Hi there! Thanks for spending the time to come in and read my story! For those of you who have been following me, I've decided to draw back and strengthen my earlier chapters. Please look forward to new ones in addition to improvements to the entire series!

Enjoy!


It's really quite depressing sometimes, having to wake up to the dark skies of Noxus; even our brightest days seem pretty bleak. I wallow out of bed, and take to the streets. Women are taken and bound in broad daylight, the homeless are often slaughtered in public demonstrations. This is a cultural thing known as "weeding out the weak". Noxus sells itself as a beacon of strength to the other "soft" nations, but all I see is fear- this most horrid weakness is festering in our foundations. I don't very much like our culture. In fact, I generally choose to prescribe to a counter-culture of understanding and kindness that is seemingly nonexistent here. Yes, I know, this kind of thinking will get me silently killed by the High Command. Good thing then, that this is an internal monologue. My name is Gin; other summoners at the League know me as "The Elusive Gin". The nickname originated from the mistake on my first summoner ID issued to me. The camera messed up or something, so the resulting photo only showed my silhouette and the reflection of my glasses. My close friends at the time, Tom, Durian, and Bunny all started calling me "The Elusive Gin". The title stuck. Despite being a Noxian, though, I'm actually one of the weakest members of my group. This stopped being the case recently, however.

Just the other week, I finally got my Platinum ID from the League's Officials. It's baffling, given that my badge was bronze (for the second year, too!). In just 6 months changes in my lifestyle were immense. With rank comes power, and with power comes respect in Noxus. My salaries went up, and I was able to move to a new apartment, one closer to the diplomatic border between Noxus and Demacia. Let's call it NoxDemacia. Noxians here prefer to call this city "Noxuscia", but that name is plain weird. The general motif of the buildings here has the typical Noxian aesthetic. Earthy colors dominate the scenery, and the crude brick and wood construction is ever present. In order to supply energy to our half of the city, Zaun's smokestacks can be seen at the Easter edge of the city. There's a Gate at the center of town that acts as a Border between 4 counties on Runeterra: Demacia, Noxus, Freiljord and Shurima. Only Demacia and Noxus have bothered to build cities at this location, due to our rivalry. Compared to the slums in the Bronze and Silver Quarters that I knew, this is a good change of pace. I eat well, and sleep well. One could say I've grown quite spoiled compared to my life being a Bronze Summoner.

My status, however, is not the point of me speaking to you, reader. I am here to recount to you the days followed by the fall of the League of Legends, and what humanity did to avoid destruction. You're lucky, finding this journal of mine. If you, or anyone who leads you, seek to re-establish another such organization like the League, please read my personal record of these events. I do not want history to repeat itself. I'm sure you don't either, given the Calamity that I had so recently quelled. Oh… and do me a favor and take out the *ahem* private parts of this journal, should you choose to publish this. I don't want everyone knowing about my misadventures who doesn't need to.

Anyways, just another day in Noxus for me. I made my way to the Summoner's Hall where my first assignment waited. "Noxus Vs. Demacia. the winning side gets the lands located at XXXXXX". Again, it's been the same squabble for weeks now. How much more land does Noxus need? To clarify what's going on here, the League handles all arguments between nations with a 5v5 ranked match between summoners sworn to either side. More serious disagreements get sent to higher ranks. In Bronze, all you get to decide is whether the trade levies go up or down by X%. It's quite pitiful, really, how both the League and Noxus disrespects their Bronze Summoners. Take away our summoning orbs, and we all become squishy mages. I picked my representative champion and... lost. Demacia got some land, and I shrugged my shoulders and left. Really not too important. I played some more matches, won some, lost a little bit more. Sigh, bad luck today.

Dinnertime. Most summoners headed off to the bars around town, grabbing girls off the street and dragging them off to be their playthings for the night. Again, in Noxus, only the strong have any rights- this sort of thing is commonplace. As opposed to them, my own dinner guest is a bit more… odd. I make my way to the Kitchen in the halls of justice, dressed with an apron on top of my summoner's robe. Giving my regards to the regulars in the Dining Room and the other employees in the Garbage Area, I grab the cart filled with random assortments of half-eaten food. This is a job that I volunteered for when I was still in Bronze. Unlike in Demacia or Ionia, Noxus doesn't give you enough money to live on a Bronzie's salary. Think of it like working full-time on a minimum wage job and not being able to afford an apartment. Stepping onto a teleportation platform inside the Summoner's Hall, I drag a tray with a meal to feed 2 (just for me) and all the slop and leftovers from the League's cafeteria. As I do every night, I go and have a short meal with… Cho'Gath. The holding cells of the Void champions are all held in one area. Other Summoners can be seen going to feed the other Voidborn at the same time as me, but we never really associate with each other. This is a job where everyone just wants to drop off the food and get the fuck out. Between the behavior of our prisoners and the bleakness of the gray stonework that makes up the architecture of this building, this task is nothing short of unpleasant. Why, then, does a Platinum Summoner even bother with such a task. Well, I have my ulterior motives. "Summoner, you're late", Cho'Gath snarled. He immediately begins feasting upon the tub of slop I present to him. His size growing ever so slightly larger as he continues to dig into his dinner. I'm always glad the summoners have him caged so well. The magical barrier hums as his claws grind against its invisible walls. Sitting down to eat my own meal, I pose my regular question to him.

"So… care to explain to me my Visions?"

"Ask Malzahar."

"I did. He started speaking in tongues. Not helpful."

"My answer, then, is the same as every time. You're going to die. Everyone is going to die."

"Oh, how helpful."

I should explain. Before my sudden rise to Plat, I had taken an expedition to Shurima in search of greater power. Cho'Gath is one of my better champions (he was responsible for my first victory, on my first day as a Summoner. He's close to my heart… in a way) and I wanted to learn more about the Void. So many people have "accidentally" stumbled into Itcathia; Malz, Kassadin, another Noxian summoner known only to me as "Kal", lots of people. I wanted a peek into the Void myself (maybe the insight would keep me from tunneling) and I got what I wanted... Now, I am haunted by night terrors; vague visions corrupting my dreams, whispers of a Void-driven apocalypse. They all have something to do with people dying, usually myself. Because of the content of my dreams, I always wake up anxious that these promised days would come, and I would have to relive all of those nightmares in reality. I bug my "friend", Cho, for answers, anything to help me prepare for the doomsday that seems to be waiting at my doorstep each morning. Perhaps my visions are more to blame for how I see the Noxian sky than the natural darkness of it.

"Even if I could tell you when the void will take over, you will be powerless to stop it." Cho'Gath lunges at the barrier again, it shimmers and the giant monster bounces back into his cage.

"Well, that's just your opinion, man." I chuckle as my captive audience groans. Dinner's finished (we're both fast eaters). Cho and I exchange silent goodbyes and I set to the streets again. It's past 22:00 here and I hurry back to my apartment. It's minimally furnished, and my clothes are scattered all over the floor. I barely spend any time here, so I don't bother cleaning it all up. It has a modest kitchen and a small bedroom. The "living room", if I could even call it that, came with a couch supplied by the establishment here. It's very plush and comfortable, and has a soft blanket draped over it along with some gaudy pillows designed in the style of the most recent Noxian fashion trends. Grabbing a white tuxedo, I quickly change clothes and head out the door. Patting my pockets, I make sure I haven't forgotten anything before I leave. It's past 23:30 now. I'm running a bit late for my graveyard shift tonight. Oh well, my boss is pretty lenient about when people show up. Something that is extremely rare in Noxus, but not too uncommon here in the border city. Now you know why I chose this place over living in the capital beside the Immortal Bastion. I head towards the Noxus-Demacia embassy to go do my final job of the night.


Cho'Gath, alone in his prison, watched the black-haired Summoner walk out the steel double-doors at the far end of his cell. Turning his head in odd directions, Cho seems to talk to himself, nodding in the "one-sided" conversation as if there was someone- something that was supplying him a dialogue. "Yes, he still has visions…" Cho grinds his teeth. He's tried many times to lure the summoner up to the barrier with his cart. He's either intelligent enough not to be tricked, or stupid enough not to understand what he was trying to do. The Terror of the Void has actually killed several Summoners tasked with feeding him. The leftover slop is tasty and satisfying, but nothing beats the flavor of a victim, screaming in pain as his teeth gnash and grind out blood, splitting bone and tearing sinew. This was one of the things that made life tolerable for him, but this most recent Summoner has evaded his every effort. In fact, the man's smug expressions and constant puns were driving him nuts. This place has turned into a hellhole for Cho'Gath.

"He's so close to realizing it, isn't he? Perhaps we should kill him before we move forward with the Plan." An eldritch voice sings in the Voidborn's head, filling the emptiness of the prison with mind-numbing clamor.

"Don't worry, he's too weak to stop us ... I'll be eating him last. I want to see his smug face twisted in despair."

"The League of Legends will soon meet its end."