The soft swish of an onyx blade, carved with runic inscriptions, was all that was heard in the quiet of the sweltering Noxian summer. Firmly gripping the sword in a single hand was a girl in her late teens. The young warrior stood tall, just beyond and below the imposing figure of the Noxian High Command, as she familiarized herself with the weight and handling of the huge weapon.
Heavier than a kite shield and nearly as broad, she mused. Perfectly suited to her tastes. She effortlessly tested the weight, swinging it around and wedging it into a nearby pole, before pulling it out with little effort.
Riven then ran her hand over the ebony surface of the sword, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. The warm, humid breeze danced through her light bangs as she traced her fingers over the brilliant green markings carved into the metal, memorizing every curve and groove there was.
This weapon is for me.
The emerald glow of the runic blade, she felt, was mirrored by the burning glow of pride which radiated from her core.
'A truly impressive display of Noxian spirit.'
Those words, spoken only minutes ago by the Noxian High Command, resounded in her mind, as she descended the dark stone steps of the building, confident in her beliefs.
The strong survive and triumph.
A battered Riven dove to the side, gasping as she collided with a heap of rugged boulders.
Barely a second later, a searing white sphere slammed into the ground with extreme force, marking where she had once been. The ground convulsed with the violence of the explosion as the girl hastily struggled to her feet to continue her desperate flight.
How could Singed order the Noxians to target their own troops? What kind of horrifying monster could do something like this?
Her armored boots pounded against the vibrating floor of the valley, the dark of night bringing with it an overwhelming sense of despair and loss.
The blinding light of the Melters' shots lit the night sky, granting Riven a clear view of the death encompassing her. Ionians and Noxians alike lay scattered on the muddy ground; some bodies destroyed so badly that they were no longer recognizable as human.
It was undoubtedly a horrific sight to behold.
Riven shook her head, blocking out the screams of soldiers and the thundering booms of Zaun techmaturgy.
Only the strong survive, she mentally repeated to herself as she navigated through the bloodied chaos of her surroundings – yet, it meant absolutely nothing to her. The Ionians, the near victors of this war, were to die as well.
This massacre had completely violated the Noxian way.
For possibly the only instance in her life, Riven felt completely and utterly lost.
Yet somewhere inside her a dark rage began to burn, and for the first time, she felt she was truly driven by revenge.
Revenge. For all the souls you killed with your horrifying inventions.