Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route-Chapter 158: Wind Swordsmanship—But He Isn’t Yasuo!

Logan swept his gaze across the area and spoke in a low, steady voice.

He looked at the terrified Ionians staring back at him, a faint edge of displeasure showing on his face.

Back in the treehouse, Logan had already heard the commotion outside. The students had suddenly flung the door open and stood there watching—and that had been his decision. From the beginning to the end, Logan had always thought of himself as someone who followed rules, someone who even leaned a little toward being "good."

That had something to do with who he was—someone who'd been thrown into this world from a peaceful place—but it probably also had a lot to do with Ahri, the Spirit Blossom deity of the Kanmei faction.

It was because of Ahri that Logan had managed to hold on to himself. Otherwise, in a place like Zaun, no matter how firmly he clung to the morals he'd brought with him, given enough time, the environment—and the blue-haired little maniac by his side—would've washed his brain clean.

So when he looked at the people in front of him, Logan felt absolutely no goodwill.

The Navori Brotherhood—people who didn't know much only understood it as an organization formed out of Navori's resistance fighters and militia groups. But anyone who knew the background understood that the Brotherhood's earliest roots were tied to Irelia. Maybe she hadn't founded it with her own hands, but its rise had everything to do with her—at the very least, she'd been one of its core figures.

But near the end of the Noxus–Ionia war, when the Noxians began withdrawing in large numbers and the conflict started winding down, new voices emerged.

The radicals insisted Ionia should be unified by force, an Ionian empire should be built, and Noxus should be repaid in blood.

The conservatives believed the war had been won and Ionians shouldn't be made to suffer any more—that it was time to recover and return to the life they'd had before.

During that period, the resistance within the Placidium ran into serious internal trouble.

Two opposing ideas collided. At first it was only disagreement in principle, but it quickly grew into political, economic, and positional hostility.

Irelia ultimately separated from the Brotherhood, and her departure took a large portion of the resistance with her—people who worshiped her and were willing to follow her.

Meanwhile, the Brotherhood dug in across Navori. They began forcibly conscripting locals—village by village in Navori and even other provinces—swelling their ranks.

And because Irelia's prestige in Navori was still blazing like the sun, the Brotherhood even sent assassins after her more than once. They wanted her dead so that, once she was gone, the resistance could be absorbed into the Brotherhood and Ionia's "first nation" could be established for real.

After all, as long as Irelia lived, the Brotherhood could never truly rule Navori—because even now, inside the Brotherhood itself, there were still plenty of believers who revered Irelia.

And because of that…

These people might once have been Ionian heroes. But blinded by anger and hatred—or rather, driven by profit and ambition—the Brotherhood was no longer what it used to be. Now they'd become, completely and utterly, a violent organization.

Because doing something like forcibly conscripting people… that just wasn't something Ionians—who were famed for being gentle—were supposed to do.

"You actually dared to lay hands on the Brotherhood."

One man pointed at Logan, speaking through clenched teeth. "You're done for." He emphasized every word.

Logan looked at him and asked, "So what? What's the Brotherhood planning to do to me?"

The Brotherhood… I'm not even Ionian. If you really want trouble, come try it in Zaun.

As for why he'd acted, it was simple: Logan just hated the organization. And besides, the villagers of Bondweave Village really had helped Logan and Jinx quickly settle into life in Ionia.

The man froze for a beat, then snarled, "The Brotherhood will never let you go!"

As he spoke, he gripped his dagger and charged at Logan.

The moment he moved, the other Brotherhood members scattered and rushed in as well.

Someone among the villagers shouted for Logan to be careful.

These Brotherhood members were clearly trained. The guy who'd been talking to Logan took point to draw Logan's attention, while the others slipped out of Logan's direct line of sight, crouched low, and surged in from the sides.

Logan raised a hand.

The wooden ruler in his grip suddenly wrapped in an unseen current, a thin, invisible wind coiling around it. Then he swung, snapping the ruler outward like a strike.

Screams rang out.

The first body flew backward from right in front of Logan. Then the second. Then the third.

Logan's face remained blank. He controlled his strength carefully as he swung the ruler again and again.

He was using a ruler to perform the Wind Technique—yet deliberately holding back, making sure a single blow wouldn't turn someone into a spray of flesh and blood.

"Swordsmanship?" Akali, watching from the crowd, narrowed her eyes in confusion.

It was swordsmanship—no question. Shen used swordsmanship too, and he was a master of it. But what was different here was that this young man's technique seemed to carry something else… something that felt like magic.

And that power felt like…

Wind.

That was what confused Akali most, because she remembered hearing that wind-based sword techniques had already been lost.

The Kinkou Order centered their discipline on the Three Disciplines. Its members cultivated themselves through those three paths: Watching the Stars, Coursing the Sun, and Pruning the Tree.

Akali's path was Pruning the Tree—the meaning of Pruning the Tree was to use force to intervene in balance, to cut away what threatened it, to push the world back toward equilibrium.

Coursing the Sun meant gathering information from the world and preventing bad judgments from tipping the balance between realms.

As for Watching the Stars, it was simple: doing nothing at all—only watching.

Every generation of the Order had plenty of people in Coursing the Sun and Pruning the Tree, but Watching the Stars was always held by only one person. In this generation, Shen was the one responsible for Watching the Stars.

Because of that, and because of what she'd heard from Kennen, Akali knew quite a bit.

For example: one of the last people to fully master the Wind Technique—Elder Souma—had died at the hands of another inheritor of the Wind Technique. And after Souma's death, that person became the last swordsman in the world who still possessed the Wind Technique.

But that person had already betrayed the school, fled the pursuit of the other disciples, and become a wandering swordman of Ionia.

So…

Is it this guy?

No.

Akali shook her head.

The age didn't match. And the face didn't match either. Kennen could draw—he'd sketched that man named Yasuo—and the man in front of her didn't resemble him at all.

So what was going on?

Akali was genuinely stumped.

Could there be branches of the Wind Technique—variants even Kennen didn't know about?

Staring at Logan, Akali rubbed her chin and thought hard.

In the center of it all, Logan had already knocked every Brotherhood member flying. Then he stepped forward, lifted his foot, and planted it on one man's chest.

"And now?" Logan asked coolly. "What's the Brotherhood going to do?"

The man's shoulder was shattered. He writhed on the ground in agony, twisting like a worm. Hearing Logan's question, he hissed, "Ire— Irelia will avenge us!"

Logan frowned and immediately understood what the guy was trying to do—drag Irelia into this, muddy the waters, throw blame in her direction.

But did Logan not know what was going on between Irelia and the Brotherhood?

He was about to speak when two voices cut through the crowd.

"Absurd!" The first belonged to a tall man with a longbow on his back, bandages wrapped around his hands, and leather armor across his chest.

The second voice was a spiky-haired girl snapping, "That's bullshit."

Logan turned toward her, giving her a quick once-over—and then his eyes lit up.

Ionia wasn't exactly small…

So how was it that in barely half a month here, he'd already run into Sett—and now he was running into Akali?

Yeah. Logan recognized her.

Jet-black hair flared out like a hedgehog, sharp eyes with striking reddish-brown irises, a green mask covering half her face, and two kama blades hanging at her waist.

That look could only be Akali.

Akali met eyes with the person who'd spoken earlier too. With just one glance, she recognized him.

A member of the Navori resistance.

"Sir, I'm Wen, from the Placidium resistance camp," Wen said, also glancing at Akali before stepping out of the crowd and addressing Logan. "That man is completely lying."

After receiving Irelia's orders, Wen had led a team toward Bondweave Village to stop the Brotherhood from forcibly conscripting the locals.

Of course, Wen wasn't going to stop anyone from killing Noxians—so that delay was why he'd arrived a little late.

But he hadn't expected to arrive and see a scene like this.

In Wen's eyes, this young man holding a ruler—with a gentle, restrained presence—looked exactly like the kind of reclusive master that hidden orders produced. People like that were powerful. During the war, the resistance alone couldn't have beaten Noxus; Ionia had won because many disciples from secluded traditions had stepped out into the world.

Especially in the Battle of the Placidium—when the visionary Karma appeared, a single strike from her power pierced straight through a Noxian warship that spanned a hundred meters. That was the true turning point of the entire war.

So if Wen had come any later—if these Brotherhood thugs had misled this man and turned him into a new enemy of the resistance—that would've been a catastrophic problem.

"We separated from the Brotherhood long ago," Wen said earnestly as he approached within a few steps of Logan. "They're our enemy now. So please—don't believe anything he says."

"You're one of Irelia's people?" Logan asked. "The Navori resistance?"

Wen nodded. "The resistance learned ahead of time that the Brotherhood planned to head south and forcibly conscript people. Our leader, Irelia, sent me to bring people here and stop their plan."

As he spoke, Wen tilted his head toward the Brotherhood man sprawled on the ground, his eyes brimming with murderous intent. "Rogu. Do you remember me?"

"Ha! How could I forget you?" Rogu laughed hoarsely. He forced himself upright, clutching his arm, spraying blood-foam every time he spoke—his lungs looked badly damaged. "You dog on Irelia's leash!"

"You can't lead Navori, so hand it over! I believed in her once—we all did—but she disappointed me! She disappointed the Brotherhood!"

"The spirits don't walk that path," Wen snarled, then surged forward and drove a fist into Rogu's face.

Logan watched silently from behind.

Rogu grunted in pain, his head snapping back as he collapsed. Then he sat up again, eyes blazing with fury as he stared at Wen.

"The spirits?" Rogu spat. "When we suffered, where were the spirits? When we fought and killed and forgot our own lives, where were the spirits?"

"It's over now. It's time for us to finally live well—and only then do the spirits show their faces? What kind of joke is that?"

"Come on—kill me! Kill me, and tens of thousands of Brotherhood members will avenge me!"

He spread his arms wide, shouting at Wen with fanatic fervor.

Wen let out a cold laugh. He pulled the longbow from his back, took a few steps to create distance, drew an arrow, and narrowed his eyes at Rogu.

"You think I'm going to be soft on you the way Irelia is?"

"Listen to yourself. We resisted Noxus not so we could 'live well,' but to protect our home. And you? You drove out Noxus, then became another Noxus yourselves. Forced conscription. Killing villagers. Collecting taxes. Selling land. All of that—your filthy work!"

"The spirits never left us. The reason you can't see them is because the spirits have already abandoned you!"

Wen's fingers loosened.

The arrow tore through the air with a shriek and punched clean through Rogu's throat.

Then Wen nocked and fired again—arrow after arrow—sending shafts into every Brotherhood member still present.

In moments, the ground gained body after body.

Wen lifted a hand and said in a heavy voice, "Bury them."

The resistance members with him nodded and began collecting the corpses.

Logan watched Wen. Wen's words made Logan think of a phrase.

The dragon-slayer became the dragon.

The Brotherhood's original intent had to have been good. They must have truly done real things, truly saved Ionia.

But the Brotherhood now…

Forget it. He was from Zaun—there was no need for him to point fingers at Ionia's mess. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

With that thought, Logan looked at Babb and said, "Village chief, I'm going back to class. If you need anything, just call for me."

Babb froze for a moment, then nodded, looking at Logan with gratitude.

To be honest, Babb trusted neither the resistance nor the Brotherhood anymore. Right now, he was more willing to trust Logan.

But as Logan turned, Wen's voice rose behind him. Wen hesitated as he looked at Logan's back.

"Sir… could we talk?"

"After class," Logan replied.

Then Logan abruptly stopped, as if something had just hit him. He turned and looked toward Akali in the crowd.

She was walking away, back turned to him, heading toward the edge of the village.

Everyone else moved with the crowd, but she moved against it—slipping out alone. And yet her presence was so faint that almost no one noticed she was leaving.

Well, of course. Akali was a master assassin. She could move without making a sound, even control her breathing. Someone like that having a way to lower her sense of "presence" wasn't surprising at all.

"Hey. You over there," Logan called out to Akali.

Akali turned her head. She'd only meant to see if there was any more spectacle to watch, but the moment she looked back, she froze—because Logan was staring straight at her.

Akali narrowed her eyes.

That shouldn't happen.

Normally, nobody should be noticing me.

"You look young," Logan said to her. "Want to come study at the school? No tuition."

No way.

He'd almost forgotten Akali because the resistance showed up.

If he let her slip away now, he'd regret it to death later.

Because if he could lure Akali back to Zaun, Zaun would gain a powerful intelligence network.

Silco had envied Piltover more than once—specifically because Piltover had Clan Ferros. He'd envied the covert network Ferros had cultivated. In private, he'd even told Logan he hoped Zaun could build an intelligence organization of its own—one that belonged only to Zaun, instead of having to run to Piltover every time to borrow Ferros assets.

But building an intelligence organization—how was that easy?

Clan Ferros had hidden behind Piltover's curtain for centuries. They'd spent who-knew-how-much time and money cultivating those people. If Zaun wanted something comparable, the first thing they needed was an exceptional instructor.

And across Runeterra, the best intelligence and assassination talent Logan could think of was basically just two people.

One was Katarina—an assassin who excelled at killing and was also an excellent operative. But Katarina was Noxian.

The other was Quinn of Demacia—an elite ranger and scout. With her nearly extinct eagle companion, Valor, Quinn was one of the best recon specialists on the continent. She practically came with her own drone.

Either one of those two would be enough to help Zaun train excellent agents—but the problem was that neither of them would ever leave their homeland.

They were loyal to their nations.

And after that… Runeterra didn't really have many top-tier intelligence specialists that Logan knew of.

But Runeterra didn't matter—because Ionia did.

A prodigy assassin girl who had been named the next Fist of Shadow while still young, someone who could already stand on her own in her teens—

Akali.

If nothing went wrong—if Riot didn't decide to rewrite everything overnight—then this was exactly the time when Akali had nowhere she truly belonged.

Because she couldn't stand the Kinkou Order's creed, Akali had left the Order and become a lone wolf. And because of that, her title shifted—from the Fist of Shadow… to the Rogue Assassin.

Huh. So that's why she keeps bouncing between K/DA and True Damage.

"You're talking to me?" Akali pointed at her own face.

Logan nodded. "Want to sit in on a class and see how it feels?"

"…"

Akali fell silent.

Her instinct was to refuse. But looking at Logan's face… refusing outright felt weirdly rude.

And besides, it was just one class. Back when she was with the Order, she'd attended plenty of lessons and cultural studies.

Even within Pruning the Tree, the Kinkou valued education—because only by mastering different kinds of knowledge could you better maintain the balance between realms.

So taking one class, learning a bit more… that wasn't a bad thing.

It was… good, even.

As she thought that, Akali didn't notice that her foot had already lifted—taking a step back toward him.

Logan saw it and smiled with smug satisfaction.

Bless Ahri—thank you.

Too bad he was in Ionia; it wasn't like he could bring Ahri snacks. But maybe he could make some handmade pastries later as a gift.

Still, Akali held on to her last shred of stubborn pride.

One hand on her hip, she called out loudly, "Is there food?"

"Room and board included," Logan answered.

Akali didn't hesitate anymore. She slipped through the crowd with light steps and in a few quick motions arrived right in front of Logan.

That distance—over a hundred meters—she crossed in only a handful of steps. Wen's pupils tightened when he saw it.

So that spiky-haired girl who'd called bullshit earlier was also… a mystic.

The resistance had mystics too. Their leader Irelia was one—someone who could control blades, guiding them with an elegant, beautiful sword dance. On the battlefield, she could fight a hundred by herself.

Wen knew exactly how terrifying people like that could be.

And now… two mystics were walking into the wooden schoolhouse right in front of him.

Wen turned to one of his subordinates and beckoned him over.

The man hurried to his side.

Wen said in a low voice, "I'll stay here. Once you finish dealing with the Brotherhood corpses, return to camp and tell our leader to come to Bondweave Village. These two… we need to find a way to get them to join the resistance."

"Yes. I'll go now."

Wen nodded, then found a place to sit, quietly waiting outside the schoolhouse.

When dealing with people like this, Wen was extremely respectful of rules.

He came from Qaelin. In Qaelin there were local sects that lived in harmony with nature. Back when Wen was still a farmer, he'd delivered vegetables to one of those groups and had dealings with them. He knew how strange they could be.

They'd wake up early to do "morning lessons," which meant sitting in front of a potted plant they'd grown themselves and meditating for an entire morning. At noon they'd eat something simple, then spend the afternoon training.

Every day.

Without fail.

So maybe…

This young man's class was one of his rules.

Fine. Then Wen would wait.

What else could he do, when the man clearly had the ability?

Wen closed his eyes, setting his bow across his legs. Before he slipped into meditation—the state where he tried to commune with the spirits—his last thought was:

Irelia, please don't reject this just because it's a hassle.

These two—if we can win over even one of them, it would help the resistance enormously.

Because the resistance wasn't like the Brotherhood. Even though they were called the resistance, their camp was mostly old people and children now.

The Brotherhood refused to take them in, calling them "dead weight."

Irelia took them in.

And because of that, the resistance's real strength… was far weaker than most people imagined.

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