"Do not retreat! Prepare to engage!" roared a man clad in half-armor, his chest mostly exposed to the air.
He was mounted upon a massive beast that resembled a small tank, covered in dark scales and heavy plate armor—a Basilisk.
These monstrous reptiles from the southern jungles of Noxus were fierce and predatory; depending on their age, they could grow to enormous sizes.
Young Basilisks like this one were prized mounts because they were the only ones that could be tamed.
As they grew larger or became impossible to ride, they were used as beasts of burden.
More often, adult Basilisks were converted by Noxians into terrifying living battering rams by sheathing them in steel, forcing them to charge into city walls to break a stalemate.
The fact that a young Basilisk was "tameable" didn't mean it was easy to control; on the contrary, Basilisk riders were respected in every Noxian legion for their role as shield-breakers.
Now, atop his Basilisk, the barbarian knight's face was filled with ferocity.
He gripped his spear and yanked the reins toward Faen's charging path.
With a shrill roar, the Basilisk lunged forward, its short, heavy limbs exploding with unimaginable speed as it began its gallop.
During his charge, Faen felt the enmity from the side.
Looking at the Basilisk rider bearing down on him, Faen felt no fear; instead, a smile of anticipation rose to his face.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the armored monster charged with a force that seemed to shake the very earth, carrying enough momentum to crush a city wall.
Faen did not retreat; he stepped forward, sinking his shoulder to meet the armored head of the Basilisk head-on.
Compared to the giant beast, Faen's silhouette seemed frail and tiny.
But at the moment of contact, the crude, hard, angular black steel ramming-horn on the Basilisk's head shattered instantly.
Faen didn't budge an inch.
As the Basilisk reeled from the impact, letting out a whimpering wail, Faen's arms swelled with muscle.
Veins bulged like pythons wrapping around a tree.
His broad palms opened, and his ten hard fingers, like steel dragons, tore directly through the gaps in the Basilisk's neck scales, digging into the flesh and spraying dark blood.
The complex process took place in a mere heartbeat.
Following the lizard's momentum, Faen suddenly spun his body.
The multi-ton war-beast was bodily swung off the ground before the disbelieving eyes of the soldiers, its massive black silhouette carving a bloody arc through the air.
With a stomach-churning sound of a snapping spine, the massive, steel-clad Basilisk was slammed into the Noxian soldiers behind Faen who hadn't yet reacted.
CRASH!!!
Flesh collided with armor.
Faen had preserved the terrifying momentum of the Basilisk's charge, releasing it all in the moment of the slam.
The force exploded into a towering wave of red.
Apost the beast's broad back, the veteran rider had no time to react before his world spun; then, the massive body of the Basilisk crushed him into the earth.
As his abdominal cavity burst, shattered internal organs flew in every direction.
Bones and tendons were pulverized.
As the dust settled, the area that had been crowded with soldiers was now nothing but the mangled remains of a Basilisk embedded in the ground, resting atop a scarlet swamp of mangled meat and broken bones where men and beast had been blended into one!
Completing the sequence in one fluid motion, Faen rolled his shoulders comfortably and fixed his gaze once more on Duocal.
On the other side, seeing his strongest and most-prized Basilisk rider smashed into a pile of meat, Duocal's eyes widened in shock, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
As he noticed Faen looking at him again, Duocal's earlier caution turned into the absolute realization of doom.
He knew exactly what it meant to be hunted by such a monster on the battlefield.
Before Duocal could bark another order, a storm erupted at Faen's feet.
Unleashing Janna's power, Faen's solitary figure seemed to fly just above the ground, charging toward Duocal at a terrifying height.
Unlike before, the Noxian soldiers no longer believed in victory.
Having seen the Basilisk rider turned into a puddle of gore, they held their breath.
Forget charging forward to fight; they didn't even have the courage to attack from a safe distance.
The iron-wall formation of the legion tore itself apart as they realized that standing in Faen's path meant being crushed without mercy.
In Duocal's sight, when this harbinger of death finally stopped, a path of shattered armor and twisted limbs lay behind him.
Looking into Faen's eyes, Duocal saw no hatred—only an indifference so cold it was devoid of all emotion, as if everything Faen had just done was beneath mention.
Trembling, Duocal managed to raise his greatsword.
But before the blade could fall, Faen's broad hand clamped around his entire head and hoisted him up.
The reinforced helmet began to deform under the massive pressure of Faen's fingers, piercing flesh and crushing bone.
Viscous blood seeped through the gaps of his fingers, dripping onto Duocal's bronze-inlaid black steel pauldrons.
Feeling the approach of death, Duocal swung his sword desperately, but the blade let out a sharp clink as it hit the Armor of Flowing Water on Faen's skin.
A moment later, with a violent squeeze of Faen's fingers, Duocal's head exploded.
Dark red blood mixed with brain matter overflowed from the gaps in the mangled helmet.
Faen tossed the body aside like trash, and Duocal fell to the ground, silent forever.