A portal opens. Suddenly, Riot, the players, the servers, and all 10 Galio mains are thrust into a distant and uncertain future. Stormclouds surround the population in a thick black pitch.
The sun is dead.
The sky breaks open briefly as lightning envelops all for a brief but clarifying moment; all that remains of the world we once knew is a Colliseum, the landing point of our time-worn League travelers. A sign hangs above the entrance - "20XX WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS." In this future, Worlds is not a time of year - it is a state of mind. There are no placements, no tiers, no promotion series - all compete on the World Stage, every minute of every hour, destined to a meaningless victory erased with each passing day. We have been brought by Zilean to the darkest timeline - The Dark Eternity of Esports.
During the 20XX World championships, Faker, now a shadow of his former glory, presides above his 'competition' seated upon a throne of solid Challenger-tanium (a new metal made from smelted World Championship titles and the tears of his opponents). With a flick of his wrist, he orders all to be seated and the day's show begins. Holograms appear upon the floor of the stadium as the top players from every dimension gather, armored and altered to look like champions. They land upon a summoning platform as the landscape transforms to resemble The Howling Crystal Butcher's Riftline Chamber, the only 'viable' map in 20XX.
As the 'champions' load in, the guests in the stadium stand up-right and begin marching as if compelled by some dark force. One by one, they walk towards one another in a strange pattern as the stage finishes completion.
In this timeline, we are the minions. Endlessly marching to our assured doom, just to become gold in someone's pocket.
In your final moments, you think "Trusting Zilean may have been unwise..."
"...but at least Skarner's not broken anymore."