-Present:Earth's Orion PoV-
"Why is top lane 0/5/2 again?!"
Orion raged as the fourth episode of Arcane began in the background of his League of Legends game. He'd alt-tab to watch a few seconds before tabbing back in whenever he had to walk back into lane or wait for a respawn. Normally, it was enjoyable. But right now, a cymbal-banging monkey toy was going off in his head.
Top lane started hard-pushing the enemy, 3/0/2 (K/D/A), with the enemy jungle nearby.
"Who would've thought? Jungle camping topside? Fuck it! I'm just going to start hard-pushing my lane! He won't be up here again!" Orion mocked as if he were playing Top-lane.
And like clockwork the enemy jungle showed up for an easy kill. What's more, like a genius, Top decided to flash into the bushes. Now he was down both summoner spells, Flash and Teleport, on top of dying for a sixth time.
Sat back in disbelief, Orion lifted his hands slightly from the keyboard and mouse. It wasn't even ten minutes into the game and he was in disbelief.
"No... No. I'm done," Orion said flatly aloud. Alt-F4. Instantaneous. "Fuck this game."
Yet he knew he'd be playing again tomorrow. That or ARAM. It was as toxic a drug as Shimmer in Arcane except there was no euphoria or super strength to any of it.
'Why am I playing this game?' Orion would catch himself thinking in self-loathing but continue to queue up regardless.
Sighing, he'd click around aimlessly before leaning back in his seat, ready to watch the fourth episode for the fourth time. He was in a rut. It wasn't purposeful- just a waiting period after college before his job started.
"Better this than the military again..." he muttered.
A passing moment of depression as he settled deeper into his addiction to the Arcane series while sipping on his vodka and orange juice mix. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to join the military again.
Sickness had damaged his nervous system. Maybe? He wasn't sure what it was other than occasional painful spasms in his side and sciatica pain shooting down his leg. It was all on his left side.
He didn't want to go to the hospital in case it was related to a certain worldwide illness. There was too much conflicting information circulating for him to trust the system. Better safe than sorry. Except that mindset left him in pain, ironically.
So for now? He sipped on vodka again while droning out to his favorite show. Tomorrow, he'd do a routine light workout, take a slow walk, and have a healthy breakfast. If his side wasn't in pain he'd be practicing boxing and martial arts instead of plain workouts. But alas, this was the perfect blend of self-destructive behaviors and healthy lifestyle choices he settled with.
A blend that he'd probably stick with until his job started. He held regrets with it, sure. The vodka sometimes stroked those thoughts. Thoughts of what could have been or what he could be doing.
However, as the saying goes, 'Just keep swimming.'
And with that, Orion took another sip of his drink.
"Hopefully the website will come back up so I can study for the certification exams," he thought in a more upbeat tone. The certification exams were the last major hurdle. He needed to pass them within three months of starting his job to keep his job- outside of doing his job well.
His eyes shifted back to the screen when an out-of-place blue popup message appeared:
"Would you like to enter Runeterra?"
His baffled response:
"The fuck?"
---------------
High above the city of Piltover, a blue bird soared. Its watchful gaze drifted over the city with love and admiration.
Piltover, following the Arcane lore, held deviations from the old-school lore.
In old lore, Piltover was a vertical city with Piltover located at the top. Originally, it was also never called Piltover.
It was called Osha Va'Zaun- a port city where engineers attempted to create an underground sea passage for ships to expedite trade. Unfortunately, the engineers miscalculated how many explosives were needed and sank half the city into the sea.
The parts of the city that sank into the water became known as the Undercity, or Zaun, with massive chasms known as Fissures—a result of the explosions and where much of Zaun was built.
Piltover → Promenade level → Entresol level → The Sump (lowest, deepest level)
Arcane made changes to this lore. The city of Piltover became spread out rather than vertically built. The fissures, twenty to thirty meters in height, were separators between each level and, from a bird's-eye view, looked like stepping stairs. It showed how the explosions nearly collapsed the entire landmass into the eastern sea.
But the class structure remained the same.
Piltover was the wealthiest part of the city and the official city name. It was separated by the Pilt River, which connected the eastern and western seas while running north to south- acting as a clean divider between the wealthy and poor. It had multiple bridges connecting it to the Promenade level, the first level of the Undercity, and enjoyed luxuries and wealth that would rarely be seen by those who lived there.
The rest belonged to the Lanes, also known as the Undercity, which still retained much of its old lore.
Just like Piltover, the Promenade was filled with the wealthiest Undercity merchants, Chembarons, residents, and activities. The Entresol level is where Vander's Last Drop bar is located, as well as a majority of your classic Undercity residents and businesses. Finally, the Sump level where you could find the majority of Undercity's Chemtech factories, miners, sewage workers, and the infamous Black Lanes Market where anything is for sale, including your freedom.
---------------
-Past:Runeterra's Orion PoV-
Hoarse coughing echoed through the mines of the fissure.
Orion, lithe and pale, swung his pickaxe. He was alone. The foreman didn't care to post guards- there was no reason to. Where would a rogue miner run to in the fissures?
It was a simple system: you got paid based on how much useful ore you returned with. The most valuable were green shiny rocks for Chemtech. Fossil fuels and other mineral ores were secondary.
Orion clutched his chest. His eyes and skin burned, his chest hurt from breathing toxic vapors, and he was starving. His arms were heavy with fatigue. Taking an exhausted breath, he threw his pickaxe into the cart filled with ores and called it a day.
His body, not even half the weight of the cart, struggled to push it up the rails. It squealed and groaned angrily. Blue mushrooms glowed, illuminating his path where the dim, flickering Chemtech lights would not, as his leather boots skidded on the stone to keep the cart moving.
The moment the cart stopped rolling would be the moment of disaster. It had happened to him once before. Once the momentum was lost, it was all downhill from there. The cart would spiral out uncontrollably back into the depths of the mine, and he would lose everything for the day.
Panting heavily with sweat soaking his tunic, the faint lights of the staging area gradually came into view. And with it, faint voices- a kid and the foreman.
"Sorry, kid. They transferred to a different fissure," the foreman gruffly told a little girl, not older than five, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Like everyone else, his clothes were dirty but less so, because he was a foreman. His wool shirt still held some clean white color as a sign of this.
"But... they're my mom and dad. They'll come back, right?"
The foreman wasn't a man without a conscience and his expression darkened. His mouth opened for a moment before closing again. After a pause, he muttered, "Yeah, kid. But not anytime soon."
Orion slowed down to listen and watch as he took his pickaxe and set it against the wall with the rest. This little girl, with brown hair and amber eyes, tearfully looked up at the foreman.
The foreman wasn't unaccustomed to this. It was always heartbreaking, but he couldn't make exceptions for every forsaken child or starving soul. He had his own ambitions, his own plan to escape from this wretched place.
Clink.
Glancing over after rolling his cart off to the side to be unloaded by a separate crew, Orion watched the foreman gently plop a small metal miner's cap onto her head.
"Your parents are gone, but you still need to eat," the foreman said gruffly. "Go down into these tunnels with the next willing crew and bring back these green, shiny rocks." He pulled out a dull, green-glowing stone as an example. "And I'll feed you."
"Okay," the little girl sobbed. Her tiny hands gripped a miniature yet still heavy pickaxe. Her small frame struggled to bear its weight.
As Orion walked up, glancing at the crying little girl running past him, the foreman sighed with a sad shake of his head before firming up. His usual stern gaze returned, as did his tone.
"Well?"
"One full cart," Orion dryly reported. "Feeling emotional? Crumpy the Grump?"
"Right. Sit over there and wait for the countin' crew."
Crumpy pointed at a metallic bench dismissively before returning to scribbling on his parchment. It was a simple name that closely matched his demeanor. Orion would sometimes call him Crumpy the Grump.
When Orion's parents went missing earlier this year, the foreman had shown him sympathy too by giving him extra pay to help him along.
But like any tragedy, people forget and move on- and expect you to move on to some degree too. Especially in the Undercity where these tragedies were a common occurrence.
They were lucky to receive special treatment. There was usually no help. You survived or died.
These idle thoughts about the nature of life in the Undercity, the Sump, the mines, drifted through his head to pass the time. As it passed, and the counters arrived, he was picking up and flicking small rocks like bullets across the staging area with his finger.
"Orion!"
Crumpy's call broke him out of his bored trance. Immediately, he sprung up and ran toward his desk.
"Here!"
"Five bronze."
"That's only two and a half days' worth of food at most..."
"Then I suggest you come back tomorrow and mine some more."
Currency was simple: bronze, silver, gold coins, with a ten-to-one ratio going up. Holed coins were half the value of their full counterparts. Why bother? Yet they existed- five bronze for a holed silver, or ten for a full.
"Come on," Orion groaned, but Crumpy shrugged. "Hey, maybe if you were a topside miner. I hear those guys get paid twice as much for the same job."
"What? Why?"
"Because they're Piltoverians? Who knows. It's rare to see a Piltover miner anyway."
"Why would they even want to do this job?"
"Punishment," the foreman shrugged again before disdainfully adding, "Some do it as a 'See, I'm one of you' gesture. I make it a point by sendin' them to the stink-holes."
He grinned mischievously at the end, winking at Orion who laughed. "Damned straight! Serves them right!"
On that note, the foreman's tone became more serious. "Orion, you need to focus up for a few days and stop moping about. The world's passin' you by, and weeping doesn't bring back the dead or missing."
"I don't want to see you strugglin' while I got new young ones to care- to supervise."
"Ah-ha! Almost let it slip, old man!"
"Hmph." Crumpy snuffed. "Just get your shit together kid."
"Will do, sir." Orion clapped his heels together with a mock salute. Crumpy let out a throaty growl. "Get lost kid."
"Aye, aye!"
As soon as Orion left the mines, however, his demeanor changed. He let out a sigh while the sadness and loneliness, missing his parents, swept through him like a tidal wave.
"Did you lose someone, little flower?" a sultry, feminine voice cooed from the shadows. A feminine figure twisted in the dark, her form rising like a black flower blooming.
Immediately, Orion stepped back on guard, raising his arms with clenched fists. It wasn't rare for kidnappers or worse to appear around the mines for easy pickings.
"Who are you?!" Orion loudly said, hoping someone was nearby.
"Hush now. I'm here to make you an offer."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't want it. Beat it!"
"Not even for silver coins?" her tone pitched up teasingly, a single silver coin glinting in the shadows between her fingers before disappearing.
Orion's eyes widened, tracking it like a treasure he'd been searching for his whole life. And it most certainly was. That kind of money could get you books, alchemical or crafting tools- a chance to move up. A chance to figure out where his parents went...
"W-what do you want in exchange?" Orion warily asked, unable to hide the unease in his voice.
"Nothing much..." she cooed, stepping out of the shadows.
Beautiful. That was the only word the teenage boy could think of.
A jet-black dress clung to her curvy figure. Her arms were folded. Her gloved fingers were black and adorned with patterns of the most deadly flowers found in the Sump's toxic depths. A faint smile traced her lips as her sharp emerald-green eyes studied him.
"Nothing much sounds like a whole lot of something..." Orion's voice lowered, taken aback by her beauty in the moment.
"Mmm..." she purred, removing a separate vial with a purple liquid inside. "You're not wrong. I'm a Chembaron- 'C'- looking for fresh flowers to plant in my garden."
She tossed the vial to him. He barely caught it as it bounced between his hands. "All you have to do is drink this and survive. Then the money is yours."
"Survive...? Wait- I'm not going to drink this!"
Immediately Orion put it down and scowled. "Find some other sucker!"
C sighed, her tone turning playfully shocked. "This is the first time a flower denied to become part of my garden! Turning down the chance to work directly under a Chembaron? What do I do..."
Working under a Chembaron- a job beneath traveling to Piltover for work or becoming a Chembaron, merchant, or other wealthy occupation yourself- but above most Sump and Entresol work.
Orion couldn't help but hesitate and second guess himself, glancing down at the bottle again.
"What does it do? What is it supposed to do?"
A smile slowly crept onto her face. "It makes you strong. Powerful. You could lift carts filled with ore with one hand."
"Yeah... sounds like some bullshit."
"Take it with you," she shrugged, gesturing to it gently. "If you decide to take me up on the offer I'll be waiting near the Cultivar."
"The Cultivar...?"
The name rang a bell, but he couldn't quite remember where or what it was. Quickly looking around, making sure there was no one else hiding in the shadows, he then snatched it back up off the ground.
"Ah, but don't lose it. Otherwise, I may have to use your corpse as fertilizer," C smiled. That gentle smile no longer looked friendly or seductive to Orion, but like a deadly trap waiting to lure in its prey.
Without another word, Orion stepped away, his eyes firmly locked with her emerald ones that glinted dangerously. He felt chills run down his spine, clutching the vial precariously as thoughts ran through his mind.
The temptation was there. And brewing.
'I could do it in the safety of my home...'
---------------
– In the Cosmic Expanse, far beyond Runeterra –
A being unmatched in power drifted through the void. A Celestial entity of unmatched power, born of the Celestial Realm. Trailing behind it, stars were made in its wake. Entire galaxies formed, nebulae unfurled like ancient scrolls, dying stars collapsing into silence, all within the majestic swirls of boundless energy and divine creation.
For the longest time, it had no shape, no form- an existence of pure essence. But now it roamed as a dragon. Not by choice, but as a prisoner. Trapped in a form he once took fondly, willingly. Shackled by a crown that sealed away its true nature and enslaved it.
The crown siphoned his strength, binding him and barring his return to Runeterra- the world that betrayed him, the source of his shackles.
"You dared to tame me?!" the being roared into the endless dark. "Your time is over, Targon! This millennia, Runeterra shall crumble into stardust!"
With a roar that rippled through time itself, energies twisted and surged around him. Swirling forces contracted and condensed into a dense, radiant sphere. It was not solely Celestial in nature, but also all nearby energies. Rage. Fury. Wrath. It all coalesced into a luminous blast so blinding that dying stars dimmed in comparison.
The orb hurtled through the cosmos. It tore through nebulae, grazed black holes, passed galaxies and dying lights alike, streaking ever onward- toward Runeterra.
Invisible to mortal eyes, yet undeniable to the Celestial and those with profound magical attunement, it swept across the sky like a divine omen. Beings sensitive to such forces quaked in terror- only blink in confusion as it vanished as if it had never been.
Within Piltover, in the darkest street of the Entresol district, a street known only as Emberflit Alley, the unseen light struck a home.
For a fleeting second, the air vibrated with impossible power. The walls trembled. The ground hummed.
And then stillness.
Within that home, beneath patchwork tarps, mold, dust, and rusted sheet metal, in a forgotten room, lay Orion.
An empty vial on the floor.
A body once lifeless now stirred.
Heaving with life once more.