Avengers HQ
"So, what you're saying is, you're from a place called Runeterra—a world full of magic, spirits, undead, half-humans, and all sorts of other crazy things?"
Tony leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, skeptical but intrigued after everything they'd witnessed yesterday. His fingers drummed restlessly against the arm of his chair, the rhythmic tapping drawing an irritated glance from Darius.
Garen and Darius sat side by side, their weapons leaning against the wall. They had a brief respite after the battle, but now the real challenge began—explaining their presence in this world. Despite their proximity, both men maintained a careful few inches of space between them, their postures rigid as steel.
Garen nodded, his armor catching the morning light. "Yes. Runeterra is divided into many nations, each with its own rulers, conflicts, and—"
"Wars," Darius cut in, his arms folded, scarred knuckles white against his biceps. His interruption earned him a sideways glance from Garen, barely noticeable but charged with years of battlefield encounters.
Steve Rogers, standing at the room's far end, frowned. "And you two? From opposing sides?"
Garen and Darius exchanged a look, tension crackling in the brief moment their eyes met.
"You could say that," Garen replied, unconsciously straightening his already perfect posture. "I'm from Demacia, a kingdom founded on honor, duty, and the belief that magic threatens order."
Darius snorted, the sound carrying years of battlefield contempt. "I'm from Noxus. We don't fear power. We embrace it. Strength is everything. You rise or fall based on it." His hand rested near his axe, a habit born of countless battles.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her keen eyes noting the subtle shift in both warriors' postures. "And yet, you fought together?"
Darius shrugged, the movement deliberately casual. "We had a bigger enemy."
Thor, who had been silent, finally spoke, leaning forward with interest. "Real warriors know the true battle lies beyond their borders." He nodded approvingly. "That, I understand."
Bruce adjusted his glasses, his movements precise and methodical. "Alright, that explains where you're from. Now, how'd you get here?"
Garen sighed, his armored shoulders dropping slightly. "We don't know."
Darius's jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath the skin. "We were in the meeting, with many of the most important members of Noxus, when a blinding light hit—a force unlike anything I've felt. Then we woke up here. Everyone else... gone."
Garen's fists clenched, the leather of his gauntlets creaking. "Something similar happened to us. Lux, Jarvan, Fiora, Shyvana... They could be anywhere, if they're still alive."
Clint whistled low, never taking his eyes off the visitors' weapons. "So you just got dropped into our world with no warning?"
Garen nodded, his expression grim.
"And you don't have a way back?"
Silence filled the room like a physical presence.
Darius leaned forward, his voice carrying an edge of steel. "Not yet."
Tony tapped his fingers against the table, projecting a holographic display that drew startled looks from both warriors. "Alright, let's say we believe all of this—alternate worlds, magic, giant swords." He gestured at Garen's weapon. "That still doesn't explain why you were pulled here."
Steve nodded, his tactical mind already working through possibilities. "Or who did it."
The room fell into thoughtful silence.
After a moment, Steve spoke. "For now, you can stay here. Until we figure out how you got here—and if we can send you back—you'll be safest with us."
Garen nodded respectfully, though his posture remained alert. "Thank you for your hospitality."
Darius leaned back, arms crossed, his armor scraping against the chair. "Just don't expect us to sit around doing nothing."
Tony smirked, spinning a holographic model between his fingers. "Oh, don't worry, big guy. Plenty to do. Just don't break anything."
Darius scoffed, eyeing the delicate-looking technology around them. "No promises."
Tony tapped his fingers on the table, the holographic display shifting as he eyed Darius. "So, what keeps Noxus together?"
Darius straightened, pride evident in every line of his posture. "Noxus is built on strength. The Immortal Bastion is its heart—a symbol of unyielding resilience. Here, only the strong survive, whether through might, influence, or cunning. Power is the currency. Those who rise to the top command respect. That's the foundation of Noxus."
Garen shifted in his chair, armor plates clicking softly. "Demacia was founded on different ideals—order, discipline, and honor." His voice carried the weight of generations of tradition. "We were forged out of necessity after the Runewars, to protect our land and people from chaos. After magic nearly destroyed everything, we became a bastion against it."
Natasha leaned forward, her sharp eyes catching the subtle tension between the two warriors. "What exactly were the Runewars?"
Garen's eyes grew distant, his hand unconsciously tightening on his sword hilt. "A time of unimaginable destruction. Magic ran rampant—especially the World Runes. They nearly ended everything. Demacia was created to ensure such chaos would never rise again. We saw magic as a threat, something that needed to be controlled, kept from the masses."
Darius interjected, his voice sharp as he shifted forward. "But the world is changing. People like Shyvana—half-dragon—are proving not all magic is a danger. That acceptance is slow, though. It's a shift Demacia is still adjusting to." His tone carried a hint of mockery.
Garen's expression darkened at Darius's tone. "That's true. My sister, Lux, has been central to that change. But Demacia still fears magic. Our ancestors mixed petricide into our city's foundations—it's even in our armor and weapons. It blocks magic."
Clint, ever the pragmatist, broke the tension. "So, magic isn't accepted, but it's slowly being embraced?"
"Exactly," Garen nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "It's changing, but it'll take time. Shyvana and Lux are helping lead that shift."
Steve spoke up, his tactical mind engaged. "And these World Runes—what are they?"
Garen glanced at Darius, who shook his head, for once in agreement. "We don't know much. The Runewars are ancient history, and the World Runes have faded into myth. Their scars are still felt, but the Runes themselves? Only rumors remain."
Tony leaned in, his eyes bright with scientific curiosity. "Can you sense their power?"
"Some can," Garen replied, his voice low. "But the power is unstable. Dangerous. The destruction they caused was catastrophic. We don't fully understand it, and whispers suggest some may still exist, but we have no leads."
Darius's tone hardened as he unconsciously gripped his axe. "Even if we did, it's not a power anyone should meddle with."
"But Demacia and Noxus aren't the only places, right?" Natasha asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation.
"No," Darius answered, leaning back slightly. "There are three continents on Runeterra: Valoran, Ionia and Shurima." He counted them off on scarred fingers. "Each continent has their own history and places that have made a name for themselves, for example the Shadow Isles, The Freljord..."
"Bilgewater, Piltover and Zaun..." Darius continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had fought across these lands.
"...and many more," Garen finished, earning a sharp glance from Darius at the interruption.
Bruce leaned forward, adjusting his glasses with careful precision. "You mentioned Ionia. What's it like?"
"A land where magic flows as naturally as water," Garen explained, a hint of wonder creeping into his voice despite his usual wariness of magic. "Their monasteries float in the air, and spirits walk among mortals openly."
Darius's expression darkened, his shoulders tensing. "We invaded it. The campaign..." He paused, choosing his words carefully, old wounds evident in his bearing. "It changed many of us."
"Why?" Natasha asked sharply, her attention focused on Darius's reaction.
"Resources," Darius replied, his voice grave, meeting her gaze steadily. "After the Rune Wars, the land around our Immortal Bastion became toxic. Nothing would grow. Our people were starving, our children dying. Ionia seemed like paradise in comparison—fertile lands, abundant resources, no standing army." His fist clenched. "We thought them weak."
"But they weren't," Steve observed, recognizing the look of a soldier who had learned a hard lesson.
"No," Darius's eyes grew distant, his voice taking on a haunted quality. "I led troops into a valley. The trees... they moved. Not like being blown by wind—they walked. Roots erupted from the ground, impaling my men. Rivers flowed upstream, drowning entire battalions. The very air seemed to reject us." He unconsciously rubbed his arm where an old scar lay hidden. "I saw a young monk step into a clearing. Before anyone could react, he summoned a spirit dragon. It tore through our ranks like paper."
Thor, who had been listening intently, leaned forward with renewed interest. "You mentioned the Shadow Isles. Tell us more about this Black Mist."
"It began with love," Garen said solemnly, his posture stiffening. "A king tried to resurrect his dead wife. The ritual went wrong—catastrophically wrong. It turned the Blessed Isles into a realm of death. Now the Black Mist spreads periodically, turning everything it touches into twisted undead."
"The worst part?" Darius added, his voice grim. "They remember who they were. Some retain centuries of knowledge, magic, combat skills. Imagine the greatest swordsman who ever lived, now undead, unable to die, driven mad by endless existence."
"And Bilgewater?" Tony asked, his holographic display showing a rough approximation of what he imagined the port city might look like. "Your lawless port city?"
"Built into the cliffs of the Blue Flame Islands," Garen explained, gesturing at Tony's projection. "The city rises in tiers from the Slaughter Docks at the bottom to the wealthy districts at the top. Every level connected by wooden walkways and bridges that creak in the wind."
"The whole economy revolves around sea monsters," Darius added, a hint of respect coloring his tone. "Monster hunters brave the depths to bring back massive catches. The Slaughter Docks process creatures bigger than this building. One good hunt can make you rich—if you survive."
"Gang leader?" Clint interrupted, referring to Sarah Fortune, his interest piqued.
"Ship captain," Darius corrected, the corner of his mouth twitching. "She united the city after killing the previous ruler, Gangplank. Blew up his ship with him on it. Of course," he smirked, "he survived. Hard to kill a man who's made deals with the Bearded Lady."
"The what?" Bruce asked, removing his glasses to clean them thoughtfully.
"Nagakabouros," Garen explained, shooting Darius an irritated look at his casual mention of their deities. "The goddess of life, ocean storms, and motion. Her temple dominates the city. Believers say she tests them through constant motion and conflict. Her priestess, Illaoi, carries a golden idol that can rip the spirit from your body to test your worthiness."
"And if you fail the test?" Natasha asked, her expression carefully neutral.
"Then your spirit is destroyed," Darius said grimly. "Better than some fates in Bilgewater. The harbor waters are filled with things that make sea monsters look tame. Ancient beings that demand tribute, and the sailors oblige. Every captain has their rituals, their offerings to the deep."
"You mentioned a place called Shurima," Steve prompted, noting how both warriors seemed to tense at the name. "What is it?"
Garen and Darius exchanged glances, as if deciding where to begin.
"A vast desert empire that fell thousands of years ago," Garen said carefully, measuring his words. "Most of what we know comes from stories and ruins."
"Just ruins?" Bruce asked, intrigued. "Something tells me there's more to it."
Darius leaned forward, his voice low. "The ruins aren't as dead as they seem. The ancient Shurimans had power beyond anything you could imagine. They found ways to elevate mortals to godhood through the Sun Disc."
"Godhood?" Thor's interest peaked visibly as he sat forward. "How?"
"A ritual of Ascension," Garen explained, his armor catching the light. "Warriors would climb the steps of a massive golden disc during a specific celestial alignment. Those deemed worthy were transformed by the sun's power into immortal beings with immense power."
"And those who weren't worthy?" Natasha asked, her eyes sharp.
"Burned to ash," Darius said grimly, shadows playing across his face. "But the ones who succeeded... they became something beyond human. The records speak of beings who could command armies with a thought, reshape the desert itself."
Tony raised an eyebrow, his fingers dancing through his holographic display. "If they were so powerful, what happened to them?"
"Betrayal," Garen replied, his voice heavy. "The emperor Azir was meant to Ascend. Instead, the empire was buried beneath the sands in a single day. The Ascended who survived..." he paused, tension visible in his jaw, "they were changed by centuries of war and isolation. Some became worse than the horrors they once fought against."
"You're talking about these beings in the present tense," Bruce noted carefully, replacing his glasses.
"Some Ascended were driven mad by centuries of war," Garen continued, his hand unconsciously tightening on his sword. "They became the Darkin—corrupt, twisted versions of their former selves. The only way to stop them was to seal them into their own weapons. Now they wait, conscious, until someone tries to wield them."
"What happens then?" Natasha asked.
"They fight for control," Darius replied, his voice carrying the weight of grim knowledge. "Some wielders win, maintaining a fragile partnership. Others..." He shook his head. "The weapons consume them completely."
Bruce shifted topics, sensing the heavy atmosphere. "And Zaun and Piltover? The twin cities?"
"Progress and poverty," Garen said, his posture relaxing slightly at the change of subject. "Piltover reaches for the sky with hextech—a fusion of magic and technology. Their inventions power much of our world. But below..."
"Zaun," Darius growled, his expression darkening. "Where the toxic runoff flows. Children born with mutations. Mad scientists conduct experiments that would make your stomach turn. But also innovation born of desperation. Some of the most brilliant minds come from Zaun's depths."
"Tell us about the Freljord," Thor said, his voice eager. "Your frozen north."
"A harsh land of endless winter," Garen replied, his armor creaking as he shifted. "Three tribes wage war for control, each following their own path."
"The history speaks of three sisters," Darius added, his voice carrying a soldier's respect for worthy opponents. "Avarosa, Serylda, and Lissandra. They were Iceborn - humans gifted with power over ice and extraordinary longevity. Their choices shaped the Freljord we know today."
Bruce leaned forward. "Iceborn?"
"Humans changed by ancient magic," Garen explained, for once not tensing at the mention of magic. "They could withstand the deepest cold, live far longer than normal humans. The tribes today are led by those claiming to follow the sisters' legacies."
"And what of the old gods?" Thor asked, his interest evident in his forward-leaning posture.
"The Freljord has its own deities," Darius nodded, his voice respectful. "Ornn the Fire-Smith in his volcanic forge, Volibear the Storm's fury, Anivia the Cryophoenix. Some say they still walk those frozen lands."
"Your world must have quite diverse inhabitants," Bruce observed, thinking back to their earlier mentions of spirits and magic. "What kinds of beings exist there?"
Garen and Darius exchanged looks, as if considering where to start.
"You have no idea," Darius said, a hint of dark amusement "Our world isn't just humans. As mentioned we have beings touched by magic, spirits who walk among us..."
"Like who?" Steve prompted.
"Well, there's the Vastaya," Garen began. "They're... how to explain this? Long ago, there were ancient spirit beings called the Vastayashai'rei. They could shapeshift, were deeply connected to the spirit realm. Some of them bred with humans, and their descendants became the Vastaya."
"What are they like?" Natasha asked.
"Depends on their ancestry," Darius replied. "Some have wings and can ride wind currents. Others are more feline, or vulpine. The closer their bloodline to their spiritual ancestors, the stronger their connection to natural magic."
"Don't forget the Yordles," Garen added, then paused at the Avengers' questioning looks. "They're... well, they're something else entirely. Spirit beings who take physical form."
"Though good luck describing what they actually look like," Darius snorted. "Your eyes can play tricks when you look at them. Magic affects how mortals perceive them."
"Are there others?" Bruce asked, fascination clear in his voice.
"The Minotaurs of the Great Barrier," Darius offered. "Proud warrior race. Nearly as strong as me." A slight smirk crossed his face. "Nearly."
"There are trolls too," Garen added. "Especially in the Freljord. Their king, Trundle, is as cunning as he is fierce. He united the trolls under his rule through both strength and wit."
"Trolls have a king?" Tony raised an eyebrow.
"Don't underestimate them," Darius warned. "They're far more dangerous than they appear. Their regenerative abilities make them nearly impossible to kill, and they're far cleverer than most give them credit for."
"What about spirits and gods?" Thor asked, his interest particularly piqued by mentions of divine beings. "You spoke of Nagakabouros and the deities of the frelyord, but surely there are others?"
Garen nodded solemnly. "The Spirit Gods are... different from what you might expect. Their power is tied directly to their followers' belief and worship. The more believers they have, the stronger they become."
"Like Kindred," Darius added. "The embodiment of death itself, split into two forms - Wolf hunts those who run from death, while Lamb offers a swift end to those who accept it. Every culture has their own interpretation of them."
"And demons?" Natasha inquired, noting their darkened expressions.
"Not demons as you might think of them," Garen explained. "They're spirits forged from and driven by negative emotions. Evelynn feeds on agony, Tahm Kench on greed and desperation, Nocturne on pure terror. Each has their own... preference."
"They make deals," Darius growled. "Offer exactly what you want most, then twist it into your worst nightmare."
Bruce leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. "You mentioned Aspects earlier. What are they?"
"Celestial beings," Garen replied, his hand unconsciously moving to his sword. "They choose mortal hosts to carry their power. The Aspect of Justice blessed this blade." He paused. "Pantheon was one - the Aspect of War. Though that story... didn't end well."
"What happened?" Steve asked.
"He fought something beyond even an Aspect's power," Darius answered, his voice grave. "Aatrox, one of the fallen Godwarriors turned Darkin. The battle killed both the Aspect and its host... though the host somehow survived, still wielding a fraction of that power."
Tony whistled. "Sounds like you've got quite the cosmic hierarchy going on there. Any other celestial beings we should know about?"
Garen and Darius exchanged meaningful looks.
"Aurelion Sol," Garen said finally. "The Star Forger. A celestial dragon who literally created stars. He and his siblings shaped the cosmos itself."
"Created stars?" Thor's eyebrows raised. "How powerful are we talking about?"
"Powerful enough that the Aspects had to trick him into wearing a crown that bound him to their will," Darius replied. "Without that, he could destroy everything. And he's not happy about his imprisonment."
"That's... concerning," Bruce noted carefully.
Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "And these beings - spirits, gods, demons, celestials - they all coexist?"
"Not peacefully," Garen replied. "There's a delicate balance. The Aspects watch from above, the Spirit Gods maintain their domains, demons seek their prey, and mortals..." he shrugged, "we just try to survive in the middle of it all."
"Which brings us back to why we're here," Steve said, returning to the central question. "Something powerful enough to pull you across worlds..."
"Must have had a reason," Tony finished. "Question is: what?"
The room fell silent again.
"Tell me about this world." Garen requested
Tony paused what he was doing, then grinned. "Story time with Uncle Tony? Sure, why not. Quick version? Our world's been through some stuff. Started with what we call World War I - basically everyone decided to fight everyone else because of, well, politics. Fun times."
"A world war?" Darius raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested.
"Oh yeah. 1914 to 1918. Trenches, mustard gas, the whole package. But that was just the warm-up." Tony's expression darkened slightly. "World War II came along - 1939 to 1945. Nazis, fascists, genocide... humanity at its worst. But also humanity at its best, fighting back."
"That's when the first real 'superhero' showed up," Steve added quietly. "Project Rebirth. The Super Soldier program."
"Capsicle here was their greatest success," Tony gestured at Steve. "Scrawny kid from Brooklyn turned into America's golden boy. Got himself frozen for about 70 years though, which really messed up his social calendar. Ladies across America are still in mourning."
"The ice preserved him," Bruce explained, seeing Garen's confused look.
"After that?" Tony continued, "Things got weird. The Space Race brought attention from things we weren't ready for. Howard Stark - dear old dad - started poking at things that should've stayed un-poked. The Cold War had everyone building bigger bombs and better secrets."
"Then came the modern era," Natasha added. "Enhanced individuals started appearing more frequently. The Fantastic Four got their powers from cosmic rays. Spider-Man showed up in Queens. Mutants began emerging publicly."
"Don't forget Point Break's family drama," Tony thumbed at Thor. "Turns out Norse gods are real, they're aliens, and they really like visiting New Mexico. Who knew?"
"And yours truly," Tony gestured to himself, his armor gleaming. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist... got kidnapped, built a suit in a cave with a box of scraps, and decided playing hero was more fun than selling weapons. Though technically, Fury's 'Avengers Initiative' was supposed to be about assembling Earth's mightiest heroes. Instead, he got..." He gestured around the room. "Two master assassins who really need couples counseling, a guy with breathtaking anger management issues, a defrosted World War II relic, a Norse god with daddy issues, and me."
"And this team protects your world?" Darius asked skeptically.
"Among others," Bruce replied. "The Fantastic Four, various other teams..."
"When we're not trying to figure out if we can actually work together," Tony added with a smirk. "I mean, yesterday was our first time actually fighting as a team. And hey, we only destroyed half of Manhattan. I'd call that a win."
"Their world's as chaotic as ours." Darius muttered to Garen.
"Yes," Garen replied, gripping his sword. "But at least they learned to work together."