A/N: First off, I am sorry I have not been updating this story. And, I must also apologize for this chapters length. But, know this. Writing chapter two is me getting back into it, and so, you can expect more to come soon. For now, I hope you enjoy this short chapter, and, I hope you can get excited, for, that is what this chapter is meant for.

Heroes Never Die

Chapter II

A Hero Is Born

Yordles aren't meant to be alone. Everyone knows that. A social species, being alone, to yordles, is torture. One such case was Veigar. Before he became the Master of Evil, before he sought to rule Valoran, before he became tinted by darkness, he was but a simple yordle, curious for the outside world.

But now, there was no world outside. Just a desolate wasteland. Following the escape from Bandle City, the yordles crashed on the outskirts of Piltover, rushing in and notifying the residents. The Police Force, led by Sheriff Caitlyn, held defense for as long as they could while Heimerdinger and Jayce worked on a more permanent defense.

But it was not without its cost.

Another champion fell in the defense of Piltover, and soon, there was no shortage of volunteers, now under the command of Vi. But they had all lost so much. With an automated system of turrets guarding the city, its occupants still live in fear.

Rumble took to his friend's workshop. Ziggs was his best friend, his only friend other than Tristana, really. Heimerdinger would bring him meals, but for a while, Rumble sat there, motionless and without purpose. He didn't have much to begin with, but, what little he did have are gone.

Tristy was destroyed, left behind in Bandle City. Ziggs was dead, and Tristana…she hadn't spoken to him, not since that day. Her words still echoed in his head.

"I won't have you die by playing hero!"

He just wanted to help. Yeah, he wanted to impress her as well, but, he wanted to fight. He was always scrappy when he was younger, and with the Voidborn destroying his home, murdering his own kind…what could he do? He sat there for days on end, until finally, the voices became too much.

He was alone, he was going mad, and all others seemed to melt away as he was left only with himself. "Pathetic! What are you a child!?" He could raise no protest, just endure it. "You are no hero, Rumble! You will never be a hero! Not when you, yourself, need to be saved!" His hands clutched into tight fists. They were true words, words that stung. "Others died for you, Rumble? And look at you. You weren't worth the sacrifice!"

He stood, throwing tools and schematics everywhere as he went berserk, clutching his head, but the voice wouldn't stop, not even when he begged for silence between his sobs. "WHAT ARE YOU, RUMBLE!? WHAT WILL YOU DO!?"

And finally, silence took over. His head was pounding, and he was in tears, pained and alone. But, he felt that he couldn't leave this place, he felt like this place, dark and stuffy, is where he belongs. He should have just died.

He looked up when he heard a soft clink. A bomb shell fell to the floor from the workbench, rolling softly to his side as he propped himself up against the wall, having fallen himself. He held it in his hands. He had been here in the dark for so long, he became used to the lack of light. On the shell, he saw a white skull, the signature Ziggs used on all of his hexplosive creations. All around him, on the floor, were schematics for more of his projects and inventions. All around him, thrown about in a fit of panic and pain, tools. "What are you, Rumble?" This time, it wasn't the voice within that spoke to him, but rather, his own. "What will you become?" He set to work.

It had only been two years since the Void invaded, but it felt like a different lifetime. For Rumble, however, this was truer. The voice that spoke to him that night so long ago ceased its hauntings, but rather, he embraced it. For two years, the citizens of Piltover lived behind walls, relying on the automated defense system created by the cities two most intelligent minds. They were alive, but they did not truly lived. They simply existed, in fear and misery.

"Fear has taken its hold on the hearts of the innocent." The voice was different, it wasn't Rumble. It wasn't the childish Yordle, the smallest of the litter who scrapped and fought and only wanted to prove himself. All that was behind him, as he was truly reborn. His past matters did not matter, not anymore. "It's time to strike hope in their hearts! And so, it begins!"

A voice rang out in the darkness, a machine's voice. "Systems online."

He gave a wide grin.

"This city, no, this world! They need hope! They need…a hero!"