Legends of Runeterra

"I was your choice," the voice pleaded, "that day. You spared me."

"Indeed." The monster nodded slowly. "But I make mistakes too. I can only identify my mistakes and correct them."

There was a single scream, sharp and short. A brief, sharp pang of pain, and then it was over. The Dreadnought dropped the body and immediately forgot about it.

"I am Urgot," the creature began, turning to face the crowd. "I hear you, Zaun. I hear the whispers in your hearts, the dreams you wish to reconcile with me. Different names, different titles. The Liberator. A God. I speak directly to you now: I am none of those things. I am something greater. I am an idea."

Everyone gathered around him, forming a circle around his monstrous form. He reached for a metal canister, and I saw dozens more like it just inside the gate. "I am a reflection of this world, an echo of the great struggle between strength and weakness, a struggle that is part of every soul and every breath we take. I cannot be your god—I do not have the power. I can only offer you a test, a test to see if you possess the strength to become your own god."

A sick feeling crawled up my spine. Urgot gestured to the tubes on his body, connecting the mechanical body to the mask over his mouth and nose, then held up the metal canister. It had a warning label: HIGHLY TOXIC, POISON.

"Inside this metal shell is the air I breathe now. I breathe it in, I conquer it, because true liberation comes from within. This is the message we send to our enemies, those who would oppress us."

Urgot's gaze swept across the crowd. "Who among you has the strength to follow me? Who will take this suffering within themselves and persevere?"

Each of them knelt on their knees, eager to be baptized.

"Urgot!" they screamed. "Urgot! Urgot!"

“Very well.” Urgot placed his hand over the canister’s valve, his pale fingers curling into claws. “Let’s try it.”

He twisted the valve, and gas erupted from between Urgot's fingers. He tore a hole in the canister's surface, and a cloud of green smoke enveloped his followers. I was farther back, not in the thickest part, but almost immediately, people began to die.

"Roe," I whispered, pushing through the crowd as panic set in. People collapsed, pink foam pouring from their lips and nostrils. I found a discarded respirator in the rubble of the equipment storage and put it on, feeling the air tearing at my throat.

A foul green mist obscured my vision. I could only make out the outlines of the figures around me, trembling, twitching, and falling to the ground. I had to find Roe. I had to get her out. I had to find her.

Then I found it.

She was kneeling with the others as tendrils of thick fog rolled over and over, engulfing them up to chest height.

"Roe!"

She looked up and saw me. It was the shy little girl I remembered. Roe looked me in the eyes, her eyes full of conviction, and took a deep breath.

"Don't!" I slid over to her. Her skin darkened, the poison-infested veins drawing a dark web across it. Her mouth opened and closed in vain. Blood foam clung to her lips. I ripped the respirator from my face and tried to press it against hers. Roe collapsed to the ground, still struggling against me with her last ounce of strength. Her determination, her ironclad faith, remained in her eyes until she died.

When the poisonous fog finally cleared, fewer than half remained. Most of the survivors were augmented, their jaws clad in thick brass throat filters and prosthetic tracheas. My mouth tasted of blood and caramel. Tears carved two paths through the grime on my face.

"Arise." Urgot raised a hand, and his army scrambled to their feet. "Those who pass the test have the power, and the mission, to bring the same test upon the world."

His gaze reached the spire's summit. "They have been separated from the full fruits of their labor for too long. It's time they too tasted it."

Urgot sealed the spire, and his followers opened all the metal canisters in the air filtration system. The poisonous mist snaked upward like a cunning green snake, pouring layer after layer of suffocating, paralyzing death.

I slipped in before they could lock the door. I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding, my respirator pressed tightly against my face. I didn't know how many bodies I passed, but a feeling gradually settled over me: I wouldn't make it through the day, that I'd end up like them.

If this is the price of stealth, then let me pay it.

It's a race. The cult and their monstrous leader are swarming toward the dome. Those atop it are all family members, and if they die, many more will die in both cities. This symbiotic relationship, this fragile peace, will end, and those who wait for an excuse to use violence will get what they want. Zaun can never win that battle.

I was ready to sacrifice my life to stop this, to protect these people, to protect truly innocent people. But when I broke down the door and entered the family's private room, the sight before me made me want to hate them.

The tower's spire is a gleaming glass dome, painted with exquisite detail to depict a clear, azure sky. Everywhere is a scene of opulence and extravagance, from the intricate furniture to the candied fruit on a silver tray. The family's residence here isn't a laboratory or workshop—they've built themselves a palace.

I walked quickly towards the small group of panicked Piltover people, trying to suppress my anger, when a familiar face walked among them.

"Xiao Kai?"

The sheriff tipped his hat in greeting. "In the Dance Corridor, sometimes it's hard to tell where Zaun ends and Piltover begins. Sometimes you can't even tell which area is yours."

I told her what had just happened and what was coming.

"Okay then." She took out a large box and handed it to me. "This is what you need."

The gloves came alive, humming with satisfaction. I clenched my fists, the pain in my knuckles now a memory, as I waited for the coming fight. The poisonous mist rolled closer, stinging my eyes and gnawing at my lungs. Several family members began to vomit.