Every night in Noxus tends to be the same once you live there long enough. Everyone you saw had either been drinking, fighting, or drunkenly fighting. While the strength Noxus valued wasn't only in physicality, it was the one mostly frequently sought to prove. Being a brute was far easier than being a political combatant, after all.
While the majority of those born in the heart of Noxus had no complaints of their home and their culture, there were those who had never felt at home. Those who thought strength shouldn't be a requirement to live an enjoyable life.
For Zacan, one of those misplaced souls, there was one night in Noxus that managed to stand out amongst the homogenous series of days he'd lived through by then.
The night that he escaped. The night his life truly began, with a new name. A new self.
The room was silent. As was his head, for once.
All he could do for the last two weeks was think. Think about his life. His family. His duty.
Now, just twelve hours before he'd be shipped off for months, there was nothing left to think about. All he could do was wait for his life as he knew it to end.
He'd never wanted to be a solider, let alone be part of raiding parties. But thanks to his father's guiding hand and his passive disposition, the next chunk of his life would be dedicated to slaughtering Demacian villages and burning what was left. An empty existence, a purposeless one.
Growing up in Noxus, he'd always wondered why the empire had to continue expanding. It was large enough that he had cousins he'd never met, and friends too far to catch up with. How many more does the Noxian way of life need to forced onto? For what purpose?
All of these questions had rattled around his head since he was a boy, and the lack of answers made him feel uneasy about being a man. At least, about being a man in Noxus.
But what could he do? He'd been born here, into a family that embraced the Noxian ideals to a nearly obsessive degree. His father was a military commander, his mother an instructor for students who'd love nothing more than putting their life on the line for their nation. He'd been born in the wrong place, in the wrong time. He'd just have to swallow his otherness and do his duty.
Right?
Five Years Later
"My name is Khar, the Energy Warrior. I'd like to compete in the tournament of Legends."
His voice didn't shake, His face remained solid, and his breath held steady. He'd never spoken with so much resolve in his life.
And yet, they were laughing at him.
"Oh for cryin' out loud kid, The Energy Warrior? That's the best you got?" The one with the mustache had found it particularly funny, he'd introduced himself as Edmin.
"Haven't you ever opened up a thesaurus or somethin'? What about- I dunno, the Conductive Combatant? Or Power Soldier?" The barefaced man seemed to be considering my name much more seriously. He'd called himself Jerin.
After enduring their teasing for a few more moments Khar let out a frustrated sigh and put his hands up.
"Okay, sure, my name sucks, but this is where I try out, right?" His tone was angled as much more aggravated than before, but they seemed to pay it no mind.
Edmin's laughs subsided for the most part before he replied. "Yeah kid, this is where we see if you got what it takes." He stood up from his seat behind the counter. "I'll take this kid Jer, you get the next one." With a flick of his hand he gestured to Khar to follow.
He silently trailed behind Edmin down a shallow hallway and through a large metal door. The lobby they'd spoken in was decorated quite traditionally, with plants in the corners and newspapers available to read. The room they now entered however, was like nothing he'd had the pleasure of seeing before.
It was the most decked out training room they could've ever dreamed of. A firing range, a large selection of weapons and dummies to test them out on, an elaborate obstacle course, a sparring ring, and even a summoning chamber. Not to mention it was just huge.
The chamber had sparked the most attention from Khar. The insanely complex magical device is what allowed simulated warfare like on the summoner's rift. Channeling energy from a summoner, it could send a "champion" into a magically simulated environment where they can fight to the death over and over again without any real world harm coming to them.
He'd always wondered what it was like to be summoned like that. Maybe today he'd be able to.
"Alright kid, here's the deal." Edmin stopped abruptly and turned to Khar, gesturing to various things in the room as he spoke. "Each of these are a test, we're going to evaluate your basic combat skills to determine- well, determine if you're worth The Institute's time."
"Do you work for The Institute directly, then?" Khar wondered aloud. The Institute of War was the organization that controlled and organized the League of Legends, their continent-wide alternative to real world warfare.
If two nations or city-states wanted to fight out their differences, they used to go to war in a more traditional way. Pillaging cities, annexing territories, & killing thousands of soldiers on either side.
Since The Institute was founded however, that sort of large-scale conflict had become incredibly rare. There were still battles and wars off of the summoner's rift on occasion, but they were typically short-lived and fought with smaller numbers than in the past. That is, aside from the never ending war between Demacia and Noxus. Although, that was largely fought in small battles along their borders.
Now, the most common form of settling differences between governing bodies happened on The Summoner's rift with chosen representatives of the participating nations. That way there could be less bloodshed, and most of war's common atrocities were practically extinct.
"Yeah, I strictly do work involving the tournament though. I round up the overly-brave and the stupidly-bold to see if they can earn my stamp of approval." Edmin spoke of the position like it was a chore, but Khar detected an undertone of pride. "What- did you think I was a summoner or somethin'?"
Khar almost laughed but suppressed his reaction. He'd always pictured summoners as robed solemn figures who do nothing but study and delicately practice magic. Edmin was a large man with no hood, quite the gut, and little regard for delicacy. Edmin did bring an aura of experience, but the title of summoner certainly brought a much more elegant image to mind.
"Not exactly where my mind was at." Khar answered simply, still looking around and slightly gawking. "So you run this show, then? Train and evaluate all of us try-outs?"
Edmin stopped in the center of the room and turned to face Khar. "Me & Jerin back there are in charge of the Piltover facility, yeah. But nothing more than that." He crossed his arms, "Now-" He gestured with his head to the shooting range, "I do have some other try-outs after this, so let's get the wheels turning."
Khar nodded and timidly stepped behind the barricade. "Am I shooting something? It's not really my thing."
"Do you have any kind of long-range attack? An energy blast, maybe?" Edmin suggested, a teasing grin tugging at his face.
"Oh, well yeah I can do something like that. Just gonna need a second." Khar breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. He felt a twinkle of power gather in his hands as he channeled the nearby energy from the air. He released the captured breath and opened his eyes, his fingers now glowing faintly.
He made his hand into a finger gun and pointed it at the furthest target. He tensed his arm and a thin blast of energy blew from his fingertip, hitting the target a few inches from the bullseye. After firing 5 or 6 more times he'd managed to hit one bullseye dead on and make it pretty close on the others.
"Not bad. Let's see how you do with moving targets." Edmin slammed his fist into a button on the wall, after which the targets started moving erratically.
Khar grimaced for a moment before making himself shake off the nerves and focus. He closed one eye and followed the targets with his finger.
One shot missed by quite a bit, but the one after hit the bullseye dead on as it passed by him. Feeling a sharp growth of confidence he quickened his shots.
Miss. Decent hit. Good hit. Miss. Miss. Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye. He could feel the heat in his hands growing as he continued firing, and the distraction made him miss his last two shots.
He swore under his breath and the burning, shaking his hands to dissipate the energy.
"Well, you're not a terrible shot." Edmin commented with an approving nod. "But can you shoot any faster than that?"
Khar scratched his head sheepishly. "That technique is one I still need to work on, I'm a lot better with the close combat."
"Prove it." Edmin dared, nodding towards a dummy to his right. "Wack this thing to hell, it'll give me a read on what kind of damage we're working with."
Khar nodded, and took another deep breath. This was much easier for him, without needing to concentrate much he began storing energy into his right arm. After a moment he'd stored enough and approached the dummy.
Tensing the muscles in his arm, he expelled the energy out of his palm into the shape of a sword. The energy condensed into the shape perfectly rather quickly and he swung immediately.
He slashed at the dummy's would-be neck at full strength before bringing the sword back to slash at its chest. He swung again and again, fast enough to bring about some surprise on Edmin's face. The dummy had been cut ragged before he knew it, and he stepped back to observe the damage.
The head of the dummy had nearly been cut clean off, one of the arms had fully fallen off, and the chest was burst open with a lot of the stuffing having fallen to the ground.
"So, how'd I do?"
Edmin approached the dummy and placed a hand on its chest. He closed his eyes for a moment before he spoke.
"The dummy gives you a B+, kid. Not bad."
Khar's brow furrowed. "B+? I tore it to shreds!" He objected before pausing. "Wait- the Dummy rated me?"
Edmin chuckled heartily. "Yes, the dummy has The Institute's magic. It evaluates your power level based on how hard and fast you attacked it."
"That much damage was really only a B+?" Khar asked dejectedly.
"If it makes you feel better kid, that's the highest I've seen in a few weeks." Edmin pulled a small box out of his coat pocket, grabbing a cigarette from it. "Now, most of the people who waltz in here get a failing grade just from those two basic ass tests, but I'm gonna let you get a little further."
A smile grew on Khar's face as Edmin spoke. "Great! What else do you have for me?"
The older man thoughtfully lit his cigarette as Khar waiting for a response. "The obstacle course. It's the only thing here that's actually a challenge." He admitted after a long drag.
After hearing the small praise from the man, Khar's nerves had mostly subsided and the idea of that challenge only sounded appealing to him now. "Show me the starting point, then."
Edmin led him to the other side of the training room to where the obstacle course began. "It's gonna start with a wall to scale, then you'll be hit with some moving obstacles to avoid. After that you're gonna be met with some big gaps to cross, after that you're gonna need to improvise a bit." He took another drag of his cigarette as Khar concentrated. After a moment he asked, "You ready, kid?"
Khar felt the power start to flow through his limbs and shook his head. A full body empowerment always took the longest, but it improved his agility astronomically. He focused on all of the energy surrounding him. The heat from the lights overhead, the whirring of the summoning chamber, even the electricity surging throughout the entire facility. He drew more and more trace amounts of power from each source, and after another moment he knew he'd hit capacity. "Alright. I'm ready."
"Ready?"
Khar's legs pressed hard into the floor, prepared to spring.
"Set!"
He closed his eyes and focused on keeping the energy stable. He could do this.
"Go!"
Khar pushed forward into the course with one extensive bound and was in front of the wall immediately. It stood at least 15 feet tall with grooves dug into the higher portion. He focused his energy into his legs and pushed off of the ground as hard as he could, springing up at least 10 feet. As he made body contact with the wall, his hands found the grooves and he pulled himself upwards with all the strength he could muster.
Touching the top of the wall, he yanked himself to the top and surveyed what lay in front of him. The only path forward was a thin one with spinning logs hovering around chest level. Dodging moving obstacles was nothing new to him, he didn't even hesitate.
Sprinting forward his eyes scanned the rhythm of the logs as they flew through the air. One was on course to crash into his chest, the one behind it set to smack into his head. The thin path didn't offer him much wiggle room, so he knew he had to go forward.
He maintained his speed until the last second, and then leaned back as he pushed his legs out suddenly to slide under the first and second log. Foolishly, he'd already started mentally praising himself before he could notice a third log swinging towards him, this one very low to the ground. With barely any time to react, he tensed his entire body before pushing against the ground his with arms, exerting as much force as he could.
His strength carried him higher into the air than he'd meant to, but apparently still not high enough. He'd begun straightening out in the air a little too early and the top of the log caught his foot, destroying his balance for just long enough that he flailed in the air for a moment.
Turning just a touch off course, Khar panicked as he noticed where he was on course to land. Off the path and into the foam pit below.
Time slowed down as he desperately scanned his surroundings. He wasn't too far from the end of the path, so he did all he could think of.
Instantly, he channeled all of the energy from his arm into his palm, pointed his hand behind him, and let it all release at once.
The force of the blast pushed him forward and upward, just enough for him to grab ahold of the ledge ahead of him with one hand.
Khar hung there for a moment, taking a breath, before tugging his body up onto the platform.
After reaching the top, he brushed himself off and shook his head clear.
"You got your dumb moment, now let's wrap it up." He mumbled to himself quietly.
Ahead of him was a series of platforms, each spaced further and further apart.
This would be a cakewalk after how much time he spent training in a jungle.
He relocated all of the energy he had left into his legs, and effortlessly made it from platform to platform.
The first two he could jump easily, the one after he ran along the wall beside him for a moment to secure a safe jump. None of them posed much of a challenge.
After reaching the final platform, the floor beneath him adorned a green light. Edmin clapped slowly, a nearly finished cigarette still dangling from his mouth.
"Well now Khar, I'd say you've impressed me a little bit. Could still use some work, though." Edmin grinned again. "Get back down here and we can chat."
"You smoke?"
They'd stepped outside of the training facility after the obstacle course so Jerin could bring in the next recruit. Now they sat at a stone table in the center of their walled-off courtyard. The cool Piltover air was a welcomed pleasure after Khar had worked up such a sweat.
"Only on special occasions, but thank you." Khar declined, nodding politely.
Edmin shrugged and tucked the pack back into his jacket pocket before lighting the stick hanging from his mouth.
They sat silently for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city around them.
"So, you asked me to chat. Does that mean I passed?" Khar eventually asked, a little unsure of what to think.
Edmin took an extra long drag as Khar waited for a response. He gently and slowly blew the smoke into the air, licking his lips before answering.
"That depends, kid." He turned to Khar, looking him straight in the eye. "What makes you want to join The League? What would you gain from participatin' in this tournament, let alone from winnin' it?"
The Tournament of Legends, what Khar had come here to join, was a pretty recent aspect of the League of Legends. For years, The Institute had let nearly any able-bodied representative take their place on The League's roster. Most of them there to represent their nation, some just there for the notoriety or inherent sense of purpose.
In the recent years, however, The Institute had decided to cut their roster of champions nearly in half. Some of them were let go because they weren't performing up to their standards, some were sent away due to malicious behavior, and for others the reasons were never made apparent to the public.
This was a result of The Institute having a change in purpose overtime. While it was true that the primary function of The Institute of War was to prevent war between nations, this lack of bloodshed had made the would-be warlords of Runeterra more than dissatisfied. Over time, there were more and more organizations without direct ties to any nation rising up to wreak havoc on Runeterra as a whole, far removed from the authority of The Institute at its original capacity.
Sylas and his magic revolutionaries, the voidlings climbing from their hole in the desert, the monstrous individuals who roamed the shadow isles, Runeterra was home to many threats, and there was little one nation or another could do about them.
So, The Institute went from simply hosting a diplomatic alternative to war, to instead shaping into something of a large-scale peacekeeping organization. They would send willing champions to handle warlords, monsters, criminal organizations, anything that could threaten the lives of Runeterran citizens, no matter what nation they lived in.
In Khar's mind, The Institute had become the ultimate place to serve the world around you, without risk of corrupting ideals or national loyalties. It was a place to go to if you wanted nothing more than to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
The Tournament of Legends, the tournament The Institute had begun hosting every year for the past 4 years, was one of the only ways you could make your way into The League. To win, you'd have to fight your way through other people just as determined to earn the title of Champion, and prove you had what it took. Since he'd left his home all those years ago, there was nothing Khar wanted more.
"Why do I want to join The League?" Khar echoed Edmin's question, meeting his gaze. "Because if I don't, everything I've been through- everything I've done... It'll all have been for nothing." He turned his gaze from Edmin's and stared off as he continued. "I've done a lot I'm not proud of, and I've hurt a lot of people. I owe it to all of them to become a part of something greater than myself, to do something that really matters. I think winning this tournament and joining The League is my path to redemption."
Khar looked back at Edmin, but Edmin was now staring off himself. He took a long final drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground. Smoke blew from his mouth as he gave his response.
"A little vague, but it'll do." He stood up with a grunt, looking back at Khar. "Alright, kid. You get my stamp of approval."