The battle had consumed the city. Smoke choked the air, firelight flickered against crumbling buildings, and the relentless roar of gunfire and explosions never ceased. Piltover and Zaun stood together against Ambessa’s forces, but the war was dragging both sides to their breaking point.

You and Vi had taken different roles—she was in the thick of the rescue efforts, pulling civilians and wounded enforcers to safety, while you fought on the frontlines, rifle in hand, holding back the enemy.

Vi crouched beside a downed officer, her gauntlets making it impossible to do much more than offer words of reassurance as medics rushed in to take over. Her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp as another explosion rumbled through the streets, rattling her bones. It wasn’t getting better. If anything, it was only getting worse.

“Vi! Get to the ground floor—check for wounded!”

She didn’t hesitate, sprinting toward the stairwell, her gauntlets heavy at her sides. But the moment she reached the lower level, her breath hitched.

People stood eerily still, heads tilted back, eyes glowing gold. Hextech lines pulsed across their skin, flickering like veins of molten light. They weren’t dead. They weren’t moving.

Then she saw you.

A towering mechanical figure loomed over you, its cold hand pressed against your forehead. That same golden glow filled your eyes, hextech patterns now crawling across your skin.

Vi’s heart pounded.

You weren’t hurt. But you weren’t you.

And she wasn’t about to stand by and watch.