Story One: Birth of the Unliving
Author's Notes: Welcome to my side project!
This here you see is a set of reader-requested one-shots I'll be working on. If you want to see something special, either send me a review or a PM with what you want. Be warned that I'll write no smut nor anything way too violent/bloody/gory. I want to keep this T-rated. For all you readers of Valoran Bleeding that stumble on this in the archives, fear not, for I'll keep giving my main story most of my attention.
Now, be welcome to the first story, one with my personal favorite champ, Mordekaiser!
Sometimes, lost souls wander our world. It has always been like this, and it always will be so.
However, back then the souls didn't wander our worlds as often as nowadays. They were very uncommon, these lost souls, and they would always try to keep their distance. All of them eventually would find peace and finally be able to rest.
But, one time, that didn't happen; and thus, the first Undead was born. He used to be a brave knight, but his soul got corrupted by the passing years. Eventually, he became evil, and his soul, which should have been freed ages before, fused with his old belongings: The man became a living suit of armor, and Mordekaiser was born.
In his early years of existence, the Master of Metal tried to keep distance from the world: He travelled to a faraway land, overseas from all the known world.
However, it wasn't far enough. Few centuries later, that Island where he had gone to saw the arrival of Men, and soon became a place of wonders built by the livings. It was the beginning of the Kingdom of the Golden Isles, a country that lasted for over a millennia.
The living at first didn't go deep enough to disturb the Master of Metal, and the cursed man didn't even notice this new kingdom born at his doorsteps, but the men eventually got way too ambitious. They went deep into the island, searching every mile for valuables.
In little time, they discovered what they had awakened: One of their mines, the deepest of them, suddenly stopped communicating with the rest of the land. None of the sent messagers returned, and all reports they ever received from the mine was that it seemed long abandoned.
The Prince of the Island decided to go investigate himself. He called for the felp of his fifteen most trusted knights and went to search for answers.
When they arrived to the mine, they found it to be just like the descriptions: it seemed to have been abandoned for years. Not any single evindence of life could be found, and every man of the group felt anxiety. Each time they stepped towards the excavations, their fear increased exponentially. If it wasn't by the presence of the Prince, most of the men would've given up the mission even before it started.
But the Prince stayed faithful. He never once thought about fleeing.
The company went into the mine, following the lead of the member of the Royal Family.
They found something terrifying inside it.
They found their compatriots, dead and with their bodies twisted over human comprehension, they found the souls of their friends, broken and afraid.
The Prince wouldn't allow them to exit the Mine before knowing what did such vile actions and purging it from the world.
That was the last mistake he would do in his life.
They went even deeper in that hellhole, each of them nearly going crazy and fearing every single shadow in their path.
Eventually, they reached the deepest chamber of the mine. There, they found a suit of armor seated on a throne. It had glowing red eyes, and no one ever doubted he was the man responsible for the atrocities they had previously seen.
The Prince, who was impulsive and emotional, charged at the armor, blinded by rage.
He expected his men to follow him.
He didn't notice he was alone.
The prince, using all of his momentum and his trusty spear, attempted a risky strike: He jabbed the spear tip on the chest of the Master of metal, piercing right through his heart.
He would've killed any man with that, but the Master of Metal didn't even flinch. The suit of armor rose up from its seat, revealing its true height: It was three meters tall, his chest above the Prince's head.
The sudden movement jerked the spear, which was still stuck in the armor, off the hadns of the prince.
The prince turned around, ready to make his retreat and rejoin his company.
He was met by his fifteen knights, but they weren't quite the same anymore.
They all were now enslaved souls. The prince had been cornered.
He was defenceless, alone and he had no escape.
He waited for his death.
And waited.
And waited.
But, for some reason his death wasn't coming.
He opened his eyes.
The armor was still towering over him. Its red eyes terrifying to look at, but for some reason the prince was unable to turn his eyes away from them.
The cursed suit eventually spoke, its voice loud and deep:
"Who are you?"
The Prince refused to answer, doing one last stand instead.
The prince raised his hands and punched the armor in the chest, trying to somehow wound the demon he was facing.
Thrice he stroke, and thrice his blows made an echoing sound of metal hitting hollow metal. His punches were forceful, each of them bending the metal of the plate until it looked like the titan tried to stop a moving train with his chest.
The juggernaut's eyes started to fade. For a second, the Prince allowed himself to have hope.
The eyes went back to their previous glowing red, like nothing had happened. All the damage the armor had taken disappeared, leaving the breastplate shining like it had just been polished.
The twisted voice of the Master of Metal rose up again, coming seemingly out of nowhere:
"If you will not answer me, then so be it, fool."
The Prince then noticed something he hadn't seen before: Right aside the throne, a giant mace, as tall as him, was resting on the wall.
Mordekaiser took the weapon with no effort on his right hand, lifting it up and placing it on his shoulder.
"I could have given you a quick death, but, as you are so determined, let us see how long you will take until you break."
The Juggernaut raised its left hand, like he was about to punch the Prince from above.
The Prince resisted for half an hour before falling down, his life ended by the mind-shattering pain.
The suit of armor sighed. He hated it when the fools chose the hard way.
He already knew all about the Prince that had just been murdered, but he wanted to be sure of what he was about to do. His plan could have no flaws.
He once again lifted his left hand, conjuring his control over the souls of the dead. He brought the soul of his last victim back.
"What? What is this?"
"This, fool, is your hell. And I am the Devil that will torment you."
The King had gone mad. His only son had been missing for a week already, and no signs of him anywhere.
He started to roam the halls of his once-great palace, and he had ordered that he was the only one to stay in there.
The King's soul was being eaten away by mourning, and he already had been reduced to a shadow of the man he used to be.
However, all was about to take a turn for the worse, for in that seventh day a suit of armor went into his palace, carrying a sack on his back.
The King met the giant in the courtyard inside the building. He at first was furious, but the suit of armor managed to calm him down and actually start a conversation.
"Your Highness, I have heard about your son's misterious disappearance. And I have news about it."
The King's disbelief was large enough to not allow him any movements.
"He is in here, with us."
The King's disbelief made him angry, as there it was no way his son was somewhere in the castle.
However, before he could verbalize his anger, the man dropped the sack he had been carrying.
The bag fell down on the floor with a loud thump. It immediately opened itself, revealing what was inside it.
The King cried out in despair. His son was not missing anymore.
Instead, he was right in front of him. Dead.
The King got once more washed over by despair, sadness and mourning. He was his only son, as his wife had died when giving birth and he never married again. He was the last member of his family, and the King was becoming old.
"Heed my words, your Highness. I know you are despaired, and I know why. However, we still have one last hope. I know how to bring your son back. I just need two weeks and all the supplies I ask you."
The heartbroken King accepted that offer in a heartbeat. He'd have his son back! He hadn't truly lost his whole family! It was just a small inconvenience that had happened.
The King didn't for a single moment doubt the juggernaut in his front. He wouldn't dare to lie to a king, would he? And even if he did lie, what evil would come out of it?
It had been done. The King had given Mordekaiser all he asked for, and he did just what he promised. He had brought the Prince back.
The King rushed into the room. His face was pure sheer, sweet despair. Which delightful agony he must've felt in that moment, when he noticed what they had done toghether!
"No... no... NO! THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO!"
'Oh, now the fool wants me to undo what can't be undone?' Mordekaise thought. He was sure he would be smiling if he could, but not having a face doesn't allow facial expressions. Part of the few disadvantages that came with unlife.
"Heh, fool! Did you really think his reanimation would be that cheap? Everything has a price, old man. Look now, look at what we did! Look at this abomination, this abomination that so beautifully defies life and nature! This is only the start, however. What has been done cannot be undone, and now the corruption shall spread. There it is no escape of this scourge."
The King was furious, but sighed in acceptance. It was his fault, after all. He allowed that man to do what he had done.
"At least let me see the face of the man that decided to doom the world."
Mordekaiser laughed.
"It is great to see how clueless you are, mortal. I thought you were a king, but surely mankind isn't led by a fool like you, is it? I am no human, fool, and I have no face. All you need to know is that I am your death. Your land's dying, fool, and what did you do to stop it?"
The King opened his mouth to answer with all of his fury, but no sound came from his throat. The corruption had already spread to him, and his very throat had rotten before he was able to speak.
All of the once-beautiful islands were suffering the same. All of it was dying.
To think that just one soul could cause all of that is truly horrendous, but Mordekaiser wasn't over: He still had an army of souls to rise, a nation to build and a world to sack and defile.
He still had so much he could do! That was no problem though, for he also had all eternity.
After all, what is already dead cannot be killed.
And I won't stop until all Runeterra is my own personal hell.
A/N: So, what do you think? Is my story good, OK or bad? Tell me your opinions, guys!
I guess that's all. See ya'll next time.