have become gods long ago.

"What should I do..."

On that morning, Hecarim's hooves would soon echo across the Shadow Isles. Balyard sat on his bed, deep in his usual contemplation.

Could the Lord of the Shadow Isles stay stuck between the seventh and eighth tier forever? Isn't that laughable? Sure, he's already become a joke across Runeterra, but self-awareness shouldn't go that far.

"You have a way, don't you?"

Balyard sat on his bed, seemingly talking to himself. On the eerie Shadow Isles—even the dark temple he lived in was wrapped in unspeakable horrors. That was the will of the most revered undead, Karl.

Undead were... non-existent here. The only forbidden zone on the island—off-limits to all undead- was Balyard's bedroom. The room had four windows offering a panoramic view of the entire Shadow Isles.

Balyard didn't fully understand what kind of entity he was trying to converse with—most likely some kind of "will." Some blue-skinned bald guy was always mumbling about "will connecting the world." A bit exaggerated, sure, but not far off.

These beings, without physical form, will-based existences, usually remained dormant to maintain the rules of Runeterra. But exceptions surely existed.

He had sensed one of these wills observing him long ago. Though it never spoke, if he initiated a conversation, it probably wouldn't refuse.

"Of course. But are you sure you want to follow my path? You may have to face many unpleasant memories."

It wasn't speech, but clearer than words, easily understood, everywhere and nowhere.

"Even if they're unpleasant memories, they're only possibilities. If I don't seek strength, the title of 'Runeterra's laughingstock' will haunt me forever."

Balyard agreed without hesitation. He had his guesses about the voice. Among the many wills in the world, this one was probably the least likely to be awake, yet it was speaking to him.

He didn't particularly care about reputation. Honestly, what did it matter if people called him a joke? As the ruler of a giant asylum like the Shadow Isles, if he cared about public opinion, he should've killed himself in shame ten thousand years ago.

Besides, as the only sane individual in this madhouse, most of the island's spirits probably thought he was the crazy one.

"Tell me then, where do I need to go?"

Balyard pulled a handful of rune coins from his desk drawer and stuffed them into his robes. The armor of the dead, the tattered garments of an ancient, ruined king—probably. That part of history is mostly forgotten. Of the few who lived through it, some went mad, some turned foolish. Best not to bring it up.

"Before you go, you'll need permission."

"How troublesome. With my status, can't I just take a shortcut?"

Grumbling, Balyard grabbed the Blade of the Ruined King. If you're taking a shortcut, you need something to prove your identity. The armor of the dead and the blade of a ruined king ought to be enough to tip off any savvy onlookers.

"Don't you understand your situation? Among Runeterra's known figures, hardly anyone takes you seriously."

That will give him no face, but what he said was true. Even on the Shadow Isles, only Karl paid him any attention.

Balyard had appointed Thresh as the island's librarian. Thresh did indeed guard the ancient secrets diligently, but the library Thresh managed had no concept of "quiet reading." He never shut up.

Among the Shadow Isles' three big names, Karl, Thresh, and Mordekaiser, it was Mordekaiser who treated Balyard the most coldly. The way he stared at Balyard made it seem like the guy had gone to Noxus to ask for money and got beaten up instead.

So, Balyard had dubbed Mordekaiser the "real estate developer" of the Shadow Isles, with Yorick as his "laborer." Of course, he didn't dare tell Mordekaiser this, lest he storm off to Noxus again, demanding the Immortal Bastion.

That's right, it was entirely for Mordekaiser's sake.

"Besides, that place produces demigods like crops. Hundreds have been trained there, any time, any place, they might ascend or even leap straight to Tier Thirteen."

Balyard paused. Hundreds of demigods? All at the same level as the Shadow Isles' big three?

He didn't believe the will would lie to him, but where in Runeterra could produce that many demigods and remain unknown?

"...Fine. No shortcuts. Is getting permission difficult?"

He thought for a moment. As the ruler of the Shadow Isles, he should lead by example, not break the rules. Of course, he'd never do something as disgraceful as sneaking in the back door.

"To get permission, you just need to detect unusual events in Runeterra. With your perception, that shouldn't be too hard."

It's a rookie tutorial. If there's a boss fight, a bigshot will tank up front. Newbies need to hang onto them; those who can't even do that aren't much use, unless they're demigod-level already.

"Then let's go. I'm ready."

He donned his armor of the dead. Though it had a new design, those with sharp eyes could still recognize it. On his back was the Ruined King's blade, without a scabbard.

Balyard didn't believe anyone who saw him like this would offer a shortcut. Hundreds of demigods? That was not something he wanted to provoke. If no one offered a "proactive" shortcut, he could settle for a "passive" one.

Soon, a dazzling, starry gate appeared before him. But just as he was about to walk through it, the scene before his eyes changed…

A teleportation spell, that's all it was. The gate? Just for show.

That's what a gate is supposed to do… right?