Chapter 3
Artrix was thrown violently within the turbulent tunnel of space and time. Each second transported him further and further away from his home. His now ruined cape fluttered wildly behind him as he tried to retain balance but was his attempts were folly. Soon, what seemed to be an eternity was finally ended with a dim light, an opening appeared at the end. Artrix looked forward and braced himself as he shot straight through. He was met with the placidity of a calm, clear night sky blanketing over a large, grassy plain. However, this peace would soon be interrupted when he realized the fact that he was in fact, in the sky. As the portal withdrew, he quickly began to descend and then, fall. He tried to stay airborne but realized he could no longer do soon. His only response was then to holler loudly as the ground below grew larger and larger. With a loud, painful thud, he crashed onto the surprisingly soft ground. However, that did not prevent his pain, along with a broken shoulder.
He winced and clutched his shoulder in agony, his face contorted with pain. With great effort, he pulled himself up and surveyed his surroundings. It was a flat, grassy plain as he had glimpsed earlier. In the darkness of night, he could make out the silhouettes of a seemingly endless range of mountains. The only source of light that lit his way was the dim stars above.
"Father! Kayle! Morgana!" Artrix cried into the starry skies. "I know you can hear me, return me to where I belong!"
However, only piercing silence followed, which was soon interrupted by a brief breeze which soothed and petted the grass on the plains like a caring mother for her child.
"Curse it…" Artrix muttered to himself. He now examined himself and found that he was in a wreck; his once valiant armor now broken, split and covered in dirt. His torn cape matches his dirty face, its beauty marred by cuts and bruises. His fair hair was not spared either, which now resembled more of a jumbled mess than a river of silk.
Up ahead in the distance, he spotted a shimmering light, a town. His head grew heavy and his sight dim, he knew that he could not just stand here and wait for a miracle from a divine being. He had to create one now. The irony, he thought.
As he trudged wearily towards the settlement of mortals, his mind raced with confusion, and fear. Fear that he may never be able to return to who he truly was. There was no regret for his actions, at least none that he might've felt. He then surged with anger as he remembered that it was those mortals, those cursed mortals that caused his fall from grace. But, they didn't do anything, did they? However, his mind now switched back to a blank state as he grew more tired. He walked with pain that seared from his shoulders, but his drowsed state helped ease the sense a bit.
When he arrived at the outskirts of the town, he was met with a small farm. In the middle, an old man with a straw hat was busy tending to whatever farmers do at night. Artrix limped towards him in a demanding demeanour.
"You there mortal!" he commanded. "What world is this?"
The farmer looked up in surprise and saw a beat-up, young man was in desperate need of help.
"You don't look so good son, can I help you?" the farmer kindly offered. He spoke with a strange accent.
"Answer my question, mortal. Do not mock me. I am in no need of aid from a pathetic being like you," Artrix sneered, however, in his current state, he looked more pathetic than the man.
The farmer took off his crude hat and whistled.
"If you insist friend," the farmer replied. "You're in Valoran, as to what world is, this would be Runeterra."
Artrix took that in and processed it in his head.
"Runeterra…" he muttered to himself. A battle had just raged on Runeterra hours ago, he then wondered how could everything have changed so quickly. "Where are the soldiers of Heaven, where are the creatures of the Void?"
"Well, I don't know no man of Heaven, but the Void? They haven't been here for a long time now," the farmer said.
"How? They were just attacking hours ago," Artrix demanded an answer.
The farmer whistled again, and gave out a hearty laugh. "A few hours? You must be coo coo juice, friend. There weren't no Void."
Artrix then dismissed the farmer and began to limp inwards to town, where he hope to find more intelligent mortals.
"You sure you don't need help? I mean look at the way you walk," the farmer shouted from behind him.
"Useless…" Artrix breathed and continued to distant himself from the rural area.
As he went inward, the light grew brighter and the populace more lively. Everyone was going to and fro, each with their own business to attend to. Artrix was met with strange stares from the crowd. This was mostly because of his battered armor and ruined face. He tried to find an area where the mortals that knew more would conjugate and quickly he had arrived at a two story building. Lights, laughter and rambunctious cheering were roaring from within. A croaked sign hang which read:
Dragon's Inn.
A silly name, Artrix thought. Dragons do not possess inns.
In the front as a pair of wooden gates which did not quite cover neither the ground nor the ceiling and hang wildly in the middle. He approached it and pushed open them but a pain jolted from his broken shoulders. He then switched to his left shoulder and lightly rammed it open.
Inside the inn was a stuffed and crowded atmosphere. Smoke and the stench of alcohol and drunken patrons swarmed the inside. Loud music and rowdy laughter assaulted Artrix' ears. No one seemed to have noticed his entry, which somewhat insulted him. In the middle of inn, a large, muscular man was involved in a drinking contest. Empty mugs sprawled in front of his table. His head was shaved save for a few strands of hair here and there, his rotten teeth revealed itself each time he drank. Underneath the table was his large, steel axe which was to be used to cleave anyone that insulted his intelligence. Foolishly enough, Artrix decided to approach the man.
"You there," he demanded. However, the crowd which was enticed with the contest of alcohol blocked him. Vexed, he tried again.
"Heed me mortal, listen to your god!" to no avail, his words were lost in the sound of music and laughter. After another mug, the man seemed like he could handle no more and released a loud burp. But then, he waved for the bartender for another round. Artrix saw that perhaps the drinks were why he was not noticed, so without thought, he approached the table, took one of the mugs and smashed it onto the floor, spilling its contents.
The crowd gasped and backed away as the reddened man slowly tilted his head up and saw the tiny Artrix. He slowly stood with surprising balance despite his drunken state and kicked back the chair. However, Artrix was not deterred as he should be. The man towered over him by several feet.
"Why did you do that?" the man questioned.
"You were ignoring me. I only seek answers, and you will give them to me," Artrix said.
The man's face then quickly turned into a large, noxious roar and laughter. The crowd followed along.
"I think prince charming here needs a lesson. About how not, to miss with Big Daddy when he's drinking," the man, known as Big Daddy, presented to the crowd.
"You dare challenge me?" Artrix foolishly said.
"I don't challenge, I ROCKKKKKK!" Big Daddy roared into the now cheering crowd and he lifted his massive fist. Artrix used his uninjured shoulder in preparation of blocking the incoming blow. He had already planned his moves. First, he will block it, then, he will throw a heavy, yet not fatal blow into the man's open stomach. Then, he will proceed to his interrogation. However, his plan was missing one vital feature. He was no longer a god.
With a bone crunching smash, Artrix immediately dropped to the hard, whiskey soaked floor. He did not even have time to groan as the man picked him up by his hair and swung him into a wall, leaving splinters on his impact. Artrix dropped to his knees and now clutched his new wounds as the giant of a man limbered towards him.
"You will learn, free of charge, that Big Daddy runs this place!" the man then proceeded to lift Artrix up by the collar and began a series of assaulting into his body like a punching bag. Each blow shattered, or at least cause Artrix to nearly pass out in pain and shock.
Then bartender quickly came over and stopped the slaughter despite the cheering crowd.
"Enough, enough! I don't want a death in my inn, just toss him out!" he said. Throwing one last punch, Big Daddy then leaned close to Artrix's bloodied face as the crimson liquid spilled from his coughs.
"You're lucky Big Daddy likes his drinks here," the man sneered at Artix. Then, he dragged him out to the backside and promptly tossed him out into a pool of mud, a pig pen. Behind Artix, he could hear the resumption of more drinks and roaring as the contest resumed.
Artrix rolled around in pure agony, the cool mud surprisingly soothing to him. A curious piglet wobbled over and sniffed at him, greatly annoying him.
If I had my powers… Artrix painfully thought. If only… He knew, from this point, it was over. His pride, his grace, himself, all gone. Tears slowly trickled down from his closed eyes only to be masked by the mud and blood mix over his ruined race. He laid back as the piglet continued to probe him and faced the stars. At this instance, he was ready to surrender and just lay here hopelessly until he dies.
In the quiet of the night, footsteps sounded around the pig pen. In the darkness, a slim, cloaked figure approached the fallen Artrix. He was aware of this person's presence but made no effort to address it. In fact, he would have preferred that this person to be Big Daddy coming to finish the job. When the figure came under the light of the inn, it was revealed to be a woman. He had a worn cloak over her and she bared messy, white hair. Her skin slightly darkened but reflected the moonlight gracefully. However, despite all this, the marks of a warrior still scarred her. She approached with curiosity towards Artrix.
"Go away," Artrix said as he rolled back face down on the mud, too ashamed to see anyone. "Let me die here in peace."
The woman simply kneeled down beside him and began treating his wounds.
"Don't touch me!" Artrix said, swinging his uninjured arm at her. However, as he turned back he was met with the surprise of a beautiful face, her dark brown eyes met with his. Artrix was left speechless for a moment.
"Don't move, you are heavily injured," she said. Her voice was feminine, but something deep, something like a burden weighed it.
As Artrix collected his thoughts, he realized that she was attempting to remove his armor. Feeling intruded, and with the last strand of his strength, he pushed the woman back and forced himself up.
"I said, don't touch me. I do not need help form a mortal," Artrix said, wincing with pain. He then wobbled off and headed in the direction of a dense forest. The woman shook her head in disbelief to his stubbornness.
Inside the forest was nearly void of any light. The thick canopies blocked even the dim starlight that cradled the lands. Artrix, unaware of his dangers, forced his beaten body forward, as far away from that town, and woman as possible. As he ventured deeper, he noticed a dim light wavering ahead of him. He trudged through the trees towards it and found a campfire with a boiling pot crudely hanging over two twigs over the flame. Tents and stone tools littered the small camp. The smell from the pot that wafted to his nose suddenly made him realize that he was in fact, hungry. It has been almost an entire day sense he has eaten. Back in Heaven, he only ate because the food was delicious; now, he needed to do substance himself.
Artrix limped to the pot and found a cooking stew which smelled absolutely delightful. His stomach growled as he reached for a wooden spoon to begin his feast. Suddenly, out of the silence of the woods, an arrow shot the spoon straight out from his hands. He was taken by complete surprise as he fell back onto his back. Emerging form the darkness, a group of bandits encircled him. Besides from their basic clothes, signs of looted treasure hung all over them. With swords in hand, they approached Artrix. One of them had an eye patch and a blue bandana. His sword was more of a cutlass than the rest of his pack. He grinned and revealed his golden teeth and reflected the fire.
"Well look here boys, a thief," the eye patch leader announced. "A hungry, beaten little rat caught within our camp."
Artrix breathed heavily but he made no attempt to retort. He knew it, he was caught, and perhaps death soon followed. He accepted his defeat and sat motionless.
"No reply? Cat caught your tongue?" the man then laughed and his group followed. Then, he raised his sword to silence his comrades. The man gazed into Artrix's eyes but only found a fearless shell, a man close to death with nothing to lose.
"Not afraid eh? Don't worry mate, for tryin' to steal from us, we will make your enjoy it," the man continued. Then he made a slice motion with his sword. "First, we will cut off those precious hands of yours, then your feet, then your ears and gouge out your eyes."
The bandits now roared wildly like a preying pack of wolves.
"No worries though, we wouldn't kill ya. We will let you roll around, senseless. You will have wished we had ended your miserable little life."
The bandit raised his sword above his head in front of Artrix, pausing for a moment before crashing it down with all his strength. Artrix closed his eyes and waited. And waited, and waited. The eerie silence that followed stirred him. Was this death? If it was, then it was a lot less painless than he had thought. His eyes remained closed, and he waited, but nothing happened. Then, only with the thump of a man dropping to the cold, hard ground did he open his eyes. Directly in front of him, was a massively disproportioned blade. However, it was lined with cracks and at half of its length, it was gone. Broken.
The bandits backed away with fear, seeing their leader just being cleaved in half. Their swords trembled in their hands.
"Well, get up! Don't just sit there." It was the same woman from earlier. She stood in front of him, guarding him. Artrix was for a moment, dumbfounded before getting back up with effort.
"Come on! It's 4 verses 1, come on!" the woman taunted. The bandits, teeming with uncertainty, wavered and maneuverer themselves around her, trying to find an opening. Then, one of them struck from the side, seemingly in her blind spot. Without hesitation, he swung her lithe body and cleaved her sword at the man, severing his sword and head in one, quick graceful motion. The two halves of him fell backwards to the ground.
"Anymore?" the woman said. The bandits looked at each other and back, and then advanced in a uniform motion. A regular person would've succumbed to this three pronged attack, but this woman was no regular person. He quickly leaped into the air, dodging two attacks and effortlessly parried the third one. Then, in quick succession, she followed up her block and pierced the man's chest with her large sword. The jagged ends of her blade tore the flesh apart. The bandits followed up with another strike, however, her prowess and skill in battle outmatched them immensely. In the blink of an eye, the remaining bandits dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Artrix saw with awe, he had never seen a mortal fight with such skill. His jaws froze slightly ajar, speechless.
The woman looked around her and put her flung her sword back, carrying it with her shoulders. He brushed her hands after the bloody mess and looked back at Artrix.
"Well, this is the second time I had saved you, will you run away again?" she asked.
Artrix glanced down, seemingly with shame. He remained silent, unsure how to respond.
"At least you could say thank you," she said.
Artrix clutched at his broken ribs and slid back down on the floor, his back supported by a large, oak tree. The woman sighed and shook her head, she then approached Artrix with the stew from the pot.
"You are hungry are you not? Isn't that why you almost got yourself killed in the first place?" she said, placing the pot and the wooden spoon in front of him.
"I'd rather be dead,"Artrix lightly muttered to himself.
The woman stared with slight disbelief.
"Wow, you are one tough nut to crack," she said.
Artrix, puzzled at her manners of speech. "I'm not a fruit of a tree, nor do I understand why you wish to crack me."
The woman swung her head back and laughed. She put her hand over her forehead and brushed her white hair back.
"It's an idiom, stupid," she said, still laughing. Artrix felt insulted, but he did not resist. Something about this woman made him feel… safe, carefree.
After she finished laughing, a quick silence followed and was soon broken by her. "My name's Riven, what's yours?"
Artrix, surprised by how this mortal so openly declared her identity, remained silent. However, her probing eyes finally made him answer with a single word. "Artrix…"
"Artrix huh? Well, you are still in crap shape, and I need to fix you up," Riven said. She then reached into a worn satchel and withdrew a series of bandages and medicinal supplies. Artrix felt that he should repel her attempts; after all, she was just a mortal. However, something made him unable and accepting.
As she began to remove his broken armor, his earlier feelings of intrusion had disappeared.
"Why do you help me mortal?" he asked.
"Because you are hurt. Does there need to be a reason?" she said while bandaging him with efficiency.
"I am a complete stranger to you, mortal, yet you aid me? Does this not waste your power?"
Riven looked up at Artrix.
"We help each other because this is the way of life. Sure, I may not know you, but that isn't a reason to stop from helping others in need."
Artrix was in even more confusion now. Why is a mere mortal helping him? Should they not be slaughtering each other right now? Lost with the guidance of divinity? How did they obtain such kindness, they cannot though for they are akin to mere mindless insect. How are they capable of such compassion?
"I do not understand you mortals," Artrix said.
"Why do you call everyone 'mortals'?" Riven asked, tightening a bandage on Artrix's wrecked arm.
"Are you not one?" he replied.
"Yea well, aren't you one too?"
As Artrix was infuriated by being called a mortal, but he suddenly remembered. His exile and what his father had said.
If you despise mortals so mortals so much, then you shall be one. These words echoed through his mind. He was struck with the sudden realization that he was now of them. Powerless.
Artrix bowed his head and sighed deeply, catching Riven unaware. Silence reigned from him again as Riven continued her work. Unexpectedly, Artrix asked a question.
"How did you learn to fight?" he asked.
Riven looked up, surprised.
"What do you mean?"
Artrix pointed at her massive cleaver, thought broken it was still a deadly weapon.
"Oh that, well, I'm from a place called Noxus. Well, was. It is a harsh place. Only the strong survives and the weak dies. I had lived with that ideology for the most of my life. Growing up there, the children must learn how to be strong, and how to fight, how to be somebody," she said with admonishment. "If you perceived as weak, then you are lost, useless, gone."
Noxus sounds very similar to his ideas. Only the strong can survive, like the mighty Heaven. The weak is either destroyed or subjugated to the strong.
"You make it sound like it's an abominable act ," Artrix said.
"It is! Yes, there's the strong and weak. But why must the weak perish, instead, why does the strong not use their strength to aid them?! Does the world only see people with their strength and raw power? Not what they truly are?" Riven's voice sounded angry now, surprising Artrix. Her words were similar to his father's. Quickly, after this escalation, Riven apologized for her outburst and silence followed again.
"You said you were from Noxus, what happened?" Artix asked.
Riven seemed to have ignored the question for a moment as she was finishing wrapping the bandages around Artrix's body. His muscular form now encased in a new clothe of gauze.
"I was exiled," she replied.
Artrix looked at her in deep thought, repeating the words exile over and over in his head. "Exiled…"
Riven then helped Artrix up from the ground as she dusted her knees.
"What about you? Where did you come from," she asked. "And judging from your armor, you must've came from some place fancy."
Artrix quickly articulated a lie in his head. Well, not exactly a lie, but he felt that it was not a good time to reveal who he truly was; if she would even believe him.
"Some place far away that you have no knowledge on," he replied. "But, I too, was exiled."
Artrix felt like taking his last words back, he wasn't quite sure why he would disclose so much information to mortal named Riven. Yet he had, and he somewhat felt comfortable revealing his burden. Riven looked up with surprise which quickly turned to understanding.
"I will not ask why, for I did not tell you either but, I suppose we do have something in common," she said.
Artrix gave out a faint smile before turning around to leave the camp.
"Where are you going?" she called out.
"Away."
Riven shook her head again. He was really a stubborn bastard.
"Where can you go? You said you came from some place far away, and judging by how well you handled social interaction back at the inn, I don't think you can go anywhere," she said.
Artrix stopped his pace and pondered for a moment. She did have a point. However, he felted almost embarrassed having a mortal save him time after time.
"Come with me, I may be exiled, but I have found for the time being, a new home," she continued. "It's called the Institute of War."
Artrix turned around and looked at Riven, who was now a fair distance away. He sighed and winced as another jolt of pain suddenly pinched his lungs. He walked back to the camp, where the bodies of men still laid there and the fire had already became a smothering pit.
"When I heal and one day return, I will remember your kindness and aid this day," Artrix said, now with a slim sliver of hope rising from his heart.
Riven just grinned and said, almost jokingly, "And I return to Noxus, maybe I will invite you over for a mug of ale."
For once, Artrix cracked a faint smile across his lips, he had understood that joke. Now, as they walk out of the dense forest and towards the Institute of War, the dim ray of the rising sun slowly crept over the horizon, bringing new hope and another day to the land of Valoran.