First, take down the Sword Demon, then save Runeterra.

Atto carried a pig's hoof and dragged a huge wild boar across the frozen land.

He landed in the eastern part of Freljord and headed west. As for the first person he was supposed to find, he didn't know where he was.

But Ator believed that he must have had a reason for coming to Runeterra.

Even if they aren't as blessed by nature as the Yordles, they still have their own unique characteristics, such as always encountering heroes from the game.

Not to mention that he encountered a Darkin weapon as soon as he arrived, and not long after gaining control of the weapon, he met Sarah while wandering around Bilgewater, and then met Ryze, one of the important figures in Runeterra.

“So, Tryndamere, come and face me.” Ator’s mood was somewhat heavy.

In the food-scarce and harsh environment of the North, Tedamir and his people tenaciously survive.

He was not of noble Iceborn blood, but possessed an incomparably powerful physique.

In the original timeline, Aatrox arrived in Freljord and nearly killed all of Tryndamere's people.

This led Tryndamere to search for a tribe that would accept him, and he ended up forming a blood pact with Ashe, the leader of the Avarosan tribe, becoming the one who would protect her and the tribe for the rest of his life.

It was precisely because of Tryndamere's addition that the Avarosan tribe truly became stable.

Perhaps because the wild boar carcass was too horrifying, Ato did not encounter any other wild animal attacks along the way.

"In order to make Tryndamere and Ashe form a blood pact, even if his people have done nothing wrong, I must make Tryndamere hate me."

Wait, why would I have this thought? Does making the world move in the right direction mean sacrificing the lives of innocent people as a normal price?

Ator could treat those who actively attacked him as monsters, but Tryndamere and his people were only trying to survive. Was there no other way?

If it really comes to that, can I really bring myself to do it?

Aatrox sensed Aatrox's confusion and said in a strange tone, "That's strange, little one, is there something you can't figure out again?"

"If you can't figure it out, don't dwell on it. There's a famous saying in Shurima: 'When you're stuck in the desert, there's always an oasis waiting for you.' If there's something you don't understand, just think about it when the time comes!"

“…You’re not the crazy person outsiders think you are at all now,” Ato murmured. He’ll have to learn to hide his emotions from now on.

He was just a young man with twenty or thirty years of life experience. Apart from his knowledge of Runeterra, he was no match for Aatrox, a veteran who had lived for thousands of years.

It feels terrible to have your inner thoughts read, especially by Aatrox.

The two traveled upstream along a frozen river mixed with ice that eventually flowed into the sea.

After traveling across the ice field for most of the day, until night fell and the road could only be barely seen by the moonlight and stars, Ato, who was used to civilized society, found it very difficult to adapt.

Just then, a cluster of firelight appeared in Atto's sight.

……

“If we can’t find food soon, our clan is really doomed! Tryndamere, that’s not our god! He’s just a beast! If it weren’t for him, how come we’d be left with only a few of us?” a ragged, rugged-looking barbarian lamented.

Tryndamere sat by the fire, reflecting on the past three days and feeling disheartened by the foolishness of some of his tribesmen.

And now, those fools are all dead, killed by the tusks of a monstrous boar.

Apart from himself, the eight people sitting or lying around the fire were the last survivors of the clan.

The speaker was named Ruger. Although he was not as strong as Tryndamere in the clan, he was still one of the powerful warriors.

Their clan worshipped the giant-tusked boar, calling it the Giant-Toothed Beast King.

It often lingered near the clan's territory, and over time, the ignorant clansmen regarded it as an omnipotent god.

Just a few days ago, the giant-toothed wild boar suddenly entered their territory. Instead of retreating, the tribesmen went forward, knelt down, and prayed for divine protection.

What the "gods" gave back to them was sharp fangs and their territory reduced to ruins.

Countless members of their tribe were trampled to pieces, with only Tryndamere leading a small number of his people to escape.

They hadn't found food for three days. In their hunger and cold, people would soon die.

The climate of Freljord makes it difficult for grains to grow, and most of the food comes from hunting and gathering edible wild grasses by chance.

"If all else fails, peel the bark off the pine needles and soak them in the river to soften them; it's better than starving to death."

Thick beards had appeared on Tryndamere's equally rugged face.

This is also a dead end. Swallowing the rough tree bark will only provide temporary satiety, as the indigestible bark may cause illness, which is fatal in the freezing cold.

"Ornn, the oldest god of forging! Volibear, the most powerful god of strength! Anivia, the gentlest god of ice! Or the three Frost Sisters! Any god will do, gods, please save our people!"

Ruger lay prostrate on the ground, calling upon the names of all the known gods of Freljord.

At this point, he no longer cared about piety; as long as he could save his people, he was willing to offer his soul to the demon!

Tryndamere glanced helplessly at the nearly collapsing Ruger, pondering a way out of the predicament. The survivors were showing a clear tendency to take him as their leader; he had to lead them out of this predicament.

Suddenly, a scraping sound reached everyone's ears.

Those who had been resting with their eyes closed by the fire also got up alertly, and everyone remained silent, moving closer to Tryndamere.

Despair filled many people's eyes. Without food to replenish their strength, how many more would die if they were attacked by wild beasts?

They could only hope that Tryndamere, the clan's bravest warrior, could drive away the beasts.

The sound grew closer, and just as everyone was preparing to make a desperate attempt, they finally saw the appearance of the newcomer. From the low bushes in the distance, a thin man wearing a black robe emerged.

"Not a ferocious beast?" Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he was then choked by the terrifying giant sword behind the man.

Even Tryndamere's greatsword is a size smaller than that greatsword!

The man took a few more steps forward, dragging the six- or seven-meter-long wild boar carcass completely out of the bushes. Tryndamere and the others completely forgot to breathe.

"After walking for so long, the side of its skin that touched the ground is all worn out. But thankfully, there are natural refrigerators everywhere here, so the meat can be preserved for a long time."

The man muttered to himself, but when he saw the faces of the crowd, a look of delight appeared on his face.

"I told you you'd run into them if you just wandered around. Hi everyone, anyone want some meat?"