Legends of Runeterra

During the long and non-stop escape, Tryndamere not only had to face various ferocious beasts, but also had to take care of his tribesmen who fell down due to exhaustion.

I was exhausted all the way. I only rested for a few hours last night and had a simple meal.

Even with the mountain clan's amazing endurance and strength, Tryndamere is still at the end of his rope.

Faced with the tacit siege of Blood Axe Barry and Cleaver Samosa, Tryndamere inevitably fell into passive defense.

"Dang~!"

The giant blade collided with the double axes, but a sawblade sword appeared on the left side of Tryndamere.

"Pfft~!"

Although he twisted his body to avoid the vital parts at the last moment, the jagged blade still cut into Tryndamere's body, and as Samosa pulled the blade down with a grin, a large piece of flesh was peeled off from Tryndamere.

"Plop~!"

"Huhuhu~!"

Tryndamere knelt on one knee, breathing heavily, pressing the wound with his left hand, but the bright red liquid still couldn't stop flowing out from between his fingers.

Judging from the battle-hardened eyes of Barry and Samosa, unless the opponent was an Iceborn who could freeze the wound on his waist, Tryndamere would bleed to death within two minutes.

"Hahaha~! How is it, are you comfortable, Tryndamere?"

"He's done for with that blow."

Bloodaxe Barley swung his axe and strode towards Tryndamere, intending to chop off his head.

"Shua~!"

"Dang~!"

"Samosa you..."

"He's already a dead man, and now I'm going to deal with you!"

"Hahaha~! Come on then!"

"Dang Dang Dang~!"

The two of them ignored Tryndamere, who was barely alive and on the verge of death, and fought fiercely.

"Huhuhu~!"

With every gasp, Tryndamere could feel more of the warm liquid flowing out from between his fingers.

As they left, his body became colder and stiffer.

At the same time, his perception of his surroundings became increasingly blurred.

The sound of Bali and Samosa's weapons colliding, the shouts of the audience, everything was moving away from him.

In a trance, smelling the extremely strong smell of blood, Tryndamere seemed to hear the panic, fear, and miserable howling of his people that night. The scenes that he dared not recall appeared in his mind.

An unusual storm swept in from the east, bringing with it an icy darkness and a tall, burly, horned figure, whose dark outline against the full moon made it impossible to make out any features.

Then, some people from the Mountain Clan fell to the ground and knelt down, believing that the one standing before them was the god of their faith.

Indeed, the creature was filled with ancient magic, but he was not of the Freljord... and those who knelt were the first to be slain.

The scene of his people being wantonly slaughtered horrified Tryndamere. The huge, cruel and demonic sword, after cutting and tearing apart the bodies of his people, seemed to be... devouring them!

Perhaps possessed by bloodlust or some other madness, Tryndamere raised his greatblade and roared in defiance.

But what happened was that the dark figure slapped him aside like a bug.

When Tryndamere, with his bones shattered, lay helplessly among the corpses, about to breathe his last, the dark and terrifying being walked over.

Ancient, obscure words that he had never heard of before rang in Tryndamere's ears. He tried his best to open his mouth and curse the other party, but his broken body was no longer able to do so.

As his life slipped away, all that remained etched in his memory was that fellow's mocking laughter.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Tryndamere did not die that night.

When he woke up, he felt an indescribable power surging in his body, like a burning rage.

It was this power that kept him alive, or brought him back to life.

But at the same time, his intuition told Tryndamere that the emergence of this power was definitely related to the existence of that dark terror.

So when gathering the surviving tribesmen to embark on the road of escape, Tryndamere would never use this power easily unless it was absolutely necessary.

If for no other reason, he was afraid that he would get lost in the rage and raise the butcher knife against the last of his people.

'I...I can't fall here...'

His consciousness gradually returned to his body. The severe pain from his waist made Tryndamere weak, but at the same time, his consciousness was exceptionally clear at this moment.

"No matter what this power is... even if it means I become a demon... I will lead my people to survive..."

Having made up his mind, Tryndamere no longer suppressed the rage in his heart, but instead took the initiative to stimulate and embrace this power.

The grief-stricken eyes of the tribe members, the helpless and frightened expressions of the cubs, the tragic scene of the clan's demise...

Tryndamere recalled these scenes and tore open his bloody wounds with his own hands, endless rage burning in his chest.

Gradually, his gray-green eyes turned blood red.

“Kala~Kala~!”

The muscles and bones grew at a speed visible to the naked eye. Tryndamere loosened his hands that were covering his waist. The hideous wound was now entangled with flesh and blood and healed again.

"Boom~!"

“Aaaaaaaaaah!!!”

With one foot crushing the ground, Tryndamere dragged the huge blade with one arm and pounced fiercely at the two people who had noticed something was wrong and just stopped to be on guard.

"This guy..."

"How can it be!"

"Shua~!"

The huge blade slashed across at the two men, and the 'Meat Cleaver' Samosathi knife countered.

"Dang~!"

"Shit..."

"Bang~!"

The unexpected force caused Samosa and Barry to collide with each other, and the two rolled on the ground.

"Hey, let's go together!"

"Fuck him!"

Facing the two people who got up from the ground and rushed over, Tryndamere greeted them fearlessly.

"Dang Dang Dang~!"

"Pfft~!"

“Crack~!”

Tryndamere paid no attention to the two men's attacking blades. He abandoned all defense and focused on extreme attack.

Under the gazes of Barry and Samosa, as well as the audience in the stands, which gradually changed from surprise to anxiety, the hideous wounds on Tryndamere's body healed at an incredible speed.

Until the two men's strength declined, the wounds they left on Tryndamere were not as fast as his recovery.

"It's over!"

Tryndamere stared at the two men with his scarlet eyes and slashed with his sword.

"Shua~!"

"Stab~!"

"You...monster..."

"Plop~!"

Two bodies fell on the fighting field, but there was no cheering in the venue. Instead, it fell into a strange silence.

Feeling the uneasy and even fearful gazes from all around him, Tryndamere didn't care at all.

Shaking off the blood on the giant blade, he looked up at the figure on the main seat with blood-red eyes, and spoke words that were beyond everyone's expectations.

"Warmother Ashe, next, I hope to fight all the contestants!"