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He’d heard about the “strong, lawful” kingdom of Demacia many times. Honorable, just, mighty. Every citizen a soldier, every soldier ready to give up its life for its kingdom. The kingdom’s military is on high alert at every moment, born and raised to fight. And fight, and fight, and fight. They’d spill as much blood as is needed outside the kingdom’s walls, so that the inside remains pristine. There was barely even any need to announce his arrival; Demacia’s military had already begun marching down to his war.
He’d also heard about the blood that was spilt inside the walls. They fancied themselves the light in a bleak world, the good kingdom facing against barbarians who dared to lay even a finger against its royalty, but its people were perfectly fine hunting for any one magic user. Being born a mage in Demacia, at best, left you chained for the rest of your life.
At worst, they’d gore you.
And yet, bloody hypocrites that they are, these Demacians stood for nothing. They are willing to bend their own rules if needed. They fancy themselves mighty templars of Runeterra, but they snuff out those who were born different. They portray themselves as keepers of the peace for those deemed “normal”, and yet they’re not above using mages for their own ends.
He could tell. These mages were far away from the petricite constructs used by the battalion, but there was a hint of magic in the air. Even the highest ranks in their military made use of magic. Conniving little cretins, those Demacians.
Not that it’d do anything. Their pathetic fireballs did nothing to dissuade his from slaughtering their ranks. Throw your rocks, ignite your flames, he thought, My sword remains untainted, except for the blood that spills from your guts!
It’s almost admirable, really, how even as their numbers dwindle by the second, their conviction does not falter. They’re scared, he can tell, but they fight. It is barely satisfying, even if slightly amusing. They change their strategies on the fly, adapting to defensive and offensive positions as necessary. Their birds of prey fly towards death, hopeful until the end that eventually, their enemy shall finally die like the vermin that he is. How innocent, how naïve.
And then, finally, it woke up.
The very last thing he’d heard about Demacians… Is that they had an unbreakable giant among their ranks.
One that only woke up with enough magic. One that was so mighty, it could only be understood as a myth, a part of folklore, by Demacians and their puny little brains. One that had never lost a single war. One that was far bigger than he is, one that his sword could not cleave.
Yes… Yes, now this is more interesting. This is finally a real fight. The blood of the Demacians that coats his sword is cold, unworthy, it’s filthy. None of these fools are worthy of being a new host. None of these fools are worthy of ending his pitiful existence. But this giant, this golem, this thing - Perhaps now, he could get what he truly desires.
At worst, it would be a worthy fight, one that pumps his blood, one that keeps him coming back, one that might even provide him with a new host.
At best, this beast could finally end Aatrox’s existence.
COME!, he yelled, LET US SEE WHO FINALLY PAINTS THIS BATTLEFIELD WITH DESPAIR!
Why, then, for this past hour, has nothing happened?
They’d reached a standstill. The giant, who introduced himself as “Galio”, could not be crushed as easily as the bones of the soldiers who came before him. But he could not find his way through Aatrox’s sword, either. They exchanged stares, walking around each other like a dance, ready to fight, but neither went ahead.
Or so Aatrox thought, anyway. He could advance at the golem as much as he’d want, but his opponent would simply knock him away. He was far bigger, and clearly made of a material resistant enough that one fell swoop wouldn’t cut it. They’d gone so far away from the Demacian soldiers who’d brought Galio to battle, there was nobody else to interrupt, so why won’t it fight? Why does it hesitate?
Why do I hesitate?, he thought.
“Come! Fight me! I’m right here, so why don’t you fight?!” Aatrox shouted, lifting his sword up in the air, as he dashed to aim right into Galio’s head. Galio, however, already prepared for the attack, lifted both his forearms over his own head, which blocked Aatrox’s attack. Galio flapped his wings, forming a small tornado that left Aatrox disoriented, dropping his sword onto the ground.
Aatrox, staggeringly, lifts himself up, taking back his sword, though his grip remained weaker than before. The sword’s heart beats faster as he visibly begins to sweat. How, and why, he thinks to himself, Am I so weak against this beast?!
“Fight, you coward.” He grips his sword with both hands, desperately pointing the edge of his weapon towards the colossus. “Is this not what you’re here for? Is this not what you’re made for? I came to slaughter your forces. Fight for them.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Have centuries of stasis corroded your mind? I am ordering you to fight. Come at me! I am not done yet!”
Aatrox pays closer attention to his opponent’s face. His posture pretends to be ready, cracking his knuckles and flapping his wings, but he… Has no hostility in those jet black eyes of his. His voice may boom, but it is spoken in a whisper. And the colossus lowers his head slightly as he responds, “This isn’t a fair fight.”
“What?”
Aatrox can feel his blood start to boil.
“What’s the fun in fighting if it isn’t fair? My time awake is pretty fleeting, I don’t want a curbstomp to end it prematurely.”
“What a selfish desire that is. Your men are in danger!”
“Go after them, then.”
Galio, truly, was the only thing standing between Demacia and its complete annihilation. Aatrox could at least try to walk right past the golem, finish off the last of Demacia’s pathetic army, and raze the kingdom to the ground. And yet, he remains in stasis, in pure paranoia, awaiting for his opponent’s next move.
“Do you take me as a weakling? Do you take pity? Do you truly look at my grotesque visage, and see a worn down punching bag?!”
Aatrox, in his rage, came closer to the colossus, pointing the bladed edge of his sword right at the giant’s throat. It matters not that he may see it as an empty threat, Aatrox wants nothing more than to send a message. Fight me, fool, or–
His thoughts scatter as he feels a gut punch - Quite literally, in fact, as Galio delivers a fistful of pain towards Aatrox’s torso, leaving him to teeter away in pain. Galio had remained so calm up until that very moment, that somehow Aatrox had no longer thought an attack could actually come his way.
As his body aims at the ground for a few seconds, his head shoots up, fire in his eyes, and he screams out - “IRE REMAINS IN YOU AFTER ALL, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TRY TO HIDE IT! FIGHT ME, COLOSSUS! I DEMAND IT!”
Galio’s face contorts into one of… Reluctancy. Perhaps the tales were untrue; Perhaps, after all, the mighty colossus of Demacia is a coward and a fraud.
“Do you really want me to?” His right arm stretched out, hand curled into a fist, as if asking for permission to fight.
“Face me in battle, coward… Let me scrimshaw your petricite into a warning Demacians will never forget!”
The Demacian soldiers left right outside the kingdom borders, try as they might, couldn’t help but feel fear. Worse even than the shock of seeing the colossus come to life was the knowledge that it hadn’t returned, and those who survived were left to pick up - Perhaps literally, in some cases - the pieces of their comrades who sacrificed themselves in the fight against the giant demon that attacked their kingdom. The leaders of that particular battalion worried about the status of the people inside the kingdom walls.
It’s been hours since the attack begun, and they could not return to the safety of their homes until they were absolutely certain the horrible beast had been slain.
Galio hadn’t returned.
This did not bode well.
However, before they knew it, the sounds of sword and stone clashing rang out from afar. Their petricite savior and their grotesque attacker had resumed their battle. Immediately, the leaders cried out instructions, forming a defensive wall of shields and petricite constructs. They couldn’t dare to go out and assist, and they couldn’t leave their people unprotected. It wouldn’t do anything, of course, because who were they to intrude on the meeting of two giants? But, at the very least, the thought could count.
And then the colossus flew.
RAISE YOUR SHIELDS, PROTECT YOUR FELLOW MEN BEHIND YOU!, they cried out, as Galio crashed onto the ground, causing shockwaves and heavy winds to come at an unprecedented speed towards their military line. Those two were so far away, even Galio seemed small, yet the impact from the crash almost sent those soldiers who still stood to go flying. Some of the fallen soldiers would not be found again, and they had to use all their strength to keep their own petricite from falling.
What on Runeterra could be happening over there?
In the middle of the impact crater stood two monsters. Both Aatrox and Galio fought for control of the Darkin’s sword, pushing it towards each other. Neither faltered, but neither progressed in their struggle. Once again, they found themselves at a stalemate. Their eyes locked onto each other, reignited with a will to fight so strong, it would soon extinguish itself in exhaustion. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer. One had to give in.
Galio, with all his might, pushes the sword into the air, breaking their stalemate, with neither side winning the ordeal. Not that they had to, anyway. Both of them panted, having pushed themselves to the brink of death. Aatrox kept his sword in his hand, but his grip couldn’t swing any harder. Galio’s fists, solid as they may be, had been overrun with superficial cuts.
Aatrox falls to the ground under the weight of all his injuries. He wants to keep going, just a little bit further, to push himself into oblivion… But he can’t. His body feels heavy. It’s too much.
His head snaps up to look at Galio. The sun is setting, but its light shines behind the colossus, his shadow completely covering Aatrox, as if to further shame him for his humiliating defeat. Between gasps, he cries out, “Go on! What are you waiting for?! You’ve won, so finish it! END ME!”
That last sentence seems to shake Galio to his core, as his panting slows down. He calmly walks towards Aatrox, before reaching out for his hand.
“... It really was a great battle, but you’re really wounded. If you don’t mind… Shall we repose instead?”
The Darkin's heart beats faster, and faster, and faster. His blood boils. His face reddens. Is this my punishment, he wonders, Is this all part of my torment? Is this what I deserve? Humiliation?
“I’m not trying to humiliate you. But I don’t wish to fight any further for now.”
“And why only now? You’ve won. Save your people!”
Aatrox forcibly grabs Galio’s hand, closing it into a fist directed towards the beating heart of his sword. His own heart.
“Finish it!”
Galio breaks the grip between his own hand and Aatrox’s, deciding to instead turn his back to his Darkin companion, finding himself a nice spot - As nice as can be in this crater, anyway - to sit on and stare towards the darkening horizon. He can hear Aatrox’s breathing become faster, nervous, but he doesn’t avert his gaze away from the sky.
After a few seconds, Aatrox holds in his breath to let out one last sigh, before grabbing his sword… And turning his back to Galio instead, the two sitting only a few inches away from each other.
Both of them spend minutes in complacency. Nobody speaks up, with only the occasional sound of birds frantically flying away, and Aatrox’s own heartbeat, to break the silence.
It beats, and it thumps, leaving an uncomfortable air to fester around them, like a crag beast nobody dares to address. Aatrox grips the handle of his sword even tighter, so tight it could hurt his hand, as a feeling of unease overtakes him. His opponent is right behind. If it won’t take his life, he might as well take its life.
Go on, do it. Swing your sword, and take its head as a trophy. Then slaughter the troops of Demacia, then its people, then its royalty. You can do it, so do it.
“... Why do you resist, colossus?”
“Hm?”
“You have the strength to crush my head between your hands. And yet you waste that strength staring at a pretty sunset. It makes absolutely no sense to me.”
“Haha, you’ve asked me that quite a lot by now, haven’t you?”
Aatrox turns his head to look at his hesitant companion. A mix of emotions, annoyance and nervousness, swirl in his thoughts. “Are you completely incapable of answering any of my questions? Do you have no thoughts in that head of yours?!”
Galio’s expression widens in slight shock; He really wasn’t expecting the Darkin to snap at him like that. It was such a nice moment, too. But after a moment of pause, his face takes on a more sorrowful look instead.
“Did you really assume this entire time I was thinking of killing you?”
“What else, then, colossus? Your people have been at war with their own neighbor for so long, the reason why has been long forgotten. You squash Demacians like filthy bugs for being ‘Born wrong’. You will spill anyone’s blood, by any amount necessary, to maintain your own status quo. How am I any different? I came here looking for a worthy fight, didn’t I?! You were so close, so give it to me! Give me my desired end from a worthy fight!”
Aatrox frantically stood up, rage finally consuming his entire mind and body, furious that - After all this damned time - His opponent was nothing but a cowardly chicken. A fraud, one who seemingly much prefers to waste time with idle chit-chat than give him what he wants. He points the edge of his sword once more towards Galio’s neck, this time making absolute sure that it scrapes his nape. He will send his message, by any means necessary.
Galio, paying no mind to the blade that threatened to decapitate him, regains his composure as he stands up, turned to face Aatrox and the shadow that drapes over him - Galio’s own body, towering over the Darkin, who refusing to back down.
“Well, to be honest with ya…” Galio speaks, awkwardly placing his right hand to his neck, “I didn’t really plan on, eh, killing you for a long time now.”
“What did you just say?”
“Sorry for the intrusive question, friend, but… Why do you want to die so much?”
Well, perhaps subtlety is not exactly Aatrox’s strong suit. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what his true intentions were from the beginning, but most of his opponents were too obtuse to figure it out… Or perhaps too weak to figure it out in time. But he didn’t expect to be backed into this corner. Not by this idiot.
“What does it matter to you my reasons for fighting? How about yours, then, Colossus? Dare to enlighten me?”
“It’s what I was built for.”
“Let’s just say I am of the same purpose, then.”
Galio lets out a laugh, which, although booming as his usual self, simultaneously sounded forced and reluctant. “Well, I don’t go around asking people to end me. I don’t get to stay awake for long enough to think that.”
“For I am the opposite, then! No more of this hollow conversation, fight me or die!”
“You’re the opposite?”
“Are you even listening to me, you ignorant oaf?!”
Aatrox feels himself at his limit, swinging his sword with as much strength as he could currently muster towards Galio - Who almost effortlessly stops it in its tracks with his own two hands.
“So, does that mean you never sleep, then?”
The physical conflict between the two is severed as they both knock each other away, leaving Aatrox to struggle with the weight of his sword, and Galio to struggle with the weight of his own body and wings.
“How can I rest when I cannot breathe? How can I breathe when my lungs are always filled with scalding water?! My body burns like a thousand swords pierce my warped flesh, swords that I cannot ever get rid of! How could I ever rest? Is that what you wanted to hear, Colossus? Are you satisfied now?!”
“Hmm… Is that how it feels?”
“... You’re quite lucky, to be able to sleep so soundly for so long.”
Galio now sees himself being towered over by Aatrox, as the colossus hunches over, exhausted. Perhaps the magic that was powering him is starting to fade? No matter, he can’t just waste time thinking about that right now. He keeps his eyes locked onto Aatrox’s, hoping that his feelings of melancholy reaches his companion. “Is that why you fight, then?”
Aatrox grips his sword as strongly as he can, gritting his teeth. “If I cannot commit suicide, I will keep fighting until the world itself kills me. Is that a satisfying answer for you? What else do you desire to know?”
Galio, for once in his life, comprehends the sarcasm radiating from Aatrox’s words, finally finding his balance to stand up again. But he finds himself unable to speak, unsure of what to say; No matter how hard he thinks it over, he can’t figure out a way to comfort the Darkin.
To live so painfully that death is merciful… He wonders if the very people he was made to protect live that way too, sometimes. He can only clench his fist, feeling that, for once in his centuries of existence, he can’t protect someone. How does he approach a situation such as this?
“I ask you again, Colossus.” This time, Aatrox reaches his naked hand out towards Galio. He can't even really promise what he's about to say, but anything goes in times of desperation. “End it. If that’s not enough, I can bargain. You achieve your freedom. You live and stay awake for as long as you’d like. Admire Demacia’s people, its wildlife, its freakish royalty. In return, you slay me.”
“I’d never accept that.”
As soon as Galio says that, finally standing up, Aatrox immediately knocks Galio to the ground again, using that same naked hand to strangle - Or attempt to strangle - the golem’s neck. Not like you can strangle a rock construct, but regardless, the message he wishes to send is sent.
“Do you take me for a fool?! Do you pity me that much, am I that pathetic?! Or is it sick pleasure that you seek, much like your human pets?! What is it?!”
“You know…” Galio, completely ignoring the attempted threat towards his throat, beams a tender expression across his face. “This entire time we’ve been talking, I think I’ve reached a conclusion.”
“That being?”
“You’re as important for me to protect as my people, you know.”
At this point, Aatrox breaks. The fury in his heart, body, soul, and face, completely evaporates, forcefully ejected by the uncharacteristically kind sentiment aimed towards him. Important to protect… When was the last time anyone said that to him? He doesn’t even know if anyone’s ever said that to him at all. He only knows of excruciating torment and ire, how does one even respond to that?
Tears slowly trickle down his eyes and cheeks. He forces himself to look even angrier than before, baring his gritted teeth and burning eyes even more while tightening the grip his hand has around the Colossus’ neck.
But how does he even respond to that?
“How… Can you say that?”
“One of my biggest fears… Is squashing someone I care about. The people of Demacia are all important to me. How could I call myself their protector if I were to kill them?”
“You don’t know me, fool!”
“Well, I’d love to.”
“Heretic!”
“Hehe, I don’t remember the meaning of that word right now.”
Aatrox finally gives in to the mounting pressure, falling to his knees as his hand lets go of Galio’s neck. He keeps himself steady by instead placing both his hands on the Colossus’ chest, his tears cascading from his eyes. Galio, unsure of what exactly to do, decides to pull Aatrox closer, wrapping his hands around his friend’s back in a hug.
“I don’t really know what to do to ease your pain, friend…” Galio whispers.
“Kill me.”
“... But I will always have hope that you’ll be able to live peacefully one day. Demacians are always taught to fight until the very end, and to believe that our hope and valor will triumph over all. We may not know each other very well, but…”
Aatrox turns his head up to stare back at Galio, who wears a smile on his face.
“I hope one day, you can return to Demacia, and we can finally have a proper fight worthy of a spectacle. How’s that sound to you?”
In the distance, there is the sound of fluttering and galloping.
The Demacian soldiers left near the kingdom’s outer walls must be growing restless, as both Aatrox and Galio feel a commotion, slowly - Very, very slowly - Coming their way. Galio will have to pretend like he fought off the gigantic, demonic threat, and then return to his years-long slumber. The light of the night sky glimmers on the gold accents of Galio’s build, and sparkle on the few tears left on Aatrox’s face.
Aatrox can’t meet his end. Not now, not yet. He must leave soon, and find another opponent. Perhaps multiple, perhaps a worthy host, perhaps his end.
But he wishes to stay. Just a little longer. In the embrace of a love he never thought he’d ever be worthy of.