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Chapter Text

In Noxus, there were many forms of entertainment. Theatre shows, travelling circuses, and most well known: The Noxian Fleshing Arena.

Once a place for executions or settling political disputes, it had become a national symbol of gladiatorial combat. Fighters from all across Noxus, or even prisoners from other nations, would fight for the amusement of the crowd.

The champion of the arena and the executioner of those who would dare stand against Noxus and its empire was known as Draven. A natural attention seeker and younger brother of Darius, he loved killing for the crowd as they showered him with praise and golden glory.

But recently, the praise had slowed slightly, and he’d heard discussion about another sporting sensation. The ‘League of Legends.’ When Draven questioned about it, he learned that it was a multinational blood sport. A tournament that gave invites to whoever caught the Institute’s attention.

Obviously, Draven needed to join. The Noxus audience needed their glorious executioner to woo the crowd.

After talking to his grand general and expressing his idea, Draven was given permission to ‘expand his legend.’

Draven twirled his axes as he walked up the steps, even though no one was watching. That would be soon to change. Soon, everyone would be watching him in his element, cheering his name again and again.

Draven looked up to the door, finding some fancy magic wording on the head.

‘The truest opponent lies within.’

What, would Draven have to fight himself? That’d be a show. He pushed open the door and found his vision blasted by blazing light.

When Draven’s vision cleared, he found himself in the sandy arena, but no crowds or combatants to make a show out of their death.

”What is this? Some fancy magic trick?” Draven shouted out, to no response for a moment. Then, he heard the gates open. The sound that told Draven that there was entertainment entering.

A familiar voice spoke.

”Draven of Noxus.”

Draven turned to find an unfortunate figure. His older brother, Darius. He still had the stock serious face. But he wasn’t holding his massive axe, so something was off.

”Oh, great, what’re you doing here?”

”This is merely an illusion, drawn from your memories in the hope of inspiring cooperation.”

Draven only listened for the first five words.

”Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”

”We wish to know what brings you to the League. As an executioner in Noxus, surely you have all the glory you’d need?”

Draven gestured around as he answered, motioning to the stands empty of any people.

“The arena isn’t giving me enough fun. I need a bigger audience. And, come on, I’d be doing the game a favour with a face like this.”

As Draven grinned, Fake-Darius looked unimpressed. It looked just like Darius.

”There must be more reasoning. Perhaps it is related to your brother always upstaging you, becoming a general while you are a gladiator.”

Draven grimaced, crossing his arms and tapping his finger on his upper arm.

”This is getting dull. Am I in or not?”

A sigh. It sounded just like Darius.

”You are accepted. But only if you do not attack your competitors outside of the rift. Clear?”

”Crystal.”

A snap of Not-Darius’s fingers, and the blazing light overcame Draven’s vision once again.

Draven’s vision recovered to reward him with an opened pair of doors. He’d earned his place, naturally.

”Welcome to the League. Do try to behave yourself.”

Draven imagined the crowd’s reaction to his performance, at catching his axes and throwing them into his victims heads.

It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t wait.

The glorious executioner had joined the League.