AN: Here's the "prologue" for all this. It's a goofy sort of sketch comedy, so it doesn't matter too much, but it's always good to have a setting! So this is chronologically before the last two, but don't really worry about it.
It was a day like any other in Runeterra. Poros wandered about the frozen plains of the Freljord, colored eagles soared across the skies between the grand towers of Demacia, and somewhere, Karthus was upset.
"What do you MEAN I wasn't "summoned today"?" The undead was feeling particularly sour at the moment, considering he had bothered travelling all the way from the Shadow Isles to visit the Institute Of War this morning.
In front of him, an azure robed mage sighed. "Nobody picked you, Karthus. I'm sorry."
"But...but WHY?"
The summoner shrugged. "Dunno. They got Ahri and Viktor in there right now."
His pride wounded, Karthus scoffed. "Oh really, what does AHRI bring that I don't?"
"Um. Mobility, wave clear, a passive that doesn't require...death?"
"Death is my whole gimmick!" With a flick of his arm, Karthus pulled back on his hood. "See the spooky face? The weird green gas thing? I'm like...the Grim Reaper or something, that's my entire design! And I've got wave clear! Haven't you seen my Skit-"
A gloved palm was jammed in Karthus' face. "Shh. Can't call them that. Copyright. Gotta call it a Fruit Disc."
The lich sighed. "I have...the fruit disk move. The...the one that I spam a lot? It's...really good! And I can...um…"
"FIRST BLOOD, AHRI!"
Cheers erupted from the entrance to the Fields behind them, making Karthus' heart sink a little. The summoner raised an eyebrow, as if expecting a continuation.
"Ah, yes! I have...REQUIEM!" Karthus grinned madly and gave a little cackle. "No other Champion of the League can damage all foes on the map at once! With the power of REQUIEM, I can-"
"Barrier."
Karthus frowned. "Huh?"
"Barrier. You just pop Barrier and suddenly that ult's nothin'. Now AHRI's ultimate…"
Furious, Karthus grabbed the summoner by his lapel, hoisting the smaller mage into the air. "What is your name, summoner? I will ensure Yorick finds you the shoddiest tombstone to engrave it upon!"
"AhriLuvr25!"
Karthus blinked. "...I'm sorry?"
"That's my name! Let go of me!"
He answered the request, dropping the mage back to the ground. "You...were born with that name?"
"Yeah! It's on my papers and everything, you undead freak! Now get out before I call Vessaria!"
Karthus began to slink away. These summoners always had the worst names. He had once been forced to fight under a man simply named "ASSMAN". It was a fate worse than death, he knew from experience. Karthus scowled. What was the point of those summoners anyway? Worthless, pompous mages! If he could have it his way, they would all be gone!
It was a day like any other in Runeterra, until that moment.
There was a great shuddering of the earth, a flash of light from the heavens, and the sound of a distant explosion. Karthus could feel its force pushing him backwards. What sort of magic was this? This had to be beyond even the Rune Wars!
When he opened his eyes, Karthus found himself in the same spot, with one crucial difference. The area outside the Institute's borders seemed to have simply faded away. Before him was a great expanse of white. Feeling an uncharacteristic pang of worry, Karthus whirled to check on the poorly named summoner. He was gone. They were all gone. The mages that had been milling about the entrance to the stadium had simply...disappeared.
"Well," the lich murmured to himself, "I didn't know my ultimate was THAT good…"
When it happened, Azir had been sitting on his throne in Shurima, gazing out over his kingdom. Someday, the sun would rise on his land again...figuratively. It was literally doing that anyway, it's a desert. But after the flash of light, he found himself somewhere very different...the lobby of the Institute Of War. And he was not alone.
Every champion of the League stood in the massive hall, which was getting quite crowded, even despite its size. He could see Noxians, Zaunites, whatever the hell Rengar was...it seemed that the whole world had experienced what he had.
"Oh dear…" Zilean muttered, weaving about the gathered, confused crowd, "What time is this? Does anyone know? Have they invented the digital clock yet, I'm into that!""
Chaos was erupting as voices from throughout Runeterra clamored for clarification! A cacophony of concern! It would take something truly magical to get all of their attentions at once!
"BrrrrrrrMMMMMMMmMM!"
As the sound of a horn echoed through the chamber, the champions looked to the sky to see Bard, floating above.
"Ah!" Soraka shouted, "Good spirit, tell us what has happened!"
"Boop. Bop boo. Brrrrm. Boopa boo. Wom wom wom wom."
Soraka frowned. "Can you...enunciate, oh great spirit?"
"Boooooooooooop. Bop. Bawp? Bo. Brum. Boop. Ah. Booooooo. Womwomwomwomwom."
The Starchild sighted. "Okay, never mind. Are there, uh, any other great spirits here? Or...great spirit translators? Does anyone speak Boop?"
"HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" This time, the attention was on Renekton, who stood, blades at the ready, at the side of his accursed brother. "I don't care what happened, but I will have your BLOOD!"
With a speed that not even the wizened Nasus could counter, Renekton shoved a sharp edge into his brother's heart. There was a breakout of gasping and screaming as Nasus sunk to the ground, dead.
Then he came back.
Just as soon as the corpse had breathed its last, it reappeared, upright at its position. Nasus blinked and gave his reptilian murderer a withering stare.
"Brother. What the heck."
And so, just as the champions found even more questions, a being arrived to deliver answers. A ripple in spacetime itself seemed to appear in an instant outside of the gates, and the massive celestial dragon, Aurelion Sol, poked his head inside.
"Greeting, champions." The dragon's voice was serene and echoing, almost mocking amidst the din of confusion in the room. "I trust you're all wondering what just happened to you."
Aurelion Sol smirked. "But that is the wrong question. Instead, you should be wondering…" The great dragon leaned to the side, revealing the Institute's courtyard, and the white abyss beyond. "What happened to the rest of the world?"
"Is this some sort of mage's trick?" Olaf gave a guttural growl. "I've got heads to crack, and they ain't all here!"
"No tricks. And I'd give up on that. Or, really, any other life goals you had. For you see...this is the dimension we multidimensional god-beings call...non-canon."
Tristana held up her weapon.
"One N. To put it simply...well, more simply...you and this Institute no longer exist. Runeterra will continue, and fear not, you will be there...or, well, other VERSIONS of you will...but this place is lost, and you with it."
With a heroic flourish of his cape, Garen pointed his sword to the sky. "I shall not give up our world so easily!"
The dragon smirked. "You can't do much about it, I'm afraid. But hey, look on the bright side! No more war, no more conflict...you'll be fine!"
"I, er, seem to have noticed that we can't die?" inquired Lux, whose eyes were locked on the rather grumpy Nasus.
"Oh, yeah, there's that. So...you all have fun. I've got to go to another dimension now...dinner scheduled with Ao Shin and Omen."
Tryndamere blinked. "Who?"
"Donnn't worrrryyy abbbouutttt itttttttt!" The Star-Forger's voice faded as he pulled himself back through the tear in existence, closing it behind him.
For a few moments, there was a profound stillness. The sheer gravity of the situation seemed to weigh on everyone's mind. Their world, gone, their families, gone, and everything was far too melancholy for a comedy story where, at the end of this chapter, to make up for this, Twisted Fate will slip on a banana peel.
"Dibs on the High Summoner's office." There was an avian squawk of agreement as Swain began to hobble towards the stairs.
"What?" Jarvan IV called up after him, shaking a golden gloved fist. "You can't just do that!"
The Grand General's cackling was the only response to the prince's outburst, and, with some hesitation, the group began to disperse.
The next few days were an adjustment. Old Summoner dormitories were refitted and reused, as they certainly would no longer need them. Everyone became more or less accepting of this fate, at a rather astounding pace, because I don't need to drag out this prologue any longer.
Several days after the event, it was a normal day in this Runeterra. There were no more plains of Freljord, or towers of Demacia. That story would continue elsewhere. But, for those gathered here, a new life was just beginning.
Duchess Karma sat in a small chair next to the window of the Institute's parlor. Metallic footsteps and the soft whisper of blades floating through the air alerted her to Irelia approaching.
"Hello, old friend. Take a seat?"
The warrior obliged, sitting on a stool next to Karma. "Duchess...this is quite a change. How are you coping?"
Karma smiled and shrugged. "I simply know that, somewhere, my counterpart, my other self, will carry on my work. And things are not all bad. We will make this world vibrant, and full of life, as we did before. When I look out at this world, Irelia, do you know what I see?"
Irelia shook her head.
"Hope."
Leaning to her side, Irelia looked out the window as well. In the courtyard, Twisted Fate strolled through, whistling a tune to himself. He proceeded to slip on a banana peel and fall directly on his ass.
"CONSARNIT! MY DANG KIESTER!"
Somewhere in the distance, Karthus shed a tear. He might miss ASSMAN after all.