Runeterra: Alexander The Eternal

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The minotaur leading us strode ahead. His voice carried effortlessly over the low murmurs, each word sharp.

"You've all been assigned units," he began, his tone brimming with authority. "Each of you will command your own squad for this mission. Success or failure will define your standing in Demacia's military."

He paused. "But you already know that," his gaze sweeping across us. "What you might not know is this mission… carries a risk. You may encounter a dragon."

The air thickened with unease. A few soldiers shifted uncomfortably; the silence cracked by a sharp intake of breath.

"But don't worry too much," he added, voice steady but firm. "Dragons, during their reproductive cycle, are weaker. The egg you're been assigned to recover belong to a young one, likely still growing."

His tone hardened, his eyes narrowing as he continued.

"However, do not mistake weakness for safety. Even young dragons can level a squad if given the chance."

Nervous whispers rose like ripples in a pond.

"A dragon? We're facing a dragon?"

The minotaur's glare cut through the noise like a blade, silencing the whispers immediately.

"This isn't a drill," he barked. "If you're here, it's because you've been deemed capable."

I observed him silently, my expression neutral. Ninety soldiers, three commanders. Even against a dragon, the odds were reasonable.

The knight stopped abruptly and began introductions.

"I'll now present your captains. Young, yes—but that only highlights their capability."

He gestured to a blond-haired man stepping forward with an air of smug entitlement.

"This is Cedric," he said. "Eighteen years old, a top graduate of the academy."

Cedric's pale blue eyes scanned the group with thinly veiled disdain, his smirk a declaration of superiority.

When the knight turned to the second figure, she raised her hand, cutting him off with calm precision.

"I'll handle my introduction," she said firmly.

My eyes lingered on her—bronzed skin, cropped hair, a sharp gaze. Recognition flickered in my mind.

'Arrika,' I thought. The name surfaced with a wave of memories. 'She's fated to achieve greatness. That golden armor of hers in the future… Glory forged through countless victories. Remarkable.'

She stepped forward, her salute precise.

"I'm Arrika," she began. "Fifteen years old. Aspiring captain. I pledge to protect our lands and uphold Demacia's honor."

Her voice carried the weight of conviction, her words a silent challenge to anyone who dared doubt her.

Finally, the focus shifted to me.

I stepped forward, offering nothing but the essentials.

"Alexander," I said evenly. "Eleven."

Arrika's sharp eyes studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Cedric, however, scoffed loudly, his disdain practically dripping.

"Eleven? Fifteen?" he sneered. "What is this? A babysitting mission?"

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

'He's not entirely wrong. For me, at least.'

Arrika turned on Cedric with razor precision, her voice cutting through his mockery.

"My actions earned my place here. Have yours?"

The minotaur smirked faintly but said nothing, letting the tension simmer before stepping in.

"That's enough," he shouted. "You're all exceptions—some more than others. This isn't about age or pedigree; it's about results. You were chosen because Demacia sees potential in you. Don't waste it."

Cedric retreated with a low grumble, his bravado dented.

With a curt nod, the minotaur dismissed us.

"The rest is up to you. Prove yourselves worthy."

.

Arrika approached as the group began to move, her sharp gaze locked onto me with unwavering focus.

"Alexander, wait," she said, her tone measured but neutral. "Did you mean it? That you're only eleven?"

"Yes," I answered simply, not breaking stride.

She stepped closer, her scrutiny intensifying as she leaned in. Her eyes flicked over my frame with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"You're my height," she noted, her gaze narrowing. "And you… seem strong."

"…Thanks?" I replied, raising an eyebrow as I gently pushed her back a step. "You're not exactly subtle yourself."

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her expression.

"Was that… a joke?"

"A joke?" I repeated, tilting my head slightly. "I don't make jokes,"

Her lips curled into a delicate pout, a look of irritation mingling with something softer. For a moment, I found myself studying her, and an errant thought slipped through my mind.

'I'm still not used to this. Women here—they hold power and significance. It's a stark contrast to the traditions I once knew.'

"Women here really are remarkable," I murmured, my thoughts spilling into words. "It's… admirable."

Arrika's eyebrow arched at the comment, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes.

"Oh? So you think I'm remarkable?" she teased, her tone light but layered with amusement. "How flattering."

Her soft laugh carried a mix of mockery and intrigue, catching me slightly off guard.

"Huh?" I blinked, surprised by her incredible hearing.

Her smile deepened, her amusement evident, but I couldn't help noting the edge of something more calculated in her demeanor.

'Interesting. Bold and confident—she can be of use.'

As she turned to rejoin her unit, I filed the interaction away, my attention shifting back to the mission.

. . .

The journey brought us to the threshold of our first challenge: the Vale of Ancestral Stones.

Towering spires of weathered rock stretched skyward, their jagged edges clawing at the clouds. They stood like forgotten relics of an ancient age, each formation casting long, jagged shadows that danced across the uneven ground.

Above, the cries of harpies echoed intermittently—sharp and grating. Their nests dotted the highest points, their screeches warning us before we even stepped foot inside.

The ground was treacherous, slick with moss and riddled with loose stones. The air hung thick, the weight of the Vale pressing down on every soldier present.

We stopped short of the entrance, the faint murmurs of unease spreading among the ranks.

Arrika stepped forward, her posture composed, her tone steady.

"The Vale isn't just a maze," she began, gesturing toward the stone labyrinth. "It's a trap. Narrow passages, blind corners, unstable footing—it's designed to break focus and force mistakes." Her eyes moved deliberately over her unit.

"The harpies are the true threat. They'll swoop down, provoke chaos, and retreat to safety. If you panic, you're dead."

Her words cut through the uncertainty. Her soldiers stood straighter, their focus sharpening under her command.

Then came the inevitable.

Cedric stepped forward, his expression a mask of condescension.

"Step aside, peasants," he sneered, his voice carrying the oily confidence of entitlement. "If you're too weak, leave this to a nobleman."

Without waiting for a response, he strode into the Vale, his heavily armored unit following close behind. Their gleaming longswords caught what little light managed to filter through the stone spires, but their discipline couldn't mask the arrogance in their leader's stride.

I watched him, my eyes narrowing slightly.

'A leader who mirrors his own flaws onto his unit. Disqualified.'

Arrika sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That fool is going to get someone killed."

I glanced at her, my expression neutral.

"A test is a test. You should move next, Captain."

Her jaw tightened momentarily, but she gave a short nod.

"You're right. See you on the other side."

Her voice carried no anger, only resolve. With practiced precision, she signaled her unit, leading them into the Vale. Their movements were deliberate, their cohesion a stark contrast to Cedric's bluster.

As the shadows swallowed her and her men, I turned to face my own unit.

I raised my voice, letting it carry authority.

"Everyone, listen closely." I swept my gaze across them, letting the weight of my presence settle. "This is what we'll do…"

.

The groups entered one by one, their paths fracturing into the winding veins of the labyrinth. The separation was deliberate—each unit isolated, left to navigate the Vale alone.

I led my unit forward, maintaining a steady pace. We advanced in formations of three, staggered to avoid clustering but close enough to react if necessary. Spearmen moved at the front, archers at the center, and hammer-wielders at the rear.

Above us, the cries of harpies echoed, their high-pitched screeches ricocheting between the towering rock spires. The sound played tricks on the ears, shrouding their exact locations in uncertainty.

Dorian, the only seasoned soldier and a spearman at my side, broke the silence. His tone carried the weight of unease.

"Sir, the harpies are close. Are you certain this spread-out formation won't leave us vulnerable?"

I cast him a sidelong glance, my expression impassive.

"What do you think, Dorian? Harpies are opportunists. They attack confusion, not confidence. If we stay grouped, we give them chaos to exploit. They'll swarm us, we'll waste arrows, and we'll tire ourselves out before the real fight begins. This formation denies them that advantage."

Dorian blinked, processing the logic. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, though his voice still carried a hint of doubt.

"I see your point, sir. But I've never heard of such a tactic."

"There's always a first time," I replied evenly.

My gaze remained forward, but inwardly, a flicker of annoyance stirred.

'How could they not know something so simple?'

The thought lingered, pulling at threads I hadn't unraveled before. My mother's books—volumes filled with precise details about creatures like harpies—surfaced in my mind. Her words had painted them as trivial pests, easily outmaneuvered with basic tactics.

It hadn't seemed strange at the time. Yet now, surrounded by men who should know better and didn't, doubt crept in.

'Those books… Where did she get them?'

A moment of unease passed. Could she have known something beyond what was ordinary? The thought felt absurd, yet it gnawed at the edges of my mind.

No. I shook it off.

'Not now. Later, I'll need to revisit this.'

.

..Hours later, my unit emerged unscathed from the labyrinth. The oppressive shadows gave way to open air, and the soldiers erupted in celebration.

"The Commander was right! Not a single harpy dared attack!"

"Long live the Commander!"

And then, predictably, Finn—our ever-cheerful bard—strummed his banjo with exaggerated flair, his voice carrying over the cheers.

"Our fearless leader guided us through the shadows of old. The harpies, trembling, dared not fight, His flawless plan led us to the light!"

"…"

The corner of my mouth twitched in irritation as I glanced his way.

'If he sings one more verse, I might actually kill him.'

But I said nothing.

Turning my attention to the open ground ahead, I scanned for signs of the other groups. Nothing. No footprints, no distant sounds of movement. Only the unsettling stillness of the Vale stretched before us.

"Set up camp," I ordered, my tone firm. "We'll wait here for the night."

.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the area in amber shadows. My soldiers began unpacking supplies, their earlier relief morphing into quiet chatter as they prepared for rest.

But I couldn't shake the tension coiling in my chest.

The others should've emerged by now.

.

The campfire crackled, and the air filled with the smell of roasting rabbit and fresh provisions. My soldiers were sprawled around the fire, their laughter ringing through the quiet night. Some played Tellstones, their moves deliberate but punctuated by the occasional outburst of victory or defeat. Others leaned against logs, their expressions easy and unburdened.

Finn sat near the edge of the firelight, plucking his banjo with a grin, always ready to burst into song.

I was reclined in my tent, meditating, my thoughts scattered but calm. A sharp knock on the pole outside brought me back to the present.

"Commander," came the voice of a scout. "Another unit has arrived."

I stood and made my way out.

Arrika's unit was dragging themselves into camp. Dirty, exhausted, and bloodied, they looked like they'd survived a skirmish rather than a trial. Their weapons were dull with dried ichor, and their armor bore fresh dents and scratches.

Arrika herself stood at the front, her face smeared with dirt, her breath labored but steady.

Her sharp eyes swept over the scene. My soldiers laughing, relaxed, the smell of cooked meat mingling with the sound of Finn's banjo.

Her expression twisted into something between irritation and disbelief.

"You made it out first," she said, her voice even but with an edge of frustration. "And already set up camp?"

Before I could respond, Finn strummed a flourish on his banjo and launched into his familiar theatrics.

"Our cunning leader, wise and grand, Led us unscathed through this cursed land. The harpies fled, too scared to fight, His brilliant plan brought us the light!"

Arrika's brow furrowed, her lips parting in disbelief.

"You weren't attacked?"

"Sadly," I replied with a faint smirk, "I didn't get my exercise today."

Her soldiers settled into the camp with audible relief, their fatigue making their movements sluggish. But Arrika remained standing, her gaze sharp and unwavering as it flicked toward me repeatedly.

The stars began to dot the darkening sky, the chill of the night creeping in. Only one unit had yet to arrive, their absence hanging in the air like a question unanswered.

.

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