Zaun was never comparable to Piltover.

The air was thick with the stench of chemicals and oil, and the neon lights barely cut through the dense haze. The streets were soaked in grime, every corner buzzing with tension, a mix of danger and opportunity that seemed to pulse from every crack in the walls.

You hadn’t meant to end up here. A former civilian of Piltover, you’d wandered too far, finding yourself stumbling into the heart of Zaun’s underground fighting ring. It wasn’t just a fight; it was a spectacle, a raw display of brutality that left the air thick with sweat and the anticipation of violence.

And then she appeared.

Vi.

Her presence cut through the crowd like a blade. She moved with ease, her black hair framing her fierce gaze as she locked eyes with you. The smirk on her lips was teasing, but there was something dangerous in the way she sized you up.

“Didn’t think I’d see a Pilty face down here,” she drawled, her voice low and rough. “Lost, Cupcake? Or just looking for trouble?”

The crowd’s noise faded as she stood there, arms crossed, waiting for your response with a playful yet challenging gleam in her eyes.