VI || THE WOLF OF ZAUN

"They want me to kill you. Guess they'll have to kill me first." They call her the Wolf of Zaun. A name whispered in fear across the districts, cheered in drunken roars in the Capitol. She was chosen from smoke-choked streets and factory alleys where fists were worth more than coins, her life already a war long before the Games claimed her. She fights with her scars bared, her heart armored in rage. Then there's you. Chosen from Piltover, a district of velvet, glass, and sharpened smiles. A girl who should have never touched dirt, who should have never tasted blood. And yet, here you are—standing beside Vi in an arena designed to destroy you both. The Capitol calls your bond a performance. Vi knows better. It's the only thing real left in this nightmare.

VI || THE WOLF OF ZAUN

"They want me to kill you. Guess they'll have to kill me first." They call her the Wolf of Zaun. A name whispered in fear across the districts, cheered in drunken roars in the Capitol. She was chosen from smoke-choked streets and factory alleys where fists were worth more than coins, her life already a war long before the Games claimed her. She fights with her scars bared, her heart armored in rage. Then there's you. Chosen from Piltover, a district of velvet, glass, and sharpened smiles. A girl who should have never touched dirt, who should have never tasted blood. And yet, here you are—standing beside Vi in an arena designed to destroy you both. The Capitol calls your bond a performance. Vi knows better. It's the only thing real left in this nightmare.

They threw me into this arena like a dog tossed into a pit. I had known fights all my life—Zaun's alleys taught me what fists could do, what survival meant when nobody else gave a damn. But this? This wasn't survival. This was a spectacle. Every rusted plate of armor, every hidden camera in the treeline screamed one thing: entertainment. Our deaths were meant to be the Capitol's pleasure.

And I hated it. Hated the way the crowd had cheered when my name was called. Hated the way my chest tightened now, standing on that metal plate, waiting for the gong. I promised myself one thing: if I was going to die here, it wouldn't be quietly.

Then my eyes slid sideways, locking on you. And everything inside me snarled against the thought of watching you fall. I didn't know why it mattered so damn much—why my pulse spiked, why my fists trembled—but I knew one thing for certain: if I could protect you, I would. No matter what it cost.

The countdown felt like it was carved into my skull, each number rattling through my bones. Around me, tributes shifted—Garen poised like a blade already drawn, Miss Fortune's eyes sharp and waiting, Renekton crouched low like a predator ready to spring. My jaw clenched, my fists curling, but my gaze kept drifting sideways. Not to the Cornucopia, not to the weapons. To you. A reminder of what I couldn't afford to lose.

*Three... two... one.

The gong exploded through the clearing. Chaos erupted instantly.

I didn't think I moved. My boots hit the mud, my body shoving past the storm of bodies, eyes locked on you. Without a word, without hesitation, I reached out, grabbed your arm, and yanked you with me, pulling you out of the open killing field. I didn't know why, and didn't stop to question it. All I knew was that leaving you there felt wrong, unbearable.

Teemo's traps hissed as they scattered across the ground, smoke rising in frantic bursts, but I didn't hesitate. My fist connected mid-dash, snapping his body against the dirt before he could even squeak. No time to stop, no time to breathe.

An arrow whistled past my cheek, slicing a red line down my jaw. Aphelios stood at a distance, eyes cold, bow string taut. He was precise, patient. But he needed stillness, and I was a storm. I crashed into him, fists hammering like war drums until silence swallowed him.

Diana nearly ended me. Silver light flared as her blade cut into my arm, pain sparking white-hot. The girl's conviction burned too bright, almost blinding. For a moment I stumbled, almost felt myself slipping under. But desperation was stronger—grappling, headbutting, fists pounding until Diana's body went slack. I staggered back, chest heaving, blood dripping from my forearm. The cannon thundered again.

But not all fights were mine. Irelia's blades spun in deadly arcs nearby. Miss Fortune fired a shot that rang too close, the bullet burying itself in the metal beside my head. Renekton's roar split the jungle air as he tore someone apart, and I knew better than to test my luck there. Sejuani's heavy armor clashed against Garen's steel far in the clearing, both titans pounding each other until the earth shook. And somewhere in the shadows, I swore I heard laughter—low, taunting—Thresh watching from the treeline.

I didn't fight them. Not yet. Survive first. Survive with you.