The scent of lavender always hits me first, sharp and strangely sweet like crushed dreams, before the chaos unfolds. It’s not just a passive stack counter ticking up in the corner of my screen; it’s the very breath of the Void Empress, Bel’Veth, whispering promises of ruin as I glide through the jungle’s shadowed embrace. Playing her anywhere else feels… sacrilegious. The lanes are too rigid, too predictable. Out here, among the ancient sentinels and skittering krugs, I’m not just a champion—I’m the apex predator the Rift fears. Hot damn, that attack speed spike after my first clear? It’s like feeling the Void itself humming beneath my skin.
Death in Lavender: The Scent of Power
Those lavender stacks aren’t numbers; they’re lifelines. Every takedown—whether it’s a cocky mid-laner straying too far or the stoic Rift Herald collapsing under my assault—feels like inhaling pure adrenaline. The jungle isn’t just my home; it’s my larder. Trying to lane with Bel'Veth? Might as well clip a falcon’s wings. Her power blooms only in the hunt, in the act of consumption. No level-up gift compares to the raw, stacking fury of Death in Lavender pulsing through my veins after a successful gank.
Void Surge: Stitching Reality with Needles of Void
Her Q, Void Surge? Oh, it’s my dance. Four directions—North, South, East, West—each dash a silken thread of destruction weaving through the battlefield. It’s not just damage; it’s repositioning, resetting my auto-attack with a satisfying shink, letting me flow from target to target. Spamming it? Absolutely. But it’s an art, this directional ballet. Mess up the sequence, dash the wrong way when a gank turns sour? That lavender scent turns bitter fast. Mastering Void Surge is learning to stitch reality back together… right before you tear it apart. Max this first? Non-negotiable. It’s the rhythm of her existence.
The Crushing Embrace & The Hungry Vortex
W, Above and Below? That’s my punctuation. A sudden, brutal knock-up erupting from the earth. Landing it feels like catching fate by the collar. WHAM! Suddenly, the target’s floating, helpless, and—crucially—it resets Void Surge towards them. The combo sings: Q-dash in, W to launch and reset Q, Q-dash again. Brutal efficiency. Then comes E, Royal Maelstrom. Spinning, whirling, blades a furious vortex. The sound alone—a metallic scream—is terrifying. But the feeling? Divine. Health surging back with every hit, turning desperate stands into glorious, bloody triumphs. It’s my lifeline in the fray, the second skill I pour my soul into maxing. Sustain? Try feeling like a god on meth while the enemy melts around you.
Endless Banquet: Becoming the Void
And then… the crescendo. R, Endless Banquet. That glorious, terrifying true form. Consuming Void Coral from a takedown isn’t just activating an ult; it’s shedding a mortal coil. Reality shivers, purple light explodes outwards—TRUE DAMAGE, raw and uncut—and I expand. Suddenly, I’m not just playing a champion; I am the calamity. The goal? Feast. Chain takedowns. Keep the Banquet going. Every kill extends the apocalypse, the screen trembling, the lavender scent thick as fog. It’s pure, addictive devastation. Aatrox’s World Ender? A spark compared to Bel’Veth’s supernova.
Dressing the Empress: Runes & Relics
So, how do you clothe an Empress for her reign of terror?
Feast Runes:
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Primary (Precision): Conqueror (stacking fury!), Triumph (survive the chaos!), Legend: Alacrity (Attack Speed = Life!), Coup de Grace (finish 'em!).
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Secondary (Inspiration): Magical Footwear (free boots? yes pls!), Cosmic Insight (more Summoners, more Qs!).
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Shards: Attack Speed | Adaptive Force | Armor
Devourer’s Arsenal:
Phase | Items |
---|---|
Start | Emberknife, Refillable Potion |
Boots | Mercury's Treads (Tenacity is my friend!) |
Core Feast | Kraken Slayer > Blade of the Ruined King > Guinsoo's Rageblade |
This build isn't just strong; it sings. Kraken melts tanks, BotRK shreds health bars, Guinsoo's turns me into a hyper-carry blender. Gotta gobble 'em like candy before the banquet ends.
...And when the game fades, and the lavender scent finally dissipates, I’m left wondering. Was I controlling the Empress, or was she merely wearing me as a vessel? Is this power liberation... or just a prettier kind of damnation? When you become the Void, what's left to conquer but existence itself?