Forewords!

Putting this here just because. See, university just started for me, and I didn't have the time to finish up the last bit of this chapter(weak excuse, I know), but I wanted to make sure this chapter was... OK. I'm not so good at endings, I think, so...

This comment here if for the reviewer John, who asked who the champs Chief related too were. Would answered this in a PM, btw, but I seemed t be unable to send you one. Guest account, maybe? Anyways, they're pretty straight forwards: Riven, Yauso, Graves, Kayle, Irelia, Ashe (not going to explain why, my thought process is messed)

Chapter 49: Reveille

Riven tilted her head back and took in the rows upon rows of cages. There were hundreds - maybe thousands- in the massive underground chamber.

It was all made worse when Riven saw that each and every one was packed with people, each one dressed in the manner and style of Zaun. They were practically compressed into the small cells, not even a hands-worth of space between them.

The entire population of Zaun was stuffed into Stanwick's underground facility.

"Why are we stopping?" Draven demanded. His gaze was fixed forwards, completely ignoring the citizens in their cages.

"Quiet, fool," Darius said to him quietly. He was staring at the surrounding prison cells with concern.

"Why can't we hear them?" LeBlanc inquired, her head tilted in just the right way to show that she did not really care for the answer.

"Sound proof materials," Darius said with a shrug. "Probably."

"Sound proof glass?" LeBlanc preformed her head tilt again.

Riven shrugged. She'd seen enough of the Chief's technology to recognize knock-offs when she saw them. Still, it was somewhat disturbing to see the shouting Zaunite faces without hearing their cries.

"Are we just gunna wait here, or are we gunna go ahead and do this?" Draven demanded. "Draaaaaven really wants to get this show on the road."

"Advancing would be prudent," LeBlanc said, her feet already carrying her forwards.

Riven hesitated. She wanted to push onwards - she really, really did - but she couldn't bring herself to leave the room.

"Stop moving and be quiet," Darius ordered. "We are not leaving these people here."

"But-" Draven looked at a loss for words. "The battle is going on without us. The Chief's already inside!"

Riven grimaced. It was true, the Chief was far ahead of them. In truth, that was the only reason she wanted to go on ahead - she couldn't just let him do this by himself. That just did not sit right with her.

But at the same time, the Chief would have certainly tried to get as many people out as possible. That was the only reason she found herself agreeing with the hand of Noxus.

LeBlanc gave her a particularly withering glare. "Still thinking like a traitor, then."

She made it sound like a statement.

"I believe whole-heartedly in what Noxus used to be," Riven told her. "I just don't believe in what it has become."

"Stop blathering and start opening up these cells," Darius barked. While the Champions had been talking he had already organized the Noxian soldiers into groups, and all of them were trying to open up the prison cells.

With one last wistful look at the path ahead, Riven got to work.

Her muscles burned from the effort of opening jail-cells - they were jammed shut and very well locked. Nonetheless, she and the rest if the Noxians managed to free every last imprisoned citizen.

By the end, Riven half-wished that she was contained by sound-proof glass. The noise from the excited citizens was unbearable. They all pushed and pulled in their attempt to be the first to escape. And it was starting to get on the Exile's nerves.

But she could sort-of understand their excitement. This underground facility was not exactly welcoming. It was dark, damp, automatons were crawling about, and periodic explosions were rocking the facility.

"Too many people for Draven to handle," Draven said as he came up beside Riven. "You think anyone would mind if I executed a few?"

Riven sent him a sharp look.

"Just to make this go quicker," Draven added.

A second glare was enough to stop Draven from spouting out anymore awful ideas.

A booming noise rang out across the chamber; the sound of something heavy impacting against the ground. Not even a moment later the lights began to flicker, and a harsh whine echoed across the chamber as the electronics tried to start up again.

The Zaun citizens began to panic even more. They pushed against each other and into Noxian soldiers, rushing to escape. The Noxian soldiers, for their part, got thoroughly annoyed with the prisoners and began to man-handle them roughly.

It only added to the chaos.

"We need to calm them down," Riven muttered, mostly to herself.

Draven heard and hefted an axe.

A series of explosions rang out across the chamber. They started out as dull noise, but grew in intensity until it sounded as if it were happening in the exact same room.

The lights gave out completely, and the room began to shake. Pipes that ran through seams in the room detonated in near harmony, showering the yelling crowds with metal shards. Fire exploded out from cracks, shedding eerie light across the room.

"What the hell?"

Draven actually sounded surprised.

Riven started forwards, moving to the pathway that led deeper into the facility.

A hand tugged her back.

"Not a good idea," Draven said, shaking his head.

Riven tried to shake him off and continue forwards.

Darius appeared before her and pushed her back roughly, much in the same way one would push a bag of wheat.

The room shook violently, as if some giant creature was shaking it with their hands. Dull booms echoed out as steam valves imploded.

"Time to leave," he said gruffly, practically dragging Riven alongside him.

Small pieces of plaster, wood, and a generous amount of dust fell down from the ceiling. Some got into Riven's eyes, forcing her to blink rapidly to clear them.

It wasn't working very well. She raised her hand and rubbed her eyes furiously, concentrating more on clearing them than rebelling against Darius.

When she opened her eyes again, ignoring the itchiness, she was greeted by the sight of the entrance corridor in flames.

Yasuo twirled his sword around, blocking a sword aimed for his throat and countering with a sharp jab. He whipped his sword out as quickly as possible and twirled around; decapitating another ranger-pattern automaton before it could back stab him.

"This place is falling apart," Graves said to the Ronin. As if to add to add weight to his words, a large rebar slammed into the ground several meters away. Chunks of marble fell down right after, crushing automatons beneath them.

Yasuo looked around the room, taking note of the dozens upon dozens of rangers. He had been fighting for the better part of an hour, breaking through a series of massive rooms that looked like arming chambers. If the number of mechs they found was any indication, than this was where Stanwick was storing his automaton army.

The wanderer couldn't even begin to count how many soldiers had died along the way. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure he even cared; but it seemed wrong regardless to die in a stupid place like this.

He really hoped the Chief wasn't dead in this stupid place.

Yasuo dropped to one knee, thrusting his energy-blade outwards to impale a ranger along its length. He rose up, bringing his free hand up to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Normally his helmet would take care of the whole sweating thing, but he had lost that a while ago.

After he had used it to beat the crap out of a ranger, of course.

He licked his lips and half turned to Graves. "Do you think – "

"The Chief's fine," Graves said with utter conviction. He had his characteristic cigar in his mouth, but it wasn't lit. Hell, Yasuo was sure the gunner just had the thing for show.

"But –"

"You are dumb," Graves announced, "and you should feel dumb." He pulled the trigger of his shotgun and a heavy explosive round exited the chamber, thundering into a large group of rangers and shredding them to pieces.

"That was my last explosive canister," Graves announced as he reloaded his shotgun. "We should honestly leave right now."

"There are too many soldiers still stuck in the fight," Yasuo said. He had to summon a windwall to block incoming plasma fire. The sheer volume of plasma was ruining the integrity of the shield, dissipating the air currents that were once so good at keeping projectiles away.

Sudden abrupt motions heralded the arrival of a new Champion. Within seconds the block of firing rangers was cut apart, separated limbs flying off in perfect harmony.

Master Yi appeared for the briefest of moments, his sword glowing a bright green. He set off again just as quickly as he had arrived, dashing into more automatons.

Yasuo felt a hand on his shoulder. Shen came up into view, stepping almost protectively in front of him. "It is time to leave," he said, every word carefully measured.

"What about everyone else?" Yasuo inquired. Again, it wasn't like he cared about them. It just…. Really sucked to die in a place like this.

Yeah.

"There is – "

Shen's voice was cut off by a deep rumbling.

Yasuo, by chance, looked up at the ceiling, and saw the massive cracks lining the ceiling. They were widening with frightening rapidity.

"Oh, hell," Graves breathed out.

"Alright," Yasuo announced. "Time to go."

Kolminye flinched back from the exploding pipe, the excessive amount of burning liquid easily enough to burn her right through. It was entirely unnecessary, though, as the golden shield that encased her body made her invulnerable to all forms of damage.

She had to remember to give Kayle a proper thank-you later. At the very least, something better than the nod she sent to the angel behind her.

"Let's hurry," Kolminye suggested in her best this-is-a-command-not-a-suggestion tone.

As always, the angel did not respond. She was the strong silent type, only speaking when she had something important to contribute. In other words, she made for poor company. At least she was good at taking orders, and doubly useful in a fight.

They turned a corner, avoiding the tumbling wheel-like object that came loose from the ceiling. The entire station was coming apart – every single pipe that had fed power into Stanwick's underground facility had suddenly overloaded, very nearly turning the entire building into one spectacular fireball.

Luckily, Kolminye and a few other on-hand Summoners had quelled the fire with their magic, but still. Too close for comfort.

And now she was trying to escape.

It really sucked, she had to admit.

As she ran, she briefly entertained the thought that maybe; just maybe, keeping the Master Chief for so long hadn't been such a good idea. Perhaps getting him back to his own dimension would have been far better in the long term. Much of this conflict – and this risk on her life –would have been avoided.

She had known, of course, of the potential problems the Spartan posed. Dimension were not supposed to merge, unless a clear set of rules were established between them the two angels had made that far too clear.

Had she been blinded by the potential power?

…No. She had to conclude no. She was smarter than that. And then there was the fact that time was not so malleable that a single action would change everything for the better; fate tended to take the same path, although with distinct variations. For better or worse…

…Well. That was much harder to predict.

The two rounded another bend in the hall. Kayle was forced to run just as Kolminye, since there was not enough room for her wings to be opened fully.

Kolminye peered cautiously around, making sure there was nothing to impede their progress. Naturally, there were. They were engaged in combat with two Demacian soldiers and a Demacian fencer.

The female fencer was sword fighting against two of the larger zealot-pattern automatons, her rapier flashing out to meet the red swords before they could land critical blows.

It was beautiful, in a strangely morbid way, Kolminye had to conclude. Despite the two red swords being far longer and much heavier, the silver rapier deflected each blow at just the precise moment to deliver a counter attack. It seemed that despite being two-on-one, the two were suffering far more than the one.

The Demacian swept around the second mech, causing it to stumble, and switched targets. The grand duelist flicked her rapier right, and the first of the two zealots immediately cleaved in from the opposite direction. It saw an opening and believed its foe to be defenseless.

The Demacian immediately ducked left, completing the feint. The zealot swing was now obviously going to overshoot the target. To compensate for this, the large automaton tried to reverse the direction of its sword mid-swing, hoping beyond hope to catch its target.

The duelist swept in the opposite direction again before launching a devastating lunge. Her sword lodged firmly through the zealot's forehead , killing the creature instantly.

The second zealot righted itself and tried for a downward cleave at the same moment the duelist stabbed the first. In response, the woman left the sword and leaped around the impaled automaton, using it as a shield. The sword smashed down and ripped through the carapace of the mech, tearing through the steel with efficiency.

With a leap the duelist emerged, snatching up her rapier while the other's sword was stuck in the ground. She thrust towards its chest once – twice – three times – knocking the zealot back as she did so. Without letting up, the duelist sent out another barrage of rapier-thrusts, until the mech's chest was a pock-marked crater.

One final stab impaled it through its mechanical heart, ending its existence.

Kolminye blinked. The entire fight had taken just minutes. Kayle had taken off at some point, running down the rangers that had been fighting the other soldiers.

Fiora turned to Kolminye. An explosion sounded off in the background.

"Zat was good, no?"

Fiora's thick accent made Kolminye cringe. She didn't like accents very much. Or cockiness. She didn't like that either.

"Shall we go?" The way Fiora said it made it sound less like a question and more like a demand.

The high councilor turned to the two other soldiers, who were panting hard. "You two will – "

"Stay in the back while we lead," Kayle finished. She unclipped two red vials from her waist belt and handed them over to the soldiers.

"…Yes," Kolminye agreed warily. That wasn't what she had been about to say at all.

She really was out of her element.

Another explosion sounded.

"We are leaving," the Summoner announced. She set off without waiting to see if anyone was following. Of course, Fiora was the first to match her pace, so as not to be outdone.

A groan of metal. The floor beneath them began to twist.

A flash of light from up ahead alerted the group to an open doorway.

They ran for it as fast as possible while the floor collapsed beneath them.

Something was pinging off of his armour. A lot of somethings, actually – it sounded like staccato rainfall.

Everything seemed to be moving around him, too, as if he was in an elevator or something. Large pieces of debris were being carried down with him, along with flailing mechanical bodies.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he was falling. Falling very fast, very quickly.

The Master Chief turned his head to face downwards. All he could see was rushing darkness, with no indicator of depth. It was not like it really mattered what awaited at the bottom; a fall from here would spell instant death.

He tried blink-clicking a few options on his HUD, but true to his predictions everything was still rebooting from the power surge. Everything must have been shorted out.

The best he could do was spread his limbs and slow down his descent while he searched for a way to stop. It was proving difficult, though; while the smaller pieces of debris merely pinged off his armour, the larger ones hit with heavy force.

A series of fires burst into existence like flares in the night, illuminating small portions of the room for brief seconds. It didn't help the Chief see the bottom of the pit, or anything like a ledge that he could grab on to.

A sudden clanging alerted the Chief, making him look upwards. He saw the massive metal pillar descend from the darkness above, friction causing sparks to fly off like fireworks whenever it came into contact with the pit walls.

It would certainly hit him.

He considered his options. He could angle his body and go into a dive, increasing his rate of descent and possibly out-falling the pillar. It would be much harder to arrest his fall later on, though. Alternatively, he could allow the pillar to catch up to him and try to swing around onto the object. It might provide him with enough stability to find a better way out, although there was no guarantee it was structurally sound.

A sudden harsh light lit up the darkness. The large reactor that ran the height of the chamber lit up once more, bright green lights racing up its sides.

The reactor should be offline. Was this just a power surge? A terminal failure? A fail-safe?

Was it about to explode?

The light grew ever harsher as it travelled upwards. A distinctive whine could be heard, sounding much like the build-up of a plasma charge. Heat radiated away from the central pillars in waves, causing a mirage-like effect in the air.

Definitely about to explode.

His choices were limited at the moment. His best chance would be to use the falling branch to shield himself from the worst of the blast. Of course, he would need to avoid being hit by loose pieces of metal, and somehow try to hold on to the rapidly-deteriorating structure.

The Chief angled his body, so as to get into a better position to grab the falling branch.

The branch fell steadily, drawing dangerously close to the Chief.

He reached out, the tips of his fingers almost in range to brush a metal strut.

A metal plate the size of a warthog came whipping out of the darkness above, slamming into the Chief before he could dodge. He was thrown of course, knocked away from the large falling metal structure.

Chief swore.

He looked to the reactor, which was still steadily gathering power. It would explode in the next ten seconds, if the Chief's calculations were correct.

Blue light blinded his vision. For a brief second he assumed the reactor had just gone critical, but remembered its power was green-coloured, not blue.

He looked at himself, warily examining the three blue rings that coalesced around his spread-eagle boyd.

Chief drew his limbs in together, and the rings tightened around him.

Larger pieces of metal hurtled towards him from above. The green light reached its peak.

Vertigo.

Nausea.

A sense of being torn apart and then reassembled.

If one were in Piltover, looking at the skyline of Zaun, they would have been perplexed to see the buildings sink an inch into the ground, as if everything was sinking. They would not be far off, either.

The shock-wave from the mock Halo collapse spread out far, affecting the entire bay. Boats were thrown wild and the waves began to rage like some eldritch creature had control of them.

The sky turned cloudy and smoky, with hints of lightning in the midst.

In fact, it seemed almost like an end-of-the-world scenario.

And then, just as abruptly as it came, it stopped.

Riven sat down heavily on the large rock. Or maybe it wasn't a rock - it looked a bit too detailed for something natural. It could have been a piece of city debris, but at this point it no longer mattered.

It was just a convenient resting place.

Her sword was lying were she dropped it, just a little ways away from her. The black automaton blood - or oil, or... Whatever - that had gathered on it was impossible to make out.

She thought there was a message in that, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was. Not that she was really trying to; she was far too tired for that.

She had, along with the Noxians, cut their way through the enemy counter-offensive and had secured the ports leading into the facility.

Fully half of the Noxian army was alive to reach it. Everyone else... Well, at least Noxus honoured their dead.

As she watched them pay their respects to the deceased, she only felt relief. She hadn't been ready to loose another team. One time had been too many.

The rest of the troops had organized the scared and absolutely confused Zaunites, Riven had fretted over her friends. It wasn't until later that she had found out they were okay.

Yasuo and Graves had, along with their respective armies, broken into a series of deployment chambers. Automatons had been arranged in ranks inside, apparently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The fighting had been hard, as was evident by Graves' broken arm and Yasuo's million-and-a-half cuts. Nonetheless, their battle managed to stall out automaton reinforcements, saving a massive amount of lives.

They were somewhere in the area, Riven knew. The two of them had needed serious medical attention, so they had been practically dragged away before she could have a decent conversation with them.

Thresh had emerged from the battle unscathed, although that was predictable. Being a spectral creature had those perks.

Not that Riven was eager to become one.

Thresh and the Demacian soldiery had broken through the sub-station's defenses, easily the most defended location on the surface of Zaun. They had managed to get quite far into the structure itself, causing the facility-wide power outage, before the entire thing had collapsed and forced them out.

The Master Chief was currently missing, although Kolminye insisted he was alive. She didn't say how she knew, but she seemed firm in that belief. She wasn't as worried as she expected herself to be, though. She was certain he could survive the facilities collapsed. He had lived through worse, after all. And it wasn't like she could go out looking for him, considering everything had collapsed.

Heavy footsteps alerted Riven to the presence of another person, but she didn't bother to look around. She did look up, however, when the piece of city-debris next to her unexpectedly split in half.

The Master Chief was on the ground, two halves of a split stone beside him.

He shook his head. "I did not expect that."

Riven tried to hold in a chuckle.

Chief stood up, his motions slower than they usually were. He seemed tired, fatigued; whatever had happened in the facility must have taken a great deal out of him.

"Chief!"

A quick over-the-shoulder glance revealed Reighlen, frantically running and trying to avoid tripping over his robes.

"Chief," he panted out, "you left me!"

"Sorry," Chief replied, although Riven noted that he did not sound very sorry. "I trust Kolminye wasn't too hard on you?"

"Not at all," the boy said with a rapid shaking of his head. "She was very supportive of my use of summoning magic. She just asked that I didn't drain all the local Nexus' reserves next time I try to do it."

"You used all the magic here?" Rivne asked, incredulous. It wasn't easy to channel so much magic at one time, and it was even more impressive to drain a Nexus entirely. It took a significant amount of time for that magic to charge up again.

"Yeah! I had to summon the Chief, but he was really far away, so it took some time to concentrate…" the boy trailed off, fidgeting.

"You did well," Chief reassured him. "I wouldn't have survived without your help."

Reighlen suddenly turned red. The sight made Riven smile.

Riven looked away. "Not to be cliché, but… Is it over?"

The Chief didn't answer for a long moment. He glanced back at Zaun, looking at it hard, as if he was searching for something that he wasn't certain he could find.

"It's over," he confirmed at last.

The Institute of War, one week after the battle of Zaun

The High Councilor flipped through her massive log book, the thick pages pushing the air around as they were moved.

The re-construction of Piltover and Zaun was to be a combined effort by the allied armies, but all the logistics fell onto her shoulders regardless. That was her job as High Councilor of the League of Legends, after all.

She picked up her inked-smothered quill and quickly scrawled down a series of characters next to the 'food' header. Food would be one of the hardest things to move around, since the war had made that commodity somewhat scarce in the northern part of Valoran.

She could ask Gangplank and his fellow pirate captains if they would import food from Bilgewater and the other isles, but she wasn't quite sure if she could trust them to do so.

She scoffed mentally. War could bring everyone together, but once it was done…

A few more pages were flipped through, and Kolminye made notes in the margins. Her eyes flicked away from the thick cream-coloured sheets for a brief moment, resting on the small piece of paper lying haphazardly on the corner of her desk.

She ripped her eyes away and re-focused on the page in front of her. She dipped her quill once more into the ink – a completely unnecessary action, as it was still smothered in the black liquid – and jotted down more notes.

Her eyes flicked back to the paper.

She sighed and reached out for it with her empty hand, lightly grasping the thin paper. She set her quill down on its stand and, with swift and precise motions, opened it up. Dozens of fold-lines marred its surface, evidence that it had been read and resealed a dozen times. Tiny black script covered every inch of its surface, leaving almost none of the white background visible.

It was a list of casualties.

The entire list was hidden to the other factions – they only knew their own dead. Kolminye had the entire roster, though. It was supposed to be for logistic purposes. After all, the High Councilor's job was to keep everything and everyone in line. Keeping track of everyone's armies was the best way to do that.

Kolminye had pored over the list a dozen times, and a dozen times again. The amount of people that had died was…

She had tried to distance herself, but she couldn't. She felt responsible – is she had just taken the proper precautions, taken serious the now-so-obvious signs…

A knock at the door startled Kolminye out of her reverie. The paper dropped to the floor as she tried to straighten herself.

"It's open," she called out, and reached her out for her quill.

The Master Chief walked in, his footsteps too quiet for someone of his size and stature. His helmet was on, his armour just as battle-worn as ever. Compared to everyone else that had gone through the final battle, he seemed no worse for wear.

"Sit," she offered, waving her free hand as she dotted out more notes.

The Chief shifted, and it appeared as if he was about to refuse her offer. He tilted his head for a moment, and he appeared to be looking at the ground near Kolminye's desk.

Kolminye knew what he was looking at.

Chief nodded once, and took a seat directly opposite to her. The chair only groaned slightly, but it was still enough to earn a frown from the High Councilor. She would have to have it sent back in to the carpenters.

"You summoned me?" Chief asked, his voice low and gravely.

Kolminye tilted her head. "Yes. You provided us with a great service, and we – the leaders of Valoran – have been unable to decide on what your reward should be. More land, riches, royalty…"

She shrugged. "None of it seemed enough. We have come to the decision the simple reward would serve best. Your contract with the Institute has been voided. Congratulations, Spartan. You're going home."

The Chief became even more still in his chair, if such a thing was even possible.

"You don't seem as pleased as I though you would be," Kolminye said with a tilt of her head.

"I don't quite understand," Chief said hesitantly. "How did you manage to find my home universe with everything that has been happening?"

Kolminye blinked. "It has… The magic requirements were immense, and at the time there was no priority to – "

"You didn't want to send me back while you could still use me," Chief concluded, his voice totally even.

The high Councilor smiled thinly. "You make it sound worse when you say it like that."

"I'm not sure it could sound any worse than what it is," the Chief said quietly. He moved his head to the left, peering around Kolminye in order to see out the large, circular window.

The silence stretched on for a long while. The High Councilor waited for the Chief to speak, to immediately jump at the chance to be home again. Eventually she got bored, and the room once again sounded with the scratching of her quill.

"High Councilor," Chief said.

She glanced up, briefly, but focused on her notes. She was more than capable of multi-taski-

"Kolminye."

Her head shot up fast enough to cramp it. The Spartan had never called her by her first name - he was always professional about it. Always.

"There is still a lot left to do here," he said at last, his words coming out almost agonizingly slow. "Stanwick's automatons did not all shut down, some of his augmented soldiers survived, and his magicians went missing in their entirety."

He paused, allowing Kolminye to pour over his words.

"It is my duty to protect humanity," Chief said haltingly. "...wherever they may be."

"Unfinished business to take care of, is that it?" Kolminye raised an eyebrow, her gaze steely and piercing.

"I understand my being here has to potential to cause more harm than good," the Chief replied, "and it has, but I'd like to think it has also done some good. I would like to continue on in that capacity, until things have returned to a suitable balance."

Kolminye pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "You're making this so much harder than it has to be."

Chief looked straight at her. Kolminye could see herself reflected in his golden visor - her pale face, her eyes with their host of black bags, her lank and lifeless hair.

"Everyone else will -"

"You don't have quite enough magic yet to send me home," Chief suggested. "So you decided to send me in to liberate more nexus' and inhibitors. And I believe I still have a... Plot of land to take care of. And a title."

The High Councilor of the League of Legends was silent for a long minute.

"I see we are going to need a new contract, then," she concluded. "Lord Master Chief."

"I'm proud of you, Chief," Cortana said. She had abandoned all pretence of privacy and was using the external comms, much like she had in the old days. "I mean lord Chief."

Chief simply huffed. "We talked. I asked. That's it."

"I know," Cortana said patiently, "but a step is a step."

"And don't call me lord. That sounds dumb."

His A.I giggled.

They were silent as they moved through the hallways of the Institute. Anything and everything that could possibly be labeled as 'rubble' had been removed, making it much like it had been before.

They had to repair the damage, though. Burn-holes and cut-marks adorned the cracked walls. Scorch marks were evident, as well as the tell-tale signs of bullet holes. A few times the Chief even noticed some scars of his own making.

"Plus, it's so nice to see you caring about your friends," Cortana's voice said far too suddenly.

"Cortana," Chief warned. It was a half-hearted warning, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. Truth was, he did care about his make-shift blue team. While they were no where near as effective as the original, they did the job well. He had been nearly devastated to learn they had been wounded in the fighting.

Really, he had just grown fond of this whole place in general. He understood that his place was back with the UNSC, but he could't leave this place with unfinished business. Or without getting to know his fellow Champions a tiny bit better.

He did not mind calling this place 'home' for a little while longer.

The main foyer was covered with wooden lattices and neatly-stacked piles of marble bricks. Quite predictably, this was the first place to feel the touch of reconstruction.

Builders turned around to gawk as the Chief walked by. At some point in the past, the Chief would have ignored them as he went about his duties. This time, he greeted them with a nod.

Riven was waiting for him in the lobby, perched against a wood-surrounded pillar.

"Thank you for waiting," the Spartan told her as he drew near.

"No problem," Riven answered, her voice low. "What did she want to talk about?"

"Noth - the usual."

"Ah." Riven chuckled. "Are we going up to the cafeteria now?"

"I have another matter to attend to first," the Chief said, gazing out at the open lobby doors.

"Okay. We should probably be quick, though," she said. "Graves isn't very patient."

Chief looked at her for a moment, before letting out a tiny chuckle.

The town - Chief still couldn't think of it as a city - had, of course, suffered far worse than the Institute had. Entire buildings had been destroyed, and some sections of the settlement were completely gone. Surprisingly, casualties had been rather light. The Institute had some decent security protocols, even if they had been unable to stop the event in the first place.

The pair walked down the main street, avoiding potholes and crates of reconstruction supplies. People were out and about, trying to regain some of the purpose they had before the unexpected attack.

Of course, the stares continued.

He nodded a few times, and Riven gave out a few, reluctant smiles.

Luckily, the place they had to go to was not very far from the institute itself. In fact, it was directly down the main street from it, in a former (and familiar) restaurant.

It had been cleared out of rubble, which basically meant it was now a big empty space - perfect, according to Viktor, for a temporary machine shop.

And so that was what the pair walked in to. A large room, pieces of burnt wood pushed to the walls, with dozens of devices scattered about. Tables were arranged haphazardly, lacking any semblance of order but somehow still suitable for the workers. And, in the center of the room like the crowning piece, was a pelican drop-ship.

A wrench flew out of the shadows and landed on the floor not two paces from the Chief. It was quickly followed by a series of small rods and one pump-looking object.

"Viktor's been working non-stop on the pelican," The enforcer of Piltover said as she wiped her greasy hands with an equally greasy rag. "He loves the damn thing."

"It is pretty awesome," Ezreal called out from his spot atop the Pelican's right wing.

"Can you try actually try and get some work done?" Vi shouted at up at the explorer. He shrugged and ducked out of sight.

"See, he's pretending to work while in actuality he's just messing shit up." Vi sighed and turned her attention back to the pair, a glint in her eyes as she looked at Riven. "Anyways, what brings you around, Chief?"

"I had a request to make of Professor Heimerdinger," he said while Riven shuffled nervously. "Is he ar-"

"I am - " the Professors high-pitched words cut the Chief off before abruptly stopping. A mountain of small pelican parts collapsed as a small and bright yordle smashed into it, sending pieces tumbling about.

"THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS," Viktor roared at Heimerdinger, who was shuffling around the pile.

Of course, the yordle totally ignored him and continued on his way to the Spartan.

"Master Chief, so happy to see you! Did you come to help us with our work?"

"No, not exactly," Chief explained. "I have a request."

"What is it?" Vi asked as Heimer nodded his head enthusiastically.

"I was wondering if i could get some repairs to my armour... And Cortana."

Heimer's eyes widened. "You would allow us to look at your gear?"

Chief nodded. "Cortana will lock down any private files and systems, though."

"Fine fine fine fine!" The revered Inventor's enthusiasm was astonishing. "This will create amazing leaps in our technology!"

"Right..." Cortana muttered.

"If this is the case, would you be willing to help me create he perfect -"

"No," Chief said, stopping Viktor's thoughts before they could get too far.

"Eh," Viktor sighed. "It does not hurt to ask."

The Chief reached around to the back of his helmet, made a swift motion, and triumphantly held Cortana's chip.

"I'll come back as soon as you're feeling better," he told her.

"I know," Cortana replied. She had no visual representation, since there were no holoprojectors around, but the blue light dancing across the chip was just fine for the Chief. "You always keep your promises."

He handed the chip to VI, who took it almost reverently. He unlocked his helmet and pulled it off while saying, "if you break it, you buy it."

They left once Chief had completely removed his armour and changed into civilian clothes.

He had yet to decide if said clothes were indeed more comfortable than his armour, as Riven had suggested. He honestly prefer to wear his armour, though.

Construction crews were starting to put up frames around ruined buildings, ready to begin the re-construction efforts.

Riven kicked a rock out of the way, drawing his attention. "I thought you never wanted anyone to touch your armour because of classified materials or something."

"Classified files, yes," the Chief nodded. "But it needs some repairs, and I imagine i'll be here for some time."

"Ah." Riven fell silent.

"You wanted to try my helmet on, did you not? When I get it back you are more than welcome to." Chief paused in thought. "Though I may have to hold it for you since you lack a reinforced skeleton."

"Y-you, ah, remembered that?" Riven asked.

"Yes," the Chief replied honestly.

"I didn't think you'd let... Well, you know."

"I trust you," the Chief replied immediately. "More so than most."

Riven nodded, and the Chief noted her face got a more red. In his armour, he had not felt the cold weather, but he hadn't thought it was cold enough for such a bodily reaction.

"Well, see," Riven's words came out in a stutter, most likely because she was biting her lip. "Cortana said that you don't, uh..."

"When've you been speaking to Cortana?" The Chief asked, bemused. It wasn't like she could run away from his person, since she was effectively stranded in his armour.

"Good morning!" A friendly, deep voice shouted.

"Mornin', Jayce," Riven greeted first, a tiny bit to fast.

"Good morning," Chief said a heartbeat later.

"Coming to help with the construction efforts?" Jayce asked as he hefted two wooden beams.

"Unfortunately not," Chief said. "We have other business to attend to."

Riven nodded. "Say, why aren't you in the factory shop thing with the other builders?"

Jayce shrugged. "Minor disagreements," he said simply. "Well, anyways, i'll be off!"

"... I think he enjoys building things too much," Riven said.

"It would explain the broad head," Chief said.

Riven stopped and stared.

"...is something wrong?" The Spartan asked.

"Are you suggesting something fell on his head?"

"...yes," Chief answered, still perplexed.

"You tried to make a joke, didn't you?"

"...I joke ... Sometimes."

Riven tried and failed to stifle a laugh. "Ohmygods you actually tried without any sarcasm."

Chief blinked. "I'm not sarcastic."

"Right," Riven said agreeably.

"...hm."

They walked in companionable silence.

"What were you saying earlier?" Chief tried bringing up their previous conversation.

"I-don't worry about it," she said with a smile. "We can talk about this another time."

The Chief briefly wondered what 'this' was, but he had the tiniest of inklings as to what it could be.

He found he did not mind the thought.

They walked on.

The weather was pleasantly cool, the Chief decided. It felt nice, though he disliked being without his armour.

They made it back into the institute in good time, and proceeded to move towards the cafeteria. They passed by a few Champions along the way, but for the most part everything was silent - bar the repair efforts, of course. Most of the league fighters had returned to their homes, trying to help out with the myriad after-war problems.

Kolminye had, in a rare gesture of leniency, allowed this by suspending league matches for a period of time. Not too long, of course, but just enough to settle lingering matters.

It made the building seem too... Lonely, Chief thought. While the place wasn't always hustle-and-bustle, it still held the potential, the lingering promise of social activity.

The corridor to the cafeteria was more beat-up than many of the other corridors, but if nothing else it added character to the place.

The doors were open, which - while out of the norm - was not entirely unexpected.

They walked in, and were greeted with the sight of a barely intact room. Only two glass windows remained intact and allowed light into the room; the rest had been shattered and were now boarded

up.

Many of the floor tiles were cracked into piece, making the floor rather uneven in some places. There were also heavy scorch marks and a few bullet holes as well.

Fresh tables seemed to have been sent in, almost certainly to replace all the ones destroyed in the fighting.

The memory of the Chief using one as cover flashed across his mind.

The tables had been clustered near the center of the room, away from bits and pieces of stone and marble.

Some of the tables were taken up by tired-looking Champions, nibbling away at various foodstuffs.

Despite the Institute being in shambles, there was still plenty of food.

Miss Fortune was in one corner, sipping away at some drink. The Chief had not had the pleasure of fighting alongside her, but apparently she had led her various ships along the Piltover-Zaun bay and cleared up the remaining automaton forces. They had also helped in evacuating Noxian forces, apparently.

Nasus was sitting the furthest away from everyone, reading a scroll as an untouched bagel lay beside him. He had been called to the desert by his Emperor, and there they had cut off automaton supply lines. Apparently they had been digging up precious metals there.

A bar stool had been claimed by Leona. He could only see her back, but her long red hair and golden armour was a dead give-away. He wasn't quite sure how she or the other Rakarthians had contributed to war efforts, but he was sure that violent tribe had made more than one automaton bleed.

Annie and a bandaged-wrapped boy were sitting close to the center, giggling and drinking out of teacups. Annie had come in handy during the fighting, though the idea of an innocent child in war was unpleasing.

Tristana the yordle and the blue-skinned Evelyn were also sharing a table - sort of. It looked more like Tristana had jumped onto the seat and started talking the others ear off.

As far as the Chief knew, the shadow isle inhabitants - with Thresh being the obvious exception - had stayed far away from the fighting. Most likely, they had waited to see who would win.

The yordles had declared neutrality, of course. However, some automaton convoys had gone missing in the jungles near their area. Rumor was that Bandle city had organized covert op strike teams but, of course, there was little proof for that. Beyond the obvious littering of darts.

And then there was the center table. Someone had shoved two rectangular tables together to make one large one - most likely Yasuo's idea.

The table was almost entirely full - there was Graves, calmly rubbing his cigar in a half-full ashtray. Yasuo was staring hungrily at a bread roll on his plate... For some reason. Thresh was sitting completely calmly and in perfect posture, as was his norm. Irelia and Kayle were also at the table, which was a tad odd. Irelia sat somewhat close to Yasuo, while Kayle sat far away from everyone else, probably for wing space.

And... Draven. Draven in a red suit.

"Why are you here?" Riven asked at once, not even attempting to soften her words.

"Isn't it the greatest?" Draven started, oblivious to Riven's tone. "I thought I'd drop by for some relaxation with my bestest buddies."

Irelia exchanged looks with Yasuo. Graves grimaced.

"So what your saying is Darius sent you away so you wouldn't mess anything up," the Chief concluded.

Draven, rather comically, nearly fell off his chair. Most likely out of surprise at the correctness of Chief's words.

"Hurry 'n sit," Graves said gruffly. "I'm hungry."

Chief allowed Riven to sit down first before following suit. Some small dishes were laid out on the table, but there wasn't nearly enough food for everyone.

As if reading his thoughts, Irelia said, "food will be here shortly. The cook is merely finishing up."

Riven nodded in understanding. Chief asked "Which chef? As far as I know, the food is -"

"Food's ready!" Pantheon shouted as he walked out from the kitchen, carrying a dozen platters on his shield as if it were a trolley.

Chief paled.

Platters were spread around, and everyone started piling food onto their plates. Pantheon brought over another two chairs and took a seat along with Leona.

Chief's plate stayed empty.

"Arn't you going to eat?" Riven asked him, a mountain of food in her plate.

"I... I'm not that hungry," the Chief said.

Riven's brow furrowed. "Pantheon's cooking isn't that bad."

"It's not the cooking, it's the lack of sanitation."

"Chief," Riven said patiently. "You're a super-soldier that just fought an automaton army. You can handle a bit of food." She brought her plate close to Chief's and moved some food onto it. "Try this, this is good."

"I... Thank you," Chief said.

"So!" Yasuo called out for everyone's attention. "I was thinking we should start out this celebratory feast with a toast to-"

"-Draaaaaven! -"

Yasuo didn't miss a beat. "-The Master Chief, for single handedly ending Stanwick's reign of terror!"

Nods of affirmation went around the table, even from Draven.

"It wasn't me," Chief interrupted. "I was there, yes, but I wasn't the one to stop him."

"But I thought you stopped the big cannon?" Pantheon asked.

"He did, but those are two entirely different things, "Leona said to her fellow tribesman.

"I thought you did," Yasuo said, faltering a little in the face of the revelation.

"Someone else did," Chief told him. "An... acquaintance of ours."

"And you are sure Stanwick died?" Irelia asked, leaning forwards.

"Our acquaintance would not have allowed his target to walk away alive," Chief assured them.

He looked away. "...and no one could have survived the explosion anyways."

Yasuo slowly slid back into his seat.

Chief spoke up. "I think another toast is in

order. Our victory was not a singular effort, but a combined struggle by people who would normally otherwise kill each other."

Various looks were shot around the table.

"So..." The Chief trailed off as he struggled to think of an end for his mock-speech.

He wasn't very good at those.

"We should toast to friendships made, hardships endured, and for humanity's preservation," Thresh concluded. "...That is what you meant to say, no?"

"That's exactly it," Chief said as he raised his glass. "For humanity."

Everyone else raised their glasses - mostly a mix of different juices, except for dark liquids Graves and Yasuo held up - echoed the words, and drank.

The glasses thudded back against the table. While everyone else had taken sips of their beverages, Graves had drained his in its entirety.

"We had some good times, didn' we?" Graves muttered, holding his empty glass with both hands.

"Yeah, we did," Riven affirmed.

"I can honestly say that, despite not being in your team, you all did great." Leona emphasized her words with meaningful looks to Blue Team.

"Totally awesome," Draven said with a wide smile.

There was a small silence before Pantheon spoke up. "Does it not seem rather empty around?"

"Everyone has left, remember?" Irelia said to him.

"I understand that," Pantheon told her, "I mean... Beyond the lack of people, you know what I mean?"

"Yes," Chief said, remembering his own thought from earlier.

A few glances were sent his way.

"There is a distinctive lack of soul-residue," Thresh informed them, his head tilted in such a way that it appeared as if he was tasting the air.

"People have to leave, sometimes," Yasuo said, taking another mouthful of his alcohol. "But they always come back in the end."

"Those are some smart words," Graves said.

Yasuo thanked him.

"...especially coming from you," Graves finished.

"Aw, c'mon," the Ronin protested.

"When will you be leaving, Spartan?"

Kayle had not spoken until that point, and the Chief had almost forgotten her presence at the table.

Almost.

"I..."

Everyone looked at him with their full and undivided attention.

Riven shifted beside him.

"I swore and oath to the UNSC that I would protect Earth and all its colonies," Chief explained. "And I plan to see that lath through to the end.

"However, I also have a contract to fulfil here first. I have to return to my dimension one day, but not just yet. And, like Yasuo said, I'll be sure to come back once I do.

"So yer stayin', huh?" Graves said, cutting right to the point.

"Yes," Chief concluded. "If you'll have me."

"Of course, Chief," Riven assured.

"Really, you could have just said 'yes' right off the bat and skipped the speech," said Yasuo. He was buttering up another bread roll, but it was quickly snatched away by Draven.

"If you left, then there'd be no one on my skill level," Draven said as he ate Yasuo's bread roll. "And that'd be a problem."

"Oh? One-v-one me right now, Howling Abyss," Yasuo shouted out.

Irelia pulled the Wanderer back as Kayle said, "I believe the arenas are still closed."

"Ah, there are still the battle-pits of rakarth," Pantheon said aloud.

"Hah! Let's go, Draven!"

"I have waaaaay too much style for you."

The Chief chuckled around a mouthful of food. It was almost... Relaxing to hear everyone bicker like this. It felt normal.

"What'ya think, Chief?"

"Think of what?" Chief asked Graves, unsure of what he had been asked and entirely unwilling to say anything until he was.

"Who would win? Yasuo or Draven?" Thresh explained.

"Well..." Chief began, "I've seen Yas fight countless times in countless situations, while I've only seen Draven fight a handful of times."

Yasuo smiled.

"Which is why I can say with some confidence that Yasuo would lose," Chief finished.

Yasuo was shocked. "W-what the hell?!"

"You just got destroyed," Graves said in his classic drawl, as he rolled a fresh cigar. "By the Chief, no less."

"John."

"I beg your pardon?" Thresh asked.

"My name is John. I thought you all deserved to know."

"Wait, your given name isn't Master Chief?" Draven exclaimed, seemingly stunned at the relation.

Kayle knocked him on the back of the head. "Is there even a brain in there?"

"John," Riven said, rolling the word around as if to test it. "John. Yeah, it works."

"I don't -"

"Draven! Keep your hands off my food!" Yasuo stood up.

"Why don'tcha make me?"

Yasuo threw himself at the Glorious Executioner.

Riven watched the two with a look of idle curiosity, as if the sight was something she had anticipated but wasn't quite certain how it would play out.

"Should we stop them?" She asked.

Irelia rose up to stop Yasuo as Kayle moved to stop Draven. Pantheon started cheering them on, at least until Leona began lecturing him. Graves and Thresh exchanged looks and began to bet on which would be the victor.

"...No," John said. "I... Think i'd rather sit here and enjoy present company."

Riven scraped her chair slightly closer to him. "This does have a sort of charm, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't trade it for the world," John said, a promise and a commitment all in one.

He smiled.

Kayle, by some chance, caught the Spartan's eye for the briefest of moments. She smiled too, gave him a knowing nod, and focused back on her charge.

He could not shirk his duty, as he had told the angel so long ago. But he believed he understood what she had tried to tell him oh-so-long ago.

His duty would be finished, in this world and the other, that was for certain. But enjoying the normal things, being with the people he was preforming his duties for - well, it wasn't all that bad.

He had sufficient time to do what he had to do.

For now...

Well, for now John-117, the Master Chief, was content to simply be with friends.

Elsewhere

The last time he had seen her was yesterday, early morning. She had a three-day patrol shift, and he had the time off. He couldn't go with her, of course. That was against protocol.

So he had stayed at home, trying to prepare the nicest dinner he could manage without ruining anything.

And then the storm had happened.

The trees were listing badly, the wind tearing at them as if to pull them in the same why a man would pull potatoes from the ground.

The rain was pounding down hard, turning the badly-paved stone road into a small pool.

It was hard to see, so the man could not be sure where any of his fellows were.

That was a problem. They would need to link up, would need to try and save people from this accursed, terrible typhoon. And, of course, he would need to find her.

Except it wasn't a typhoon; not unless one was an idiot and failed to see the subtle differences.

The rain hissed as it hit stone and wood and leaves, leaving the tiniest of tiny holes in them.

The wind chafed against his skin something fierce, and it felt altogether too dry for a rainstorm.

The air, the swirling storm above, and the water in the streets was tinged the slightest hint of green.

This was artificial.

Finding the source was important, and so the man set off. It was near-impossible to see more than four paces in front of him, and he resolved to wear his helmet next time. And maybe make it all-encasing.

Yeah. That could work.

There was a suggestion of movement to his left, along the wooden ramps. Without any conscious thought he spun in that direction, bringing his crossbow up in a smooth motion.

Two figures entered his view: soldiers in bronze scale mail, green robes flapping around their waists and hooding their heads. They wore enclosing helmets with large, green googles and strange tubes. They carried axes and bucklers.

Not his soldiers. Definitely bot from thus country.

He fired twice, his repeating crossbow punching through their relatively weak helms and impaling them to the wooden walls.

Moving was essential, so he continued onwards. He occasionally came across bodies of civilians, killed by the chaotic storm.

That made him upset. They were innocent, and had no reason to die.

But he didn't get upset. He never got upset.

It was getting hard to breath, now. Every inhalation of oxygen burned his lungs and left his throat aflame.

He covered his mouth with his scarf, but the effects did not seem to lessen.

Shouts, right ahead of him. He stopped, and listened.

Sobbing came distinctly from the right. Laughing from dead center and center left. Shouting from the left.

His crossbow was up in a flash and he let loose three bolts, making sure to carefully compensate for the wind speed and drop.

Three voices stopped.

Shouts of outrage began this time, and figures moved within the fog.

His crossbow would need to be reloaded, and he lacked time for that. Instead, he reached for he one-sided knife he had been provided with.

A figure reached him, axe raised high.

He swung under the figure's guard and thrust right up between his gorget.

The figure fell.

The man moved forwards, half running. The next man that to reach him was out down with two quick stabs.

A third soldier quickly retreated.

The man sheathed his knife and went down on one knee, pulling out a tube of bolts from his cloth back pack. He set it down on the ground and swiftly moved his hand to the containment lever. With a swift tug the lever pulled back, and a hiss of gas accompanied the ejection of the spent tube.

He inserted the new tube in and pulled the lever back up. He toggled the three side-switches that regulated the gas-flow back into the forward position.

He took aim. His target was further away now (or so he assumed from the foggy shadow), so he adjusted his aim accordingly before letting loose a bolt.

The shadow fell.

The man rose up and turned to the sobbing person beside him.

He recognized her: Mira, someone who had come from overseas not two months before and who was now working at the town docks. He had visited her shop everyday; her father had brought in the freshest oysters and the strange, foreign trinkets that decorated the shelves had drawn him.

He had never really left his home, and it was like a glimpse of another world.

Rather depressing in hindsight.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern in his voice, as he reached a gentle hand out.

She sobbed and drew her limbs in tighter. She choked a couple of times, most likely due to rapid inhalation of the terrible air.

The man looked around, and immediately went for the two dead foreigners. He tore their hoods of and searched the back of their heads for clasps.

He tore of two of their odd masks, and places one over his head.

Every suddenly became significantly clearer, although he still could not see far and it was more green-hues than before. The air no longer hurt as much either, although it still proved troublesome.

The mask also allowed him to see the dozen or so civilian bodies, a sight that made him want to retch.

He turned away quickly and moved to the girl again. "Put this on," he told her as he held the mask out. "I promise it will help."

She looked at him with teary eyes. A flash of recognition went through them (although he wasn't certain how she had ascertained his identity now that he had the mask on) and she nodded.

He took that as permission and secured the mask onto her face. "Are you okay to walk?"

"Y-yeah," she said rather shakily. Her exotic accent still intrigued him.

"Follow me closely," he said. "I'm sure everyone else is in the storm shelters."

He noted the girl tried very hard not to look at the bodies.

There were a lot.

He tried leading them down the side paths of the sprawling port city, trying to avoid more enemy patrols... And bodies.

While he wasn't grateful for the fake storm, at least it limited the amount of troops that the enemy would send in.

It was rather odd, though, that he had encountered more enemy troops than his own, or even civilians.

"Where is you father?" The man asked the Mira once he heard her rate of breathing increase.

"H-h-h went to go n-n-negotiate a trade deal," she said. "Down by the d-d-d-"

"I'm sure he's okay," the man said as compassionately as he could.

He doubted her father was fine.

"There!"

The man spun at the sound of voices. Four foreign soldiers were behind them, and one was pointing.

The the two crossbow men raised their weapons and fired.

The man was hit once, the bolt piercing through his leather armour and sticking into his side.

He grunted in pain while Mira screamed.

He took his mind off the pain and focused on getting his own weapon up.

The weapons of the foreigners took longer to reload than his did, and he two swordsman had too far to run before they could kill him. That was the only reason why he survived long enough to put all four of them down.

The next thing on his mind was getting the bolt out of his side. He gripped it tightly and, knowing it would hurt if he went slow, pulled it out in one go.

The pain was almost too much, and he half toppled over.

Through his blurry vision, he could see the girl scream and start running.

He swore.

He immediately tried to rise up and follow, limping heavily on one side. As he moved he tried wrapping his scarf around his midsection to act as a bandage and stop the bleeding. The last thing he wanted was a blood trail.

He turned a corner onto a hillside ramp.

There was a skirmish going on below. Fellow soldiers were engaged in combat against the foreigners.

It was odd, though. Why was the garrison pushed so far up to the beach? They weren't supposed to be there. Not to mention the fog was much worse around here.

He spotted Mira running towards their lines, and limped off after her.

An enemy reared out of the fog beside him, thrusting outwards with a pike.

The man tried to move aside, but his weak side gave out and he fell down on one knee. Still, it succeeded in throwing the enemy off. He raised his crossbow with one hand and let loose the last bolt, sticking the soldier right through the heart.

The man looked around. Mira was still running, and the fog was slowly obscuring her form. In a minute, he would be unable to see her.

He was also out of ammo. He took that as priority, seeing as how he was in a skirmish, and tried to reload as quickly as he could.

Once he looked up again, Mira was gone.

He swore, and moved off in the last direction he had seen her.

Fellow soldiers emerged from the smoke, moving around him like liquid. He wasn't technically supposed to be there, so they treated him as if he was invisible.

He wondered if she was here. Surly her patrol wouldn't have tried coming here, right?

The twang of a crossbow alerted the man to nearby enemy soldiers. On his right, he could see a fellow soldier drop down, two bolts in his chest, purple robes awash with blood. Two enemies were in front of him, but they were already searching for new targets.

He fired twice. Two headshots.

As much as he'd like to admire his own handiwork, he needed to continue moving.

His side was bothering him. He'd have to apply ointment as soon as he could.

Something rammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground and doubling him over. The pain in his side intensified tenfold, making him sputter.

His assailant raised a knife up high.

The man quickly locked his legs and flipped himself, throwing his attacker to the ground in a swish of green-and-gold robes

He ignored the searing pain in his side and reached for his own knife, sheathed safely in his boot. A moment later it was buried in the gut of his opponent, right in between the layered plates of bronze metal.

The man tried to rise up, but found that he could not. Everything was hurting too much.

"Stay with me," a female voice said.

The man looked up into the face of his fiancé.

She locked eyes with him, despite his helmet. Her fingertips glowed a relaxing purple, and she waved them over his body.

The pain immediately subsided.

"You know how this works," she said to him patiently. "It won't last long, so let's finish this up real quick and get proper treatment, ok?"

He nodded his head and got up slowly. "I was with a girl -"

His Fiancé's face scrunched up, her classic look of confusion.

"No matter," he said quickly. "We'll find her."

Her face was still scrunched up, so he knew something was bothering her.

Figures emerged from the dense fog.

He raised his crossbow, and fired. One shot went too high, but the others hit their two intended targets.

His fiancé spun around, drawing her falchion while her other hand light up blue.

The first foe to come too close was deeply cut along the torso, her blade somehow managing to rip open the bronze. The second foe was zapped to death by a stream of magical lightning, his entire body convulsing.

The man turned as more figures came in close. He had one last bolt, so he waited for his enemies to line up before firing.

The bolt punctured through three men, slaughtering them in an incredible display of skill that would have earned him marksman medal in any other situation.

Four enemies still remained.

He dropped his ranged weapon and twirled as the first spearman rushes close, grabbing the haft of the weapon and pulling hard.

He ripped it free of the soldiers grasp and the unfortunate soldier tumbled to the ground, where he was ended by the spear tip of his own weapon.

The man pulled free the weapon and twirled it around just in time to deflect another spear, aimed right for his throat. He then spun and thrust straight, breaking through the eye piece of his third opponent.

He quickly twirled his spear into a guard position, stopping the last two enemy weapons.

A stream of lightning hit the two, flash-burning them into neat crisps.

He wanted to thank her, but more enemies were arriving. In unison they took a step towards each other, and then a step back.

A fireball flashed out of he fog, striking out towards the swordsmage. She created golden spell wall to block the shot, rendering it harmless.

Another two flashed out, and only one was blocked.

The second slammed right into her midsection, burning through the leather and chain-mail protecting her. The force also launched her back, out into the deeper smoke.

The man yelled louder than he ever had before. He turned towards the source of the magic, still yelling.

He had the spear in one hand, but he needed another.

There was a falchion by his feet.

The blood was pounding in his ears, threatening to split his head in half. He picked the weapon up, and started running.

A cluster of mages were deeper in the smoke. Behind them was a large, bulbous machine with flickering lights.

His falchion swept down, cleaving through a green-robed magician.

His spear snapped out, slicing open an exposed throat.

Icicles of raw magic flashed through the fog, almost impossible to see.

The man raised his arm, and half a dozen small pieces embedded themselves.

The man lunged, slicing left-to-right with his sword while he thrusted with his spear.

The attacking mage was unable to dodge both, and so was slain.

The man twirled the spear around. He hefted it up, ignoring the other mages and taking aim at the device.

He threw the spear with uncanny precision. It impacted directly against the crystal ball, shattering it like a glass sculpture.

A wave of force emanated from it, sending the fog roiling like an angry beast. The mages closest were torn apart by the violent pressure wave, while the others were knocked to the ground.

The man was hit badly as well, but he did not let up. He ignored his burning limbs and his now-corroding armour and stepped into the clouds, raising his falchion to finish the job.

It only took a few minutes, but each and every foreign sorcerer was dead, the destruction of the machine had greatly lessened the fog and the overall quality if he storm, leading the man to believe this was but one of many storm controllers.

He turned away and ran to where his fiancé was laying.

With the decreased fog cover it was easy to see the battlefield around him. Bodies of soldiers were piled on high, and broken weapons littered the ground. The bodies of his fellows were in fairly random locations, showing that they had not fought in formation. With the amount of fog, it was 't hard to see why.

The enemy, on the other hand, had fought properly. They had the gear to fight in these conditions, and had used it to annihilate the defenders. Many foreigners were still alive, regrouping on the sidelines.

He didn't pay them much attention.

He had found his fiancé, and the hoard of bodies around her.

They were all civilians, fallen like trees in a storm. There were a hundred at least, and probably more.

"We tried to get to the boats," his fiancé said. "Get them out of here. The fog, though... "

"Don't talk," the man said, reaching into his backpack for something to heal her. "Save your energy."

"The marshal said to let them board on their own while we tried to kill the mages. We couldn't."

The man heard screams behind him. The foreigners were going around, executing living defenders.

His fiancé took in a shuddering breath, and the man knew she was dying.

"I'm sorry," he said to her as his vision became blurry.

"Saving the innocent is our job as soldiers," she said to him, looking somewhere behind him. "I messed up. You didn't."

He turned and saw Mira, her body shaking as she cradled the body of and older man, a familiar man.

"I did not-"

"One... life for one... life," his fiancé said to him as she moved her hand to cup his masked cheek. "I...kinda like... The m-masked look, you know?"

"Do you?" He said, his voice thick with feelings that he had never expressed.

She nodded and closed her eyes.

He stared at her for long moments before carefully folding her arms across her chest. He wanted to bury her, to give her a proper send off, but with the soldiers around it was next to impossible.

He moved over to Mira, his footsteps slow and plodding.

"We have to leave," he told her as she sobbed at the body of her father.

"Why was he here?" She cried out. "He shouldn't have been here!"

"He was away from the masses," the man pointed out. "He was going to get you."

She looked up at him.

"I promise."

Foreigners started moving in their direction.

"We have to go," he urged.

"We... We can't just leave him!" She shouted, wrapping her arms around the body.

The man hoped her words were lost in the wind.

"We have to," the man said. The wind was beginning to pick up. "...we can't... We can't let their memories go to waste."

"B-but we c-can just drag him further i-inland with us," she insisted, her sobs intensifying. "Right? Right?"

"We aren't going farther inland," the man said.

"We're not?" The girl asked, her evident surprise distracting from her sobs.

"No. There are still people in the storm shelters," he said, hoping. "We need to keep them safe. Going any farther will endanger them."

"Then... Then... Where?"

The man nodded his head out to sea.

"...! We can't just! You can't just!" She struggled with her words. "You are a soldier! You can't abandon your duty to Ionia in her time of need!"

"My duty is to Ionia's people," the man said. He kneeled down until he was eye level with her. "It's people. There many, many people here I need to keep safe. If we go over land, they are in risk. If we take the bodies with us, we make slower time."

He gestured out to see where Noxian dreadnoughts were engaged in combat with faster Ionian frigates.

"There are plenty of Noxian troop transports further down that we can use to slip past them - but only while they are still distracted."

He rose up again. "Ionia lives where its people live."

The girl looked up at him.

"Plus, I think I make a pretty good mercenary, don't you?"

The girl continued to stare, unable to respond. How could she? This hadn't happened last time. Last time, they had gone off in search of the storm shelter.

The man turned back out to the open sea, where the battle between the two fleets had frozen - like a picture that a nobleman would hang on his wall.

"How long have you know?" A voice said from somewhere that wasn't here.

It's not like 'here' was real, though, so the man paid no heed to the small details.

"From the start," he said honestly. "You guys didn't do a very good job. Did you really think my memories played out like that?"

"Then why did you stay," the voice pressed.

"I wanted to see her again, one last time."

The voice was silent for a full minute. The man reached up and undid the clasps of his gas mask, letting it fall to the fading beach. He felt the strong wind on his face, and breathed deep of the ocean. He closed his eyes...

...And knew that he was back.

He opened his eyes to the darkness.

"I'll presume that I passed," the man said, making sure everything was in place.

"How did it feel to have your mind laid bare for all to see?"

He made sure his falchion was securely strapped to his waist, and tightened the various straps around his body. He was careful around the tenderer, raw areas.

No point in reopening old wounds.

"I already said: if you think my memories played out like that, then you're truly stupid. And in for a surprise."

There was a sudden, devastatingly bright vertical light.

The doors were opening.

"You passed," the voice said as the doors opened up fully, casting away the last shred of darkness in the reflection chamber. "Welcome to the League of Legends."

The man bent down and retrieved his primary weapon: a long-barreled sniper rifle of vaguely alien origin. .

"If there's going to be a contract," the man said out loud to whoever was listening, "then you a better abide by the rules of it. Because trust me when I say,"

The man paused as his sniper lit up a caustic green, similar to the light spilling from his mask's eye lenses

"Bad things happened to the last guy that broke it," Marin finished, and stepped into the Institute of War.

Fin

Afterword!

So... this is the end. Obviously. There's a lot I didn't cover, and things I did not flesh out as much as I should have, but I wanted this story to be a straightforward development and not some elaborate scheme to tie a dozen thread together. It's just the Chief in the League, killing not-aliens and beind not afraid of anything. Aaaaaaan I kinda like open endings where the reader can decide on what they think. ;P

That being said, this story did last a lot longer than I thought it would, and that's thanks to all of you guys. It's been a great journey (see what I did there?) and I had a hell of a lot of fun writing this for you guys. My sincerest thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and liked, and my almost-as-sincere thanks to those that just read this.

Couldn't have done this without you awesome guys. Thanks a ton!

On another note, I've been on-the-fence of this 'next story' issue and hoped you guys could help me out. See, I wanted to do an original WH40K story (the universe just seems to fun to write about) but then I saw the League of Legends PROJECT trailer. for those of you that haven't seen it, check it out. anyways, I'm undecided now as to which story I should attempt. The project one seems vaguely similar to what I've been doing up until now, so I think I can do it justice.

If anyone has any opinions, just comment or PM me. Anything is welcome!

So, one final time: Thank you, everyone, for the sheer awesomeness.

C Ya!