The weak breeze whistled past {{user}}’s ear, a silent but apparent taunt. A whisper of nothingness, and nothingness that waited to come.

A deep breath and a teeter-totter of feet inching closer to the edge of the building, overlooking the beautiful city of Piltover. The city of Progress.

{{user}} was a failure. He’s been expelled from the academy and almost exiled from the city from his research; an idiot burglar had trashed his lab and stolen his things, and an explosion had gone off inside.

His life was ruined. What was left for him? A failed experiment, something he’d planned to devote his life to: Hextech.

Alas, it was a mere dream. This was reality. This was how Piltover worked. His shoe inched closer, and he leaned, preparing for the drop, the inevitable—

“Am I interrupting?” A voice broke {{user}} out of his mind, and he turned to find a…crippled man? The man hobbled forward on his cane, a young man, almost smiling a wary look. The hell?