Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route-Chapter 174: At This Moment, the Wind Howls!

Logan didn't dislike Illaoi.

In her backstory, she'd left him with a pretty good impression.

She wasn't conventionally pretty—dark skin, towering build, the kind of physical presence that hit harder than most men's, rough and powerful.

But in Bilgewater, Illaoi was a dream woman to a lot of people.

In the stories, Gangplank was heartbroken because of his separation from Illaoi, and the people of Bilgewater didn't laugh at him for it. They didn't think his taste was "weird," like he'd fallen for some gorilla-like woman.

It was the opposite.

Anyone who'd actually spent time with Illaoi would be won over by her personal charisma—drawn to her wisdom and her confidence.

So in the official framing, Bilgewater's "goddess" might not be the sea queen Sarah…

It might be Illaoi.

A woman with more backbone than most men in the world—righteous, decisive, brutally straightforward.

When the Buhru looked down on Bilgewater and saw its people as stubborn and backward, Illaoi—after earning the title of Truth Bearer and receiving unimaginable power—still chose to come to Bilgewater.

Because she wanted to help them.

And someone who fought for Bilgewater during the Harrowing… how could she possibly be a bad person?

But their positions were different.

Logan and Illaoi were both "good people"—at least Logan believed he was—and when two good people clash, it isn't because one is evil. It's because their sides don't match.

Illaoi was helping Gangplank.

Logan was helping Sarah.

And Logan also wanted to know just how strong he really was now.

Illaoi's combat power, across Runeterra, was absolutely top-tier—above mortals, below gods: the supernatural class.

Demacia's Dauntless Vanguard were supernatural-class. Noxus's mage corps were supernatural-class. Runeterra's monstrous beasts were supernatural-class. Demons, spirits, and all kinds of unnatural things—also supernatural-class.

But even among the supernatural, there were levels.

And within that tier, Illaoi might not be the absolute ceiling, but she was definitely in the top bracket—because she could borrow Nagakabouros's power.

A demigod's power.

That was why Logan was genuinely curious.

He pushed the clutter out of his mind and reached to the side, gripping the air lightly.

A standard Bilgewater sailor's cutlass flew up from the ground into his hand.

He tested the weight, then reversed his grip and pointed it toward Illaoi.

Wind Swordsmanship could be used with a blade, too. And Bilgewater's cutlass wasn't shaped like a Noxian cleaver—its silhouette was closer to a Demacian sword, so it didn't feel awkward at all.

With the cutlass held backward, Logan bent his knees, looked at Illaoi, and smiled.

"Come on, Illaoi."

"Who are you?" Illaoi asked, the Idol tucked under one arm, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

The gas the airship released had already been split apart by Logan's wind technique. By all logic, with Logan alone standing in front, Bilgewater's gangsters should have rushed him.

But not a single one dared.

Even Gangplank stayed still—clutching the arm Jinx had shot, eyes burning as he watched Sarah and her people slip away.

He desperately wanted to scream at these bastards to chase Sarah, but the terrifying sword scar carved across the ground—stretching dozens of meters—killed that idea.

No one did that with "human strength."

This guy who'd appeared out of nowhere, like Illaoi, was a monster wearing human skin.

If that slash hit a person, would they be cut in half?

No.

They'd be turned into dust.

So Gangplank stood there fuming, full of hatred, and said nothing.

"Sarah's friend," Logan answered.

Illaoi smiled. Fine—he didn't want to give his name.

Because through the Idol, Illaoi could feel Nagakabouros's delight.

The Mother Serpent's vast soul was trembling—pleased by the "sound" of this boy's spirit. It wanted him the way it had once wanted her.

Illaoi had searched all over Bilgewater. On an island this big, only a handful had ever been offered Nagakabouros's trial—Gangplank was one. Sarah was one.

But to them, Nagakabouros had merely "dispensed" a trial.

To this boy, the Mother Serpent felt… eager. Hungry.

Illaoi couldn't help a soft laugh.

"You're impressive, kid. The Mother Serpent has taken an interest in your soul. Want to take Nagakabouros's trial?" Illaoi said. "With your strength, you'd pass easily. You'd gain divine power. The god's attention, the god's favor—this blessing isn't something just anyone receives."

Logan listened, completely speechless.

Was Nagakabouros that desperate for followers?

He'd barely arrived, and Illaoi had already preached to three people right in front of him.

Sarah. Akali. Him.

Becoming the Bearded Lady's follower?

Yeah, no.

Logan didn't know what the Bearded Lady truly looked like, but based on official concept art and what fans online speculated, her true form was probably some enormous deep-sea horror—bulky fish head, serpentine body, endless tentacles coiled around her neck and torso.

A sea monster.

Hundreds of meters long—maybe close to a thousand.

And as for her "human" form…

Looking at Illaoi standing here, Logan had a feeling it wouldn't be any prettier.

So the question became simple.

Was Ahri in Spirit Blossom not enough for him?

Or was Janna at home not already more than he could handle?

And you want him to become Nagakabouros's follower?

What was he—insane?

Logan shook his head at Illaoi.

"Sorry. I already have a god I believe in."

"A god?" Illaoi paused, a trace of contempt flashing in her bell-wide eyes. Her voice dropped heavy. "The universe moves without end. In this world, other than Nagakabouros, who dares call themselves a true god?"

"So you're saying the god I believe in is fake?" Logan snorted.

"Of course," Illaoi said. "The universe, life, motion—these gather into all things. Nagakabouros embodies them. Every soul is born a servant of the universe. You are. I am. And because of that, you must become Nagakabouros's devout believer."

She stepped forward and declared, "All spirits that rely on motion—every essence of creation—belongs to Nagakabouros!"

"Cultist…" Logan muttered.

And stopped talking.

He attacked.

Illaoi really was a decent person—so long as you didn't clash with her doctrine. The moment you did, she turned into a full-on fanatic.

In Summoner's Rift, her voice lines were ridiculously arrogant. Walk her into top lane and she'd mock practically every opponent—pride dripping from every word about Nagakabouros, while belittling other beliefs, even outright insulting demigods.

To Shurima's Ascended brothers, Nasus and Renekton, she'd basically say: you worship the sun, but my god drives the sun across the sky.

To Diana of Mount Targon: your god has been forgotten—mine cannot be ignored.

To Elise of the Shadow Isles: false prophet. You don't even serve a real god.

To Jax: I don't challenge you. I test you.

And she even mocked Janna: the storm is Nagakabouros, and you're just serving blindly.

She was that arrogant.

She even talked down to Volibear.

Blind worship did that to her—other gods were "false" in her eyes, and only hers was real.

There was nothing to talk about with someone like that.

If you wanted an answer, you gave it with your hands.

Logan had come here to fight in the first place.

The cutlass slashed upward from low to high as Logan slipped in, Wind Swordsmanship dragging a visible gale into the strike.

A layer of white light coated the blade—wind condensed into razor-sharp pressure. Logan had elemental affinity. He wasn't a mage yet, but once he used Wind Swordsmanship, he might wield it even better than Yasuo did.

Because the magic in the air howled toward Logan on its own.

He didn't need to "catch" it.

It supplied him willingly.

That was something Yasuo couldn't do.

"You need to be taught, kid!" Illaoi answered, and unlike her fight with Akali—where she'd mostly defended—she didn't dare be careless against Logan.

Because this boy and that girl weren't the same.

This boy was strong.

One mistake, and Illaoi would pay for it.

The Idol swayed.

A green tentacle rose beneath Illaoi's feet. She stepped onto it as it grew upward, looking down at Logan from above.

Logan's toe tapped the ground lightly—his body lifted as if weightless, cutlass held horizontally in front of him—and in a blink he was in Illaoi's face.

Fast was the core of Wind Swordsmanship, and with it came the footwork—the movement style of the wind school.

Seeing Logan appear point-blank, Illaoi's pupils tightened.

The Idol jerked downward, and a green tentacle spawned out of nowhere—as if it grew directly out of the air—whipping at Logan's side.

Logan glanced at it, twisted midair, dodged the stab, and sliced the tentacle apart in the same motion.

Then Logan struck three more times.

Wind clung to the cutlass and became crescent blade waves, slashing toward Illaoi's face.

Boom!

The massive wind blades collided with green tentacles. Tendrils shattered. A gale exploded outward.

Logan was forced back.

The tentacle under Illaoi's feet disintegrated and vanished, dropping her back to the ground—right behind her, a cluster of Bilgewater pirates were blown off their feet by the wind.

The moment Illaoi stabilized, she prepared to counterattack—

And Logan rushed in again.

"Arrogant!" Illaoi growled, lifting the Idol and smashing it down into the ground in front of her.

A moment ago, she'd considered holding back. She wanted Logan to face Nagakabouros's trial—if his state wasn't right, even someone strong could fail.

But now?

She realized she didn't need to hold back at all.

"Holy shit!" Logan's forward momentum stalled as he saw dozens of gigantic tentacles erupt behind Illaoi. His eyes narrowed.

If those tentacles struck him head-on, even with his monster-like physique he wouldn't take it well.

Because when he'd cut tentacles earlier, fragments had brushed his body—just a brief touch, just an instant—and it had still hurt like hell.

Which meant those tentacles weren't striking flesh.

They were striking the soul.

That was far more terrifying than physical damage.

So Logan had to be careful.

Far from the battlefield, Akali blinked at the sight. She was agile, sure, but with dozens of tentacles attacking at once…

Fine.

Even she had to admit she couldn't dodge all of that.

The tentacles were fast, the coverage was huge, and they never collided with each other—like they weren't fully part of this world at all.

Like they were reaching out from some spiritual plane to attack.

Akali really wanted to see what Logan did next.

Up on the airship, Jinx clung to the railing, tense as she watched.

Her eyesight was excellent. She could see Logan beneath dozens of swaying tentacles, each one thick as a tree trunk and many meters wide—making Logan look ridiculously small by comparison.

"Come accept the storm's baptism!" Illaoi thrust the Idol forward.

Dozens of tentacles merged into one, forming a massive green wall—slamming down toward Logan, less like striking him and more like the world itself tipping over to crush him.

Logan tapped the ground and retreated, light as a feather.

In the air, he drew the cutlass back to his left waist. His left hand braced under his right. Long fingers flexed—four curling upward, thumb hooking down—forming the shape of gripping a hilt.

Logan halted after retreating more than a hundred meters.

If he went any farther, he'd be pushed into the area where Sarah and her people were hiding.

Bilgewater's Upper City wasn't that big, and the road down to the Lower City was blocked by Gangplank's people. Sarah couldn't run even if she wanted to. All she could do was retreat away from the battlefield and not become Logan's burden.

Even so, Illaoi at full power was still dragging ordinary people into the fight.

Logan bent forward, legs spread, facing the oncoming green tentacle wall.

It was enormous—tens of meters tall—and it was coming fast, yet it wasn't demolishing the buildings on either side.

Just as Logan suspected:

It was striking the soul.

Directly.

He closed his eyes.

Time seemed to freeze.

He could hear the sea wind.

He could hear breathing behind him.

He could hear Bilgewater's terrified murmurs.

He could hear the sound of that wall of force—coming to hammer straight into the spirit.

Eyes closed, Logan drew a slow breath, teeth grinding.

Thin blue-green lines surfaced densely across the knuckles of his right hand.

The wind wrapping the cutlass shattered—and the handle began to crack and break apart too, yet Logan still held it in a death grip.

CLANGCLANGCLANG—!

The blade screamed like it was suffering.

The iron warped.

As the green wall reached Logan—

He snapped his eyes open.

Hot breath forced its way between his teeth, rolling out like steam.

Above Bilgewater, the wind roared and gathered, surging toward Logan with a thunderous sound—then spiraling around his right hand.

The next instant, Logan moved.

A flash of white—

The cutlass drove upward in a savage rising slash.

"Draw Slash!"

The strike exploded outward.

White air currents formed a towering wind wall—bigger and denser than Illaoi's green tentacle wall.

Gale became a barrier and slammed into tentacles.

Countless blade pressures shredded and pulverized them in violent, chaotic bursts.

At that moment, the storm truly erupted.

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