A/N: The great wall of writer's block has FINNALY fallen! And thus, I bring you a new Chapter!
The red cloak gracefully glides behind him, while the wind blows his hair backwards. The dark passage which splits Northern Valoran and Southern Valoran is filled with skeletons, some older than a millenia, while others fresh. The nails scratched the stones which dared to go higher, while a vicious grin adorns his face. He has a mission, one of complete and utter importance. To find the armor. He had left Noxus long ago, before the assault on Ionia, and now he stood in the passage, where the armor was last seen. It would be given then to his leader, who would earn great power from it.
His eyes ran across the walls, searching for a crack. None were registered. He sighed and looked around himself, looking for something suspicious. A sword buried to the hilt in the cold stones, but it didn't seem as something unusual. After all, here he could see skulls buried on the same level. He made a few more steps, toying with his unusually pale hair.
Then, his legs lost their footing. He started falling, but didn't panic. Looking around himself for a sharp stone to catch, he saw what he was looking for. A cavern. His hands swiftly shot towards the edge and grabbed it. Not a sound was heard. When he pulled himself up, dusting his clothes off, he started to look around. Nothing unusual, except the utter darkness which covered the area. His fingers searched in the small pockets of his blood red coat, expecting to find something.
A little ring was placed on his fourth finger and light illuminated the cave. A little curve appeared at his mouth, weak sign for a smirk, or a smile. His feet started clanking on the stones and rocks, while he explored the cavernous depths. The secret of that man was his blood. It was cold, as if he was dead. But he was not quite dead yet, he was alive. The grand hall he walked in started shrinking, until he had to walk with his head lowered. This was quite annoying to the man.
The hall he entered was not the same as the previous. Bodies. A trail of dead bodies adorned the floor, leading like a route towards a city. The deeper he went into the cavern, the bigger the body count became. Then, out of nowhere, a memory appeared in his mind. 'Leave nothing but a trail of bodies!' This was... Quite the same. The man, or to be correct, creature which said those words was a hunter, one of the few which survived the attack on the Institute. He was one of those towards which the explorer felt fear. He had seen him countless times cleaving through five or more of the most elite champions in the League. But, now he feared him not. Because his power was magical, and the hunters... Was physical.
The bodies formed a circle around a hole in the floor. The man neared his hand to the entrance and saw blood. Rivers of blood running down the stairs. When he turned his head towards the corpses, he recognized the armor of Demacia. The fools. They came before me, in the attempt to take the armor. But only those with true strength can take it! He thought and spat on the nearest corpse. It was easy to understand that this man disliked Demacians. He was probably Noxian. Venturing deeper into the cave, walking down the bloodied staircase, the wanderer seemed to regain some of his strength. When his descent ended, he saw a thing not meant for mortal eyes.
A body. It lays in the center. On a rune. That rune was supposed to infuse power to the person who stood on to of it. But it seemed that the body couldn't use the power well enough. Pure curiosity overwhelmed the wanderer, and he walked close to the corpse. It was feminine, more importantly of a young female. It's armor was red by the blood which was spilled all over it, while most was probably hers. A hood covered her hair. The wanderer kneeled and placed his hands gently on the corpse, then rolled it over.
He winced, hiding his mouth with both his hands. The woman's face was shred to pieces. The skull was untouched, but all of the face was cut in thin lines. The eye balls were also cut in pieces. Everything which could symbolize who that person was in life was gone, except the golden hair, which still fell gracefully down her side. The wanderer's eyes went wide, when he saw a white baton. Which in life belonged to Luxxana Crownguard. He panicked and fell to his rear, a silent scream flowing from his mouth. Impossible. How could she have died? She was better than him, so if she would die, on top of a rune, how could he even dream of living.
Silent whimpers started echoing through the room. He was sobbing, while thinking. How could he even survive in that place, when a whole army couldn't? Then, a silent mumble echoed.
"...for Vigor..." Was all the voice said. Then, out of nowhere, a red sword, red because of the rubies which adorned it, stabbed him. Through the left shoulder, to the right. The blade went like a hot knife through butter. The handle was held by a hand covered in a dark glove. Up from the gauntlet, the color of the armor was the same. The only place unarmored was the head. Two blue eyes, piercing his own stared in his very soul. The man looked familiar to the wanderer, but he couldn't remember where he knew him from. Then, all of a sudden, a shield mauled the head of the pierced person, almost knocking him out. He couldn't move, but felt pain that was way too familiar to him.
"Taric?" He asked, his voice like a melody. The other man still stared daggers at the intruder, although now it made a resemblance. It was in fact, the Gem Knight. Just with a different weapon and armor. Then, the wanderer tried to wake the once good and friendly man Taric was. "It's me, Vladimir! Don't you remember your old friend? Taric?" He asked, a little bit of panic filling his eyes. The Gem Knight just shook his head and stated one thing.
"You are here for the armor, are you not?" He asked. Vladimir then understanded that his chances were gone. He instantly formed a pool of blood under Taric, escaping from the sword. Expecting the knight to start stumbling away, he just disappeared. His breathing was not registrable, nor was his blood flow. Vladimir silently cursed.
"I know you have the armor. After all, it was yours once!" He started, wondering if he could snug it away from the knight. "I heard your rambling not once, and I now know it was true. 'Sapphire, for divinity!' Hah!" He continued to attempt angering the gem knight, or at least to take his attention away. "I know your whole armor is made from sapphire. I know it makes the wearer strong as a God! But why would you keep it for you? Why not give us, the ordinary people an attempt at playing gods?" He asked. His patience was slowly slipping away.
"This world has suffered from magic enough. I will not aid this!" He heard the calm and notably deeper voice of Taric. He sounded so serious. "Come, sit next to me so we can talk about it." He offered all of a sudden. The hemmomancer deformed the blood pool and walked slowly, with extreme caution towards Taric, who was sitting on a stone. Vladimir was in front of Taric, when the knight's sword flew towards the noxian. A force, one of unrelenting power blew the hemmomancer, who felt how his legs wouldn't move, while the other part of his body was being blown away. Taric's body flashed in fron of him, and with one swift motion beheaded him. Vladimir's head fell to the ground and blew up in a blood well. His body repeated the process.
Taric silently looked up, towards a crack on the ceiling. It was becoming day time.
"I think i should go and see the survivors..." He thought loudly, although no one would be able to hear him. Except the souls of those, who were trapped in those caverns...