The timeline of the League of Legends universe is quite messy, but I will do my best to make it at least somewhat coherent.
By the way, if you have any comments or suggestions to make, feel free to share them. You can also donate power stones! (<---)
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Mark looked at his now blood-stained hands and felt a bad taste in his mouth. The hall had been cleaned, but the brutal marks of the battle were still there.
"Was what I did really right?" Mark thought. After all the adrenaline had worn off and the euphoria of victory had passed, he took some time to reflect on his recent decisions.
He wasn't sure if the path of the conqueror he had chosen was the right one. "But I guess I haven't had much choice so far, have I?" he reflected.
He had been in this world for less than six months and had already adapted and changed in a natural, almost instinctive way. As a modern man, he used to reject wars and considered them senseless slaughter.
But this was just an optimistic view of the modern world. In this world inhabited by demons, gods, and conquerors, the strong were just and revered, while the weak were sinful and forgotten.
At that moment, he felt a presence approach him in the hall. "Why so down? We won the battle and fragmented the forces of the tribes and city-states in the entire region. When the conquest is over, we will be receiving medals and honors for this," she said, leaning to look into his eyes.
Deliberately, Mark let his thoughts slip from his mouth. "Many innocents will suffer because of my choices," he declared, catching Katarina by surprise. To her, someone who had never received any feeling of compassion, Mark's concern seemed strange.
"Why do you care about them? They aren't your people, and you owe them nothing," she said, but Mark just shook his head at her. "You don't understand," he replied and stood up to leave without explaining further.
Katarina suddenly felt intrigued and then angry. "Do you dare call me a fool?!" she said, preparing to draw her dagger, but Mark only looked at her coldly. "Someone who values life so little could never understand what I'm feeling. Don't feel bad, Kat. As an assassin and weapon, you are the perfect exemplar of Noxian standards," he said, walking away without fear of being stabbed.
"But as a human, you fail completely," he added, leaving Katarina watching him go. She should have felt proud to be called the perfect assassin, but the way Mark said it sounded like pity and, at the same time, concern.
For the first time in her life, Katarina felt lost. The reality built by her father and solidified by her training suddenly cracked and spread rapidly.
It was at that moment that she realized someone saw her as a person and not just as a weapon. This, of course, would bring serious romantic problems for Mark later on.
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Mark wandered the now silent city streets, patrolled by Noxian guards and mercenaries. Since the coup, the city had been eerily quiet, with people afraid that soldiers would loot homes and belongings, many attempting to escape at night and being caught by guards.
Donning his sheep mask, he walked slowly through the streets and soon found himself in the city's slums. Even at night, he could see beggars in the alleys and corners of the city.
No guard would come to this place even before the takeover, but Mark calmly walked through it, looking at the victims of the previous government. Most were runaway slaves and immigrants from war-torn countries.
He felt bitterness as he walked and soon came across some familiar children running through the alleys. He decided to follow them. The children ran fast, but Mark didn't need much effort to follow them and soon found himself entering an old, broken temple.
The place was dark, but Mark soon saw a flame inside the temple lighting up the surroundings and noticed some stairs. With his curiosity piqued, he slowly descended and was surprised by what he saw next.
There was a large underground room covering hundreds of meters, and inside, several children and street dwellers were sheltered. Although there were few torches, the entire environment was well-lit, and Mark saw a painting pattern on the walls that he immediately recognized.
"Look, it's the savior sheep!" At that moment, he heard a child's shout, and turning, he saw a girl who, recognizing him, quickly alerted the other children, who ran to him.
Soon Mark was completely surrounded by children pulling him here and there, asking him for money or something to eat.
"I'm sorry, kids. I didn't bring any money or food today." His words made the excited crowd of children sad, making him feel a bit guilty. With a snap of his fingers, red flames rose from his hand, making the children's eyes light up.
Recently, as his strength increased and his powers stabilized, Mark had become capable of creating flames on his hands and body. Thanks to the Sharingan, he could now see the flow of magic in his body and release it outside.
The children's eyes sparkled with excitement as they watched him use magic, and Mark made some flames float in the air, letting the children chase them, which made him smile behind the mask.
"Perhaps a divine revelation can guide my steps now," he thought and approached the nearest mural, where the figure of a woman with white hair surrounded by painted wind waves stood. Mark bowed before kneeling and deciding to say a simple prayer to Janna, the goddess of the wind.
He had heard that Janna blessed miners and sailors with her wind and guided them to safe places. In the end, he only hoped the winds could guide him in this moment of moral doubt.
At that moment, from the perspective of the people in the underground, they all woke and looked at Mark. Waves of wind began to enter, and a blue bird flew down the stairs, entering the place.
"The guardian's spirit," an old man said, immediately kneeling and beginning to pray to Janna. The other residents didn't fully understand but soon fell to their knees as well, and soon the entire place was filled with wind.
Wherever the winds passed, the wounded were healed, those with minds full of resentment and troubles calmed down, and a feeling of peace filled the place.
Mark also felt his mind calm and slowly opened his eyes. Before him stood a blue bird that, in an instant, transformed into a beautiful woman with long ears who extended her hand to him.
He hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out and touching Janna's hand. There was a flash, and Mark heard a voice echo in his mind, "I will make you my new apostle and grant you part of my power. In return, all I ask is that you fight for the weak and oppressed, protect those who cannot protect themselves," she said, and Mark hesitated for a moment.
"I am not worthy of such a task. I am a wicked and selfish man," he forced the words out of his mouth, almost spitting them with disgust. But at that moment, he saw Janna smile at him. "Among the many I've seen over the years, none have had a heart as pure as yours," she said, and in that instant, a beam of light shone, making Mark close his eyes.
When he opened them again, he realized Janna had disappeared, and the temple was now silent, with many people still kneeling in prayer.
But a change caught his attention. On his left arm, there was now a long blue wind-shaped tattoo running from his shoulder to his hands, covering his arm completely.
Moving his hands, Mark realized that if he wanted, he could control the wind with that hand, leaving him intrigued. But at that moment, he didn't have time to fully understand the changes.
The wind began to swirl around him, and he looked outside the temple. At that moment, Mark felt an evil presence lurking in the streets, something that brought him a natural sense of repulsion. Without hesitation, he grabbed his sword and quickly ran out of the temple.
The winds around him seemed like an extension of his body, guiding him through the streets and alleys of the city until he reached a warehouse near the port. "What is this dreadful presence?" Mark asked as he looked at the warehouse in front of him and activated his Sharingan.
"My God." Mark's gaze pierced the walls, and what he saw made him feel like vomiting. Inside the warehouse, he could see dozens of human and demi-human bodies lying on the floor, marked with torture and blood. But worst of all, they weren't dead, but their souls had completely left their bodies.
In the middle of the warehouse, he saw the figure of an ancient demon whose name many knew but dared not summon.
At that moment, the demon seemed to sense that it was being watched and slowly looked in Mark's direction before releasing a seductive smile, sending shivers down his spine.
There she was, the demon of agony, the lady of pleasure who delighted in her victims, whether people or demons, devouring them until nothing remained.
"Evelynn."
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