Magic. Even for you, growing up in the house L/N, known for science and inventions that advance the kingdom of Piltover. You didn't want all that, you wanted magic. Something inexplicable...something impossible. In the process, you meet two girls who have lost everything. And a man who asks you a question you've been waiting for all your life.
Vander is back—but with his return come questions that need answering.
The reunion with the last remnants of the "family" brings emotions, memories, and a reunion with someone you thought you had long forgotten.
And suddenly, the tide seems to be turning.
---
So... why no update for so long?
I don't think I need to explain to anyone how busy (or lazy) I've been lately, so I'll spare you that. A more detailed explanation – for the few who are really interested – can be found in the last chapter of my "To Understand the Soul" story.
Enjoy reading!
It's slowly but surely coming to an end... and believe me, it's going to be absolutely crazy.
Confusion.
That's the first thing you feel as your eyes take in the image in front of you, your brain far too slow to process what it's seeing.
Jinx, pinned to the wall, the claws just millimeters from her face—and the one holding her is none other than Vander.
No. Not Vander. Not like this, not in this form.
The creature in front of you is enormous, almost grotesque, a nightmare of muscles and gray fur covering his back, arms, and head.
Its body is broader, more massive than ever before, its proportions unnatural, its breath heavy, a panting that sounds like the growl of a predator.
And yet... those eyes, that shadow of humanity in them. You recognize him. You can't not recognize him.
It's Vander.
And yet not Vander.
Your heart contracts painfully, your mind screams that this is not possible—and yet there he stands, alive, breathing, moving.
Your gaze lingers on his veins, glowing beneath his skin, pulsing, a poisonous violet.
That must be Shimmer flowing through his body.
Not just in his body, not just in isolated doses—it flows directly through his blood, has completely permeated him, transformed him into this thing.
The only one who could do such a thing, the only one who would do such a thing, is clear.
Singed.
And the hatred inside you flares up.
The name alone is enough to make the fire inside you blaze. It's not a simple feeling of anger—it's a burning, hot rage that eats through every fiber of your body.
The memories come flooding back, unbidden, brutal as blows: the factory, the acrid smell of chemicals, the hiss of glass containers, the day you built the monkey bomb.
The bang, the fire, Mylo, Claggor, Vander—everything you had back then, everything you ever loved, torn apart, burned, reduced to rubble and ashes.
Singed was the one who pushed you into all of this, who manipulated you into becoming exactly what you are now.
Your fingers clench, your nails dig into your palms so hard you can feel the blood flowing.
Your aura trembles, wanting to break out, wanting to destroy the entire room, to sweep everything away until nothing remains. Your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling like an animal about to lose control.
And then it happens: Vander lets go of Jinx.
Your eyes widen.
"JINX WAIT-"
Your first impulse is to scream at her to back away, to get to safety, everything in you screams for fight, for defense.
But Jinx... she doesn't hesitate for a second. She runs forward as if she's never known anything else and hugs him. She presses her face into his fur as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
You stand rooted to the spot, your mind racing.
That's Vander. But it's not Vander. It's a monster. Singed has changed him, you can see it, you can feel it. No human could look like that, smell like that, breathe like that. It's as if he mixed his DNA with that of beasts and turned Vander into an experiment.
Your heart contracts, not only with pain, but with sheer despair.
Tears well up in your eyes, you try to hold them back, but they burn like fire.
What did Vander do to deserve this?
Part of you wants to kill him, to put him out of his misery, to free him from what Singed has done to him. Another part wants to hold on to him, to not lose him again after you've already lost everything.
Your anger turns back to Singed, so strong that it almost overwhelms you. You swear to yourself that if you ever see him again, you will kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Not a quick end, but one where he feels every second what he has done to you, Jinx, Vander, and the whole world.
Singed... If I ever see you again in this life...
Jinx continues to hug Vander, tears streaming down her face.
Then I'll slaughter you in front of your brain-dead daughter...
To say the situation is "complex" would be a brutal understatement.
Jinx has gone to get Vi—or she thinks she knows where Vi is; you don't know these underground fighter rings anymore, you've been away too long, too long cut off from the world that was ours back then.
So here you stand, in the damp depths of mine shafts, alone with what Vander has become. Alone with the weight of a decision that lies somewhere between guilt, revenge, and despair.
Vander sits in front of you, a few steps away, and you watch him because you can't do anything else. He is no longer the man with the broad shoulders and warm gaze you knew — and yet there is something familiar, a contour, an echo.
His aura is... wrong.
Not just strong—that's almost too mild a description: it's as if a flood had been squeezed into a small bottle. Thirteen times as much? Fourteen times? You lose the ability to count because the sheer mass of energy overwhelms your senses.
And yet: no flickering, no conscious shaping of magic. It feels forced, as if something from outside is burning through him, not something coming from him.
When you squint your eyes, when you compare the aura with your own, something strange happens — it is there and yet not there; as if an invisible layer were covering it, transfiguring and veiling everything.
Signed's imprints...
Your thoughts find the name like a bloodstain on the wall.
"Vander..." Your voice is hoarse, as if coming through a long tunnel. No echo answers. He turns his head just a little, breathes deeply, and his chest rises under the thick fur — an animal sound, not a human word.
And suddenly images spring to the surface: you, kneeling in the rubble, the cold drilling into your bones; the monkey bomb, the loud bang, the numbing silence afterward; the hands you had stretched out, desperately grasping for a body you couldn't hold on to.
You could have stopped Powder — you could have done something different — and the repetition of these sentences becomes a kind of mantra that slowly eats away at you.
"I'm so sorry..." bursts out of you, barely audible at first, then louder, until the walls of the cave echo it back. Your hands claw at your coat, feeling the cool cold forge of the steel ball in your pocket, whose weight seems like a punishment to you at that moment.
You stand motionless because the flashback splits your mind in two: the logician analyzes the situation, the boy inside you cries and wants only one thing — to turn back the clock.
"I could have stopped Powder... I—" You don't finish the words. Tears run hot down your cheeks, the air tastes like iron. You always dealt with this anger, this need for control, with strategy and calculation; now it's just raw, an open wound.
It's ridiculous to stand here polishing hypothetical excuses; if the bomb had never detonated, everything would be different — maybe.
But who bears the burden of pressing a button alone? Who takes the right to blow away an entire future and call it "salvation"?
The answers don't come, they're not a gift from the world; only your guilt remains, heavy and unprocessed.
"All of this is my fault..." you say, and the voice that follows is flat and rough. "That I was so stupid to think Singed could just bring you back." You keep talking because silence would cut your thoughts like shards.
"I've traveled so much, Vander. I've seen the places from the books, cities you only mentioned in passing. I've met people who saw too much in me and wanted to help me—almost like you once did. And then there were encounters I never sought. But...I survived." You straighten up, the tears fading, your gaze hardening, determined.
"Silco is dead. Singed... if I ever see him again, he'll pay. Slowly. So he understands what he's done." You let the words hang, not as a threat to Vander — he doesn't react — but as a promise to yourself.
You look down at him—no reaction, just the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, breathing so strange and yet so familiar—and wonder why you're laying it all out, why you're voicing this burden when there is only silence before you.
Perhaps because it is easier to put the guilt into words than to consume it. Perhaps because you believe that someone, somewhere, might forgive you — or hate you and thereby finally set you free.
The cave remains cold, and silence envelops you; a drop falls from the ceiling, an echo in the emptiness. Then, without warning, you perceive two auras in the distance — small but distinct, like two hand-lengths of light in a sea of darkness — and your body reacts before your mind does.
A fleeting smile crosses your lips. You don't want to show Vander how much the heat is boiling inside you. "And I'm staying," you murmur, more to yourself than to anyone else.
You straighten up, shoulder the weight of your steel balls, feel the familiar cold bite of metal in your palm.
This world is wrong
---
You fell asleep—standing up, leaning against a cold, cracked pillar in the middle of this damn mine.
Maybe it wasn't sleep, but simply stopping thinking for a moment.
When you open your eyes again, you are blinded by a light that seems almost too warm for this place. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what you are seeing. Vi. Jinx. Isha. And Vander. Together. Embracing.
It's one of those sights that's so unreal that your mind has to piece it together bit by bit. Jinx is clinging to Vander, Vi is standing right next to them, her forehead pressed against his shoulder, and Isha is holding Jinx's hand. Not a word. Not a sound. Just the trembling of bodies that have been strong for too long and now simply can't take it anymore.
You stand still. Silent. You breathe out, slowly, controlled, but inside you, everything is boiling. This image, this scene—it breaks you in a way you can hardly describe.
Everything you have experienced—Singed, Shimmer, the battles, all the people you met, the blood in the snow, death, escape, the eternal search for meaning—all of it now plays out like an endless movie before your eyes as you watch them.
These four people. This family that should have ceased to exist long ago.
You walk slowly. Each step echoes in the mine, dull, heavy, like the beating of a heart that refuses to remain calm.
Jinx notices you first, her eyes—those wild, blue eyes—widen, she opens her mouth, wants to say something, but you just raise your hand slightly. Not a word. You don't need words. You just keep walking, and when you reach them, you look Vander in the eyes.
He doesn't react much, but he recognizes you. Somewhere in that look, between shimmer, pain, and memory, there is something real, something human. You hold his gaze, trembling slightly, and then... you hug him.
No one moves.
It takes a few seconds before Jinx starts shaking again, before Vi presses herself against you, and before you realize that you're shaking too.
Your forehead rests on his shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, you can feel yourself breathing. Really breathing. No fighting, no instinct, no survival—just breathing.
Tears?
You don't know whose they are at first. Vi breaks down first, silently, but her shoulders shake. Jinx tries to stay strong, but then it just flows.
You too. And Vander—or what's left of him—holds you, silently, as if he understands that words would be useless here.
Old images flicker in your mind: Singed stirring the Shimmer with a steady hand; the snow that almost swallowed you; Grimm telling you you had potential; Sevika calling you a hero; and Jinx laughing with blood on her hands as you pulled her out of the chaos.
All the people you met on your travels, the Corpse Parts, and all the possible uses of aura and magic...
Everything you lost, everything you convinced yourself of, comes back to you in this moment—and you realize that you've been running toward this moment the whole time.
Isha stands nearby, her eyes wide, her small hand clinging to Jinx, but she doesn't cry. She just watches, calm, almost serene.
You feel the coldness of the mine slowly fading. The aura hanging in the air softening. For a fleeting moment, the world is silent.
No explosions, no escape, no violence. Just this little piece of peace that feels like you're finally coming home again—after all these years, all the deaths, all the pain.
And in your head, as you hold Vander, Vi, Jinx, and Isha in your arms, the thought that has accompanied you since the beginning takes shape—the same realization, but this time it sounds different.
This world is wrong.
But maybe... there is still something right about it.
---
A healer.
You run through the underworld, deep into the tangled bowels of Zaun, where even the light no longer wants to descend. The smell of oil, smoke, and burnt metal hangs in the air, a pungent haze that eats into your skin and clothes. All you can hear here are dripping pipes, the distant crackling of steam valves, and footsteps—your footsteps—echoing across the wet floor.
All because of a rumor.
A man, they said, who could heal anything that wasn't already rotten. An experiment from Piltover, a madman, a genius—depending on who you asked. You have no proof, no clues, only what Jinx overheard when she went to get Vi. And yet here you are. Perhaps because hope is the only thing you have left. Perhaps because you yourself no longer know what else to do.
Jinx walks ahead, her posture upright, but her shoulders betray her. Again and again she looks back at you, briefly, almost imperceptibly, and every time your eyes meet, she immediately looks away again. Her eyes are not the same anymore. They are calmer, but not peaceful. And deep within them lies something you cannot bear: pity.
Vi is different. She wasn't with you most of the time, but now that she's walking here, she looks at you as if she wants to say something but can't. Maybe because she's too proud. Maybe because she knows you don't want to hear it. Her gaze is the same as the one you give to someone who is injured and doesn't yet know they are dying.
And Vander—or what's left of him—is silent. His gait is heavy, his shoulders massive, but you can see how his movements sometimes falter, as if he has to remind himself how to be human. He looks at Vi and Jinx as he would have looked at them before, with a warmth that breaks through the Shimmer. But when his gaze meets yours, something changes. It's not dislike, not hatred—more like a quiet, confused recognition. As if he doesn't quite know what you are, or why you're still here.
Isha walks close beside you, her small steps barely audible, her hood pulled low over her face. She is the only one who looks at you without searching for a story in your eyes. Without expectations, without questions. She just looks. Maybe because she doesn't know you. Maybe because she's too young to understand what's boiling inside you. Or maybe because she senses that you're on the verge of falling apart.
You say nothing. You can't say anything. The words are stuck somewhere in your chest, where it burns.
Too much has happened in the last few days. Too much death, too much pain, too much truth. Your mind feels as if it has been torn to pieces and then hastily put back together. You don't know what you're feeling—anger, guilt, relief, all at once. And sometimes, in those rare moments of silence, you almost wish you hadn't survived.
But you keep running. Step by step, deeper into the fence, into this metal abyss where life and madness go hand in hand.
Each step echoes softly, the metallic echo blurring with the hum of the pipes running above you.
The ground beneath your feet is uneven, covered with a layer of dust, mud, and the waste of the upper world. The light from the lanterns flickers, barely strong enough to cast your shadows on the walls.
Oh, what it would be like to be a child again...
"Um, Dad. Can you heal this with a Healing Spell?"
The sentence cuts deep. A memory, little more than a whisper in your head, but it burns like it did back then.
It's not the voice itself that hurts—it's what it triggers in you. An echo of warmth, of security, of something that no longer exists.
It always feels so bad to think about back then. Your family, the others... everything. No matter how hard you try to repress the past, it always finds its way back, through the cracks in your consciousness, between two breaths.
Nostalgia is probably the most beautiful pain you have ever experienced.
You look down and see your shoes, partially swallowed up by the dirt. Every step sounds dull and heavy.
The trash crunches under your soles, between metal plates and rubble, strewn with the remains of a city that never stops breathing—even when it has long since suffocated.
You don't even have a destination. You're just searching. For anything. For anyone. Maybe the healer, maybe hope, maybe just the next reason not to stop.
But then you stop.
"Keep going straight." Your voice cuts through the silence.
Jinx turns to you, Vi frowns, Isha just looks at you as if she knows you sense something the others can't perceive.
You take two steps forward, feel the vibration. Aura. Faint, but clear. You concentrate, close your eyes briefly.
What a quantity of pure aura... who could possess such a quantity, and so pure at that? A healer could never have such a quantity, nor such a charisma...
An incredibly pure aura, crystal clear, almost unearthly. But not alone. Several other auras are bound to it, intertwined like threads winding around a core. A connection so fine and yet so strong that it can hardly be natural.
You open your eyes, your gaze sharp, focused.
"Over there," you say quietly, and this time everyone can hear the certainty in your voice.
The air grows colder the further you go, but it doesn't matter. You feel something changing.
Something big. Something that doesn't just heal—but could change everything.
"How much longer?" Vi's voice breaks the silence that has settled between you. She sounds exhausted, but not physically—more emotionally.
A tiredness that cannot be dispelled with sleep.
"Not far now," you reply calmly, even though you don't really know yourself. Your eyes follow the faint glimmer of light shining through somewhere between the metal pipes.
The smell of oil, sweat, and cold steam clings to your skin, and the further you go, the more each step sounds like a question no one dares to ask.
"You never said how you survived back then," Vi finally says, after a while in which only the dripping from the pipes and the soft creaking of metal could be heard. "After the... explosion."
You pause briefly. The thought hits you harder than it should, and for a moment you can't say anything.
"I don't know exactly myself," you say, quietly, almost tonelessly. "I was buried under rubble for hours, and only survived because the Enforcer Gadget had stretched a net around me so that debris wouldn't hit me in vital places."
Vi looks at you for a long time without saying a word. Her eyes reflect something you know – not pity, but understanding. Pain that only those who have walked the same path know.
"I thought you were dead back then," she says after a while. "I didn't believe you could get out of there. But then..." She breaks off, shaking her head. "Shit, the world was already broken, but after that..."
"This world is wrong," you murmur, more to yourself than in response to anything anyone actually asked.
Jinx remains silent. She walks a few steps ahead, but you can see her shoulders tense slightly when she hears your words.
"You're right," Vi finally says. "But that doesn't change the fact that we're still here. Somehow."
You laugh briefly, dryly, without joy. "'Somehow' probably describes it best."
Then you continue walking, leading the group deeper into the darkness.
"Singed found me," you say after a while, almost whispering, as if you don't really want to tell. "I was half dead. Maybe more. I followed him in the hope of saving Vander. I learned under him for a couple of years, but when I realized he was using me and wanted to turn Vander into a weapon... I left."
Your voice breaks slightly at the end, but you force yourself to breathe calmly.
Vi walks beside you, slowly, heavily, as if carrying every word with her. "And yet you're here. Not many would have made it."
"Sometimes I wonder if that's really a blessing," you reply, a slight tremor in your voice. "Surviving doesn't mean you're alive, Vi."
A moment passes before she says anything again. "But you kept going. That's more than some people could do."
You look at her, she looks back. There is this unspoken bond between you—pain, guilt, the past. Both burn, but somehow they also keep you going.
"Keep going straight," you say after a while, your voice firmer again. "I can feel the aura more clearly. It's getting stronger."
Jinx stops briefly, looks back. "Then we're on the right track?"
"Yes," you say. "But what awaits us there... I don't know."
Your words hang in the air, heavy, almost like a prayer.
You keep walking. And as you pass through the shadows of the fence, you feel it again—that connection between you, fragile but real.
Maybe that's the only reason you're still walking.
And just as you finish that thought, you feel it: an aura so pure, so powerful that you instinctively stop. It feels as if every atom around you knows that something incomprehensible is nearby.
The others notice it immediately—Jinx stops abruptly, Vi turns to you, Isha clings to Vanders' leg. You don't say a word, but your gaze goes forward, deep into what looks like a city but isn't.
You step out of the haze, and what you see is not a place of war or violence—it is peaceful. Quiet. There are small huts everywhere, simple structures made of metal and wood, but each one radiates warmth.
People, animals, perhaps other beings too, move calmly between the paths, without haste, without fear. No quarrels, no mistrust. It is as if the whole place is breathing – as if it were alive itself.
A figure emerges, calm. The gaze is not aggressive, but something about it immediately tells you that this man is not an individual. His eyes seem empty, like mirrors of a mind that is not just one.
You immediately recognize the principle...
This guy belongs to a swarm consciousness.
"Welcome," he says, his voice so steady it sounds almost mechanical. "You are standing on sacred ground. Lay down your weapons."
Vi glances at you briefly, then slowly places her gloves on the ground. Vander follows suit, calmly, and Jinx just groans in annoyance before putting down her pistol. Isha looks at you, smiles—that small, almost defiantly innocent smile—and you see her hide something in her pocket.
You say nothing.
You just pretend you didn't notice and smile back at her.
Then, suddenly, the man speaks again—this time with an emphasis that makes you freeze. "You took your time, L/N."
Your heart skips a beat.
Slowly, almost automatically, you lift your head and look him straight in the eye. The others turn to you in surprise, Jinx's eyes widen, Vi frowns.
"How..." you whisper, barely audibly, "how do you know that name?"
A slight smile flits across the man's face, barely perceptible, but there. "I was already expecting you."
And in that moment, you recognize the aura. It hits you like a blow. The way it pulsates, the way it feels—familiar, but old. Rough. False and yet real.
Memories flood back to you, images, voices, smells—the old laboratories, the smell of oil and metal, the sharp commands, Singed's cool voice. Two students. Two experiments.
One left him. The other stayed.
You breathe heavily, your body tenses, your gaze fixed on the figure in front of you.
"It can't be..." you murmur.
But you already know. That aura – it's unmistakable.
"You..." you whisper.
"Viktor."
Singe's other apprentice.
---
And another glorious ending.
The fact that you saw Isha not dropping something will play a decisive role in the future—and ultimately even lead to your downfall.
I have now planned out almost the entire story, although I find it a shame that so many of my ideas will probably never make it into the finished work.
I don't want to say much more – I've already mentioned most of it in other stories.
So simply: thank you for reading.
The battle continues - albeit not directly. Instead, you dive deep into your past: The battle in the snow, your first steps as a true wizard, and the encounter with a teacher who shaped you then and now.
---
I'll keep this short today - unfortunately I'm quite ill.
The chapter has not been proofread, so please let me know if you notice any mistakes. I'll correct them as soon as I feel better.
A double update was actually planned, but the sudden illness prevented that. At least you'll get a chapter today.
Enjoy reading - feedback is always welcome!
Snow.
Icy cold, white, completely untouched.
The sky gray, the light dim, as if even the sun doesn't dare to see this place. The air is heavy with cold, every breath cuts into your lungs like a knife.
Icy winds chase over the hills and through the valley, the water in the air crystallizes, falls to the ground, turns to snow - an endless succession of seconds, frozen in time.
But in the middle of this valley, in the middle of white, pure nothingness, lies someone.
You.
Your face pressed into the snow, blood seeping from your chest, creeping through the tissue, running in thin lines over your ribs and staining the immaculate ground red in slow streaks.
Your body lies there as if it had given up. The skin pale, the eyes closed, and yet there is something there. A soft, flickering glow, barely visible - your aura. Still warm. Still there.
Like a last remnant of hope that refuses to die. It pulsates faintly around you, wafer-thin, a last shell of protection and defiance, as if to tell even death to be patient.
And then you move.
Not quickly. Not with strength. But with will.
Your fingers dig into the frozen ground, forcing themselves through the pain, through the weight of your own body. Your breath comes in gasps, each one a desperate confession: I'm still here. I am not dead. Not yet.
Slowly you push yourself up, your elbows trembling, blood dripping from your forehead, the snow crunching beneath you as if you were fighting the world itself. You straighten up, not fully, but enough to lift your head, enough to see.
Your eyes open, slowly, burning - and immediately your gaze begins to search.
Where am I... what was...?
Memories cut up your thoughts in images, not chronological, not sorted: The impact. The bullet. The aura. The red explosion in your body. The voice you heard before everything went black.
And now you're here.
Alone. In the snow. Surrounded by silence.
But you can feel it. Something is still here. Somewhere, in the white of this world. You didn't get up for nothing.
You push yourself up further, bring one knee under your body, feel inside the coat with a trembling hand, search for the shape, the weight, the metal.
Your steel ball.
Your fingers slowly close around it, around the cold metal in your coat pocket, and your posture changes. You observe. Slowly, deliberately, every muscle in your body under tension, your breathing shallow, concentrated.
Your eyes glide over the white sea, over every contour in the snow, every movement in the mist.
You walk on. Carefully. Your legs are still heavy, the pain is still there - but you can feel the wound slowly closing. It's not normal. Your aura is working at full speed, repairing, sealing, pulling threads through your flesh like a needle through fabric. It burns, but it lives. And you with it.
But then you feel it.
An aura. Not a simple one. Not the kind you're used to. Nasty. Old. Heavy.
What the-!
Your head jerks to the side, to where she's coming from, but there's nothing there. Only wind. Only snow. Only silence. But your heart is beating faster now. Your right arm is tingling, an uncomfortable tugging at the tendons, as if the Corpse's arm is trying to tell you something.
You lower your gaze.
Latin letters. Burnt in. Faintly glowing. They trace a single word on your forearm, between veins and scars:
"Run."
You feel your throat go dry. Before you can lift your head, the aura strikes again, this time closer, more piercing, as if it were reaching right through you. You tear your gaze forward - and now you see it.
Slowly, someone steps out of the snowstorm.
Tall. Broad. Wrapped in a dark, tattered coat that is pulled low over his face. No skin visible, no eyes, no mouth - just the hint of a presence that doesn't belong in this world.
The snowflakes seem to avoid the person, as if even the storm is afraid to touch it.
You immediately get into position. Not to attack - to retreat.
Your whole body screams in your face that you don't stand a chance. This aura isn't just deadly, it's absolute. It doesn't want to fight. It wants to finish. And you are the target.
I have to get out of here fast! I can't fight this!
You remember that you actually wanted to go to Noxus. That you had a mission. That there was a goal, something you wanted to do, something that was important.
But now?!
Now it's all about one thing: survival.
You turn around, literally flinging yourself back into motion. Your legs are working again, your breath is coming out like smoke from a machine, and your mind is spinning.
You have to get out of here. You need time. You need a plan.
Because if you stay, you'll die.
And dying - that's still the most boring option in this world.
For a tiny moment, barely longer than a breath, your mind allows itself a picture. No plan, no fight, no strategy - just faces.
Powder, laughing and crying at the same time. Vi, with her gaze that burns and protects at the same time.
Vander, who was a father, even though he didn't have to be one. Claggor, with his calm, honest smile. Mylo, who was annoyed and yet never left.
And there you stand, in the middle of the icy desert, hope and fear buried in your chest at the same time, and you almost - just almost - think you've escaped the danger.
But then... there she is.
Not out of the fog. Not out of the snow. Right in front of you. As if out of nowhere.
The hood. The coat. The aura.
That's far too fast!
Your body starts to move slowly, and you can already see it - the fist. It doesn't come like an ordinary punch, swift as an arrow, deadly aimed at your chest. There is no time to dodge, so you react as you always do when there is no choice:
You survive.
With an inner command, you pull together 80% of your entire aura, pressing it against your arms, letting it crawl into your flesh like a second skin, reinforcing every bone, every muscle, every nerve, blocking the blow.
Your arms intercept it, just in time, but the force is so powerful that your stomach - which lies directly behind the blockade - vibrates as if it were bursting from the inside.
Reflexively, you channel 10% of your aura into your skull to prevent your own neck from buckling under the impact, and the last 10% you send into your legs, not out of defense, but out of necessity.
If I fall now, if I touch the snow, even for a moment, that opponent - whatever he is - will launch the next attack right then.
Your knees shake, the pain in your chest is searing, biting, the impact has taken your breath away, but you stand still. Just barely.
A growling sound leaves your throat, not out of pain - out of anger. Your gaze lifts, slowly, focused. The hood is still pulled low, you recognize no facial expression, no face, no intention.
You understand. Directly. Instinctively.
I don't stand a chance in a direct exchange of blows. Not even close. The hit just now wasn't a warning shot, it wasn't a test - it was a real blow, and if it hadn't only hit me halfway, this would have been the end of me.
That punch just now... it was at least three times as strong as one from Vander if he doesn't hold back. I don't stand a chance against this person.
Your right arm is shaking, even though it's still supported by Aura, and a fine, metallic taste runs across your tongue - blood. It drips from the corner of your mouth, hot and red on the icy snow.
You blocked, you reacted, you did what you could... and yet the damage was inevitable.
This person is superior to me in everything. More aura. Better technique. More precise movement. Better weapons, even if I haven't quite seen them yet, at least a sniper.
And above all, more experience...that doesn't look good.
You can feel it in every little detail. The posture. The calmness. The way your opponent doesn't follow up because he doesn't have to. Because he knows you're at your limit.
You're in a losing game. In a fight in which, statistically speaking, you should have been dead long ago. The odds are pathetically against you, ridiculously low even, and your whole body is screaming at you to run, to flee, to disappear, to go somewhere, just away.
But you don't move.
Because deep inside you there is something that screams louder than any fear. Clearer. Colder. More relentless.
This world is wrong.
No... A battle between mages is not decided by aura quantity or brute strength. Not alone. Never alone.
Your gaze remains fixed. Your body screams, your bones throb dully under the weight of the blow, but your mind works. Quickly. Precisely. You think back - to all the situations in which you thought you were lost. Of all the fights in which you survived, even though everything spoke against it. Not because you were stronger. But because you thought faster. Because you read what the other person was going to do before they knew it themselves. Because you understood.
A fight is not decided by the one who has the most strength. A fight is decided by the one who can read his opponent. Who recognizes his patterns, his intentions, his structure. You breathe in. Deeply. And observe.
The figure is still standing in front of you. Immobile. No trembling, no hesitation. A machine in a human body. Definitely not a thug. Not a berserker. A tactician.
First the distance: the shot. Then the close combat. The aim was never to kill you quickly, but to control you. To measure your reactions. To throw you off balance.
The person in front of you is taller. Wider. Massively physically superior. And that's not even an assumption - it's a fact that your aching arm has already beaten into your head. But you see more.
The right arm. Most of the aura flows there. You can feel it. It pulsates even under your coat, like a secret current, hidden and dangerous. You don't see it, you don't have to. There is something there. Maybe a weapon. Maybe... the sniper from earlier. Yes. Exactly that. That goes with everything. A precise, deadly fighter who goes into close combat just to distract you - until he sees the moment. The one mistake. That split second when you stop paying attention to your right arm.
And then you're dead.
Damn.
You hate it.
But if you want to survive this, you're going to have to take a few hits.
So you take another breath, pull your shoulders back, your aura reorganizes, shifts, precisely calculated. You are ready. Not for a victory. But for a game you've played many times before - the game against the odds. And in this game... you've never been bad.
But before you can even form a clear thought, it comes - the shot.
You react automatically. Instinct, no thinking.
Your hand snaps forward, throwing the steel ball into the flight path with precise force. At the same time, you catapult yourself to the side, your aura strengthening your legs by just enough to allow you to escape.
The ball is smashed through - penetrated by a sphere that contains more aura than you have ever felt in a normal person.
This is no ordinary attack... How much aura is in this ball?
The orb only just misses you. A tiny scratch on your side shows you just how close.
But there's no time for relief.
Because as soon as your gaze stabilizes, the figure is right in front of you again. No delay, no hesitation, no room to breathe.
The second blow comes with even greater force, even more direct intent. You do the same as the first time - blocking, shifting, protecting your head and spine, trying to diffuse the damage - but this time it's not enough.
The force penetrates everything.
You go flying.
Your back hits something hard, the snow beneath you gives way, but the rock behind it does not. Pain explodes in your chest. Ribs - at least two, probably more - are broken.
Your lungs are drawing in air with difficulty, your right arm...
Nothing. You can't feel him. Nothing at all.
Corpse part or not - it's numb. Your entire arm hangs uselessly from you. You only have one steel ball left. Just one more.
And your opponent is still standing, unmoving, no sign of exhaustion, no sound, no breath, no weakness.
You spit blood, breathe heavily, pull your leg back slightly, bury your feet in the snow to get a firm grip.
Your gaze lifts, the sky above you gray, heavy and cold, and between the billowing clouds they dance - the snowflakes.
Each one unique, six-pointed, symmetrical. In your head, somewhere between despair and clarity, it clicks: their shape results from the molecular structure of water, from temperature, air pressure, altitude, everything has an influence.
And yet - each of them is different. Just like every fight. Just like every decision you've ever made.
But this desperately clever thinking is just a reflex, a distraction of your survivalist mind. For reality is advancing directly towards you - slowly, surely, fatally.
The silhouette of this figure, this unstoppable force, becomes larger, more tangible, more final with every step. There is no more time.
You think of your teachers, of every single one who once taught you something.
"If you lose, it's not because you're weaker - it's because you can't kill."
"Look before you act. Calculate before you hit."
"You're damn clever, but there are some fights you just can't win."
And yet - no theorem, no rule, no mantra seems to show you the way out of this nightmare.
So there's only one thing left to do: put all your eggs in one basket. One last attack.
When the next shot comes, you have to dodge it. Not just somehow - perfectly. No hesitation, no detour. Straight through.
Close the distance, go into close combat, channel your aura into nothing but pure destruction. You won't get a second shot. Maybe you can't even kill - but maybe it's enough to buy you time. For escape. For life.
And then it comes.
The shot.
No warning. No sound. Just the ripping of the air, the flickering of the aura - and you move.
Immediately.
You run, faster than your broken body should allow. Your aura drives you, no longer cleanly distributed, but focused, raw, dangerous.
The shot grazes you, tearing the skin on your side, but you don't fall - you use the pain to speed up even more.
And then you're there. Right in front of her.
Your only steel ball in your fist, loaded with the last of your aura. You aim for her chest, for her neck, for anything you can hurt - and at the last moment, just when you think you've finally hit it, you see it.
The coat recedes. You see her face.
Long, blonde hair. Cold, clear blue eyes. A face as beautiful as from another world - and all the more deadly for that.
Your thoughts freeze.
And at that very moment - she disappears.
A blink of an eye. Not even that.
And then she's behind you.
You don't feel it. You don't hear it.
It's you.
A single blow, so precise and powerful that your body has no chance to react. It hits you in the back, pushes you into the snow, into the frozen ground below, with a force that breaks bones and pushes every thought out of your skull.
You can barely breathe.
You are lying down. Again.
But your eyes remain open.
This world is wrong.
Back then... it was. You think back - to Powder, Vi, Vander... to the days in the shadows of Zaun, to childhood, laughter, wounds, to all the things that were taken from you before you even knew you had them.
You remember how you promised Powder that you wouldn't die. That you would come back. That you wouldn't become like the others. And yet here you are again. Alone. On the ground. Your body destroyed, your mind fragile, and your heart full of guilt.
You think of Claggor, of Mylo, of Vi's look when everything went up in flames. And then Singed. The moment you thought you'd be saved. The whole thing with Vander and the experiments...
And now? Now you've managed to break free. You survived. You had a goal. The Corpse Parts. The map. The next part, right in Noxus. Just one more step... and you'd be there.
But instead, you're lying in the snow. In your own blood. And you know what's coming. You know how it ends.
You can feel it, the presence above you. Not out of hate. Not out of mercy. Only cold. Purposeful.
"I have to kill you..." The voice is female. Calm. Controlled. No anger. No regret. "Intruders are not welcome in Noxus... But I must say, for your age, you're not bad."
A hint of recognition - or arrogance. You can't interpret it. You don't want to either. Your muscles twitch, your aura is barely perceptible, the blood freezes beneath you.
You feel like you did back then. The bomb. The cold. The weight of the rubble above you. The dirt in your throat as you were buried, alive, while outside the world continued to burn.
And now... buried again. Only this time it's not a bomb. Not a pile of rubble. But a will. A human being. An opponent you can't defeat.
Your breath flickers, your heart beats in your throat and your vision blurs.
Your breath flickers, your heart beats in your throat and your vision blurs.
Am I really going to die here in this ice land? Not even arrived in Noxus, still only a part of the Corpse, and even that won't save me?
You force your eyes to open as wide as your body will allow and look up. The ice, the sky, this icy clear air - everything suddenly seems surreal, like a memory. And then you hear her voice.
"You had potential..." she says, almost like a statement, a judgment. "But that's it."
For a moment, everything is black. No feeling. No pain. No light. Your body no longer functions, as if something has shut down. Only your mind... your brain continues to work as the last remnant of what you were.
And you remember. Of every single damn person who talked you into that potential. Of the voices that said you were special - only to drop you again.
The teachers who saw your aura, your ability to analyze - and gave up on you anyway.
To your family. Your real parents.
The siblings who treated you like a mistake, like you were never a part of them.
And then Singed. The way he looked at you like an experiment, not a person. How he said "potential" like it was a chemical term, a label, not a belief in you. And how you believed it anyway. Despite everything.
You hear the click of her gun. She takes aim. The Slayer, cold as the snow around you, raises her sniper, ready to obliterate you.
But then it happens.
Her finger moves - but before the shot rings out, she sees something. A bullet. A rotating, shimmering ball of pure metal, heading straight for her.
She reacts immediately, the sniper folds downwards, mechanically forming itself into a shield that opens up in milliseconds. The steel ball slams into it, sparks fly, the force drives her back half a step.
But when she straightens up again and forms the shield back, it's too late - you've disappeared.
Her gaze wanders across the snowfield, and then she sees you - many meters away, already back on your feet, the blood frozen on your clothes, your stance stable, your eyes glowing like fire. Determined. On fire. No longer fighting to survive... but fighting back.
She narrows her eyes, thinks for a moment she's seeing a hallucination. But then she looks down - and there it is. Her own bullet. The one that went through your chest before. It never disappeared into the snow. You had it. All the time.
You perfected the moment. You watched her, analyzed every move, every defense, every tilt of her aura.
You fooled her, waited, turned your own orb against her - and for that fraction of time... you defeated her. Not with strength. But with your mind.
Her expression doesn't change, but you can feel it. She is startled. Confused. Impressed. And - even if she would never admit it - for a moment... she's scared.
"Started getting serious, have we?" she says calmly, but her voice carries a different weight. No more mockery. No more games. Just clarity.
You stand face to face for good, the snow falling silently between you, as if the world itself has fallen silent for this moment. No movement, just the silent, deadly distance.
She folds back the shield, the sniper rises back into position, the barrel pointed at your heart.
And you? You hardly move at all. You don't think, you don't calculate, you don't plan. You wait. Your eyes are not on her, but on the snow. On the flakes dancing through the air. On the broken ice she had smashed you into minutes ago, as if it had been the bottom of your defeat.
You can see it between the flakes - a rectangle. Perfect. Geometric. As if the snowflakes themselves had decided to form a structure.
You don't know it, but this shape... this pattern... will one day be the basis for a technology that will change the world. For hextech. For magic in technology. For the future.
But all that matters now is this one moment.
Then it comes.
The shot.
She pulls the trigger - fast, precise, absolutely lethal. You react. Not with a step. Not with a flinch. Just with your arm. Only with your last steel ball.
You feel something moving in your right arm, the heat of the Corpse spreading. He gives you his power. His aura. You don't quite understand it - but it's too much to ignore.
Pure, raw energy gathers in your throw, channeled through every fiber of your body. The ball leaves your hand with a force you've never felt before.
Your eyes fix on the snowflakes. The pattern. The world. And then here.
The steel ball flies. The Sniper's bullet hits it, shatters against it like glass against stone, shatters in a blaze of light and cold. The steel ball flies on, straight at her head, and you see her shudder - aura gathers in front of her forehead in a split second, an impenetrable barrier.
But it was never your target. At the very last second, the trajectory tilts, the steel ball turns slightly, changing course.
Not the head. The shoulder.
She reacted too late.
Only a fraction of her aura was there, a reflex, an attempt to block the ball's path - but too little. Far too little. The steel ball drills into her shoulder, tearing through tissue, bone, muscle like paper, ripping through her aura like a storm through silk.
A strangled sound escapes her, not a scream but a growl, mixed with anger and shock. She staggers back. Blood splatters on the snow, steaming in the cold, a dark contrast to the perfect white.
Standstill.
A moment in which everything freezes. Her gaze - to you. Your gaze - to her. Nothing moves anymore. Just the steel slowly rolling out in the snow.
You have scored.
And she knows it.
You stare at each other, seconds stretch into eternities. Nothing happens. Not a step, not a word, not a breath too much.
You perceive your surroundings clearly - the wind eating through the trees, the crunching of the snow beneath you, the metallic clink as something frozen breaks somewhere.
But none of it really gets through to you. Everything is far away. Only she is there. Only you.
Her gaze remains fixed on you, fixed, almost incredulous. And then, without a word, she turns slightly to the side, her coat billowing briefly as she looks down into the snow. To your steel ball. Blood is on it - her blood. And that is enough to tell her everything that words cannot express.
Her eyes narrow, not out of anger, but out of analysis. Out of realization.
You've hit her shoulder - the right one. The dominant one. She can no longer shoot. Her greatest weapon has been taken from her.
And even worse: you didn't do it by accident. You knew it. You understood that she relies on control, on safe distance, on using her aura precisely where it is needed.
She doesn't fight like an animal. She fights like a tactician. But you've seen through her, you've been able to read her as if she were an open book.
And all this without ever having used your full aura for a single attack.
You have won.
But at the very moment this thought settles in her mind - you fall. Just like that. No sound. No curse. No grab for support.
Your body collapses, falls forward, and the snow swallows you up as if you had never been there.
Silence.
She's still standing, not moving. Only her gaze flickers briefly, confused, then alert. Slowly she walks closer, her steps crunching under the weight of her decision.
She stops, directly above you, your body half-submerged in the snow, your aura barely perceptible. No more shield against the cold. No focus. No resistance.
You've put everything into this one throw.
She understands. And that's why she's thinking about it. Killing you.
It would be easy. No risk. No consequences. You're already lying on the ground. And yet... she doesn't do it.
"I'm going to leave now. South of here, about four hundred meters, there's an ice cave." Her voice is calm, controlled, but it carries weight. "If you want to die, stay here. If you want to live... find me there."
No looking back. No threat. Just an offer that sounds like a command. She turns, takes the first step, the snow crunching under her boot.
Then.
A sound. Quiet, but heavy. Something shifts, lifts - she stops immediately, turns around in a flash, instinctively, ready for the blow, the ambush.
But there you are again.
Smeared with blood running down your mouth, trembling, your shoulders heavy, your breathing shallow - but you stand. Your knees are barely supporting you, your vision is blurred, but you don't flinch. Not this time.
And for the first time... she reacts. Slight astonishment flashes in her gaze, barely perceptible, but it's there. No words. No acknowledgement.
She turns around again, slower, moves forward. And you follow. Steps in her tracks, through the snowfield, which now looks more like a battlefield than a valley.
Nobody talks. Nobody has to.
The footsteps echo in the narrow cave, muffled by the ice. You arrive, the light outside slowly fading, replaced by the pale glow refracted on the smooth walls.
She stops, takes off her coat - slowly, in a controlled manner, like someone who is used to doing every move with purpose. Underneath: a white shirt, wide open at the sleeves, tucked into dark trousers, her boots still damp from the snow.
Her skin glistens slightly from sweat, from the blood on her shoulder, which she now tends to without a word. She sits down, leans against the cave wall, opens a suitcase that was previously hidden in a seam of her coat - a precise preparation, one that shows you: she knew she would survive.
You stop at the entrance. Vigilant. Your body aches, but your gaze remains on her. Not just because she's strong. Not just because she almost killed you.
It's also because something about her won't let you go. The way she moves. The aura it radiates. The cold that doesn't just come from the ice.
Then, without looking up, she speaks.
"Why do you want to go to Noxus?"
You swallow, briefly, your hand still at your side where the blood sticks to your clothes. You don't answer right away - not because you don't know what to say, but because you know it counts. Every word.
"I'm looking for something."
She looks to the side, only fleetingly, her blue eyes barely visible beneath the light hair that falls across her face. No smile, no sneer. Just observation.
And then she turns back to her wound, dragging a needle through the flesh without batting an eyelid.
You watch her. Even more: you analyze. This woman is like you. One who doesn't talk because she doesn't need words. One who listens, who reads - not texts, but people.
And that means: every word you say from now on can be used against you. Every movement, every gesture will be judged.
One wrong sentence and you're back in the snow.
And yet... you're here. In this cave, with her. Instead of disappearing when you were able to stand again, instead of quietly sneaking back into the white mist, you followed her. Step by step. Without words.
Why actually?
You really ask yourself that, still standing silently in the semi-darkness, your gaze never leaving her. Was it curiosity? Pure survival instinct? Or something else - something deeper that you can't grasp?
As if reading your mind, she speaks without looking at you.
"You would have died out there." The words hit you matter-of-factly, not like a warning, more like a simple fact. "With your aura reserves... you would have frozen to death that night at the latest."
You say nothing, giving her no room to reach further into your head. But she just keeps talking, slower now, calmer, as she tightens the stitching on her shoulder.
"I don't know where you got that last load of aura from. And honestly, I don't want to know."
Your gaze narrows only slightly, but your body reacts immediately. Slowly, your right arm slides deeper into your coat, unobtrusively, naturally - but purposefully.
You don't want her to see what's written there. The Latin characters that stretch across your arm, burning, alive. You know she would ask. And you know you wouldn't answer.
But she sees the gesture. And although she's not looking directly at you, she seems to notice it. Maybe she feels the slight change in the aura around you. Maybe she's just too good at reading people.
Her voice becomes firmer.
"I know a lot of hunters. Mages. Royal ones, too. Some work with sigils, conditions, time windows. I've seen it all. But I'll tell you one thing: whatever you have inside you... you shouldn't waste it now."
Now she turns to you, her eyes calm, penetrating.
"You have too much potential."
You sense that she means it. No trick, no manipulation. Just a clear statement.
But you don't say anything. Not now. Not here. And as your fingers claw even deeper into the fabric of your coat, you know: This woman has you figured out. Maybe not completely. Not yet.
But she has read you - like a hunter reads his prey. And that alone makes her dangerous.
You still remain silent, but your gaze remains fixed on her. And at some point, something breaks out in you, not out of weakness, but out of this burning need to at least understand what this was all about.
Your body is still heavy, your aura weak, but your voice cuts clearly through the silence.
"My name is Y/N..." - you say your name, not loudly, not proudly, just with the calmness of a survivor. "Why did you want to kill me?"
She is just tying the last strip of cloth around her shoulder, then slowly stands up and stretches briefly. Only then does she begin to speak. Her voice is quieter, deeper than before, no longer as distant - but by no means less controlled.
"I was once a servant of the king. Direct sub-commissioner. Just one floor below the bodyguards." She runs the flat of her hand through her long, blonde hair, which falls slightly disheveled over her shoulders.
As she moves, you can see it more clearly - the body, infused with strength, every muscle part an expression of discipline, training, experience. Not an ounce is too much.
"But the kingdom..." Her voice breaks in the air for a tiny moment, imperceptible to everyone, but for you, who pay attention to every detail, it's there. "...Has changed."
She takes a few steps towards the cave wall, placing her hand against the cold rock, but glances at you out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm often out here. Intercept people who just want to get into the country. Smugglers, spies... hopefuls. Most of them don't turn back."
Then, slowly, almost with a hint of respect in his voice: "But you're the first... to make it."
You blink, not from exhaustion, but from genuine confusion. Something inside you tightens - a knot that can no longer be ignored. "What... what's the political situation in Noxus right now?"
She turns her head away. And then comes just one word.
"Complicated."
You want to ask more, but she beats you to it, turns back to you, takes a step closer - not threateningly, just definitively.
"My name is Grimm." Short. No unnecessary syllables, no title, no pride. Just this one name. "So... do you believe in the impossible?"
Freeing Jinx's followers proves to be more difficult than expected - because you come across creatures you would rather not have met.
A fight with a monster seems inevitable. But strangely enough, this creature seems... familiar.
This world is wrong.
That has always been the thesis that you have constantly repeated in your head.
It was not a realization from a specific event, not a last thought of a lost battle, not a panic reaction or melodramatic phrase. It was simply always there.
Whether in quiet moments, during your travels, on the top of a mountain while looking at the valley below, during training with a new mentor, while focusing aura and magic, in fights, defeats or even in victories - this sentence was always present.
This world is wrong.
On the one hand, people are starving on the streets, in run-down alleyways and cellars, while on the other, children sit in gold-decorated chairs, throw away their food and have never had to lift a finger.
War and peace rotate in an endless cycle, governments and systems break, and yet everyone just watches. They say it's just the way of the world. That is progress. Order. But you've known better for a long time:
It's not the people who are wrong. It's the world. The world is wrong.
Back then, with your "real" family, it was most obvious. Your siblings, the kids in the neighborhood, your parents - they weren't intentionally cruel, but that didn't make it any better.
Their world was small, stuck, rotten, and they were proud of it. You could have tried to fit in. But what was the point? You weren't wrong. The world was wrong.
"Well, that only leaves the fun option." Jinx's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you had almost forgotten what was happening.
You blink, look ahead. You're in one of the darker districts of Piltover, the streets narrower, the lamps further apart, the fog thicker. The perfect place for an attack - or an ambush.
Your destination is clear: prison. Isha. Restoration. Perhaps even revenge. But before you can storm the prison, you have to reach it.
And so you sneak through the shadows like three half-mad criminals, each with their own broken background story: Sevika, Jinx and you.
You stop at a crossroads, directly in front of you, just a few meters away, stands a single enforcer in heavy uniform. Not an amateur, but not a veteran either.
"Should we let them catch us?" whispers Jinx, with a grin you know very well.
"Are you crazy?! They're going to arrest us, how are you going to break out and get the others out too?" Sevika hisses, quietly, but with enough anger that you could almost hear her across the street.
Jinx just shrugs her shoulders and pushes past her - typical. She doesn't ask questions to get answers. She asks questions to spread chaos.
You don't need a plan. It was clear to you long ago. And for Jinx too, apparently, because before you can say anything, she's already turned the corner, running straight towards the enforcer and raising her hands theatrically above her head.
"Ha! It's me..." she calls into the silence, in an exaggerated voice, like an actress on a stale stage. "Your vile villainess. The author of your nightmares. The, uh, dread of your-"
"Who are you?" the enforcer interrupts dryly.
There is silence for a moment, as if the scene before you has frozen. You and Sevika look at each other, both with that look of utter irritation on your faces, before your eyes wander back to the unforgettable silhouette of Jinx standing in the middle of the street in her usual exaggerated pose.
"Mm, Jinx?" she asks as she presents herself with both hands as if she were auditioning for a play.
"Yeah, never heard that before." The enforcer barely bats an eyelid, his voice bored, almost annoyed.
Jinx, on the other hand, slowly raises an eyebrow, incredulous, as if she had just received an insult.
"Does she think it's a joke?" hisses Sevika next to you.
"No idea... apparently." You keep your eyes on the scene, your voice quiet, analytical as ever. "There must have been a lot of people disguising themselves as Jinx during the riots. Rebellion by imitation. No wonder she's suspicious."
"Do you think we should go in between?" asks Sevika with a sudden seriousness in her voice.
You don't answer immediately. Your eyes remain fixed on the scene, watchful, while your right hand slowly slips into your coat pocket. Your fingers are already clutching one of the steel balls.
"You're not gonna haul me in? Claim the prize? Be the big hero?" Jinx's voice is almost amused now, she continues to play the part, although you can sense that she is beginning to lose patience.
And then it hits you. Not what was said. It's what it reminds you of. Lock you up. Lock away. The mission. Isha.
You feel the grip on your steel ball tighten. No mere aura of reflex - this time you concentrate. Light, targeted magic settles over the metal and stabilizes the rotation.
You can still hear Jinx say something back, but the words blur.
"You look like a half-eaten circus ten-"
He doesn't manage to finish the set. Not with the impact of your steel ball on the back of his neck. A clean, spinning impact - almost invisible if you don't look closely - and yet devastating.
The enforcer topples forward, his body loses its balance and hits the pavement with a thud. Motionless.
"Ugh! I am Jinx," Jinx calls out, glancing over her shoulder as if she finally feels vindicated.
Your steel ball cuts back through the air, a clean line. You catch it effortlessly, letting it disappear into your coat pocket as if nothing had happened.
"About time..." Sevika mutters, before striding past you with a weary sigh.
---
With Jinx fully dressed in the Enforcer uniform, you are now sitting in one of these cool, metallic transport wagons that will take you straight to prison.
The room is cold, vibrates slightly from the rattling of the wheels on the rails and, in its monotony, looks like a coffin on wheels. Everything in gray, everything in silence.
Jinx leans casually against the cold wall of the carriage, her uniform a little too big, her belt slightly askew, as if she wants to express her chaos even in this role. She pulls Sevika - bound and with a lowered gaze - down onto the bench with a jerk, where she sits down with her arms folded in obvious displeasure.
You yourself stand next to it, perfectly still, your hood pulled low over your face, parts of another Enforcer uniform pulled over your coat and modified with magic.
The fabrics are overlaid with small, almost invisible illusion fields that would deceive even experienced eyes.
Your hands rest deep in your coat pockets, thumbs wrapped around the steel balls, ready to strike at the slightest irregularity. Every muscle in your body is prepared, even if your gaze seems half tired, half absent.
An enforcer at the front of the wagon leans slightly to one side, trying to peer through the milky field of vision in Jinx's helmet mask. He seems to know the person who is usually under this uniform. Maybe a colleague, maybe more, but he's looking at her as if he wants to convey some kind of silent message.
But Jinx is Jinx.
She pulls her arm up wordlessly, sticks out her middle finger, slowly, provocatively. The enforcer flinches, averts his eyes, says nothing more - but his silence screams.
A low rumble echoes through the steel walls, rhythmic and distant. The train picks up speed.
For a brief moment, between the noises and the metallic swinging of the clutches, your gaze glides across the room, past the staring backs of the other passengers and into your thoughts.
You think about the world out there. Of the borders you have crossed. The lands you have visited, the mountains you have crossed, the deserts you have survived. The kingdoms with their own forms of magic, their own laws. And then you think of Powder - of Jinx - who has never seen any of this.
Sitting here as if she'd seen it all, even though she'd hardly ever gotten out of the labyrinth of smoke, misery and madness called the fence.
But as your gaze lingers on Sevika, her shoulders heavy, her head slightly lowered, her face as rigid as stone, images rise up in your mind. Memories. Of Silco. Of Vander. Of Singed. Of Vi. And Isha again. Isha again and again.
And you remember what really counts. What has always mattered.
The most important thing is right in front of you. In prison. Behind walls, between cells, perhaps shackled, perhaps alone. Isha. Your Isha. And no one - no enforcer, no uniform, no system - will take her away from you. Not this time.
---
"Whoa! Big mama, how'd you take her in?" The man in front of you - a muscle-bound closet who probably believes that authority grows in proportion to the size of his biceps - and although he grins arrogantly, inside he's probably only half as sure as he pretends to be.
The "boss" of Stillwater, even if you realized from his first gesture that he's nothing more than a pompous bouncer with too much brawn instead of brains and too little knowledge.
As always, you stay in the background, standing slightly to the side, a little too far to the right, in the shadow of the wall - the perfect angle to take the air out of any room with a well-aimed blow, if necessary.
The aura inside you is calm but tense, like a taut string waiting for its impulse. Your gaze rests on the man, but your face remains hidden deep under your hood.
Jinx, completely in character, clears her throat theatrically and then answers dryly: "I gave her a choice between this or a swim in the harbor."
She grabs Sevika by the shoulder and demonstratively pulls her towards her, while Sevika plays along with a half-lowered gaze and feigned resignation - a spectacle that even a blind person would notice, but in this world even blind people are often too comfortable to look.
"Hm, and who are you?" he then asks, and for a moment a slight twitch creeps through your spine, not from surprise, but because you momentarily forget that you were even recognized as someone.
You lower your head a little more so that the glow of your aura doesn't seep through the thin fabric and answer calmly, almost mechanically: "A messenger from the Council."
"A messenger...?" he repeats, his voice thick as old honey. "Didn't know they needed one of those."
You don't answer at first. Then you raise your head minimally, just enough to give him the feeling of being seen - while you are actually scanning the room.
Everything is calculated. And when you finally speak again, you know exactly what you are saying, why you are saying it and what effect it will have.
"The Council recently set up a shadow department. Technically, we operate outside the military structures - they call it 'Discreet Coordination'. The aim is to transfer information and sensitive resources between enforcer stations and Council members without compromising public order. People like me move around inconspicuously, register internal security gaps, monitor the moral stability of the line forces and report structural anomalies to the Executive Committee. We are currently in phase three of the initiative, which means that my presence..." - you are now looking him full in the face - "...should not be questioned any further."
Silence.
The man stands there, his gaze blank, his brain busy sorting out your words. Not a hint of irony left on his face. Only confusion.
Perfect. What an idiot.
Sevika exhales audibly, while Jinx wears a slight grin under his helmet. You remain silent and continue to move, slowly, under control. Because you got exactly what you wanted: Access.
But just as you take the next step, it hits you like a shock:
Pure evil.
You don't freeze because you're weak. You don't forget to breathe because you'd be stupid. You hold your breath because your body realizes in milliseconds that what's coming towards you is dangerous.
Instinctively, you wrap your aura around yourself like a second skin, keeping it to a minimum and concealing anything that could betray you without disarming yourself. All of this happens before your rational thinking even sets in again. Experience. Survival instinct.
Your gaze flickers to the right, where one of the massive doors is just opening and several soldiers are marching out - but it's not them.
It's her.
The woman who moves in the center like a shadow, so calm in her movements that it almost borders on arrogance.
Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, but not clumsy - she carries her strength like a practiced hunter carries his blade. The aura that emanates from her is unnaturally calm, condensed, folded into itself like an animal that you only have to wake up to make it explode.
She is strong.
You minimally lower your gaze, play the silent supporting actor in a role that you have already played too often, while you analyze, save and weigh up every second.
Jinx next to you, completely herself, has long since placed her hand on one of her gadgets - an inconspicuous gesture for those who don't know it, but you can see it. She has felt it too.
And you know it now: this woman is a problem. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But she will turn up again. Because people like her always turn up.
You have encountered many things on your travels, and some of them were real monsters.
People who had such a huge amount of aura that practically no one could hurt them without magic tricks.
People who were so smart that they could plan and tactic a threat even with incredibly little aura.
People who were strategically as well as with their aura in perfect unity and a hit could be Lethal.
Her aura is neither that of a monster nor that of a tactician. She is... something else. Complete in itself. Complete. As if she didn't need magic to be deadly.
You know such creatures - not many, but enough to know that you should never underestimate them.
She glances at you for just a moment, maybe a split second too long, and although she pays you no discernible attention, there's this dull feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you she's noticed you. Not recognized. Not seen through. But sensed.
And while you move slightly, barely betraying in your posture or gaze how attentive you are, only a quiet statement is repeated in your head, as cold and clear as the first blow of a coming storm:
We'll meet again. And the next time - it might be in a fight.
"Cell Block C." The tall man just points with his chin and lets his gaze linger on you for a strangely long time, as if he's trying to categorize you.
You nod curtly, not taking your eyes off him as you walk on.
The air becomes heavier the deeper you go. The elevator jolts, a muffled whine from the shafts through which it transports you. No one says anything, not even Jinx, which is rare enough. Sevika leans against the wall and gives you the occasional sideways glance, but you ignore her.
You're still tense inside, not because of the task - you know you can do it - but because of what's about to happen. Isha.
As the doors open, you move quickly. Your footsteps echo across the cold stone floor and then, just before you reach the target section, you bump into two enforcers who are actually sitting opposite each other on the floor and have set up a makeshift chess game.
The game ends faster than they can react. Two precise, silent attacks, a kick, a well-aimed throw - they go down without a sound. You keep running.
You are deep enough. Deep enough that no light from above can get through, and the hum of the power lines vibrates softly in your skulls. Jinx rips off the Enforcer armor with a loud groan.
"Shit, this crap was squeezing me," she growls and throws the heavy thing on the floor. "Hey, really great, the way you fucked that guy over! You should have taken his look!" She laughs softly, her grin gleaming even in the gloom.
"Had to think of something quickly." Your voice remains calm, almost bored - but you notice for yourself how your pulse is still racing.
"Can you two focus?" Sevika sounds annoyed as always, but not out of principle - but because she knows how serious things can get down here.
"Of course, of course." Jinx waves it off, but you know she's ready.
Jinx takes a deep breath. You turn your head, scan the surroundings, feel the auras, all these imprisoned lives, marked by fear, by disappointment. It reeks of despair down here. And that's exactly why you're here.
You reach the control panel. Jinx immediately grabs it, you cover her while Sevika secures the end of the corridor. The large lever squeaks as she pulls it down. Then a loud metallic clatter - and all the doors spring open at the same time.
Chaos breaks out. Voices are raised, chains rattle, barred doors clang against walls. Jinx laughs. Of course she laughs.
"Here we are, your big fat heroes!" she calls out into the corridor, arms outstretched as if you were standing on a stage. You stand next to her, silent as ever, looking ahead.
The barred doors crash back, one after the other, metal on metal, echoing dully in the corridors - but no one speaks. No one cheers. No one screams. It is unnatural, absolute silence.
The first slowly emerge from their cells. Hesitantly. Suspiciously. A woman stops for a moment, puts a hand on your shoulder, then on Jinx's, as if to bless something - or to thank you without saying it.
Others follow, do the same, like a silent rite. Shoulder. Next. Shoulder. Further. Nobody says a word.
Jinx is already jumping off, running past the cells as if guided by an invisible instinct, her eyes wide, searching, almost panicked.
But you... you're walking in the other direction. Slowly. Purposefully. Your senses sharpened, focused on this one, faint spark of aura that shimmers at the edge of your perception like a light in the darkness. Barely perceptible - but there. Fragile. And yet unmistakable.
She follows you. Of course she does. She knows that you know where Isha is. And you'll find her.
All words disappear from your mind when you see her: small, trembling, alone in a cell that seems far too big for her body.
The coldness of this room breaks your heart in a single moment. You pull the door open faster than you can consciously act, fall to your knees and pull her close to you.
And she? She immediately reaches for you, clings to you as if she's afraid you'll disappear again, as if this is a dream that can be lost with the next breath.
You feel Jinx drop down beside you, her arms wrapping around you both, and for a tiny, barely existent moment, you all three embrace.
And for the first time, after all the blood, all the dirt, all the breaking... you're just there. No fight, no plan, no death - just warmth. Only support. Only life.
A tear runs down your face. You don't even notice them. And you are happy. Really, honestly, calmly - happy.
But the peace doesn't last long.
You feel it first. Before even a sound is heard: raw aura, direct and deadly, to an extent that cannot be human. It cuts through your perception.
The presence of enforcers, many, heavily armed, organized - but that's not what makes your heart stand still. It's something else. Something... wrong.
You let go of Isha, your fingers slowly detach from her back, and Jinx does the same. They both look at you, confused, almost frightened, but your gaze tells them everything. They know it. Even before you hear the first step.
You reach into your coat pocket. Your fingers wrap around the cool metal ball of your steel ball and you slowly begin to channel aura into it.
Then they hear it too. The sounds. First distant, then closer: heavy boots on steel, in perfect time, accompanied by a deep vibration in the walls. Enforcers. Many of them. They are approaching. Coordinated. Hard. Ice cold.
Your throat goes dry. You stare at the elevator door. Jinx puts her hand on one of her gadgets, Sevika doesn't move an inch, but her muscles are taut as a bow. Then - a bang.
Not the opening of the door. No. Something hits it. Hard. An impact that dents and deforms metal. A muffled crash that goes through your bones. Then something breaks. You hear it. Bones. The scream of a man - not like someone fighting. But like someone dying.
The elevator door warps, it bends apart with a screech, metal bends like paper, smoke, red and thick like blood, seeps through the cracks. It hisses, boils, lives. The air becomes heavy. You feel your own chest tighten. You feel Jinx grasp your hand. Firm. Hard. And then he's there.
Not a human being. Not a soldier. Not a magician. Not a criminal.
A monster.
Broadly built, grotesquely muscular, the entire body covered in knotty, matted fur that steams in places as if it were boiling from the inside out.
His shoulders jut out and claws hang from his arms, not hands - claws, long, black, scarred and sharp enough to cut through metal, bone and flesh.
Fresh blood still drips from them, presumably from the enforcers it tore apart before it even got down here. But that's not what holds your gaze.
It is what lies beneath this distorted mass of aura - something that seems familiar to you. A resonance, a feeling that you can't name, but that burns deep in your instinct, like déjà vu.
But now is not the time for questions. Not for thoughts. This thing has come to kill.
You focus. Your senses, sharpened by countless battles, analyze the constellation in milliseconds.
This being's aura is not a normal one - it is raw, uncontrolled, wild and unnaturally dense. You can't even fully quantify its intensity. It's like trying to estimate the weight of a mountain as it crashes down on you.
You see Jinx gritting her teeth, her eyes flickering, her hands shaking. Even she, who so often dances in the dark, starts to sweat just from the mere presence of this aura. And you know that if she can barely breathe, then the others don't stand a chance.
Jinx attacks first, instinctively, quickly, but completely ineffectively. Her projectiles bounce off the monster, not even a scratch remains on the thick fur, which only moves slightly with each hit, as if it is laughing at this ridiculous attempt.
"Great," she growls through her teeth, half ironic, half panicked, and you feel her fingers tighten slightly around Isha's hand, whose face is tear-stained, frozen in fear.
You think. You have to think. You have to analyze, faster than ever before. This monster's aura is not only powerful - it is active. As long as the aura that lies in your defense is greater than the one that lies in your attack, you do no damage.
And with the seemingly infinite raw aura this thing emits, you'll have to go all out to inflict damage with a direct attack.
You reach for your Steel Ball, feel the familiar engraving of the metal in your palm, slowly begin to channel aura into it, but your gaze remains on the monster.
It doesn't move yet, just stands there - and that makes it all the more dangerous. Its aura alone is enough to paralyze you all. And you begin to understand: One mistake, one wrong move, and this is where it all ends. This is where Isha ends. This is where Jinx ends. This is where you end.
Your gaze wanders briefly to Jinx, then to Isha. Her eyes are wide open, she's looking at you, seeking support, seeking protection - seeking an answer. And you know that you must be the answer.
You are the only one who can maybe, just maybe, make a difference here.
But even you are not sure if that is enough.
"Sevika!" - your voice cuts through the corridor like a sharp blade. "Get her out."
Sevika reacts immediately and runs off without question. She grabs Isha, literally lifts her up and sprints through the corridor at full speed.
The noise of fleeing footsteps echoes through the concrete skeleton, while the monster, rigid and menacing, does not take its eyes off you.
His attention is now entirely on you - and Jinx. You stand there. Your eyes never leave the beast.
Your fingers, still wrapped around the steel balls, begin to twitch slightly, as if they are already about to react on their own. You feel your aura trembling in the air, the tension about to burst.
Sevika, still running with Isha in her arms, takes one last look back over her shoulder, and maybe - just maybe - she sees something in your gaze that makes her understand that you're willing to sacrifice everything.
Perhaps she senses the heavy, dense, mercilessly pure aura that emanates from you.
"You two really are..."
"Big fat heroes." Jinx finishes the sentence with a grin, as only she can. Sarcasm, madness and pride in one breath.
No more time for words. No last gesture. No heroic scene. Just the truth: the fight begins. Now. And the thing - this thing standing in front of you - is ready.
You close your eyes for a moment, concentrate, calculate the distribution, as you always do.
Your aura flows through your body like electricity: 80% for the physical reinforcement of your body, 15% in your right arm - the corpse and throwing arm - and the last 5% in your left arm if you have to block or double throw.
Take your hands out of your coat pocket. A steel ball in each hand. And you don't feel the weight - because it's not the metal that's heavy, it's what you have to carry.
Jinx draws her weapon next to you.
And you say it in your mind, like before every fight.
This world is wrong.
But just as Jinx fires, and the monster - this thing that is not human and not animal - runs off without showing even a fraction of reaction to the bullets, a thought makes its way through your mind, almost like a final warning, like the flickering of a dying candle:
If one of us dies here... I'll never be able to tell Powder that Vander is still alive.
Your head switches off. Not out of panic, but out of pure function. Your body takes over.
The first set of claws hits the void where you were just a moment ago. You are no longer there - you are in the air, your cloak tearing through the room like a dark shadow, and you have already thrown.
The steel ball flies, spins at breakneck speed, crashes right into the monster's face, and for a moment you think you hear the sound of breaking bone - but then... A thud. No punch through.
The ball is thrown back like a pebble against steel.
Wha-?
No time. Not a second. If your body hadn't moved on its own, you'd be nothing but red mist on the wall. The claws crash to the ground, shredding rock like paper, tearing up the floor where you were just standing, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat.
But you're not thinking about fear. You are thinking - of aura. Of reaction time. Of defense angles. Panic doesn't get through because there's no room for it.
From the back: Bullets. Impacts in the monster's back. Jinx keeps firing, her hands barely trembling, but you can see that her eyes are pleading - not out of fear, but out of concern for you.
But the beast pays no attention to her. It only focuses on you. Only on the one it considers to be the biggest threat. Only on the strongest person in the room.
Here it comes again. No hesitation. It runs like a storm and you dodge it. Not instinctively, but calculated.
You read his movements, his patterns, his false steps.
Left - right - right - left - left - right - right-!
It is not creative, not unpredictable. It fights like an animal. But something is wrong. You can see it.
Between the attacks, in the seconds when your eyes cross, something shimmers. Something human. Something painful. Those eyes... they are not empty. They remind you of something. Of someone.
You continue to evade. Use your aura only in small streams, concentrate it on your legs, on your spine, on your reflexes. No wear and tear. No overload. You must not make a mistake. Because every mistake against this thing is fatal.
You continue to analyze. The aura around the being is not random - it is controlled. Not chaotic, but purposefully suppressive. As if someone wanted you to feel the pressure. As if it were a test.
And the longer you look at it, the clearer it becomes: This is no ordinary shimmer experiment.
This here is a soldier. Bred, trained, unleashed. And you are its target.
But this time you won't be the one who falls. Not this time. Not as long as Jinx is behind you. Not as long as Isha is waiting for you outside somewhere.
You keep dodging, throwing steel ball after steel ball - perfectly calculated, clean in timing, but ineffective.
Every hit brings you only one thing: time.
Time you need to not die. Time that you both need to not be extinguished.
Hurt? Hardly possible. Not unless you completely dissolve in an attack that consumes your entire aura. But that would be madness - not here, not now.
You have to survive, not win.
And then it happens. The moment he strikes down at you, you prepare your step, your body already angled to dodge, you hit something harder than any attack: your own heart.
Tears creep into your vision, blur your gaze, soften it, make you weak. And while your body reacts with a delay, it strikes.
A hit, directly on your right arm. The aura, the weight, the raw, primal force - everything penetrates you. The bones splinter, break, tear through you like wet wood.
You want to redirect the aura, you want to react, but it's too late. The pain doesn't explode, it rolls over you like a tsunami and the next moment you're flying.
You crash through the wall, stones burst, your back hits the ground, and with the last of your strength you gather aura in your spine just to prevent the break.
Your ribs are screaming, your right arm hangs lifeless, but the worst part isn't the pain. It's the tears dripping onto the floor.
You are angry, yes. But the anger is drowned out. By the voice in your head. By the memories. By him.
"You should understand that... After all, you have a good brain."
Vander.
Why... Now of all times?
You push yourself up, trembling, with your left hand, with what still works. Your gaze lifts - and you see it: Jinx.
Trapped under the monster's paw, her face only centimeters away from the claws that could dig into her skin. Her eyes wide open, full of rage, full of fear - not for herself, but for you.
You don't shout. You do not think. You run.
You push all the aura into your legs until they burn and charge forward, faster than your body should actually allow.
Everything inside you pulsates. You are aware that this could be your last attempt. That you could be too late. That you might not even have the strength to bridge the gap.
But then - just before you arrive - you hear it. A voice. Deep. Scratchy. Human. Broken.
"Powder."
Standstill.
Time stands still.
You recognize it.
Not by the tone of voice. Not by the shape of the mouth. But through what lies between the syllables.
By the weight of the name. Vander.
The thing in front of you - the beast that is trying to kill you - is Vander. Your father. Your anchor. The man you thought you'd lost. The man whose death you blame yourself for.
The man you... brought back. Only not like this.
And suddenly you lose the ground under your feet, because you know what that means. You know what you have to admit. That you knew. That you kept quiet all this time.
Before Jinx. From Vi. From yourself.
And you also know that from now on you no longer have two problems.
You have three.
Explaining to Jinx that Vander is alive and why you lied.
Vander back.
And to stop your own decay.
---
Wow - what a chapter. (Do I say that every time?)
I don't want to say much, except: I'm sorry it took so long again. Especially at these high temperatures, it's hard to sit down at the PC without melting immediately.
Things continue to go downhill - and yet there are moments of calm amidst all the chaos.
As Isha joins the group and you and Jinx finally get some peace and quiet, you start to open up and talk about what's been happening all these years.
But as is so often the case, peace doesn't last long.
At a meeting, Isha is taken away by enforcers - and the next storm is brewing.
---
A new chapter - now almost a rarity.
Just kidding, of course I'll still be uploading regularly every week! And woe betide anyone who says I upload too infrequently.
The second half of the second season begins - and I've already planned most of the plot. The finale will be intense, I can promise you that.
Thanks for reading, have fun with the chapter - and as always: support is always welcome!
wc: 4.8k
---
There is a big difference between the forces of this world.
Gravity - the invisible force that pulls masses towards each other, responsible for the fall of things, the orbits of planets, the shape of galaxies.
Electromagnetism - the force between charged particles, the basis of light, magnetism, chemical reactions and what we call reality.
But none of these forces, none of these universal constants, has ever triumphed over fate.
Because fate is not a force that can be measured. Not a field that can be calculated. Not a current that can be directed. Destiny is what remains when all else fails. It is what decides when life begins and when it ends. When two people meet, love, hate, save or destroy each other.
Fate is the reason why you are here today. And not somewhere else.
That you were born into the L/N family - no coincidence. That you had a sister and brother, parents who had more expectations than love for you - that's a given. That you found the dusty spell book in the corner of the library at a moment when you had long since given up - that was also fate.
That you then ran away from home, howling, angry, with scraped knees, after another argument, and stood on that rusty bridge in the middle of the simmering battle between Piltover and Zaun, with tears in your eyes and trembling hands - and met Vander there, of all people, when the smoke cleared, and his silhouette appeared - was no coincidence.
But actually... none of this should ever havehappened.
In countless other timelines, infinite ramifications of being, you simply turned back. You went back home, were scolded, apologized, became a good son, an average student, a compliant cog in the Piltover machine.
You studied, you excelled, maybe you became a scientist like your parents, maybe an assistant to Jayce, maybe you even shook Viktor's hand or argued with Heimerdinger about progress.
You lived in all these realities - functional, safe, meaningless.
But in this one... you heard something back then. A humming sound. Quietly. Trembling. Like a fragile echo of hope. And you didn't leave. You stood still. You looked around you. And there she was - Powder. Alone. Lost. And that one hum was the crack that blew open fate itself.
There are an infinite number of versions of you who have left. Who became just another cog in the wheel. But not you. Not this version of you.
You stayed. And that's how it all began. Vander. Vi. Powder. Later Claggor, Mylo. A family. Not a perfect one, not an easy one - but a real one. For the first time. And that was just the beginning of your life. And your fall at the same time.
"Congratulations on your victory."
The voice slowly penetrates your consciousness. You open your eyes. Your legs feel like lead, your gaze is empty, still clouded by the weight of the last few hours. You just stand there, right behind Powder and the little girl she has recently started calling Isha.
Both sitting at the table, two beetles, two control units. Powder lost - on purpose, you saw that, even if you didn't have your eyes open. Her movements, even the ones you only sensed through the aura, were deliberately slower. She was letting Isha win.
The other Beetle was old, the controls worn out, the wires barely insulated. But that didn't matter. It was about something else.
You are back in Powder's old hideout, the room that has seen it all - plans, destruction, pain, hope. The battle from earlier is behind you, you all needed rest. Jinx has taken hits, so has Sevika, and no one knows where she is right now. Maybe she's smoking her lungs out somewhere or lying in a corner sleeping.
Only you - you were untouched as always, of course. Not because you were invincible, but because no one could really hit you.
Powder turns around for a moment. Her eyes graze you, her hair is disheveled, her cheek slightly swollen, but her eyes - those purple, insanely clear eyes - catch you, hold you, make everything else disappear.
In that moment, you forget everything that has been weighing you down. Everything about her seems like a distortion of your reality, a distraction from the cold logic in your head.
She's the only one who makes you feel like you're even alive. And she knows that. She knows it damn well - and she plays with it. With a single sentence, she throws you off balance.
"That means we're like her parents now. "
You feel something inside you falter. As if a switch has been flipped inside you. The warmth spreads, but at the same time there is a strange, oppressive feeling.
As if something terrible is coming, something that is inevitable. But that thought vanishes the moment you realize what she just said: Powder and you... parents.
Parents. For this girl. For Isha.
And just at that moment, as if she could read your mind, Jinx turns to you, grins, and you know - she knows exactly what you're thinking about.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks in that teasing tone you know so well, with that cheeky grin on her lips that simultaneously drives you mad and saves you.
You don't answer. Not because you don't want to, but because you know that if you did, your voice would fail. The words would stick in your throat like a rusty nail.
And then you both hear a soft knock - very gentle, barely audible. Your heads turn to the side in sync, to where Isha is standing. She has knocked on a tattered "Wanted" poster of Jinx hanging crookedly on the wall and points to the hair color with her small hand. Light blue and pink. A wish, clear and unequivocal. No words, just a gesture.
"Huh?" says Jinx, slightly irritated.
"She wants us to dye her hair. Just like you." You say it calmly, almost as if it goes without saying.
Jinx looks at you as if she's looking at the smartest person in all of Piltover. "Oh, you're such a genius," she says with a laugh, gets up, comes over to you - and kisses you on the cheek. Just like that. Without warning. Regardless of your mental state.
You know you're blushing. Not just in your face, but in every fiber of your body. Your heart is beating up to your throat, your eyes are trembling slightly, you can feel your breathing stop.
"Don't get nervous now..." she whispers, and her voice is darker than usual. Deep, playful, dangerous. Your thoughts jump, your legs almost jump too.
Before she goes too far - and you know she would if you let her - you suddenly cry out, quiet but panicked. "Isha's still here!" you shout softly, and immediately Jinx turns to the side, looks at the girl with wide eyes and laughs.
"Okay, okay... you're right." She raises both hands, takes a step back. But then, with a look that makes your blood run cold, she pokes you lightly on the nose, leans closer and whispers, "We'll finish this later."
You can't answer. You don't want too either. All you know is that your body is on fire.
And so, a little later, you stand together in front of Isha while she begins to dye her hair with a brush, paint and an old mirror - light blue, pink, shimmering. Jinx talks incessantly, tells stories, laughs, imitates voices.
Isha says nothing, but the smile that starts in her eyes says enough. And you - you look at them both, this little girl and the woman you love, and feel tears welling up in your eyes.
You try to hide it. You don't want to cry. Not here, not now. But Jinx notices. Of course she notices. She doesn't say anything. She just puts her arms around you, pulls you close, presses your head against her shoulder and whispers: "I understand you."
And at that moment, for the first time in a long time... you no longer feel alone.
The silence only lasts a few seconds before Jinx stands up, stretches and says with a look at you: "We have to go." She says it casually, almost as if it's the most normal thing in the world - but you can tell by the way she lowers her voice that there's something behind it.
You don't ask. You don't need to know where or why. If she needs you, you go with her. Always. It's never been any different.
"But first..." Jinx turns and looks at Isha, who is still sitting on the improvised cushion you made from old fabric and tool scraps. "...the little one needs sleep."
You nod. Isha has been with you all day - but her eyes are tired. Her little hands rub her eyes, and yet she tries to stay awake because she realizes that something is about to happen.
Jinx bends down and carefully lifts her up while you prepare the bed in the corner of the room - an old mattress, two rolled-up jackets as pillows, a clean blanket, as best you can in this mess.
You put them together. Isha says nothing, no gestures, no facial expressions, but she holds Jinx's hand. Firmly. Her fingers literally clutch it, as if it were the last piece of security in a world that is too big for such small feet.
"I think she wants a bedtime story." Jinx looks at you, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper.
You return her gaze, confused.
A story? From Me? Now?
You open your mouth, wanting to say something, maybe some stupid thing, but then you see Jinx leaning towards her. Her fingers run through Isha's hair, slowly, soothingly, gently, like a gust of wind after a storm. You understand. You take a deep breath. And you start to talk.
"Once upon a time..."
---
The snowstorm is merciless, your eyes can barely open. It was a few months after you left Singed.
You have traveled far and have now reached the border of Noxus - a seemingly endless area of snow, cold and impenetrable, so that you can hardly see anything.
You are thickly wrapped up, your head under a hood as usual, the rest of your body under your coat and a thick fur over it. Nevertheless, the cold permeates everything. To keep you warm, you use your aura as a kind of heater.
You can feel the Corpse Arm pulsing; it's trying to tell you something. But as absent-minded as you are right now, watching the snow and struggling with your way through the heavy snow, you don't pay attention.
You stop and open the card with the Corpse Parts in your hands again. Not one, but two parts seem to be in Noxus - the legs and the ears. Both are marked on the map, but you'll have to find out the exact location yourself, as you obviously can't ask this Jayce Talis.
You're hungry, thirsty and damn cold. Even with your aura, the temperatures out here are so low that they're probably meant to keep people from entering this land - at least this way.
You had heard and read that Noxus' policy towards immigrants and illegals is incredibly strict and that it is not customary to enter the country through normal channels. So now you do the same.
What other choice did you have?
At that moment, as you take the next step and large winter trees appear at the edge of your vision, you can exhale for a brief moment.
But then you feel it: Far away, several hundred meters from you, an enormous amount of aura is gathering. Your eyes widen and you instinctively stare in that direction. But in the next moment, this aura disappears and your heart sinks.
An attack!
You can't say exactly what it is, but something is definitely heading your way and you need to protect yourself.
Should I quickly strengthen my aura? My whole body or just my vital organs? How much aura is it for each organ? Heart, brain, lungs, liver, kidneys... Should I use 20% of my total aura for each? What if I have nothing left after that and am at the end?
The conclusion is clear: then you'll freeze to death.
So many thoughts race through your mind in less than two seconds, and every one of them deserves a place. But the attack comes even faster than you thought.
Your senses, soaked in aura and thus amplified, perceive it far too late: a projectile.
What the...?
You don't even recognize it properly, between the snowflakes and everything clouding your vision. A projectile, sharp and purple, right in front of your nose and maybe ten meters away from hitting your head and coloring the snow red with your shattering brain.
Just as it's right in front of you, you realize what a bad situation you're in. If you don't think of something now, right now, you're dead.
It will hit your head in less than a second. Damn! You don't even have enough time to channel your aura into your head, let alone use a spell!
One second to go until it’s impact.
The snowflakes leave a pattern.
Half a second until impact.
Your stationary form sinks a few millimeters deeper into the snow.
One third of a second until impact.
You act on pure instinct:
Faster than ever before, you pull it out of your coat pocket, your hands absolutely on autopilot and your brain following behind in the act of your instinct: a steel ball.
A theoretical version, basically a replica enforcer gadget, only made from a stronger metal that you found and had reshaped.
It flies straight in front of your face while the projectile threatens to hit your head.
It turns, with a slight rotation directly in front of it, literally floating in the air and glowing slightly white with your aura, it strikes the projectile.
The projectile does not penetrate it, as you thought, but your non-expectancy still has consequences:
It gets stuck after slightly breaking through the metal layer, and the sphere's rotation and the resistance and recoil of the aura push the sphere away...
And just when the steel ball was turning so that the projectile would come in your direction.
Ugh!
The sphere leaves a light in its wake as it tears the surface of the steel ball with such force that fine shards of blackened metal dance in the air. A screeching screech echoes through the icy wind as your improvised shield gives way, as if it was never designed to stop such force.
You pull your aura together at the last moment - everything you have, everything you are - and instinctively spread it evenly over your entire body. Not with calculation. Not with strategy. But in the panicked hope that the projectile won't hit anything that will kill you instantly.
But it is pointless.
You can't even really see it, so fast, so precise, so merciless. You only feel the burn - dull at first, then cutting - as it pierces you. It slices through your left side, tearing across your chest, ripping through lung tissue, leaving nothing but destruction in its path and exiting your back.
For a moment, you don't want to believe what has happened. Your body refuses to understand what your senses have already been screaming. Your legs don't immediately give way, but your eyes tremble and your gaze automatically shifts downwards.
And there, right there, you see it: a small, clean hole, barely bigger than a coin, and the dark red that spreads inexorably, like ink on wet paper.
You want to say something. Maybe curse, maybe laugh, maybe cry - but your mouth remains closed. Because there is only blood gathering in your throat, slowly but inexorably creeping up, like death itself, working its way up your insides to silence you.
That's it.
The steel ball falls to the ground, a dull thud in the snow that sounds almost poetic in its simplicity. You follow it. Not jumping, not falling - but tilting, as if someone had pulled the last bit of energy out of you.
Your head hits the snow, soft, cold, indifferent. The cold draws into your cheek, into your forehead, into your bones, as if the ground wants to take you in like something lost that is finally coming home.
Your vision is blurred, not just by the tears, but by the life that escapes you. Your eyes don't close - not completely. You want to keep them open. You want to remember. You want to understand. But there is nothing but snow and blood.
I'm losing too much blood... damn it... This can't be the end!
Your mind is reeling. Thoughts race, but none of them stay. They circle, collide, fade, like images in the mist. What remains is the knowledge: This is your end. No dramatic finale, no heroic last stand. Just the quiet, bitter death of a boy who thought he could take on fate.
What nonsense... I thought I had a chance.
You were never arrogant. You never believed you were invincible. You just hoped - that you were fast enough, clever enough, careful enough.
That maybe, just maybe, you could still play a role in this cruel theater of the world. But reality was merciless. You didn't fall because you were weak. But because you thought you were ready.
What a huge difference... Me against a real sorcerer...
Your gaze lowers. The snow beneath you is red, so red that it looks black. The flakes around you continue to dance, as calmly as if nothing had happened, as if you had never been there.
And then, with one last breath, with one last thought, you give up.
I'm sorry... Powder...
---
Isha is asleep. Deeply. Calmly. Her little fingers lightly clutch the blanket, her breathing is even, almost hypnotic, and there is a silence in the air that is not oppressive - but soothing. One that you haven't felt for a long time. One in which even your aura seems quieter.
But that very moment - that one moment that could have brought peace - is over when Jinx sits up with a jerk, with so much energy that even the soft cracking of the wooden frame echoes through the room like a thunderclap.
"Come on!" she hisses, far too loudly, full of anticipation, her voice almost trembling with excitement as she turns to you, her legs drawn up, her hair wildly tousled, the grin on her face wider than ever. "I want to hear the end of the story! You didn't really die, did you?"
And then - as if she had forgotten the world for a moment - she suddenly fell silent.
Your gaze falls on Isha. She's still asleep, but Jinx's voice was loud enough that you wonder if the little girl isn't about to wake up. Maybe that's why you didn't say anything - not right away.
You just stand still, your hands in your pockets, a barely visible, tired smile on your lips as you look at Isha's peaceful face. It's a rare sight - a child sleeping so peacefully in a world that knows nothing but noise.
And somewhere deep inside you, way at the back, where all your anger, your guilt, your old self lies buried, you are a little... relieved. That this moment exists. That it is possible.
"Come on..." Jinx is now standing next to you, her voice softer, almost whispering, but full of impatience. "Go on, tell me! I want to know!" She nudges you lightly on the shoulder, a childish gesture, like when she asked you how to use that Enforcer gadget.
"We have to go, right?" Your voice sounds calm, almost soft - not as a refusal, but as a reminder that there is still a world out there. That you are far from safe. That even this moment - as perfect as it seems - won't last forever.
Jinx sighs immediately, so exaggerated that it seems almost theatrical. She rolls her eyes, crosses her arms and, for a fleeting moment, looks like a petulant child.
"Ugh... you can't just stop! Right where it gets exciting!" She paces, even stomping lightly, her shoes leaving a muffled clack on the floor. "You were bleeding to death! In the snow! It was like something out of a damn movie! And then... nothing?!"
You turn your head slightly and look at her out of the corner of your eye. "If you want me to tell you a real story, you should let me finish - don't interrupt." You grin slightly, just a hint, but enough for her to realize you're teasing her.
"Pff..." Jinx smiles again, this time a little softer, a little more genuine. She leans down to Isha again, strokes her forehead gently, presses a kiss to her temple and murmurs almost inaudibly: "Sleep well, Mini-Me."
Then she straightens up, turns to you and shoulders her bag with the same nonchalance with which she walked the streets of Zaun back then, before everything... exploded.
"All right let's go then. But if we don't die tonight, I want to hear the rest. And don't you dare not tell me how you survived. I swear I'll tear the next hole in your lungs myself."
You snort. And just say quietly, looking back at Isha: "Then I hope I survive this time."
---
The lights are dimmed, the smoke from the old lamps still hangs in the air, the smell of alcohol and stale sweat has eaten into the floor like memories you can't get rid of.
You stand at the side of the room, your back against the wall, your arms crossed as your gaze glides silently around the room. The old seat, Silco's seat, is now occupied by Jinx.
The way she's settled there - casual, defiant, almost regal - leaves no doubt that she's not thinking for a second about bowing down to anyone.
And then there's Sevika. Rushing in like a storm that nobody invited. Her voice is rough, her words direct, and even as she speaks you begin to suspect that this could go one of two ways - conversation or fight.
"I know it was you," she hisses, without introduction, without greeting, directly into the room, while she fixes Jinx. "The stunt - it was you two."
"Sure thing," Jinx replies immediately, a smirk on his lips that carries so much mockery that it almost cuts. "So was I when the damn moon fell out of the sky. And, Sevika? Am I also the reason why the coffee at the Last Drop tastes like shit?" Her voice is a dance on a tightrope between sarcasm and provocation.
You don't say anything. Not yet. You're watching. As always.
Sevika clenches her fists, but does not allow herself to be irritated. Not directly. "The people... they need someone. Someone to show them that Zaun didn't fall. That Silco's death wasn't the end. You should show up at the meeting. Show yourselves. As a symbol."
"Symbol?" Jinx raises an eyebrow and provocatively raises both middle fingers. "Choose which one suits you better. This one is my symbol."
You almost have to laugh - but you don't. Instead, your gaze remains on Sevika, who has to visibly control herself for a moment. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment you think she's about to jump. But she stands still. Says nothing. Not yet.
"He has made you his successors, whether you like it or not," she continues. "His place is empty. You can fill it. In fact, you should."
And while Jinx waves you off, shakes her head and sinks back into her seat, your gaze wanders into the distance. You still don't say anything, but your thoughts begin to circle.
What if...?
Jinx and you, at the top of Zaun. The queen and her shadow. You would decide what is right, what is wrong. No more puppets. No more other people's plans. No more Silcos, no more Singeds, no more Vanders.
Just the two of you. You think of what she once said - that she wanted an airship, just out, away, up high. Maybe she could if you had the power. Maybe...
And then you throw the thought away like a glass that falls out of your hand. No. The world is too rotten. Too rotten. Too deep in the shit to be reshaped just like that. This... is not your goal. It was never your goal.
"Don't trip on the way out," says Jinx, coldly, in conclusion.
Sevika turns and leaves. Her footsteps echo as the door closes.
You're still standing there. No movement. Not a word. You didn't say anything - and yet you were the one she was talking about the whole time.
"How would you rate her?" she asks suddenly, her voice calm, almost casual, but you feel the weight of the question. It doesn't take you a second to know who she means.
"Sevika?" You turn your head slightly, your gaze wandering over the table where Silco once ruled. "She's tough, pragmatic, assertive. She knows the Lanes, knows the people, has influence. But she lacks... Vision. She acts out of spite, not leadership."
Jinx looks at you, slightly skeptical. "And personally?"
You take a deep breath. You don't want to say it, but you do anyway. "She betrayed Vander. Back when everything fell. She was the one who looked away when Silco pulled the knife."
Silence spreads. There are things that are rarely said, even in Zaun. And then Jinx snorts.
"She said she's planning a meeting tonight. Right by the Vander statue. She wants people to see that she's ready to take the lead."
You laugh softly, a hint of mockery in your voice. "Or they'll all get bagged by the enforcers. Wouldn't be the first time one of their brilliant ideas imploded."
Jinx grins. "That would be typical again."
You walk slowly to her, your thoughts still half on Vander, half on what you've just said. But Jinx suddenly looks at you differently, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Should I tell her that Vander is probably still alive and is being experimented on?
"You know..." She leans closer. "We have the whole room right now... all to ourselves."
You want to say something, some clever answer, something sarcastic perhaps - but you don't get the chance. Because at that moment, she pulls you towards her and her lips meet yours.
Not timid. Not cautious. Hot. Hungry. Possessive.
You have to lean on the table, her hand on the back of your neck, your thoughts shatter and there are no more words. Only her. Just you. The door closes behind you.
---
"Isha, we're back!" Jinx calls out with her usual, slightly childlike excitement as you descend the steps into the hideout together.
Your hand still slightly warm from hers, the world outside not yet completely forgotten - but the moment shatters when you realize it. No sound. No shadow. No smile coming towards you.
Isha is not there.
Jinx calls out again. No answer. Once. Twice. Your senses are heightened, you feel it immediately - she is no longer here.
And then Sevika steps out of the shadows, as if she had been waiting. She stands there, breathing slightly heavily, her mechanical shoulder twitching once uneasily. Her gaze is cold, but underneath it is something else. Guilt. Fear. Remorse.
"You have them." Her words cut through the room like a gust of cold wind. It takes you a moment to comprehend them.
Jinx's voice is just a whisper. "What?"
"At the meeting," Sevika says tersely, "Enforcers showed up. They took everyone with them."
You feel something tearing inside you. Before Jinx can react, you speak. Your voice is dark, dangerously quiet. "And why... are you here?" Your eyes bore into her like glowing needles. "Why not her?"
Sevika doesn't avoid your gaze - at least for a moment. But you see it. Her mechanical arm twitches again. She is sweating. Your aura begins to change, slowly spreading around the room.
Jinx senses it, and although she doesn't move, it's clear that she notices your tension. Perhaps only she knows this state - when you stop thinking like a human and start thinking like something else.
"I... had no choice." Sevika looks like she's trying to justify herself, but her voice almost breaks. "I lost her in the crowd. I-I had to leave."
You don't say anything. Not yet. Your thoughts are racing, but you remember. Your words, just a few hours ago. A joke. A casual sentence about possible enforcer access. And now it's a reality. Isha is gone. Trapped. Perhaps injured. Maybe worse.
The anger that you have controlled for years, tamed your whole life like a wild animal, is scratching at the surface. You suppress it, but your aura has long since spoken for you. The room trembles.
Jinx looks at you, a moment that stretches. And Sevika? She says nothing more. Her gaze goes to the ground. She knows you're almost unstoppable now.
You reach deep into your coat pocket, the familiar coolness of the metal in your hands barely reassuring you. Your two steel balls, vibrating slightly with your aura, spin slowly in your palm. You straighten up. The decision has long since been made.
"Let's go," you say, your voice now clear, precise, cutting like a blade of light.
"We have a prison to raid."
---
And that's it again for the next chapter!
We are slowly approaching the end of the second season. In terms of content, we are probably at the halfway point - but the coming chapters will be much longer, as a lot more is happening now.
I've now made up my mind and will write ending number three, in which you - the reader - will fight Viktor. Since it's not a fair match, a pact will be made ... but it will cost you a lot.
The backstory - especially the snow fight - will be told in a later chapter. The stories about other characters you have met along the way and further battles in new locations will also follow.
There's not much more to say, except: every star and every kudo shows me that it's worth continuing to write.
The fight begins: you, Jinx and Sevika against Vi and Caitlyn.
While fists fly on the battlefield, you dive deep into your own psyche - a look at your past, your relationships and what really drives you.
Your opponent is Caitlyn, but the real battle is not only with weapons, but also within yourself. In the process, you get closer to the little girl... and show the others what you can really do.
In between, there are no hints as to what is about to happen. Just this much:
"You're fighting someone who has nothing left to lose."
---
Your life is a tragedy.
Not in the dramatic, romanticized sense, but in the pathetically raw, cold way that only reality can achieve.
You were always the child that nobody wanted, that nobody admired. Small, physically inferior, unathletic - a walking target for ridicule, for mockery, for every kind of psychological violence that children can dream up in their cruel imagination.
Your parents? They thought you were a mistake, a slip-up, a shadow of what they had actually wished for as an heir. They didn't encourage you, they didn't support you, they just expected you to follow in their footsteps, even though you were never meant to. And when you stumbled, they didn't catch you - they kicked you, emotionally, a little more every day.
Your siblings? They didn't even want to know you. They were embarrassed at the mere thought of being related to you. A blemish on their otherwise 'perfect' lives.
Your everyday life? A gray, endless loop of nothingness. School, home, sleep. No color, no meaning. Everything you clung to wasn't real. Fiction, worlds you made up because this world simply didn't want you.
You hated it, this world. This reality in which you were always the loser. You didn't believe that this could be it - life, a cold joke at your expense.
And then, at some point, when you had long since given up on yourself, hope came into your life. Once.
Once only.
Vander.
He saw you. Took you in. Not as a tool, not out of pity - but as someone who was allowed to belong. Together with Powder and Vi, for a fleeting moment you felt like you were part of something. You smiled, not because you had to, but because you could.
For the first time, you were not alone. For the first time, you were someone.
But your life is not a redemption story. It is a tragedy. And you have perpetuated it.
You used the Enforcer gadget - that damn monkey bomb Powder built because you thought it would help, you'd all come back. You threw the gadget, watched the world go up in flames.
And with her Mylo. Claggor. Two people who always stood behind you despite everything. Vander, who had taken you in, was badly injured. Vi - the big sister, the heart of the group - saw everything.
In a single moment, you lost everything. The family you had built up. The few ties that kept you alive. Shattered by your own hands. It wasn't malice. It was hope. Hope that you never deserved. Hope that exploded with a bang and left only ashes in its wake.
And now you were on the brink of the final chapter, about to fight your formal sister - Vi - and her new ally, Caitlyn.
They know where you are. They know where Jinx is. And they are coming.
"Cait..." Vi speaks with that inflection she used to use only when she knew something was about to happen that she couldn't control. "If you see an opening... take the shot."
"Vi..." Caitlyn turns to her, slightly puzzled. Her pink hair glows like a flame even in this darkness, a silent call into the unknown. Her voice barely trembles. "You don't seriously think-"
"Yes, I do." Vi cuts her off. No hesitation, no smile, no shrug of the shoulders. Just seriousness. "If he really wants to, if he sets his mind to it, he can kill us both without a problem. I used to know him, Cait. I know how he thinks... and what he's become. So please... keep your distance. If he comes at you, you won't see it coming."
She takes a deep breath, as if encouraging herself. Then, almost more quietly: "He used to be... quiet. Quite quiet. Withdrawn, even quite shy. Never said much, but when he did, it was always something that made everyone think. And he was always protective of Powder. Always. But ever since he met her again, he's been... different. Something dark has taken hold of him. No longer a man, no longer a brother. A monster with a purpose."
Vi is silent for a moment, as if she's fighting herself internally, before looking at Caitlyn. "You have to understand - when push comes to shove, we probably don't stand a chance. If he really wants to kill us... then that's it. So remember, you're not fighting some guy here. You're fighting someone who has nothing left to lose. And that's the most dangerous thing there is And that's the most dangerous thing there is."
They are here.
You sense it even before anyone makes a sound. Your aura has filled the cave like a living mist, you store every bump, every movement within a radius of well over a hundred meters like a living sensorium.
A single touch of this invisible field is enough - a slight tremor in the air, an aura that touches your own. And there they are. Two familiar frequencies, almost rehearsed in your head: Vi, impulsive, burning - her aura acts like a spark that can go off at any second, because once again she is using more heart than mind.
And Caitlyn - more controlled, calmer, but precisely for that reason more dangerous. Her aura is like a shotgun - ready to go off at any time, but aimed. Both are tense, you can feel it immediately. But it's more than just tension - it's expectation. Readiness to fight.
And then there is something else. Something mechanical, artificial. A flickering echo that doesn't feel like an aura, but is there - charged, in motion, clocked like a pulse, but not human. Hextech.
You feel the energy, it cuts through the room like a sharp blade of light. You raise an eyebrow as you fully recognize it.
Hextech weapons...? Huh. I thought Jayce swore he wouldn't use them for direct violence... Either this is official - or they got something of their own. Clever, perhaps. Brave. But pointless.
You slowly reach into your coat pocket, your fingers already encircling the cold, smooth surface of your steel ball. The darkness around you protects you, swallowing your whispering, your breathing, even your thoughts - because you are focused.
On your side, you see the little girl clinging to Jinx's leg, and next to her - tense but calm. She looks at you and you sense that she knows exactly what is about to happen.
"Are they there?" asks Jinx, quietly.
"In a minute," you reply as your gaze wanders over the shadows into the depths of the mine shaft. "A little less than a minute."
Jinx turns around wordlessly and starts to move slowly, ready to break away from you - but your arm snaps forward, quickly and precisely, and your hand gently grasps her wrist.
She pauses, turns to you, a hint of irritation on her face, but she says nothing. You just look at her - her eyes, her face, everything about her - and speak, quietly, almost whispering, but with a heaviness in your voice that can't be overheard even through the rumble of the corridors.
"Please... take care of yourself. Don't get hit."
For a moment, there is only silence between you. No war, no fight, no plan. Just two broken souls amidst the ruins from which they created themselves. And then, without another word, she leans forward and kisses you.
No dramatic moment, no movie kiss. It's quiet. Honest. And you feel the world stand still for a tiny heartbeat.
"You do the same," she murmurs against your lips, then pulls back and leaves. Her footsteps are quickly lost in the darkness of the corridors and you are left behind - the cold steel of your steel balls in one hand, the warm echo of her lips on yours.
Slowly you turn away, gather yourself and take a few steps back into position. Your senses are sharp, your aura dispersed, every movement in the surroundings is registered by you immediately. You have calculated the structure of the cave, planned the tactics - nothing happens here without your knowledge. Vi and Caitlyn. Two out of five, that makes it easier.
Jinx will take care of Vi, that was clear. She's changed, yes, but you know her well enough to know that she wouldn't let that be taken away from her. She wants this confrontation.
And you? You've spoken to Sevika and, as agreed, you're going to look after Caitlyn. Although you already know that "take care of" is almost too much.
Caitlyn may be dangerous in ranged combat, yes - precision, patience, aim - but in a real fight, against a mage, against you... she's nothing more than a flame in a storm.
You can feel it even before you see it. Her aura, small, almost cautious. Graceful, yes - but weak. No comparison to what you've felt before: High-ranking mages in the kingdoms, beings with dark pacts, warriors whose aura was so heavy that the ground shook beneath your feet. Caitlyn? Caitlyn is a whisper on the wind.
And if you're honest - it wouldn't be a fight. Not even close. You could take her breath away with a snap of your fingers, rip the gravity out of her bones or send her into unconsciousness with a light impulse from your arm.
Even their entire team of five, if they were complete... would be a trifle. A puzzle with missing pieces. A game you played through long ago.
And so it begins. No countdown, no gong, just the tingle in the air that marks the beginning of an inevitable clash. Jinx raises her voice first, spitting words into the room that you only half hear because your focus is already sharp as a scalpel on your target.
You and Sevika begin to move, unobtrusively, precisely - every step in the darkness is like a breath before the storm.
"I'm ready," Vi says with her typical determination, as if to convince herself and everyone around her. Her voice echoes through the shaft as she faces Jinx, who has now taken up an elevated position, almost theatrically, as if welcoming the chaos.
They run towards each other - two sister hearts torn apart by the pain of the past - and you use this moment of distraction to sneak up on Caitlyn. She sees Jinx standing open for a moment, exposed, and immediately she raises her gun, quite the perfect shot that she is.
But there you stand between her and her target, grab her weapon by the barrel in a calm, almost casual motion, push her aside and deliver a well-aimed blow to the pit of her stomach - not even 5% of your aura flows into the blow, and yet it literally lifts her off her feet. Her eyes widen as the pain jolts through her, and her body flies back several meters before she lands hard on the ground, panting and looking blank.
You turn to the side, catch the weapon that flew out of her hand, and in the same breath toss it in a clean arc to Sevika, who catches it as if she had been waiting for it.
"Take care of her..." you mumble curtly. And who you mean by "her" is clear - the little girl watching the chaos from a safe distance. Jinx's unofficial protégé, your silent promise that this world is not entirely lost.
But you stay behind, directing your gaze at Caitlyn, who is struggling to get back up. Blood is running from her nose, her shoulders are shaking, but she is standing - at least physically.
And you, who have just withdrawn your aura from your surroundings, now begin to spread it evenly over your entire body. It feels like a heavy cloak that lies on your shoulders.
Slowly, your hands slide into your coat pockets, clasping the two steel balls, familiar and cool as ever. You take a few steps forward, calmly, firmly. There's no need to hurry - you already know how this is going to end.
"You-!" Caitlyn raises her head, the anger in her voice almost palpable. "Why are you even doing this! You wanted to help us! Back when you were still-"
She interrupts herself as her eyes take hold of you. Maybe she recognizes something in your gaze that she hadn't expected. Maybe she finally sees what you have become. Or what's left of you.
"No wonder..." She hesitates for a moment, then says it, her voice cold and sharp. "...that your real family from Piltover despised you."
The words hit you like a knife, not because of their content, but because they tear you back - back to memories you had buried deep down. Suddenly it's as if you're standing there again: at the edge of the glass halls, between the academy and the laboratory, your parents' voices echoing in your mind.
"You are not a disappointment - you are a mistake."
"Are you sure he's not adopted?"
"A silly child with magic books and dreams."
And you feel something breaking inside you. Not loudly, not visibly, but it tears you apart inside, and at the same time it makes you see more clearly than ever before. You take a deep breath, a single breath that holds all the years, all the struggles, all the pain.
"This..." you say calmly as you take a step back, your posture changes, your spine stretches.
You drop the steelballs into your pockets, then take out both hands and stand in the classic boxing position, just like Vi used to do back then. You clench your fists - your aura begins to flicker, first orange, then blazing like fire.
"Me taking you on... can't even be called a fight." Your voice is calm, deadly determined, and in that moment, Caitlyn knows she was never dealing with a normal boy.
But with a monster that the world itself has created.
You're immediately in front of her, and with a well aimed punch he goes straight for her left eye. She immediately flies backwards, and you don't need a second to pop up behind her and send her flying in the other direction with a kick.
Your attacks hit hard, precisely, without even a sign of hesitation. Every blow, every movement is imbued with a brute force that no longer holds back. You know full well that you are breaking her bones right now.
You're using nearly seventy percent of your aura, an amount you haven't released in a fight in ages - not because you couldn't, but because it was rarely necessary. But for Caitlyn, for someone like her, even a single hit feels like a whole company of soldiers hitting her at once.
You reach out and grab her roughly by the left arm, just above the elbow. Your fingers dig deep into her flesh, and as you push your aura through your hand into her arm, you squeeze.
It's not just a break - you shatter the bone. The sound of it - a subtle crack that fades into a dull crunch - echoes through the vast space, followed by a piercing scream that no longer hurts you. Not anymore.
She tries to hit you with her other hand - a last, desperate move - but you tilt your head just slightly to the side, dodge effortlessly, grab her shoulder, place your fingers on the joint, strengthen your grip with Aura and fling her across the room with a jerk.
Her body flies like a doll, hits one of the massive stone pillars that run through the cave and remains motionless.
"Do you regret it now?" Your voice cuts through the silence like a blade. There is no anger in it, just that cool, superior emptiness that you have trained yourself to have for years.
Slowly you start moving again. Your footsteps echo off the walls, rhythmic, menacing. Your gaze briefly wanders upwards - Jinx and Vi are fighting.
It doesn't take long to see that Jinx has a clear advantage. The shimmer in her blood not only gives her raw power, but also reflexes that Vi can't keep up with despite all her experience. And you can feel it too - Vi is faltering more and more.
"How's that, Caitlyn?" you shout, not taking your eyes off your target. "You've trained for years, and then someone like me comes along - takes your weapon, rips everything out of your hands and leaves you defenceless." Your voice is calm, almost mocking. "How stupid do you have to be to think you have even the slightest chance against me?"
You are now standing directly above her. She's lying on the ground, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, her eyes glazed over, her breathing shallow. And you don't stop. You let your gaze rest on her, watching her as if she were a flaw in an equation that should never have existed.
"You're so inexperienced... I know kids from Noxus who hit harder than you." You take a breath, slowly straighten up and turn your gaze away from her, staring up at the ceiling instead - as if you're looking for something that's long lost.
Your voice becomes softer, almost pensive, but it carries the weight of your travels, your scars, your loss.
"Let me tell you something... something I learned after years away from these rotten cities..."
The silence around you becomes denser. You put your hands by your side, your aura is calm but pulsating under your skin. "There is no need to hesitate to trample down other people. If you can walk, then you'll end up crushing some ants, right? Strength is that kind of thing."
A cold wind blows through the room, moving your hair slightly, and there is a hint of rock and metal in the air. But your gaze remains directed upwards - you stare as if you are expecting someone up there.
Maybe Vander. Maybe yourself.
And then you think it. Not out loud. Not with a word. But it burns itself into your innermost being:
Would the former me have wanted that? That me with books in my lap and hope in my heart? The boy who wanted to learn magic in order to understand?
Who longed to belong, to be loved, who was prepared to save the world just so that someone would look at him and say: You belong to us.
Am I... really all that's left of him?
And for a moment, just one, even your aura is silent.
You are not moving. Not a muscle twitches, not a thought seems clear. Your eyes, just full of determination and burning power, lose focus.
You turn your head slowly, watching as Jinx and Vi continue to fight - fast, determined, full of anger and the past - but that's not what's on your mind. What surrounds you, envelops you, corrodes you.
It doesn't feel real. As if someone had pushed you out of your own body, out of your own mind. You are standing there, on solid ground, and yet it seems as if everything is dissolving beneath your feet. Reality blurs into a veil that you can barely reach through.
You feel nothing - neither pain nor anger, not even pride. Only emptiness.
You have a depersonalization.
The world, the sounds, the metallic banging, the echo of the fighting - everything seems so distant. Like a dream you can't wake up from, like an echo from a life that is no longer yours.
Voices sound in your head. Vander. Silco. Singed. They mingle, whisper, shout, yell, over each other, mixed up. And you no longer understand what is true. What is imagination. What is memory.
"You have potential that can change the world." - Singed, his voice cold but analytical, that of a man who looked at you like a formula. "But the price... you know you won't reach it until someday."
"You are more than they think. More than you think." - Vander, his warm voice ringing through your mind like a distant chime, hope in its deepest tones. But wasn't it you who let him turn into a monster?
"Real power doesn't come to those who were born strongest or fastest or smartest. " - Silco. Always Silco. His shadow looms over everything, even now that he is dead. Or precisely because of it.
You continue to stare at the ceiling. Your gaze blurs. The wind blows through your hair, carrying dust and cold with it. And you? You're just... there. Emptiness in your chest, blackness inside you. Thoughts collide, tearing each other apart.
Is this really the life you wanted? Is this what you were looking for when you opened the books and discovered the Corpse Parts? When you dreamed of becoming someone?
Hurting someone as weak as Caitlyn... that was never part of your plan. And yet there she is. Because of you.
You think of Jinx. How she almost died on the bridge. How she lay on the ground, trembling, bleeding, alone - and you were too late. Ekko, why it all happened in the first place. How you stood there, paralyzed, unable to act because everything was happening too fast, too much.
And then Vi. The big sister who once reached out to Jinx - only to pull her back. Who now fights her, not realizing how much she's destroying her further. The pain you saw in Jinx's eyes when she saw her again was worse than any curse, worse than any scar you've ever borne in your years.
You blink slowly. Your thoughts stagger on. Vander... your light in the darkness. The man who once told you that you belonged. That you were valuable even though you had nothing.
Who offered you a home, a family. And yet you are the one who destroyed it. And now? Now you see it in Caitlyn. In the way she rebels, the way she tries to reach out to you even though you've long since slapped her hand away. In her hurt but fighting look.
And you ask yourself: Who are you anyway? A magician? A murderer? A child with too much power and too little support? A mistake? What are you?
You look back at Singed's words. This constant "You have potential". As if your value could only be measured by what you could give to the world. Never by what you wanted to be yourself.
And even if you know that you are stronger than most people, than most magicians - what good is this strength if you lose everything you love in the process?
The magic continues to flow through your body, your arm of the Corpse pulses with life, but you? You're little more than a breath of yourself right now.
You are in the depths. Not the one you can measure with the naked eye. Not in the mine shaft or in the abyss beneath your feet, but deeper. In the center of your own silence.
In the black spot at your core, where there is no longer a voice, no light, no direction. Just an echo that loses itself. And nothing - absolutely nothing - seems to be able to pull you back up.
What am I doing here anyway?
What was actually your goal? Wasn't it to collect the Corpse Parts? Wasn't that your job, your mission, your purpose in this world? But even that now seems like a fragment of a forgotten dream. What is the point of your miserable life? Why were you born?
Why are you still breathing at all? Why... are you?
You remember how much you once hated being so weak. How you wandered through the ruins with Singed, scarred by your mistake in the Cannery, and followed him anyway - because you thought it would make you better. Because you thought there was a way, through strength, through magic, through discipline, to make up for it all.
You were a student who believed that life was an equation - if you learn enough, fight enough, endure enough, you will do the right thing. But he betrayed you. And what became of Vander, you helped create. That was not a path to forgiveness. That was a pact with the darkness.
You think of your first trips, your first fights. The adrenaline. The feeling of surviving even though you were supposed to die. And yet... you survived. You won. Again and again. You met teachers, people who trained you without really knowing you. And you never let anyone get too close to you. Attachment? That was dangerous. Feelings? Even more dangerous.
And yet... a teacher said something that now pops back into your head as if it were written for this very moment:
"What cannot change can only be broken."
You blink. Your eyes slowly focus again and you realize: Caitlyn is gone. You turn around jerkily, your senses fully activated again. Up above - on the raised ledge - Jinx lies beneath Vi, beaten, on the brink of defeat. Vi is above her, ready to deliver the final blow. But that's not what captures your gaze.
It's the little girl. Her hands are shaking. In them: Jinx's gun. The muzzle is aimed at Vi. Her eyes are wide, empty with fear, full of the chaos she cannot comprehend. She is too young for this war. And yet she is right in the middle of it.
You want to move, but you're still too far away.
Then - a bang. A shot. Caitlyn fires. Not at Jinx. Not at Vi. But at the girl. The bullet rips the gun from her hand.
You're finally back.
You breathe. Fast. Heavy. The world is moving at normal speed again. Your mind pulls itself out of the vortex. Vi screams for Caitlyn to stop, but Caitlyn remains ice-cold.
"Cait, she's a child!"
"Move. She's not getting away again."
You want to intervene. But then - another noise.
You can see it. Further up. Sevika. She has found the lever. It's the emergency release. An ancient safety system from the days of the miners. And she pulls it.
A huge gust of wind breaks loose, whipping through the underground corridors, taking rocks with it, dirt, smoke, dust, everything. Jinx, the girl and Sevika are standing safely at the top of the platform.
But you - you stand still. Your aura gathers in your feet. You concentrate it with a calmness that has become alien to you.
And the wind - so powerful that it hurls even Caitlyn and Vi far through the air, their bodies whipping through the darkness like lifeless rag dolls - bounces off you like rain on stone.
You don't move, not an inch. Your feet don't dig into the ground, but your aura is enough to withstand the force. Still. Unwavering.
Your eyes are lost in the raging dust for a moment before you slowly, almost automatically, walk towards the others, who are now standing on the higher platform. The storm subsides. The world becomes quieter again.
Sevika is the first to speak. Her voice sounds pressed, exhausted, but still full of energy. "Is everyone okay?" she asks as she briefly wipes her forehead with her forearm.
"Are you stupid?" Jinx's tone is sharp, irritated, but not angry - more concerned. "Why did you pull the damn lever, huh? We could have been killed!"
You don't say anything, still standing a little apart, in the middle of the swirling dirt. You breathe, slowly but heavily. The wind is still in your lungs, your vision blurred, your head empty and yet full. You just wait. Wait until the situation settles, until your mind catches up with you again.
"And you?" The words are suddenly there, harsh and direct, and it takes you a moment to realize that they are directed at you. Sevika has come closer, running in circles like an animal that has too much energy left and doesn't know what to do with it. "What was that about you?" She glares at you. "I saw what you did to Caitlyn - how you just tore her apart. And then what? Then you just stare into the air like you're not even here anymore. What's wrong with you?"
You're about to answer. You want to throw something at her. Something about her own incompetence, about how she almost lost to Caitlyn. How stupid you must be to let a weak enforcer outmaneuver you like that. But before you can get started, Jinx intervenes.
"Leave him alone." Her voice is clear, firmer than expected, almost protective. "You don't talk to him like that. Okay?" She looks directly at Sevika, a moment too long. "This whole thing is over now anyway."
Sevika snorts, turns away and runs a few steps again. The noise has died down, leaving only the buzzing in your ears - until you suddenly feel something. A weight. Something small and delicate. The girl, Isha, is clinging to Jinx's leg, her little fingers clawing into the fabric. She's trembling, her eyes are wide and full of things she doesn't understand.
Jinx looks down and briefly puts her hand on the girl's head, almost like a mother. "That was stupid," she says, calmly. "Incredibly dangerous. You could have died."
The girl says nothing. She hasn't spoken a single word yet, but her eyes are loud enough. After a moment, she sits down, legs drawn up, just looking at the floor.
Jinx steps towards you, while Sevika keeps her distance. She stands next to you, upright but without pressure. "Hey..." she says softly, and you feel her gaze on your cheek. "What was that with you just now?" She makes a quick gesture towards your face. "I saw it. You just... dismantled Caitlyn. No resistance. No hesitation. And then... you just stared into the air. What happened?"
You need a moment. Your thoughts don't organize themselves, they flow, tumble, stumble. "I don't know exactly," you answer honestly. "I was somewhere else mentally. Just... not there anymore. As if someone had ripped me out." You swallow, your gaze shifting to Caitlyn's last position, then to Isha, then back to Jinx.
She just nods. No judgment, no doubt. "You're damn strong," she finally says. "I mean, I knew you were good. But this? You just destroyed Caitlyn. You beat her like she was a child. How strong are you, anyway, Y/N?"
You think about it. "I've been through a lot," you say thoughtfully. Caitlyn is... she's nothing in comparison. Not an opponent. Not to me."
For a moment, no one says anything. It is quiet, but this time not empty - but quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before something bigger. Jinx looks at you and you feel something inside her click, turn, click into place. And then she smiles. Not arrogant. Not crazy. Just soft.
"Her name is Isha," she says, "I adopted her."
You slowly turn to her, looking from Jinx to the little girl sitting there, narrow and lost in her own world.
"What?"
"She's with us now." Jinx's voice is calm. Unusually clear. "That means we're like her parents now."
You don't want to say anything. You don't want to show any reaction. But your body betrays you. Your gaze softens. Your shoulders tremble.
You feel how the past covers you like a wet cloak. You see Powder crying. You see Vi. Mylo. Claggor. Vander. Everything you've lost. Everything that will never come back.
And in this moment, in this silence, everything you have held on to for so long collapses.
Tears well up in your eyes, you fight against them, but they flow anyway. You lower your eyes, breathing shallowly as if you were drowning. And Jinx? She steps closer, puts her arms around you, just like no one else would. Not a word. No explanation.
Only warmth. And the feeling that, at least for a moment, you are no longer alone.
The story continues-and this time, you're not alone.
After your encounter with Sevika and now the Enforcer squad, which seemingly includes Vi and Caitlyn, you continue sneaking through the Undercity. But as tensions rise, a battle breaks out.
Your mind is a battlefield of memories, guilt, and logic desperately trying to surface. Yet, it's all slipping through your fingers-and sooner or later, that might be your downfall.
---
Another chapter is finally here!
How long has it been since the last update? Two weeks? It doesn't matter, it's here now.
This chapter starts off similarly to the others. I love easing into the emotions and depth of the story before abruptly yanking both the reader (and sometimes even myself) back into reality with an unexpected shift.
Alright, enough talking-enjoy the chapter! And as always, leave some support!
---
You always had a plan.
No matter how hopeless a situation seemed, your mind worked ceaselessly to find a solution. Even if you didn't have an answer, your brain found a way out - a plan that kept you going.
It was almost frightening how often you knew exactly what to do.
Focus on the aura. Counter. Analyze. Adapt tactics. Cast a spell. Strengthen your defense. And most importantly: play everything wisely.
Most opponents talked a lot, thought they were invincible. Many were stronger than you - physically, maybe even in raw magic. But that didn't matter. You weren't a frontline fighter. You weren't a berserker who threw himself blindly into battle.
You were waiting.
A single mistake by your opponent, a single opening, and the match was decided.
Your tactics were simple but effective. While others relied on brute strength, you used strategy and precision. You were physically inferior - that was a fact. But when it came to magic, aura and tactical thinking, you were a match for almost anyone.
Even without years of fighting experience, you always managed to win. Outsiders would have bet that you would lose. But you knew better.
Because in the end, it's not the strongest that wins.
It’s the smartest.
But there were moments when no plan in the world could save you.
When you were standing on the bridge. When you were in the Cannery. When you learned that Singed was abusing Vander for experiments - wanted to hand him over to Silco, not as a brother, but as a weapon.
These moments made you realize that you had made mistakes. Mistakes that you couldn't simply think away.
On the bridge, it was your naivety, your childish idea of magic, your conviction that reality couldn't be as cruel as it was described in the books.
"Do you believe in the Impossible?"
This is where you met Vander.
In the Cannery, it was something else. The feeling of finally being a part of something. You and Powder - two kids who never really belonged, who were always underestimated. But now you had a chance to save everyone.
It ended in chaos.
A massacre. Dead on your side. Innocents, friends, family. And in the end, everyone thought you had died too.
"My name is Singed, and you are now... The Sorcerer's Apprentice."
This is where you met Singed.
Later, alone in your room at Singed, with sleepless nights and flickering magic in your hands. The Corpse's arm, flooding you with energy as if it were slowly but surely consuming you.
And then you took a chance - risked something that you had actually buried back in the Cannery.
Vander.
You worked on it for months.
You and Singed, in dark rooms, between experiments and cold metal. He was no longer the man you knew. He was an experiment. A monster. A weapon.
And you?
You had allowed it to happen.
You still haven't confessed to Vi or Jinx.
"I did this. I killed Vander. He wouldn't have died if I hadn't been there."
This is where you met your end.
The Y/N from back then died.
The problems of the past should remain in the past.
The dream of getting Vander back. The desire to find Jinx and reconcile. The hope of apologizing to Vi and somehow making amends.
All this was nothing more than a naive dream.
And you're done dreaming.
Pure adrenaline. No more plans. Just instinct and anger.
The thought that you killed Vander.
That you are the reason for Jinx's trauma.
That you sent Mylo and Claggor to their deaths with the bomb.
How many times have you thought about killing yourself because you just couldn't take it anymore?
But that is the paradox of anger.
A person who has known anger, who has felt rage, is always stronger than a person who has never felt hatred.
How could someone who has spent their life in peace ever understand what is going on in your head?
The shame of your family.
The destruction of your childish fantasy world.
The death of your friends by your own hand.
The years of training felt pointless.
The guilt that ate you up every night.
And now you're standing here, in the dark alleys of Zaun. No plan. No control.
Only emotions that make you shatter.
"Hey..."
Powder's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
She walks to your right, quietly. Almost too quietly for what awaits you next. Another fight is inevitable, you know that. And yet she sounds calm.
Much too quiet.
"Are you mad?"
You stop abruptly.
The words sound simple, but they confuse you.
Sour?
You are more than that. You are angry. You are exhausted. You are full of anger at everything.
The question hits you like a blow.
How should you respond?
If you show too much of your anger, your enemies will immediately notice that you are on guard.
If you didn't show it, Jinx - Powder - would follow up. And then... then you would finally freak out.
So, what should you do?
You think about back then.
How Vander taught Vi how to fight. How you sat in the corner with a book instead, how you always listened anyway.
"A good fighter not only strikes, he also knows when not to strike."
You remember how Vander kept telling her that she had potential - but that she mustn't forget her defense, either.
And back then you looked the other way.
Now you wish you could do it again.
But instead, you feel your mind tipping in a dangerous direction.
Wizards avoid this state.
The state in which they don't care about anything.
And yet that's exactly where you are.
So, you answer.
Quiet.
Without looking Jinx in the eye.
"Yes."
A break.
"Yes, I am."
For a moment, you drown in your thoughts. Memories rise up, dragging you back to the past, and a question nails itself into your mind:
Should I tell her that Vander is still alive?
You feel the words forming inside you, gathering your courage, but at that very moment -
One blow.
A man appears out of nowhere in front of you. You can't feel him.
Not because it's good.
But because you are absent.
He exploits this perfectly.
With full force, he knocks Jinx aside. You see her being flung through the air, and that's when you realize what's happening - but it's already too late.
A second attacker, fast, precise, with a mechanically reinforced arm. Before you can react, he hits you full force in the stomach.
You can see it.
How the metal fist amplifier rushes towards you.
How the momentum is enough to break bones.
But you instinctively use a minimal amount of aura. 10 percent, hardly more.
The blow hits.
And you move.
Not like Jinx, who is thrown across the floor by the impact.
Not like others whose ribs would break.
You are simply pushed backwards a little.
You breathe out slowly and place a hand on your side. No pain. Not a single sign that you've been hit at all.
That was it?
Your gaze rises, slowly, emotionlessly.
You analyze.
His physique is good. Strong, trained, but not exceptional. His mechanical equipment - standard. A cheaper version of Shimmer, greenish, weaker than the pure version. It strengthens him, gives him power, but you know such technologies.
His aura is nothing special.
And that's enough for you to know that he's not a threat.
Your gaze wanders to Jinx. She's lying on the floor, the impact was harder than yours, but you know - she's not finished.
Back to him.
He thinks he surprised you.
He thinks the hit was enough.
And he is so wrong.
He is weak.
Not because it's bad.
It's because you're in a completely different league.
You remember the monsters you met on your travels.
Knights from kingdoms that have mastered magic for centuries.
Assassins whose speed cannot even be detected by the human eye.
Mages who sacrifice their own lives just to destroy their enemies.
And then there he is.
A street fighter with a cheap version of Shimmer.
Even Vi, who has perfected her fist fights, or Ekko, who puts his wits into the fight, are stronger than him.
Even Caitlyn, who keeps her distance and calculates her fights, would be more dangerous than him.
But that doesn't matter.
Because at that moment you realize it -
You could kill them all.
Vi. Caitlyn.
Every single member of your Enforcer team.
And it wouldn't even take long.
You watch as Jinx is pushed against the wall by several people. She struggles, kicking, but there are too many of them. They hold her down, arms twisted over her head, her weapon knocked out of her hand. One of them presses his forearm against her neck and seems to be talking to her.
Your eyes narrow.
Your eyes lose their light as you slowly raise one arm and pull your spellbook out of your coat pocket with incredible speed. The man in front of you falters, his eyebrows draw together, he looks confused. A mistake. You have already played through everything that would happen next in your head.
There's no need to weave complicated spells or mutter powerful formulas - you only need a minimum of magic to destroy him.
Your aura far exceeds his.
You exhale, your fingers speed through the pages of your spellbook, taking a brief moment to guarantee the best possible result, and then - a jolt, a decision.
You close the book and put it back in your coat pocket. Your opponent raises an eyebrow skeptically. He is expecting something. An attack. But nothing happens.
You slowly stretch your fist forward, holding it briefly in the air before placing your other hand on top of it, gathering the aura in your body and transferring it to your fist with a purposeful movement. A low hum fills the air, barely audible but palpable in your bones.
"What the..." your opponent mutters, his voice breaking slightly. "What is... that?"
A soft glow begins to dance around your fist, an aggressive orange aura that continues to intensify. Just a spark of magic, barely a fraction of your full potential, but it will be more than enough for him.
"One..." you say quietly and crouch down slightly. Your eyes remain focused on your hands as the aura intensifies.
The man freezes. His instinct is screaming at him to get away. Just as an animal senses the danger of a hunter, he now feels that something is very wrong. Cold sweat beads down his temples. His knees begin to tremble.
"Two..." Your body tenses, you grit your teeth, your aura grows six times its original strength. Enough to send a bear to the ground with a single blow.
Panic flashes in your opponent's eyes. He now realizes that he has underestimated you. A fatal mistake. He thought you were physically weak. And he was right. But that wasn't the point. He understands now - and yet it's too late.
"Three..." It is done. The spell is complete. But one last ingredient is still missing. Your gaze meets him. "That's it."
He reacts. In a fit of desperation, he throws himself forward. He thinks he's got you figured out. If you're keeping this much distance to prepare for your attack, then it must be a long-range attack. One that he can no longer dodge. So, he uses his longer reach, aiming straight for your head. He wants to end it.
But the moment his first step touches the ground; the fight is already over.
The aggressive, pulsating aura in your fist suddenly deforms. You stretch out your index and ring fingers, the pure magic flows along your fingers, takes shape and becomes a razor-sharp blade of energy.
A cut.
A single, clean, precise cut.
Silence.
For a moment, he feels nothing. No pain, no resistance, no wound. Then he sees it - the world around him tilts, his vision blurs, the horizon tilts.
He realizes that his upper body is slowly, almost gently falling backwards, while his legs remain in front.
He is already dead.
You lower your hand; the blade of aura goes out. A deep breath, not a single twitch in your face. You didn't even hit him with a quarter of your full strength. It would have been painless if he had lived long enough to realize it.
But before you can think, a bang shatters the silence.
A projectile whizzes past you, pierces the air with a shrill whistle and hits the hat of one of the men hiding behind you with a dull plop.
It's a warning shot, a clear message, and you immediately recognize the aura behind this attack. Slowly, you turn around and see her: Sevika.
But before anyone can react, Jinx throws a small bag through the air. You understand immediately - the whole scene unfolds in your head, while the others don't even realize what's happening. The sack describes a perfect arc, is caught by Sevika with a routine grip, and with a soft click the new metal arm connects with her body.
A bespoke creation, constructed with your help, based on Jinx's ideas - an unpleasant reminder that despite your hatred, you are still caught up in her plans.
Jinx dodges an attack, deftly turns to the side and starts her own fight against a few of the attackers. You, on the other hand, hold back, analyzing the situation until you notice one of them sneaking up on you in her blind spot.
Not a second passes before you act - you smash his head with a rotating throw of your steel ball. Its body collapses like a marionette, the sound of the impact mingling with the metallic clink of your returning ball.
Jinx's eyes widen, then she begins to laugh. "You really are a monster, Y/N" She whirls around you, shooting another enemy from the barrel of her gun before turning back to you. "Let's end this here."
You don't say anything. You don't need to. Your mind is already working, your gaze fixed on another fight.
Sevika is busy with this guy called Smeech - if you can even call it a fight. He's pathetically weak; without his mechanical upgrades, any average crook would probably have beaten him to a pulp long ago.
"Fancy meeting you here." Jinx grins as she twists a cartridge case between her fingers.
Sevika snorts. "Moron could never keep his damn mouth shut." Then she raises her new arm, and fireworks shoot into the sky from the barrel on her wrist - an idea of Jinx's that you have realized with your magic. The bright light bathes the streets of Zaun in an unreal glow, while the echo of the explosion still reverberates in the alleyways.
Sevika wipes a trace of the green liquid - cheap shimmer - from her face. "You could've just let us eat in peace." Jinx shrugs, puts an arm on your shoulder and leans against you playfully.
"Haven't I done you both enough favors?" Sevika asks, then repeats Jinx's words with feigned frustration. "I didn't ask you for this."
"It was something we could both fix." Jinx points to Sevika's new arm with her chin as she drums her fingers impatiently on her weapon.
You don't say anything, instead your thoughts drift off for a moment. Your eyes wander over the scene, and you can't help but wonder how easy it would be to simply wipe out Vi, Caitlyn, and the rest of their team. The very possibility of you thinking like that, forming such plans in your head, is nauseating.
How far have you come from the child who once dreamed of becoming a great wizard? It would be unpleasant to stand in front of your younger self now and explain to him what you have become.
"You both got that look in your eye again." Sevika's voice pulls you back to reality, her eyes scrutinize you piercingly, with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "What are you planning?"
Before you can answer, you feel a movement at your side. Your gaze lowers and only now do you notice the small child standing next to you. It only takes you a moment to understand. She must have fetched Sevika, perhaps in the hope that she could help. Not that you needed her help - you could have killed every single one of these guys on your own.
For a split second, your eyes meet the child’s, and you recognize something in her gaze. Admiration. Maybe even something like hope. She has no parents, that's obvious. And somehow, without having consciously decided it, you already know that you will protect her.
Jinx answers before you do.
"To finish what's left of my family."
Without another word, you move deeper into the city. Jinx walks beside you, the little girl keeps switching between the two of you, sometimes holding your hand, sometimes hers. When she takes your hand, you notice how cold it is.
Hesitantly, almost instinctively, you channel a minimal amount of your aura into the palm of your hand so that it warms up. It only takes a few seconds before it nestles comfortably in your grip and won't let go.
Sevika walks slightly behind you, her steps heavy, her gaze suspicious. This is not her battle, she knows that. She's a soldier without a commander, a warrior clinging to what's left - and that's exactly why she's here.
The path leads you deeper into the darkness. You reach an old mine shaft, a relic from the past. Years ago, workers were trapped here, buried under the rubble of the industry, only to dig their way out with their bare hands.
A place marked by hopelessness, the will to survive and raw violence. The perfect setting for what is to come.
Sevika stops abruptly, looks around and grimaces. "Where the hell are we exactly?"
"This is where the miners used to be locked up," you answer calmly as you let your eyes wander over the area. "And for us, it's the perfect place to end the fight."
It is silent for a moment. Only the soft dripping of water somewhere in the distance and the distant echo of the city can be heard. Your senses feel their way through the room, registering every unevenness, every shadow. Space enough to fight, plenty of objects for cover, blind spots that can be both a blessing and a curse.
Sevika frowns. "You mean-"
"Yes." Jinx steps up next to you, her voice sounding calm, but you can tell she's tense. "The enforcers, Vi and Caitlyn, will be here soon."
"And you're telling me this now?" Sevika growls, her hand unconsciously twitching towards her weapon, but then she notices the trembling of the little girl clinging to you. She breathes out heavily. "So, I get my revenge, and on top of that-"
"No."
The word cuts through the air like a blade. A moment of silence. You turn your head to look at Jinx.
She stands with her shoulders slumped, her fingers clutching the gun, her eyes burning with determination, but you see it immediately - behind all this lies something else. Nervousness. Doubt. A spark of fear.
"I take care of Vi," she finally says, her voice firmer than her gaze. "You take care of the others."
Sevika screws up her face, a snide snort. "Jinx, that's-"
"It's her decision," you interrupt her calmly but firmly. Your eyes meet hers, and for a moment you just stare at each other. You're not a fighter who shows his superiority with his bare fist, but when it comes to control and strategy, you're far superior to her. Sevika knows that, and that's why she doesn't argue.
Instead, you turn to Jinx. "And what about her?" You point with a quick glance at the little girl, who is still clinging to you for protection. "If the fight starts, she can't stay here."
Jinx thinks for a moment, then looks around. "Over there." She points to a raised platform. "She'll be safe up there."
"Nothing is safe here," Sevika growls, but you ignore her and nod. That will be enough.
"And what's the plan?" she then asks as she pulls a cigarette out of her pocket and cracks the lighter with her healthy hand.
Jinx grins wryly. "It's simple: I'll finish Vi off, and you two go after Caitlyn."
Sevika raises a brow. "And the other three enforcers?"
"No problem." You cross your arms and lean lightly against one of the old pillars. "I'll take care of them."
Sevika looks at you for a moment, then grins broadly. "Do you really think you can handle three Enforcers on your own?"
You return her gaze coolly. "I know it."
There's nothing more to say. Jinx's grin widens, Sevika cracks her fingers, and you can feel your aura slowly spreading. You can feel it - every movement, every presence within a radius of two hundred meters. They are already on their way.
"They'll be here in a few minutes," you mumble, letting your gaze slide into the darkness. "Then it starts."
Sevika takes a drag on her cigarette, slowly blows out the smoke and stretches as if this is just another chore for her. But you can see it in her posture - she's taking the fight seriously. Her fingers tap nervously on her metallic arm, her aura is tense, ready to discharge in every conceivable direction.
While Sevika prepares for the upcoming battle, you set off with Jinx to bring the little girl to safety. You lead her deeper into the old mine area, past rusty steel beams and half-collapsed corridors, until you find a platform that is barely visible from below. It is the safest place you have been able to find in this brief time.
Jinx squats down in front of the girl and presses a pair of binoculars into her small hands. "Here, kid. You can watch, but don't make a sound, alright?" She winks at her, but the girl neither returns the smile nor says a word. Her big eyes move from Jinx to you, then back down again.
Jinx sighs and stands up as you continue to watch the girl. "She won't say anything," you say quietly.
Jinx looks at you questioningly.
"She has no parents." Your voice is calm but firm. "I think she's non-verbal. Maybe she never learned to speak."
A brief silence follows. Jinx crosses her arms; her gaze remains fixed on the girl. "Do you think she reminds you of us back then?"
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words in your chest. "Maybe."
You stand there for a while as the girl plays with the binoculars, blowing the dust off the lens and seemingly trying to come to terms with her new situation. The thought that you are leaving someone behind, just as you were left behind, makes you feel sick for a moment.
Jinx turns to you, her voice quieter than before. "Tell me... What are we, anyway?"
You freeze.
She watches you closely, her gaze almost penetrating you. It's a question you've never asked yourself because you took the answer for granted - but now that she's standing in front of you, you can feel the chaos boiling inside you.
What are you? Friends? More? Two lost souls who simply have nowhere else to go.
"I..." You search for words, but none of them feel right.
Jinx steps closer to you. "Do you remember? Back when we were still with Vi and the others, I used to admire you." She laughs briefly, but it's not a happy laugh. "You were so clever; you always had a plan. No matter what happened, you made it work. I always thought... if I was like you, nothing would happen to me."
You look at her, and for the first time in a long time you see her again - not Jinx, but Powder. The little girl who was full of hope, full of dreams, full of life.
"I've always admired you too." Your voice is rough, brittle. "Not because you were like the others, but because you were creative. Because you kept us alive with your inventions. Because you were the thing that held us, the group, together."
Jinx blinks. Then it becomes quiet.
Because when the word "group" comes out of your mouth, it hits like a thunderclap.
Vi. Mylo. Claggor.
The images flash through your mind, burn into your consciousness like fire. The bridge. The fire. The explosion. Their screams. You want to suppress it, want to lock it away as you so often do, but this time it's too much.
Your breathing becomes heavy, your hands tremble. You don't realize that Jinx is moving until she stands right in front of you and puts her hands on your shoulders.
And then she kisses you.
It's not a hasty, desperate kiss, but a slow, almost cautious one. Her lips are warm, but you can feel them tremble slightly. It's a moment of calm in the midst of the storm, a desperate attempt to hold on to something that has long since slipped away from you both.
When you break away, her forehead remains leaning against yours. "I don't want to lose you," she whispers.
You swallow hard. "You're not going to lose me."
You hold each other for a moment, then she pulls back, takes a deep breath and puts on her typical grin again - albeit with a hint of sadness.
"Come on, we have a show to deliver."
---
And that's it for this chapter-right on the brink of battle.
The story keeps moving forward, and we're dangerously close to the group's fight against Vi and Caitlyn. That means more trauma, lost limbs, and, of course, the use of magic in combat.
Speaking of which, I want to shed some light on the reader's magic. As I've mentioned countless times, magic is a matter of experience. The reader has gained some, though not nearly as much as a true master. Still, it's enough to survive in a world ruled by magic.
The reason he has such an immense amount of Aura comes down to two things: his natural affinity for magic, something even Singed, who's anything but easy to impress, labeled as terrifying-and the Corpses Arm. A more detailed explanation will come in the next few chapters or towards the story's end. After all, we're not too far from the conclusion.
I'll leave you with a quote from one of the most pivotal moments that will come in the story-one that will define everything moving forward and ending at the same time:
"I don't care if this is the end... So, I'll use everything."
Things are about to change. The plot will take a shift, the reader will have a conversation with Viktor, and nothing will be the same. Stay tuned.
The second season begins. Jinx and you are broken, scarred by memories that won't let you go. You are desperately trying to keep a clear view amid the chaos.
Meanwhile, Vi and Caitlyn create forces to track you down. And during this chapter, they succeed - but whether they can really catch you is another question.
Jinx also finally asks you the big question: how strong are you really? An insightful, but also unsettling conversation unfolds. You evaluate Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn and Ekko - and define what it really means to fight a battle.
But something is simmering deep inside you. The anger at failing again is growing. And it's only a matter of time before you finally explode.
---
A new chapter of this incredibly intense, traumatic and crisis-ridden story.
With the start of season two, it's straight into the thick of things: A dangerous encounter with Sevika, a confrontation with Vi, Caitlyn and her Enforcer squad - and in the end, a set-up that you can see through immediately.
I'm delighted to have finally reached this point in the story. Because soon the time will come: the finale will be huge. It will be brutal. And it will change everything.
Have fun reading!
---
A condition.
A person who fully accepts and carries out a condition will always be stronger than one who hesitates.
Everyone keeps conditions - unconsciously or deliberately. Every decision is a bet on the future. Sacrificing something in order to gain something else is a fundamental rule of existence.
Every breath is a contract.
Wizards understand this principle better than anyone else. But their conditions are crueler. They give up their morals, their beliefs, their loved ones - all for a spark of more power, a deeper connection to magic, a greater capacity for aura.
In battle, conditions are everything.
A wizard who is prepared to destroy himself is unstoppable. Trading lifetimes for power, memories for knowledge, emotions for absolute control - it is the wagers that decide every battle. But every condition has its price, and many who bid too high pay with their lives.
To conclude a condition, you have to negotiate with yourself.
And people know their own value best.
People train since birth, learn magic in academies, study for decades, spend their lives in research, theory and practice. They discipline themselves, dedicate themselves completely to the pursuit of power - and then you come along.
A child.
With only fragmentary knowledge, with nothing but instinct, talent and desperation.
And you destroy them all.
It's not fair.
Not for them.
Maybe not even for you.
But it is the truth.
Your magic was special. Not only because of your intellect or the incredible amount of natural aura volume, but also because of the Corpse's arm.
An incessant stream of life energy flowed through you - powerful, inexplicable, almost divine. But it wasn't just yours.
Teachers, magicians, people you met on your travels kept asking:
"Why are you concentrating so much aura in your right arm?"
"Are you doing that on purpose? Is it a technique? A trauma?"
And you?
You lied to them all.
Without hesitation. Without guilt.
No one was allowed to know about the Holy Wizards Corpse. No one was allowed to know what was really inside you.
Jayce Talis' map, your own notes, you kept everything secret.
Every single word. Every detail.
And now you're walking here - next to Jinx, in the depths of Zaun. Your hoods pulled low over your face; your steps synchronized with the chaos around you.
The streets are louder than usual. Rumors are flying, voices are overflowing, and you can feel it in the air: Everything has changed.
("Get the fuck outta my head...")
You keep your gaze lowered, hiding your presence, while your thoughts try to organize themselves - in vain.
Criminal.
Jinx has always been, but now? Now it's both of you.
Silco is dead.
Not planned. But it is anyway.
Vi and Caitlyn? The fragile connection you had with them? Shattered.
And then there's the worst part.
Something you haven't told Jinx yet.
Vander is alive.
All this... for nothing.
The missile, the destruction, the symbolic strike against Piltover - and yet her greatest trauma was still out there somewhere.
How can you tell her?
How can you break her heart, again?
You feel her hand squeeze yours. You instinctively tighten your grip on the steel ball in your other hand.
Because you know that if you tell her... she'll break.
Once again.
I wonder how often she cried?
I wonder how many times she sat alone in the Cannery when you ran away?
How often she must have thought back - to that one window, to the night you threw the monkey bomb and ended everything.
Or started.
"Do you believe in the impossible?"
"Tsk."
You grind your teeth. These words...
Damn.
Vander's voice echoes through your head, as clear as if he were standing right behind you.
The bridge.
The book in your hand.
The scarf around your neck.
The tears you couldn't hold back.
What would Vander say to you now?
"After all, you have a good brain."
Your jaw tightens and you clench your teeth even tighter. Good?
What's good about it?
Back then, in quiet moments, Vander had often spoken to you. He had praised you, told you that you were smart. That you were something special.
And what has become of you?
A wreck.
Not quite human. Not quite a wizard. A wanderer, torn between two worlds.
And all because of a corpse part.
What would Vander say if he could see what you and Powder just did?
Would he still classify you as "smart"?
Or as someone who is guided by his emotions instead of his mind?
Vander was not stupid.
You know that better than anyone.
You overheard his conversations, observed his thoughts. Even when he despised Piltover, he was never impulsive. Never rash.
He knew that a revolution only had a chance if it was well thought out.
And yet he had led one.
And yet he had died.
("So long, sucker...")
The world around you is falling apart.
The streets of Zaun are a riot. Fights, theft, chaos everywhere. People taking what they can get.
Not even a shred of order.
For a moment, just a single moment, you think about killing someone.
Any one of them.
One who steals.
One who beats.
One who lives this miserable, meaningless life.
But you immediately tear yourself away from this thought.
No.
You are not a murderer.
Even if you're so damn angry - you're not taking that step.
At least... not yet.
("I don't wanna see you, I hate this life...")
And then you ask yourself:
Would Jinx do it?
How many people has it already killed?
How many families has it destroyed?
How many lives does she have on her conscience?
And you?
You fell in love with her anyway.
Again.
But what can you do about it?
Because somewhere in there, hidden somewhere deep...
It's still there.
Powder.
("You're gone, sucker, Good luck killing me 'cause I'm already...Already dead inside")
But in the middle of your thoughts, your senses tense up.
Something is wrong.
You stop abruptly. Jinx does too.
Then, out of nowhere -
A scream.
A child falls onto you from a height. You instinctively push Jinx slightly to the side, but before you can activate your aura, it lands on top of you.
"What the?!" Jinx opens her eyes in surprise.
You slowly straighten up again. The little girl sits trembling on the floor, her eyes wide with fear. But you barely pay attention to her - your gaze lifts.
Here they are.
A group of gangsters climb down from the pipes, their steps heavy, their gazes greedy.
Your leader swings a stick in his hand, twirling it casually. But when his gaze falls on you, his movement freezes in mid-air.
He knows who is standing in front of him.
You act.
With one fluid movement, you pull both steel balls out of your coat pocket.
And then - you throw.
The air tears.
The steel balls cut through the darkness with terrifying speed - straight into the faces of the two men next to the boss.
You don't have time to react.
No scream. No last breath.
The steel balls go through them like a hot knife through butter.
The momentum of the attack - the sheer pressure of the magic it contains - is so great that their heads simply burst.
Blood spurts, skulls splinter, bodies collapse like lifeless marionettes.
And then -
BANG.
Jinx pulls the trigger.
A clean shot to the head for the last remaining man.
Two synchronously falling bodies.
Two simultaneous echoing sounds as their lifeless bodies hit the ground.
Silence.
Just the soft clink of your steel balls as they slide back into your hands.
Jinx crouches down, right in front of the little girl, who now stands before you with her eyes wide open. Her breathing is intermittent, her body trembles as her little fingers claw at the dirty ground.
Jinx grins.
"You feel it?" Her voice is soft, almost playful, as she waves her gun in her face. "That... buzzing behind your eyes? That feeling in your chest, like you can't breathe? Because you know, in just a moment, it could all..."
She slowly raises her weapon.
Point it at the girl.
The barrel directly on her forehead.
"Poow!"
"Best feeling in the whole world, Kid." Jinx laughs softly as she stands up.
You watch the scene with a deadpan expression, but your thoughts are racing. The little girl stares at you, her eyes wide open - but not just in fear. Her gaze slowly wanders over your shoulders to the wall behind you.
You don't have to turn around to know what she sees.
The "Wanted" posters.
You hear Jinx turn around, then she snorts. "Yep, that's me." She puts a hand on her hip and grins at the child. Then she points at you with her thumb. "But he here..."
Suddenly she wraps her arm around your shoulder, almost throws herself against you. You can barely feel her weight, but her closeness - the heat of her body - pulls you out of the maelstrom of your thoughts.
"Is well on the way to ending up on just such a poster."
The child looks up at you.
His eyes are wide, full of unspoken questions. And you? You can only imagine what your aura must feel like to them - heavy, oppressive, like a silent, dark storm brewing over the fence.
"You ever need to curse a sibling or a family or a society..." Jinx points to her poster with a casual gesture over her shoulder. "My Card."
You feel her put her arm on your shoulder again. And you let her.
Slowly, she leans closer to you. For a brief moment, you enjoy the wind that blows through the narrow streets - cool and damp - and at the same time the warmth that emanates from Jinx. She seems to like it too, because she moves a little closer.
Then you start moving again.
Through the foggy, poisonous green streets of Zaun.
( "Dirty little animals" )
The little girl hesitates. Then she follows you - small, lost, a silhouette in the fog. Her hand is firmly on her helmet, which is too big, as if she is afraid of losing it.
Sevika slams the door behind her.
An annoyed grunt leaves her lips as she moves across the room, the bottle in one hand, her mechanical arm in the other. With a dull clack, she places it on Silco's old desk and drops heavily onto the chair.
She reaches for her tools with routine movements. But the screw she is trying to loosen is stuck. Her face contorts with effort - and then with frustration. She bangs the table with a curse.
"I can't believe you're dead and I'm still cleaning up your messes."
Addressed directly to Silco.
And you immediately understand that the words are not only addressed to him, but also to you.
Because you are standing there.
Right next to the door.
When Sevika came in, she hadn't noticed you. No one would have noticed you. Not if you didn't want them to. Being invisible - disappearing into shadows - was one of your many specialties. Always has been, unfortunately.
Sevika's aura flickers uneasily, she pulls the bottle to her lips and takes a long, angry swig. Then - a jerk of her shoulder, another growl - and she rams her screwdriver deep into the table.
"Jeez, lady, you crazy?"
Jinx's voice.
Relaxed, playful - but you can hear the undertone.
Sevika reacts immediately. Without hesitation, she rips the screwdriver out of the wood and hurls it in the direction from which Jinx's voice came.
The screwdriver slices through the air, whistling past Jinx by a hair's breadth - and only hits one of her braided strands.
"Talking to dead people." Says Jinx, still lying on her back as if she is completely unimpressed.
Sevika snorts. "Come here to kill me?"
"Haven't we done you enough favors?" Jinx pulls the screwdriver out of her strand, looks at it briefly and then lets herself tilt forward with a satisfied grin. She lands in a casual sitting position on Silco's desk, as if she belongs there.
Sevika reaches slowly and quietly for an empty bottle behind her - but your foot crashes loudly against the floor. A sharp, authoritative sound that makes it clear you've been watching her. She pauses. It would be useless, and she knows it.
"Same time every day." Jinx lets her legs dangle. "Big baby couldn't do it himself."
"Couldn't do much himself." Sevika drops the bottle back on the table and leans heavily on it. Her voice sounds tired, worn. "About now, he'd have me all over the Lanes running his collections."
Slowly you step closer. Your hatred for Sevika is still there, unchanged, glowing under your skin. But you can't deny that the sight of her - exhausted, angry, almost broken - evokes a strange kind of respect in you.
"Building his weapons." Jinx.
"Making his deals." Sevika.
"Exploding his enemies." Jinx.
You feel it before it happens. Sevika's aura thickens, seethes. A raw, uncontrolled feeling - and you take a small, inconspicuous step back.
"He dips out, the whole world flips over." Sevika hisses out the words as if she herself is resisting them. And just as you expected, she grabs the chair in front of her and throws it against the wall with all her might. The wood splinters, the sound echoes through the room. "All his plans. Everything we built. The hell are we supposed to do now?"
Her eyes wander to you.
Sevika looks at you and it only takes a second for her to recognize what you are feeling. Your gaze is expressionless, but your aura gives you away.
"And what about you?" She tilts her head. "Never expected someone like you to end up down here just like us."
Your presence, which you have kept hidden until now, now bursts forth. Heavy, oppressive energy that lets everyone in this room feel what is going on inside you.
What you really are.
Sevika grimaces. Perhaps she should have known.
"But you seem to have developed splendidly..." She scoffs. "What's the matter? You look like you're ready to kill someone."
Jinx is watching you. Her gaze wanders back and forth between you - you know she's thinking about what you did earlier. That you killed. That you didn't hesitate.
"Forget about all your ties to your old world."
The words hit you.
You answer immediately.
"That would be hard. Ties are to be severed..."
A moment of silence.
"Not forgotten."
Something jingles, and Sevika turns back to Jinx. Jinx raises her mechanical arm and points it at her.
"The answer to your question..." Jinx with an evil smile. "Watch it all burn."
You leave the building and plunge back into the darkness of Zaun's endless alleyways. Jinx is hiding something under her cloak, her steps are light-footed, almost prancing. You walk beside her, your gaze fixed ahead.
But while Jinx continues to talk, half-laughing and complaining about things that seem unimportant to you at the moment, your mind is already elsewhere.
You can feel it.
The auras.
They follow you. Not close enough to arouse suspicion - but close enough that you can clearly see them.
Interesting.
They keep their distance. A lot of distance. Too much. They know that they would look bad in a direct confrontation.
Cowards.
Your mind is already organizing possible scenarios. How many are there? How much life energy do you sense? What weapons do they carry?
But then this part of your thinking stops.
Because it doesn't matter.
No matter how strong they are. No matter how many there are. No matter what they are planning.
Nothing they do will stop you.
Not after everything you have already experienced. Not after everything you have lost.
Jinx hums next to you, completely unimpressed, completely unaware.
But you can feel it.
Something is simmering inside you.
The anger, the guilt, the despair.
Everything that you have suppressed for so long is now making its way to the surface.
And soon...
You will burst.
The arcade is in semi-darkness. Dust dances in the light of the neon tubes as you sit on the floor, surrounded by metal parts and loose cables. The old boxing machine that Vi once trained on lies in pieces in front of you. Right next to it is a crumpled blueprint - a new, crazy idea from Jinx.
"Oh, this is going to be fun!" Jinx giggles as she holds a screw with her teeth.
"Let's go." You put on the saw and the work begins.
You dismantle the device with an almost synchronized efficiency. Jinx works quickly, wildly, chaotically - you, on the other hand, are precise and calculating. Again and again you improve small errors, stabilize connections, optimize mechanisms.
After a while, Jinx pauses and looks at you curiously.
"Where did you learn that?"
You keep on screwing, trying not to let the question get to you.
"Huh?"
"Back then, you only ever read books. I never even saw you with a screwdriver." She grins, but there's curiosity in her gaze.
Your fingers pause briefly. "I've been many places..."
You want to finish the sentence, but you can't.
The memories of the Cannery are too loud.
The blood.
The screams.
Your own hands, pleading, full of guilt.
"I must have taken something here and there..." you finally mumble, pretending it's not important. "But I wasn't that bad before!" You grin slightly, but it feels wrong.
Jinx laughs, leaning playfully closer to you, "So, how strong are you now?"
You look at her - her purple eyes, once blue, now an echo of shimmer and madness.
And for a moment you lose yourself.
Then you exhale.
"It's complicated..."
Because it is the truth.
Without the Corpse Arm, you would have no magic. No aura. No power.
But even with him... are you really strong?
In all your travels, you've heard it over and over again: "You have so much potential." "One day you will be dangerous." Even Singed had said it.
But potential is nothing without proof.
You haven't proven anything yet.
Jinx continues to watch you, waiting for an answer.
"I think..." You pause.
And then...
"But I dare say you're still far from your peak. Maybe ten percent, if I'm being generous."
Singed's words echo in your head.
"Far from your peak."
Your stomach contracts.
How strong would you become one day?
And what does "far from" mean?
From what you've heard from others - masters, teachers, opponents - you're already at an extremely high level, both as a mage and as a tactician.
"Maybe ten percent."
Ten percent of your potential.
That doesn't mean you'll only get ten times stronger. No. That's not how magic works.
Jinx tilts her head to one side. "So? What's the answer?"
You exhale slowly. "I'm strong, I can tell you that."
Then you pause.
"But there are stronger ones."
Jinx frowns. "So it's simple. Whoever is stronger wins."
You shake your head. "No. That's not what a fight between two mages is about."
She blinks. "Huh? Of course it's about that. A fight is decided by strength. Or by having more people than your opponent."
You laugh quietly.
And in your head you rewind - to the moment when you asked this question yourself.
Back then, when you met your first teacher.
How could someone like you - a child that any adult could finish off with a maximum of three strokes - ever win?
Now it's your turn to answer this question.
And it feels... weird.
As if you were talking to yourself.
In a calm, slow voice, characterized by nostalgia, you say:
"The moment you start talking about who can win in a sorcerer fight, you're wrong."
Jinx frowns, but you continue.
"Unless you know every single in and out of the other's Magic, there is no point in thinking about Magical fights."
She thinks about it, you can see that in her face.
But you know that she doesn't yet fully understand your words.
And maybe, just maybe, it's better this way.
"But all in all, I'd say I can beat almost any opponent..." You grin slightly as you screw the last bolt into the machine. "As long as I plan who I'm going up against in advance, I'll make sure I win. No matter what happens."
Jinx raises an eyebrow, her typical playful grin creeping onto her face. "And how would you rate me?"
You pause and look at her for a moment.
Her aura has definitely become stronger. It used to be pure white, but now... now it has a distinct purple shimmer. The shimmer has left its mark - not only physically, but also on a deeper, almost metaphysical level.
You raise one hand and hold up a few fingers.
"I give you... six out of ten."
It's quiet for a moment. Jinx blinks, then leans closer to you, her grin remains, but her eyes sparkle challengingly.
"Six out of ten? What?" She cries out, obviously offended, even though you can tell she's not entirely serious. "What do you think of the others? Vi? That weird enforcer? Or... Ekko?"
You lean back and think.
Vi... Her fighting spirit is unwavering. She has a strong aura, probably due to her unyielding will. Unconsciously, she even uses it in her strikes, which makes her extremely dangerous for normal opponents. But she fights too offensively, relying too much on her instincts. She is easy to counter.
Caitlyn is different. Her aura is calm, almost calculating. In a hand-to-hand fight, she would probably lose most of the time - unless she develops a strategy to keep her head above water. She's smarter than Vi, thinks cooler... but she too often reacts too emotionally.
Ekko... physically he's only slightly below Vi, but tactically? That's where he surpasses her. He doesn't just run blindly into battle, but analyzes, looks for weak points, exploits his surroundings perfectly. Without tactics he would be dangerous - with tactics he is a real threat.
On a scale of one to ten, you'd give Vi a five. Caitlyn a 5.5. And Ekko? A clear six.
But... that doesn't mean Ekko would beat Vi in a straight fight. Like you said - no one ever knows how a fight will actually go.
"Vi: five. That Enforcer: five and a half. And Ekko six." You lean forward again, your gaze calmer than before. "But that doesn't mean Ekko would beat Vi."
Jinx shakes her head slightly, her grin wider than before.
"And how many points are you giving yourself?"
You hesitate, then smile slightly. "I won't tell you that."
Jinx frowns, scoots closer to you and pokes you in the side. "Oh, come on! Tell me! It's not like you're going to lose, is it?"
You just shake your head.
"I don't rate myself."
A lie. A clear, obvious lie.
Even as a child, you always asked yourself this question: Who would win in a fight? You know your own abilities, your limits - and you know for a fact that you would rate yourself higher than a six. Perhaps not through brute strength alone, but through your tactical precision and deep understanding of magic.
But then Jinx breaks the silence with a question that catches you off guard.
"But tell me... back then..."
You look at her. Her smile has disappeared. She looks serious - no, sad.
"You're not really from the Undercity, are you?"
Your heart skips a beat.
For a moment, your lungs seem to refuse the vital oxygen.
You stare at each other. Jinx's gaze is penetrating, knowing.
You don't want to answer. But you don't have to.
Because that's when you feel it.
A tremor runs over your skin as your heightened senses sound the alarm. Several people - right in front of the arcade. You recognize two of the auras immediately. And you know it's about to get dangerous.
"What..." Jinx stands up abruptly, and you immediately follow her. "That smell..."
Green gas seeps through the broken window.
You react immediately. Without a word, you retreat into the shadows before anyone notices you. You hide your presence - and as Jinx instinctively clings to you, you hide hers too.
Five silhouettes enter the arcade.
A single glance is enough to confirm it. Two of them are Vi and Caitlyn.
Sweat beads down your forehead. If you hadn't noticed them so early... Jinx might have inhaled the gas.
She draws her gun next to you. Her fingers are tightly closed around the trigger.
No.
You place one hand on hers and gently press it down.
Jinx looks at you, her eyes wide, full of despair. Tears gather in her eyelashes. And you know - she's doing it in yours too.
You both look at Vi, who is walking past your hiding place unsuspectingly.
She is now your enemy.
A tear falls from Jinx's cheek.
You see them fall in slow motion.
And at that moment, you jerk your hands into your coat pockets to pull out your spellbook. Aura pulses through your fingers, enveloping the pages, ready to get you both out of here.
We have to leave!
The tear falls - right in front of Vi.
Her head jerks upwards, her eyes frantically search the darkness. But she finds nothing. You are already on the move.
Hand in hand, you sneak through the thick fog of gas, as silent as shadows. Jinx pulls you along, her fingers clutching yours as you move through the wreckage of the arcade.
A network of loose cables dangles next to you. Jinx grabs them in a flash and connects two ends together.
A sudden shower of sparks sprays through the room.
The enforcers flinch.
"What was that?!"
"Damn it, stay alert!"
It doesn't matter. You've been out for a long time.
Freshness - or at least what passed for "fresh" in Zaun - hits you as you reach the narrow alley.
Jinx is trembling. Her breathing is heavy, and then -
"SHIT!"
Her scream echoes through the narrow walls, raw and unfiltered.
You reflexively cover your ears. It feels like they're about to burst.
Both of you are wheezing, coughing. The gas has settled in your lungs. Jinx seems to have coped better - she pulls you along, stumbling, cursing.
You feel it immediately.
Several pairs of eyes rest on you.
The streets of Zaun are never empty.
And as you take the first steps, you warn her in a low, serious voice:
"It's not over yet. Get ready."
---
And the next chapter is here!
Yes, the update has been a while in coming, but that's mainly because I've been incredibly ill for the last two weeks. Fortunately, I had almost finished the chapter of the Hold On story, so I just had to add the finishing touches.
Slowly, the story is taking a decisive turn, and I think I've already set my course. In case it wasn't quite obvious in this chapter - the reader's anger is slowly beginning to surface. And he's going to need it for the finale.
If anyone has any questions about the part where Jinx asks for a scale of one to ten and you answer her, feel free to write it in the comments! I'm willing to explain my thoughts on it - including why Vi got a 5, Caitlyn got a 5.5, and Ekko got a 6 from the reader.
By the way: You rate yourself as a 7.5 - just so you all know. But of course, we're only talking about a few categories here. In the magic area, everyone else would get a zero, while you would score everywhere - a fair rating, if you like.
The next update goes to the Rat Story, where the last three chapters are now starting!
Thanks for reading and feel free to leave support!
The finale of the first season is here-a dramatic moment filled with emotions and memories, forcing you to ask yourself: What should you do?
In a psychologically devastating moment, you must make a choice: follow logic or surrender to your emotions.
---
Here we are again-this time with the final chapter of the first season!
Yes, it took a while. I spent the past week focusing on the PP chapters since a new update for the game dropped. But don't worry, I'm back now!
I can finally say it-I'm DONE with the first season! I even rewatched the second season to figure out exactly where the reader will fit in. Your intelligence and magical knowledge could be useful for Ekko, Jayce, or Viktor... but let's be real, that would be boring.
Instead, I'm throwing you right into Jinx's world, breaking you down mentally even further-until you finally reach the point where you make a choice to save people. What exactly that choice is, I won't say yet. But I promise, when it happens, it's going to be a hype moment where the full extent of the magic genius's power is finally revealed.
Until then-enjoy the chapter!
---
You have often asked yourself in life whether you are doing the right thing.
On your travels, you asked yourself this all the time.
If you got into a fight and had to decide - run away or fight?
When you met people in foreign countries, people you grew fond of. Was it wise to become attached to them, or was it a weakness?
And whether you are even worthy of receiving the Corpse Parts.
Yes, you have the right arm - but that was pure luck. Or rather: a cruel sacrifice. A price that was still far too high for the prey.
"Only things of happiness and beauty gather towards the Corpse. "
A sentence that has burned itself into your head.
And yet...
You are here.
You are a participant, a hunter in search of something that may never accept you.
Because you are neither happy nor beautiful.
Instead, you are finally what you always wanted to be: a wizard.
You have always underestimated yourself, questioned your own potential - but deep down you know it. When it comes to magic, you are the strongest, at least here, at least now.
There is no absolute strength in magic, you understood that early on. But the sheer amount of your aura, your life energy, is unparalleled.
In distant lands, you often kept your presence hidden. But every time you didn't, the same thing happened: people noticed you.
Some called your aura threatening, others simply scary.
Even before you ever learned to cast spells, before you learned to disperse your aura or use it precisely - your raw magical power was already immense.
Teachers, mentors, enemies - they all said the same thing:
"You don't need big spells to keep up with strong fighters."
But you have learned that strong fighters are not the same as experienced fighters. And the difference between the two is huge.
Almost every person you met could have been the end of you in the beginning.
Warriors who have survived hundreds of battles.
Magicians who had already mastered the art of magic at birth.
But you were superior in one area:
Intellect. Strategy. Adaptation.
It was no wonder that Singed kept emphasizing that you have incredible potential.
That one day, when you grew up, you would be dangerous.
And every day you wished he was wrong.
That his words lose their meaning, their weight, their truth.
But...
They never did.
You felt it with every second.
With every breath.
With every battle.
You became stronger.
Whether it was the sheer volume of your aura, your knowledge of magic, or your strategic foresight, you learned at a speed that overwhelmed even the most talented mages.
You were a fast learner.
Faster than anyone before.
And that was exactly the problem. With every new fragment of knowledge about the Corpse Parts, about this world or about magic, the inner conflict you carried within you became worse and worse.
And now you're in the middle of it - a conflict that is no longer just raging in your head, but is unfolding in reality.
"The only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."
Vi's voice is calm, but something resonates behind it - hope. Longing. A slight trembling that she tries to hide. She sits bound in a chair, her hands tied to the armrests, her gaze fixed on Jinx.
You're in another of Jinx's hideouts - somewhere in the remains of the old Cannery. Hidden among the rusty girders and crumbling walls, far away from the world above. This is where she brought you after you took Vi from the bar and she dragged Caitlyn and Silco here.
You sit quietly in a dark corner, your presence hidden as you observe everything.
"Are we still sisters?" asks Jinx, and for a moment there is something fragile in her voice.
"Nothing is ever going to change that." Vi's answer comes without hesitation.
An oppressive silence spreads. Only the soft flickering of the candles on the table casts shadows on the walls.
You slowly move out of the darkness and step closer to the circle of light. Silco is also sitting tied up, his mouth blocked with a cloth. A little further next to you is Caitlyn - bound, with a similar gag, but her eyes blazing with rage.
"I always knew you'd come back." Jinx grins wryly as she rocks back and forth in her chair.
"What's going on?" Vi's voice is cautious but tense. She lets her gaze wander over the table, over the candles, over the things lying on it. Then she scans the darkness around her as if she's looking for something. No - for someone.
After you.
"He took everything from us," Jinx hisses as her smile fades. "Right here. He stabbed Vander in the back. Just like he planned to with me." She shakes her head. "All the time saying you both abandoned me when he knew the truth. Liar."
She pauses, tilts her head and contorts her face into a thoughtful grimace.
"Hm... We're missing some people. "
With that, she steps into the darkness.
The moment her eyes meet yours, you recognize a hint of surprise in her gaze - as if she had forgotten you were there, or as if for a moment she had the feeling that you weren't really real.
But without another word, you hand her the plate with the silver lid. Just as it was planned.
Jinx steps back into the light, plate in hand. Without hesitation, she drops it on the table right in front of Vi with a loud clatter.
"I paid your girlfriend a visit this morning. "
Vi freezes.
Vi's gaze jumps from Jinx to the plate. Her muscles tense, her breathing becomes shallower. Her fingers claw into the armrests of the chair as if she could free herself with sheer strength.
Jinx watches them with amusement.
"What did you do?" Vi's voice is full of fear, almost pleading. "No!" She quickly averts her eyes as Jinx lifts the lid.
"Sheesh! I'm not that crazy." Jinx laughs, tossing the lid over her shoulder as if it's all just harmless fun.
Then she puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles.
Nothing happens at first. A second passes, then two. Then - slow steps.
Heavy. Mechanical. Unstoppable.
And they are yours.
You step out of the darkness, the shadows dissolve from you as if you had never really been part of them. But your heart is racing.
Why am I doing this?
Have I really gone that crazy?
Where has my damn mind gone?
With both hands, you push a chair forward and Caitlyn sits on it, tied up with her mouth shut. The chair squeaks across the floor until it's right next to the table - as if she's sitting on it voluntarily.
"Powder! Y/N! Leave her out of this!" Vi's voice is rough, almost desperate.
Damn, what am I doing here?
You look at the floor and try to organize the thoughts in your head. Feelings that you didn't have before slowly take over. All this time you've only been thinking about Jinx. About her, about not letting her down.
Not again.
Jinx approaches you, resting her chin on your shoulder as she looks towards the table.
"Now...where do we sit?"
Her gaze wanders over the chairs.
One says "Powder" and another "Jinx". Two others bear the names "Y/N" and "Sorcerer".
Jinx slowly walks over to Vi, takes her gun and presses it into her bound hands.
"Make her go away."
Vi looks at her in horror.
"Send her on her way and-"
Caitlyn grunts in her restraints, trying to say something, but the gag stifles her words.
Jinx leans closer to Vi, her voice sweet, almost gentle:
"And you can have Powder and Y/N back."
The room is silent. The flickering candles cast distorted shadows on the walls.
Vi looks first at Jinx, then at Caitlyn - and then at you.
And for a moment, you see something in her eyes that you didn't expect.
Not anger. Not fear.
Care. For you.
And that's what finally makes you falter.
Shit! What am I doing here?
Your breath hitches, your heart races. Your mind screams, but your body remains motionless. Why don't you intervene? Why are you just standing there?
"I can't." Vi's voice is brittle, full of emotion.
Jinx grimaces as if that's the wrong answer. She takes the gun back and points it at Caitlyn.
"No! Powder, listen!" Vi's voice cracks. "We... we can just go. Just the three of us. We'll leave and never come back."
The words hit you like a hammer blow.
The three of you. Vi, Powder... and you.
The children from back then.
Why does it feel like that's a possibility?
For a moment, you forget where you are. Forget that Jinx is holding a gun, that Caitlyn is tied up, that Silco is watching you from the darkness.
It's only a tiny moment, but it's enough to pull you into the abyss of your own thoughts.
"Where would we go?" Jinx's voice is quiet, almost brittle. Then she blinks and shakes her head. "No, no, no. She's not saying that."
Her gaze wanders into the void, and you know exactly what that means. She sees something that isn't there.
"It's true," Vi presses on, her voice desperate. "We'll put this behind us. You'll never have to see him again, Powder, Y/N."
Silco makes a low, contemptuous noise. It's clear why - to him, Jinx is his daughter. His family.
You move almost automatically, step closer to him, observe him.
His aura is an open book for you: Distress. Despair. And underneath, hidden deep down - fear. Fear of losing Jinx.
You bend down, reach for the fabric covering his mouth and slowly pull it away.
"Her name is Jinx!" His voice thunders through the room, full of unbridled rage. "She's lying! You'll both be with her a day before she realizes that neither of you is that girl or boy anymore-and then she'll turn her back on you!"
Jinx flinches as if his words have physically hit her. Then she turns abruptly and comes to you.
"What should we do?" Her voice sounds almost childlike.
And you?
You can't answer.
You can't breathe.
The moment feels so unreal that you feel sick. Every sentence, every word, every movement - anything could seal the fate of you all.
Vi offers you a second chance.
But Jinx means everything to you.
And Silco means everything to Jinx.
What should you do?
The memories crash over you like a wave. The explosion at the Cannery. The rubble. Vander, buried under steel. Your own screams as you watched from the shadows as everything fell apart.
You are that child again. The child who couldn't move.
You want to scream, but your voice fails.
Jinx stares at you, waiting for an answer.
"I..."
Your throat feels as if it is constricted.
"I don't know."
Silence.
A single word could have changed everything.
But you didn't find one.
"Drop the gun!"
The voice cuts through the tension in the room like a knife. You and Jinx turn around jerkily - mentally still in another world as reality catches up with you.
Caitlyn stands there. Her hands are shaking slightly, but her grip on the gun is firm. The muzzle is pointed at you.
You squint your eyes, analyzing in a split second how she has broken free from the restraints - but it no longer matters. She is free, she has a weapon and she is ready to use it.
I have to act.
Your grip on the steel ball in your pocket tightens. Your mind switches to fight mode.
If she pulls the trigger, I'll hit the bullet first - then her.
You instinctively direct your aura to your vital areas, strengthen your skin, your bones. If it fires, it won't kill you.
But before you can act, Caitlyn pulls the trigger.
Bang!
The shot hits right in front of your feet. The smoke slowly dissipates as you back away slightly - not out of fear, but out of pure instinct.
You immediately pull Jinx backwards, protecting her with your body.
"No! Stop!" Vi's voice is loud, pleading.
Caitlyn continues to aim at you, her posture tense.
"Drop. The. Gun." Her tone is unyielding.
"Wait! They're my siblings!" Vi almost screams it, her voice full of panic.
"Vi, they're both too far gone..." Caitlyn replies with a hint of resignation. And then -
Her gaze wanders to you.
For the first time since you met her, she doesn't see you as an enemy. Not as a threat.
But with compassion.
And then she says it.
"You're a disgrace to your family in Piltover."
Everything stops.
Your train of thought.
Your breath.
Your heartbeat.
Your magic.
Jinx makes a small movement, pretending to give in - but you hear Vi's voice before you can act.
"No, no, no-!"
Too late.
Your aura explodes through your legs. In the blink of an eye, you're in front of Caitlyn.
She can't even react.
Your right hand is flooded with magic - a fraction of your true power, just ten percent. And yet it is enough.
Your punch hits Caitlyn in the side.
She flies.
Like a toy caught up in a storm, she is hurled across the room. Several meters until she hits the ground hard, her body rolls across the dusty floor and remains motionless.
Jinx giggles quietly behind you.
Vi screams.
And you?
You don't move. Your gaze remains on Caitlyn's motionless figure.
How much power did I really use?
In terms of magical defense, she should barely have more than four percent of my own. If I had put just a little more aura into my blow, I would have broken at least three of her ribs - maybe even worse.
Your eyes wander over Caitlyn's body. Her chest rises and falls weakly, a faint hint of life still in her. Jinx steps up next to you, slaps you playfully on the shoulder and picks up the gun from the ground.
But you don't react.
Caitlyn's words... They echo in your head like an avalanche that slowly starts rolling.
"You're a disgrace to your family in Piltover."
The memories hit you like a knife in the chest.
"Stupid good-for-nothing!"
"Are you sure he's even related to us?"
Your anger explodes, a storm that tears you apart from the inside.
Your aura output rises by leaps and bounds, a raw, untamed pressure that spreads throughout the room. The air vibrates, invisible waves of magic make the candles flicker, while the floor shakes slightly beneath your feet.
If I wanted to, I could...
For a moment you are sure: I could wipe out every single person in this room.
Your knees are shaking.
Your breath catches.
Your throat burns.
Everyone in the room can feel it now. The ominous presence hovering over them like a black cloud. Even Silco, despite all his experience with fear and power, flinches briefly.
Then -
"End it, Y/N!" Silco's voice breaks through the fog.
"Damn it! Don't do it, Y/N! Powder, wake up!" Vi screams, desperate.
You blink.
You see Jinx.
She sways, her gaze unsteady, her fingers twitch slightly, as if she is lost in another reality.
No.
Not now. Not again.
"Picture Mylo! Claggor!" Vi's words snap Jinx out of her trance.
A mistake.
A huge mistake.
Her whole body stiffens, as if someone has flipped a switch. Her eyes widen, her breathing quickens - irregularly. Her fingers clutch the handle of her weapon so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
She begins to tremble.
Oh no.
Not now.
A tantrum. Oh, shit.
Jinx jerks from one direction to the next, her hands shaking, her eyes flickering, and the finger on her gun tightens around the trigger.
Then -
BANG. BANG. BANG.
She shoots wildly. Bullets tear through the room, hitting walls, shattering glass, sending sparks flying, and you act immediately.
Aura, now.
Without hesitation, you spread your magic over your entire body, an intuitive reaction that you have perfected over the years. 30 percent.
With your vast amount of aura now flowing evenly over your skin, you will not be scratched. No bullet will leave a wound, no splinters will pierce you.
But the others?
Silco. Vi. Caitlyn.
Jinx continues to shoot. The noise is deafening, every shot echoes in your head. You see how she gets lost in herself, in her panic, in her chaos.
Then - slowly - she stops.
Her breathing is heavy. Her shoulders are shaking.
She looks around.
Then she sees you.
No wounds.
You're standing there, completely unharmed, but the look on your face is... horror.
Then she turns around.
And then she sees him.
Silco.
He sits there, his body slumped over. Blood is seeping through his clothes, a dark stain is slowly spreading across his stomach.
His aura...
You feel it fading away. How his life slowly flows out of him.
"Oh. Oh, no, no, no."
Jinx rushes to him, falling to her knees, her hands trembling as she reaches for him.
Tears are already streaming down her face.
She takes his hand.
"I'm sorry..."
Silco's eyes are half open. His breathing is shallow.
"I never would have given you to them. Not for anything."
Then you will understand.
A deal. He wanted to make a deal. Zaun's independence, a betrayal of Piltover - and all for Jinx. He was betting on her. Everything on her.
Something inside you tightens. You don't want to understand it, but it happens anyway.
Tears burn in your eyes.
Silco will die.
And there's nothing you can do about it.
Jinx sobs.
"You saved me before... you can do it again, right?"
Her gaze jumps to you.
Panic. Hope. Pleading.
"You healed me, Y/N! You made me better! You can fix him too!"
"Please..."
She grabs your hand, her fingers clasp your wrist, trembling, squeezing, pleading.
Your breath catches.
Your gaze wanders to Silco.
He looks at you.
His breath is weak. His lips are moving.
"Protect her... from this cruel world..."
The words are little more than a whisper.
Then -
Silence.
Jinx's grip on your wrist tightens.
"Do something!" She screams, her eyes full of despair.
But you can't.
It is too late.
You slowly stand up. Your body feels heavy.
Your lips form the words that you don't want to say yourself.
"He's..."
Jinx's breathing stops.
You close your eyes.
Then open it again.
"He's... already dead."
Jinx's head jerks around.
Her gaze meets Silco's empty, motionless body.
She only understands it now.
Silco is dead.
Jinx staggers back, her gaze lingering on his lifeless body. Her hands tremble, but then... then it comes back.
The self-confident smile.
The mask.
But you can see it. It is broken.
Slowly she sits down, her legs wide apart, her weapon held loosely in one hand. Her aura flickers, a storm that even you can no longer fully appreciate.
"Powder? Y/N?" Vi's voice is soft, almost pleading. "It's okay. We'll be okay."
Nothing is okay. Damn it all!
Something inside you explodes. The anger you've been holding back boils up. Your gaze falls on Silco. His lifeless body... the blood... the feeling.
It's like back then.
Like Vander.
You see yourself there again, in the ruins of the Cannery. Kneeling. Crying. Haltless.
And now? Now you're here again. Silco - Vander's brother - lies dead in front of you, and all you feel is an abyss.
You have lost him.
Jinx moves.
Slowly, but purposefully. She reaches for the cupcake on the table - no, for the crystal inside. The hex crystal shimmers in the candlelight, pulsating like a heartbeat.
Then she turns to you and holds it up.
"I thought maybe you could love me like you used to. Even though we're... different." Her voice is calm, almost fragile. "But you changed too. So... here's the new us."
She hands it to you.
And you understand.
Shit. You have to stop them. This is madness. Silco didn't die for nothing. You can't let this happen.
Stop them!
Your rational mind is screaming at you. All the possibilities play out in your head - strategies, probabilities, alternatives. But none of them lead you to her. None leads you to where she is.
You see the dead Silco.
And at that moment, you break. It reminds you of Vander back then, and the view is the end.
Slowly, without hesitation, you take the crystal.
And her hand.
You go.
Slow steps.
Past the table. Past Caitlyn's motionless body.
Past Vi.
She says nothing more.
("Hey there, little honey, won't you groove?
I've been trying all night to dance with you...")
Jinx raises her eyes.
The Council Tower rises before you, gleaming in the red moonlight.
And finally you understand.
Your plan.
Slowly she turns towards you. Her lilac eyes search yours. You lose yourself in them, as you so often do.
Slowly lean forward.
A kiss.
Delicate, yet full of pain. Sweet, yet infinitely sad. A last moment in which you are not warriors, not monsters, not enemies of the world.
Only two lost souls.
("Hey there, little lonely, won't you stay?
I said, 'I would rather die than feel this pain...'")
Jinx raises the Shark Launcher.
You place your hand on the cold metal, stabilizing it.
She smiles. You smile back.
And then the tears flow, from both of you.
The weapon charges.
Blue light illuminates everything. A magenta shimmer in your eyes.
Jinx pulls the trigger.
The cry comes of its own accord.
From both of you.
A single scream.
Hate.
Desperation.
Shame.
Liberation.
A blue ray tears the red sky apart.
The Council Tower looms in the distance.
Two lost children - from different families, but with the same fate.
The fight on the bridge is over. With Jinx's almost lifeless body in your arms, you run through the Undercity - your destination is clear: Singed. Even though you haven't seen each other for years, you have no other choice. And so, after a long time, Sorcerer and Sorcerer's Apprentice meet again.
But you're not here to relive old memories - you're putting him under pressure, even threatening to kill his daughter if he doesn't help.
Later, you enter the bar to fetch Vi. Sevika stands in your way, but you defeat her easily. However, Jinx has her own plans and is not prepared to let her go.
---
I'll keep it short this time - the endnotes are particularly important this time, so make sure you check them out!
wc: 5.8 k
---
Magic is a miracle.
So complicated, yet so simple.
In some parts of the world, it is a source of beauty, hope and healing. In others, it is a weapon, as cruel as death, as cold as the end itself.
Magic saves lives, gives people abilities beyond their wildest dreams. But it is a double-edged sword - because it is fueled not only by knowledge, but by emotions. To be a king, a soldier or a Royal Guard, you have to learn to master these feelings.
But it is no lie to say that the most powerful magic, the most iron will and the most brutal aura come from the darkness. From pain, anger, loss - from that which makes humans monsters and yet somehow gods.
But why are you thinking about it right now?
Why, while you carry Jinx, her almost lifeless body that feels heavier with every step? While her breathing becomes weaker, her skin colder and time slips mercilessly through your fingers?
Your gaze wanders forward, the roads are uneven, but you keep running ahead at full speed.
Maybe because you have to remind yourself.
Magic brought you here - in all its beauty and cruelty. Magic gave you the power to protect her. But magic also brought you to this world of loss and blood.
You can feel the memories of the debris of the past surfacing in your mind, each image a splinter stabbing into your soul.
And yet magic is all you have.
You concentrate, your aura forms around the two of you like a second skin, keeping the cold away from her, even as it eats away at your insides.
Magic is a miracle.
You open the door, breathing lightly, although the march here has taken its toll on you. Behind you are Silco and some of his men, exhausted but determined. As you walk forward, you hear their heavy footsteps, but they fade into the background of your consciousness. Your focus is on the room in front of you.
Singed's Labor.
The air is thick with chemicals, a heavy, acrid smell that you recognize immediately. The walls are lined with shelves full of test tubes, flasks and instruments. Liquids of all colors - some glowing faintly, others looking like liquid poison - bubble in apparatus whose purpose you no longer even question. It's chaotic, a visual mess, but you know that behind every little arrangement there is a methodologist, a man who has every detail under control.
And there he is.
He sits at his table, his silhouette slightly bent forward, his hands gripping a small vial containing an unidentifiable, pulsating liquid. He turns around slowly, his movements mechanical, almost like a machine.
Your gaze hits him.
For a moment, no one says anything. The sounds around you - the hissing of equipment, the occasional drip of liquids - seem to fall silent. You stare at each other, and in that moment, time is frozen.
His face. The bandages that usually cover his scars are missing. You can see them all, the deep cuts and burnt areas that look like a map of his past. One eye is missing, the empty socket looking like a silent witness to his own experiments. The remaining eye, cold and analytical, fixes you while he recognizes you.
It takes a few seconds for the spark of recognition to flash in his gaze. His posture barely changes, but you realize that he recognizes you. His voice, low and hoarse, breaks the silence.
"So it's you."
---
"Her injuries are severe. She suffers from a severe concussion," says Singed with his characteristic calm as he carefully ties Jinx onto a stretcher. His movements are precise, almost mechanical, as he examines the wounds.
"You think we can't see that?" Silco, cutting and full of rhetoric, his gaze full of anger, but his voice restrained.
You just stand there and watch as Singed continues to work while Silco stays close, fixing Jinx's limp form with a look that shows both concern and a will to control. Singed is checking her injuries and already seems to be putting together a procedure in his head - you can tell by the way his hands run over the instruments he's preparing.
You analyze in the same way, and you don't like it. The fact that you and Singed come to the same conclusions is worrying.
Jinx will be able to survive, you know that. A little Shimmer to support the function of her organs and a method to stabilize her blood flow. But that alone is not enough. Her body will need to regenerate faster than it naturally can. Without accelerated cell division, she won't be able to produce enough blood cells. Without that - her end.
"I believe we can save her, but the process will be demanding," says Singed, interrupting your thoughts. His tone is neutral, almost as if he's talking about a scientific experiment, not a life. You don't like the word "we" in his statement. It hints at a shared responsibility that you don't necessarily want to bear, and not with him either.
And then he adds, with a calm, almost cutting firmness:
"Sometimes death is a mercy."
The sentence hangs in the room, heavy and unyielding. Silco turns to him with a sharp look, his anger almost palpable.
"She can take it," Silco growls, his voice full of determination.
Singed steps away from the stretcher for a moment and picks up a syringe, which he slowly fills with a green liquid. His movements are calm and methodical, but you already know what he's planning - you can tell by the way his gaze wanders past you.
"And before I begin, I must know," says Singed in a voice that carries both professionalism and gravity. "Are you prepared to lose her?"
At this moment, Jinx gasps softly, a faint sound that nevertheless draws the entire attention of the room. Your eyes fix on her form as she lies there, fragile and yet unbroken.
"She won't die, doctor. She cant," Silco replies. His voice is rock solid, without a doubt, and he leans over her and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I understand," Singed mumbles without wasting another second. He pulls up a chair and positions it behind Silco. It only takes a moment for you to understand what's going to happen.
"Please understand, this is for your sanity," Singed says, his voice softer, almost regretful, and he raises the syringe without Silco noticing.
Before Silco can react, Singed stabs the syringe into his neck. The effect is immediate. Silco's eyes widen briefly before they glaze over and his body slumps. You're not sure whether it was pain or surprise that was in his last look before he slipped into unconsciousness.
"I, too, once had a daughter," Singed murmurs quietly, almost to himself, as he gently lowers Silco onto the chair.
That makes you two the only ones who are still awake.
Singed looks around, his laboratory in perfect order, ready for what is about to happen. He checks the instruments, the test tubes, the protocols - an orderly place in the midst of chaos.
"You've grown." His voice breaks through the silence, slow and deliberate. It takes you a moment to realize he's talking to you. "Not much in stature, though. But your appearance... that compensates for a lot."
Your gaze remains cold, your hands buried in your coat pockets. One of them is clutching a steel ball, and the aura surrounding you begins to thicken - a silent warning signal.
"I see... you've unlocked some of your talent and potential." He appraises you with an almost scientific interest. "But I daresay you're still far from your peak. Maybe ten percent, if I'm being generous."
If Jinx wasn't tied here next to you and you didn't need his help, this would probably be the moment when a steel ball would have severed his head from the rest of his body.
"How much shimmer do we need?" You cut through his words, ignoring his comments. Your voice is calm, but it carries the weight of an ultimatum.
Singed hesitates, his eyes scrutinizing Jinx and returning to you. "Hm... you should know that for yourself, shouldn't you? I've taught you everything you need."
Your grip on the steel ball tightens, and a low hum of your aura fills the room. The temperature seems to drop as your anger seeps through, and even Singed, who is usually so unflappable, suddenly seems nervous.
"Hey..." Your voice is low, almost a growl, as your aura radiates a menace that no one can ignore. "If you continue with your game..."
Your gaze meets his, cold and determined. With an outstretched index finger at him and a sinister aura. "... Then I'll kill her. And you're next."
The room falls into an eerie silence. Singed's face remains composed, but a drop of sweat trickles down his forehead. He slowly raises his hands, not in surrender, but in appeasement.
"Three milliliters of pure Shimmer," he finally says, his voice even. "Mixed with blood thinner and a stabilizing solution. Anything more and her heart will fail."
"Then do it." Your tone is cutting, no more patience in your gaze.
Singed turns away, his hands routinely reaching for the necessary containers. You watch his every move as he prepares the serum. Your gaze remains alert, analyzing his every action, ready to intervene at the slightest deviation.
"I hope you understand," Singed begins without looking at you, "that this is a risky operation. Even if she survives physically... Her spirit could break."
You squint your eyes, your heart is racing, but you don't let it show. You step closer to Jinx and gently place a hand on her shoulder.
"She's stronger than you think," you repeat firmly, your gaze fixed on Jinx, though part of you is unsure. "And we don't need a stabilizer."
Singed pauses, the serum in his hand, and slowly turns to face you. His brow furrows, a hint of skepticism in his gaze.
"No stabilizer?" he asks, as if the thought is inconceivable to him. "And... what are you going to do to stabilize them during the process?"
You don't answer directly. Your gaze is cool, your focus is on Jinx. Instead, you pull your spellbook out of your coat pocket in one fluid motion. The leather of the cover feels familiar, reassuring, as you open the pages.
Singed watches you, confused and fascinated at the same time, as a gentle aura appears around your hand. The energy spreads out, permeating the room with a warm, golden glow. It clings to the stretcher, spreading over Jinx like an invisible protective shield.
"Doctor Blythe..." you murmur, almost reverently, as the magic takes shape.
A powerful, supernatural being materializes before Jinx's eyes - a giant doll whose appearance is both reassuring and eerie. Dressed in a nurse's uniform, it hovers directly above Jinx, its presence filling the room with an inexplicable authority. She pauses barely ten feet above the stretcher, her massive hands spread out as if assessing the situation.
Singed opens his eyes, his analytical mind failing him for a moment. "What... is that?" he mutters, his voice a whisper that fades into the room. "Did you just... conjure that? Magic?"
The doll moves. Its mechanical fingers, fine and precise, slowly unfold, each equipped with a surgical instrument. The soft hum of magic intensifies the tension in the room as the puppet prepares its work.
"This is Doctor Blythe," you explain calmly, your eyes fixed on Singed as your hands continue to hold the book to direct the magic. "She's going to stabilize Jinx - physically, at least. Your job is to prevent a more severe concussion. I'll take care of the rest."
Singed nods slowly, though the confusion remains on his face. He doesn't dare to question further and turns his focus back to the serum.
Doctor Blythe's mechanical fingers gently descend on Jinx. The surgical instruments at their tips begin their work precisely and synchronously. With a mixture of mechanical precision and magical healing, she closes the gaping wounds, stops internal bleeding and even repairs broken bones.
Time passes slowly, each minute dragging on like an eternity. Singed administers his serum, monitoring the vital signs, while you concentrate on keeping the doll alive with your magic.
Jinx opens her eyes several times, briefly forced into consciousness by the shimmer. Her lips move as if she wants to say something, but the words remain unintelligible. A shiver goes through you every time her gaze wanders to you - so much pain, so much confusion.
You work without exchanging a word. No talk about old times. Not a word about the days you spent in his lab, the lessons he taught you or the wounds he inflicted on you. The room is filled with an unspoken hatred that hangs between you like a dark cloud.
Singed seems to sense it. He says nothing, as if any wrong word could put him in danger. Your anger, so evident in the intensity of your aura, leaves no doubt that one misstep could cost him his life - or worse, his daughter.
After just under an hour, it's finally done. Wounds closed, bones mended, bleeding stopped. Singed puts the last tool aside and wipes his forehead with a cloth. Doctor Blythe withdraws, her fingers remain in standby mode. You let the doll slowly disappear, your magic ebbs away, and it slowly bursts like a balloon, but without a sound.
Jinx lies motionless, her breathing shallow but steady. Her body shows the scars of the ordeal, but she is alive - kept alive by your magic, Singed's serum and Shimmer, which now flows through her veins. A bittersweet victory.
"She'll survive," Singed finally says, his voice almost a whisper. "But the Shimmer will have side effects. She's... changed now."
You nod, your eyes fixed on Jinx, who looks calm despite everything. "Changed or not," you say, your voice calm but firm. "She's alive. That's all that matters."
For a moment, your eyes and Singed's meet. You don't see much in his eyes - just the emptiness of a man who has long since given up on the world. But in your eyes he recognizes something else: fire, unshakeable determination, and the aura of a power that inspires respect and fear in him.
Jinx begins to cough, and immediately all your focus is on her. Her head moves slightly, her lips form silent words. And then you see it - her eyes, now a bright purple. An unmistakable sign of what she has been through.
"Better get out of here before he wakes up," Singed says, pointing a small knife at Silco, who is sitting unconscious on a chair. His words are matter-of-fact, almost indifferent, as if the chaos that has taken place here is nothing unusual for him.
You don't answer, you don't say thank you. Your voice remains silent as you help Jinx up. She leans heavily on you, her legs weak and trembling. You leave the lab, step by step, without exchanging a word.
The room falls silent as soon as you are gone. Singed remains motionless, his eyes wandering between Silco, the instruments, and the door through which you disappeared. The expression on his face remains unreadable, but the encounter with you still echoes in his mind.
After minutes of silence, he finally breaks it himself. A single word, almost a whisper:
"...terrifying."
You and Jinx move slowly through the dark corridors of Zaun. Her steps are heavy, but she mumbles something occasionally, her voice brittle. "Was it... bad?" she asks quietly.
"It was nothing you couldn't survive," you reply calmly, although the images of the fight and the operation still reverberate in your mind. "You're here, Jinx. That's all that matters."
You reach a small abandoned area where you gently place her on an old crate. Her eyes, now purple and smouldering, scrutinize you. "You haven't given up on me," she murmurs, almost in disbelief.
"Never," you say, and there is a truth in your voice that does not allow for discussion.
Jinx blinks slowly, as if trying to catch your words. "Are you..." Her voice is quiet, almost uncertain. "Angry?"
You pause for a moment. Your gaze wanders from her healed wounds to her bright purple eyes, which seem to draw you into a trance. But your mind is elsewhere.
"I know about the Corpse."
Ekko's words echo in your head. The moment on the bridge, the chaos, the explosion - he could have killed Jinx. Just one more blow, just a moment longer, and she wouldn't be here now.
And you? You were watching. Once again.
You're angry. At Ekko for almost doing it. At Vi and Caitlyn for just disappearing instead of trying to resolve the situation. You knew what was going to happen and yet they did nothing.
If things had turned out differently, you might have let them have the crystal. You wouldn't have decided to steal it.
"You're really creepy..." gasps Jinx, her voice weak but her usual smirk on her lips. "When you're angry."
You take a deep breath, trying to tame the rage inside you. But it's there, burning and unyielding. You crouch down slightly so that your eyes are level with hers.
"You almost died," you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "And there was nothing I could do but watch."
Jinx looks at you for a moment, then laughs - softly, almost mockingly. "Pff! That almost sounds like you're not proud of me. I survived, didn't I?"
Your jaw tightens. "That's not the point, Jinx."
"Oh no?" She leans back slightly, her tiredness obvious. "Then what's the point?"
You close your eyes for a moment. She doesn't understand. Or doesn't want to understand.
"I almost lost you again."
She freezes, her grin disappears for a split second before she puts it back on. But this time it's not as convincing as usual.
"But you didn't."
You shake your head. "Not this time."
"Well look!" Jinx grins triumphantly, as if this is all a game she's just won. "So, what's the next move?"
You look around as if you would find an answer somewhere. But the reality is different. You have the crystal, Jinx is alive - but what else? The situation between Piltover and Zaun continues to escalate, war is inevitable. And Vi and Caitlyn... They've disappeared, simply taken off without even trying to resolve the situation.
But that's not what Jinx is getting at. You can see it in her attitude, in that spark in her eyes. She doesn't want to talk about politics or consequences. She wants to act.
"You must already have a plan, right?" you ask, almost resignedly.
"Of course!" Jinx beams, as if she's been waiting for that very question. "We'll kidnap Caitlyn and Vi and pay them back!"
A brief moment of silence.
"And then?" Your voice is calm, but your gaze bores into hers.
"Then..." Jinx shrugs her shoulders. "Then we'll just do what we want."
If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would have laughed - or freaked out because it's the most illogical, risky plan you've heard in a long time. But your thoughts are clouded, your anger at Vi, Caitlyn and Ekko mingling with a deep-seated love for Jinx.
"Good..." You take a deep breath. "How's it looking?"
"You go into the Last Drop and get Vi." Jinx leans back with a broad grin. "I'll take care of Caitlyn in the meantime... and pay her a little surprise visit."
You nod. No more questions. No hesitation.
You part, both with the same goal in mind - but maybe, just maybe, with completely different ways of achieving it.
---
The streets of Zaun stretch out before you, dark and shrouded in mist as you approach the Last Drop. Your every movement feels heavy, as if the weight of the past is dragging you down. Memories flood your mind - old faces, old voices, old wounds you never quite closed.
Even for someone like you, whose perceptive faculties are sharper than most, it's getting to be too much. Too many thoughts, too many unanswered questions, too much knowledge that's running through your head as if it's overwhelming you.
And then comes a thought that you had long buried.
Should I check on them?
'You' - your family. No, not Vander, not Vi or Powder. But your real family. The scientists in Piltover who treated you like an idiot as a child. The ones who never accepted you because you didn't fit into their world of logic and cold research.
After all these years, you've never tried to look back. Never tried to find out what happened to them. Why not?
Was it pride? Anger? Fear?
Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it doesn't.
You feel the familiar tingling in your aura as your emotions flow uncontrollably into your magic. You need to focus - you have a job to do.
And yet...
Would it really be so bad to take a look?
What am I doing here anyway?
Damn! Why am I like this all of a sudden?
All the years you've been alone - even with a teacher by your side - your mind has never been as out of control as it is now. Not even in the worst battles, where seconds felt like minutes, have you felt as lost as you do right now.
You feel powerless.
And this despite the fact that - according to your own well-founded assessment - you could probably defeat any opponent here in Piltover with ease.
And that's exactly what makes you angry.
Damn!
Ekko.
You could have decapitated him then with a single, lightning-fast attack. No spell needed, just pure, focused aura - one move, faster than the eye can see, and it would have been over.
The same with Silco. Or Singed. Or Vi. Or Caitlyn.
None of them could harm you.
Not really.
Because you've been through more than all of them put together. Endured more pain, shouldered more guilt, suffered more consequences than they ever could. Your magic is just an extension of that - an extra that serves your unyielding will.
Nobody would stand a chance in a fight.
But that's not the point.
You breathe out, try to collect yourself. You need a clear head, otherwise you will make mistakes.
Then your eyes turn back to the road.
The shield of the Last Drop glows in the darkness, its faint glow bringing you back to reality. But it's not the light that catches your attention - it's the people.
They leave the bar in a hurry. Some cast nervous glances back as if they were fleeing from something.
She's already inside.
Vi...
Of course she does. She wants revenge against Sevika.
And that means chaos.
A battlefield spreads out in front of the entrance to the Last Drop. Silco's men - highly armed, pumped full of Shimmer, ready for war - lie on the ground. Defeated. Most of them are still breathing, but you can feel it: they are on the brink of death.
Vi took care of her. Alone.
You look at the bar, then close your eyes briefly. For a single moment, you expand your aura - not strongly, just a wave, barely noticeable to someone without training. But it's enough for you.
Three auras.
Jinx. Vi. Sevika.
But there is something else. Magic.
Hextech. Two charged objects, not as powerful as when a real magician would let his life energy - his aura - flow through them, but still unexpected in a place like this.
You enter.
Your steps are silent, your presence hidden. First observe.
Sevika and Vi fight.
Fists meet flesh. Blades cut through air and skin. Screams echo through the room. The smell of blood, shimmer and fear mix into a cocktail of madness.
Sevika's new weapon - a blade-like extension of her mechanical arm - whizzes through the air. Vi dodges, blocks, counters, but she loses her rhythm. She was always impatient, always too direct. She had no defense.
She will lose.
You seize the moment. While the two of them focus on each other, you glide through the shadows, moving along the bar - invisible to their eyes.
And then you touch Sevika's glass.
You quickly reach for your spell book, wrap it in your aura and place your fingerprints on the glass with a light touch.
The spell is set.
Harmless - for now. But if the condition is met...
If she touches the glass, I've won. Getting Vi won't be difficult either.
And then comes the moment you've been waiting for.
Vi goes to the ground.
A brutal blow, directly after a devastating combo from Sevika, drops her to her knees. Her face hits the ground hard and blood drips from her mouth. But you know better - she's not done yet. Vi doesn't give up that easily.
You keep moving, keeping your distance. Your gaze remains fixed on Sevika, who is now slowly walking to the bar. She stretches out her hand to reach for a glass - but not the right one.
The wrong glass.
A loud crack as you deliberately step on the wood with your foot.
"What are you doing-!"
She reflexively turns towards you, but she can't finish her sentence because your steel ball is already flying towards her.
Not a powerful, charged throw - just enough to divert their attention.
Sevika raises her mechanical arm and the ball bounces against it with a dull clonk. Perfect. She flinches briefly, and just then she reaches for the other glass.
I win.
She raises the glass, downs the liquid and looks directly at you. Neither of you says a word. Only the heavy breathing of her and Vi fills the silence.
Then...
A twitch.
A barely noticeable tremor in her hand.
"What..." Sevika blinks, her voice full of suspicion. "What did you do-?"
She can't finish the sentence.
Her grip on the glass weakens. Your fingers tremble. Her muscles suddenly feel light - too light. Her bones seem to give way and the glass slips from her hand in a helpless movement.
It breaks on the floor.
"Damn it! WHAT ARE YOU-?!"
Panic sets in, but it is already too late.
The magic unfolds its full effect.
Sevika's mechanical arm suddenly starts to get heavier and heavier. Too heavy. Heavy enough that the flesh on her shoulder slowly gives way and begins to separate from the metal. She cries out, staggers, and with a deafening crash her arm hits the floor - as if the weight had torn her skin.
She takes a panicked step back, her foot hits one of the splinters of wood from the fight. But instead of simply stumbling, the small piece of wood pierces effortlessly through her entire foot as if it were made of soft wax.
She cries out once more.
Her free hand shoots forward, desperately searching for a grip on the counter. But when her fingers touch the wood, they deform.
They literally melt.
As if her flesh would give way at the slightest touch, her hand contorts, her fingers sink in as if the wood has dissolved all her stability.
Sevika gasps, her chest rises and falls frantically. But not another word escapes her lips.
She begins to fall.
And that is your sign to come closer.
You walk slowly towards her, with an almost bored calm in your demeanor. Meanwhile, Sevika struggles to hold on to the counter, her heavy-breathing body full of desperation and anger. But control? She lost it long ago.
"Vitamin C is a water-soluble vitamin, also known as ascorbic acid," you say in an almost casual voice.
Sevika gasps and lifts her gaze to you, her eyes full of burning hatred, but also with a hint of panic.
"It is important for the formation of bones, teeth and connective tissue. If it's missing..." You pause briefly, as if giving her a moment to think. "That's what happens."
You slowly lift your foot - and then lower it onto her deformed hand with deliberate force.
The result is predictable.
Sevika's flesh gives way as if it were nothing more than melted wax. Her fingers deform under your kick and a pain-filled scream escapes her throat.
"You-! You're just too much of a coward to fight normally!" she yells as she tries to pull her hand away, but control of her body has long since slipped from her grasp. "All this time with your damn tricks, with your weird toys, just because you can't do anything!"
Is she really that stupid? I won the battle a long time ago.
You just shake your head, your gaze remains fixed on her - cool, emotionless, as if you were talking about something that doesn't even concern you.
"You're right," you finally say. "But for someone like you..."
You take another step closer, lowering yourself slightly until you are standing right in front of her.
"I don't need anything special."
You like it - you'd be lying if you said you didn't. Victory tastes sweet, almost intoxicating, especially against someone like Sevika.
A traitor.
One that Vander sold to Silco.
One that helped change everything.
Even back then, when you dropped the monkey bomb with the Enforcer gadget, she was the one who threw herself in front of Silco. She had made her choice - and today you have made yours.
"Y/N, stop."
The voice breaks through your thoughts, forcing you to leave the moment.
Slowly you straighten up, turn around - and your eyes meet Vi's.
Her blue eyes burn into yours, full of determination, but it only takes you a moment to see it: She's finished.
Her aura is weak, her body weakened. She couldn't fight you even if she wanted to.
And then - you feel it.
The third presence.
A faint grin appears on your face.
Perfect timing.
Vi sees your grin and a spark of panic flashes in her eyes. She knows it doesn't mean anything good - but it's too late.
"Bravo, Sis."
Jinx is already behind her.
Before Vi can react, the blow from her gun hits hard against her head. Vi collapses, unconscious on the floor.
Now it's just the two of you.
Sevika, destroyed and helpless, a shadowy reminder of her former strength.
Vi, defeated, an echo of her former invincibility.
And Jinx, leaning casually against her weapon, watches the scene with undisguised amusement.
"You two have really done something," she says as her gaze falls on Sevika. Then she grins wider. "But you really do look like shit."
You take a deep breath as the intoxication of the fight slowly sets in.
But there is still work to be done.
"And now?" you ask calmly.
Jinx shrugs her shoulders. "Well, now let's pack up our present."
Jinx shrugs her shoulders, but just as you're about to pick Vi up, she raises a hand.
"Or... wait a minute."
You stop, your eyes narrow slightly. She has that certain tone in her voice - playful, but dangerous.
Jinx grabs Sevika by the shoulder and pulls her a little further, as if she were nothing more than a broken toy. A guttural, painful crack echoes through the empty bar, and you are sure that your spell has broken several bones in her shoulder and ribcage.
"I-!" Sevika gasps, pain contorting her expression. "I'll kill you both!"
Jinx laughs out loud, almost manically, while you just smile slightly yourself. An empty threat, nothing more. She can't move, only has one arm left, and if Jinx really wanted to, she could crush her skull with a single punch - thanks to your spell, it wouldn't even be a challenge.
"For a loser, you sure make a lot of noise..." Jinx grins as she nudges Sevika with her foot. "Until Silco's men collect you, you might as well just lie here. But..."
She stretches out her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as if she can no longer hold back an impatient tension.
"My fingers are just itching."
You watch them carefully.
Jinx is unpredictable, you know that. But you can read her behavior better than anyone else. And you can see it in her eyes - it's not just an impulse. It's a plan.
"You bastard betrayed Vander." Her voice cracks, a hint of real, unfiltered hatred creeping in. "That makes one less good person on this planet."
Your eyes meet for a brief moment. Her violet eyes pierce you, shimmering in the faint light. But she smiles.
"Time for a tournament!"
You blink. A what?
"What kind of tournament?" you ask skeptically.
"The right question!" Jinx beams as Sevika writhes weakly beneath you.
"Hey-! Wait a minute! What do you want-?"
Sevika fights through the pain, her voice a strained gasp.
"Are you joining in too, Y/N?" Jinx looks at you with sparkling eyes. "In the tournament of the strongest?"
You squint your eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"She betrayed Vander in cold blood, didn't she? He died in the factory because of her." Jinx grins broadly. "A sacrifice costs a body part!"
You just look at them. Somewhere in your mind, where logic and rationality still reign, you don't understand anything right now.
"The tournament is on!" shouts Jinx enthusiastically. "We'll kick the pig's body now... and whoever makes her howl the loudest until Silco's men arrive wins!"
The silence that follows is heavy.
Sevika isn't the only one shocked - you are too.
"You're... joking?" gasps Sevika.
You slowly get to your knees and sigh. Deeply. Long and drawn out. The whole situation is so absurd that you try to make sense of it - in vain.
I thought we were just paying Caitlyn and Vi back.
"Hey, aren't you joining us?" Jinx looks at you expectantly, her violet eyes sparkling in the dim light of the bar.
You shake your head. "I thought we were going to get Vi. Not that we're torturing Sevika to make ourselves feel better."
You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts.
"I'm sure Vander wouldn't approve of that either."
Silence.
Jinx says nothing. Neither does Sevika.
But your mind is working at full speed, prioritizing, ordering, searching for the common thread in all the chaos.
Vander...
"I see..." Jinx's voice is quieter, as if you've hit a nerve.
Slowly you stand up, your hands wander into your coat pockets, feeling the familiar cold of the steel balls, the weight of your books.
And then it comes - the memory.
The cold floor of the factory. The metallic smell of blood in the air. The trembling fingers running over Vander's lifeless body. Your own harsh breathing, mixed with sobs that you couldn't hold back at the time.
All this because of Sevika.
Your grip on the book with the Corpse Parts map tightens.
You slowly raise your eyes and feel a strange smile playing around your lips. A strange mix of control and madness, anger and clarity.
"Hey..." Your voice is calm, but the tension in the air is growing. You push back your sleeves, exposing your wrist.
"What do I get if I win?"
Jinx blinks - and then she starts to grin.
"Hehe! I'd say you get to pick!" She stretches out her arms, cracks them, and flashes you a huge smile - a smile that's far too innocent for what's about to happen.
And that was it.
Jinx laughs and closes the door.
You laugh and kick.
Sevika writhes beneath you, groans and grits her teeth, but it doesn't stop you.
Every kick, every blow, every hammering of your boots on their battered bodies is rewarded with a laugh or a saying.
It feels like when you were children.
When you just kicked an old, broken ball and threw it against the wall again and again until your feet hurt.
The story continues: after a devastating loss, you and Jinx must somehow move on. What was just okay is now turned upside down, and the two of you are alone again, without Vi or Caitlyn to provide a bit of normalcy.
But in the midst of the confusion, you and Jinx finally get closer. As adults, you realize how much you actually missed each other. This realization leads not only to a kiss, but also to several emotional breakdowns and tears.
But the path leads you further - to the bridge, where you try to retrieve the Hex Crystal. It goes without saying that there will be a fight along the way.
It also gives you a little insight into your past.
---
Enjoy reading this chapter! I've really put in a lot of work to slowly bring us closer to the end of the first season. It's been emotional and intense, but we're getting closer and closer to the big confrontation!
---
In a battle between magicians, it is not the strongest who wins.
That was the one truth that ran through all your years of traveling. An unshakeable foundation in your thinking.
No matter where you were - it proved true again and again. You had won battles, mastered conversations and survived dangers, not through brute strength, but through intellect.
"Survival of the fittest", they say, and for you that meant: the smartest.
You have a woman to thank for this way of thinking.
A teacher whose lessons have shaped you like nothing else. You met her in a raging snowstorm, near the border of Noxus. Or rather, she found you.
You remember her cold, penetrating gaze, how it almost froze you before the snow could. She thought you were an intruder, someone she could have killed without hesitation.
You used everything you had - your spells, your mind, your aura - against her. But it was an unequal fight. She was superior to you.
But at that moment, in this life-threatening confrontation, you understood something.
"Risking your life and throwing it away may seem alike, but they are two totally different things. "
Her words were like a cut through your mind. Basically, you already knew, but you had never really thought about it.
It was the trauma from back then.
The consequences of what happened on the bridge and the Cannery, and the years that followed. You couldn't bear them, so you stayed away from it all. You avoided confrontation whenever possible.
But not every confrontation could be avoided. The ones that were unavoidable shaped you.
These encounters drove your development forward.
Your intellect was sharpened, your understanding of magic deepened, your aura became stronger. You learned not only to survive, but also to dominate, through planning and calculation.
Your tactical thinking, your precise use of magic - everything skyrocketed.
And now?
In that moment, in the darkness with Jinx, Vi and Caitlyn gone, and the world against you, all those lessons, all those experiences - they're all you have.
"Then I guess we finally have some time to ourselves."
Her words penetrate the darkness, accompanied by a grinning face that beams at you - honest and yet tinged with something dark.
Your mind remains blurred.
Hazy.
You stand there, unable to form a clear thought, while everything that has just happened washes over you like a wave that threatens to drown you.
Three things you can't understand.
The first:
You met Powder again.
No, not Powder. Jinx.
The little sister you've longed for all these years. The one whose face you saw in your dreams, whose laughter never left you. Now she stands before you, changed - scarred by this cruel world.
And you yourself?
Aren't you also drawn?
The second:
The Firelights.
You have the Hex Crystal, an object charged with magic. You felt it immediately - the signature was unmistakable.
What do they want with it?
The question remains unanswered, but it drills itself into your head.
The third:
Vi and Caitlyn.
They were kidnapped by the Firelights while you just stood there. Your mind was not ready.
All the memories, the images from back then, the guilt - it had overwhelmed you.
You didn't react, you didn't help. And now they're gone.
The old days...
They are over. They have left nothing but scars - on you, on Jinx, on everything you once were.
You look at Jinx.
She's still grinning, but you can see it in her eyes - the emptiness that lurks there.
"Powder..." Your voice breaks before you can continue.
She raises an eyebrow, tilts her head and takes a step closer. "What's wrong, don't you want to be alone with me?"
Her words are playful, but the undertone stings. A reproach hidden in sweetness.
You don't talk.
For seconds, you just stare at each other. The silence is oppressive, broken only by your frantic breathing and the slight crackling of the remaining smoke.
Your mind fills with memories.
Images from your shared past flash before your inner eye. You try to push them away, to concentrate, to remain rational - as you always do.
But this time... it doesn't work.
You're usually quick to accept things and move on. That has always been your greatest strength. Your ability to adapt has taken you further than any brute force or pure magic.
But now, with Powder - no, Jinx - in front of you, this strength collapses in a single moment.
"It..."
You try to speak, but your voice breaks. The lump in your throat gets bigger, your throat is so dry that it hurts.
Your eyes are burning. Tears threaten to burst out while your heart beats so fast you think it might jump out of your chest.
Your legs are shaking, your whole body is trembling.
"It..."
You try again, but you fall silent once more. You are only one step away from each other.
You feel how everything that has held you together so far is breaking away. The weakness from back then, the weakness that led you to this moment, lies open before you.
The weakness that thought it could help - and ruined everything in the process.
Then you collapse.
Your knees give way, your façade shatters. You cling to Jinx, your arms tight around her as the tears flow freely. You can't hold them back any longer.
"I'm... I'm so sorry!"
The words come like a cry, like an outcry from your soul. All the guilt, all the remorse, all the burden you have carried all these years - they burst out of you.
Jinx says nothing.
She stands there, surprised perhaps, or simply still, while you cling to her. Maybe she is crying. Maybe she looks puzzled. Maybe she has a pitying look on her face.
But you can feel that she is not pushing you away.
"Hey... It's okay."
Her voice is quiet, almost soothing. She tries to comfort you, but you don't respond.
You both sink to the floor.
Jinx crouches down slightly, and you follow her, your hands still clutched tightly to her. You almost sit in the rubble and dust, her minigun lying next to you as you continue to let your tears run free.
The world around you fades away.
It's just the two of you, two lost souls who have finally found each other again.
For this moment, you are not Jinx and The Sorcerer's Apprentice.
You are simply Powder and...Y/N.
And you hold on to each other as if you could save each other from the darkness.
Jinx slowly wraps her arms around you.
She hesitates for a moment, but then she pulls you closer to her. Her grip is firm, almost desperate, as if she never wants to let you go again.
"I'm sorry too..." she finally whispers, her voice barely audible, full of fractures and pain.
Your tears mingle with hers.
You just sit there, side by side, surrounded by the ruins of your past and the darkness of your present. But in this moment, you are both just two souls sharing the pain that the world has inflicted on you.
The world seems to stand still.
And for the first time in years, you no longer feel alone.
Her warmth, her understanding, her presence - it's just like back then.
Even though the world has changed you, even though you had heard so much about her - from Caitlyn, from the posters that portrayed her as a monster - you can see it.
She is still powder.
Her face is so close to you that you can feel the sweet taste of her presence, the tang of salt, the sweat of battle and the tiny trace of metal, perhaps from her lipstick or the air from Zaun.
Your eyes are firmly locked together, and in that moment everything melts.
The world, the ruins around you, the smoke, the losses - everything fades.
She leans forward and your heart beats at a rhythm you can't control.
Then it happens.
Her lips meet yours.
The first contact is light, almost cautious. But it only takes a second for the reticence to disappear.
Her lips are soft, supple, with a sweet, almost intoxicating taste that captures you instantly. It's like honey and fire at the same time - sweet and burning, tender yet intense. It is dangerous, addictive.
Her breath mixes with yours.
You feel the light warmth of her body radiating from the closeness. Her hands reach for your face, gentle but firm, her fingers tender but firm. She holds you as if she's afraid you might disappear.
Your hands find themselves at her waist, trembling slightly as you hold her carefully. Her skin is warm through the thin material of her clothes, a feeling that burns straight into your core.
The kiss deepens.
It's no longer just a simple contact, it's a dance, an exchange.
Her lips move in sync with yours, a hint of moisture enhancing the sensuality of the moment. You taste her - the salty aftertaste of tears, the bitter tang of gunpowder and yet that inexpressibly sweet undertone that is uniquely hers.
Her tongue lightly touches your lips, as if she wants to make sure you're really there. A tickle, a moment that overrides everything else.
You let yourself go, surrender to the moment while your senses are flooded. Every breath she takes becomes your own, every touch a spark that flows through you.
When the kiss ends, she slowly pulls away.
Her lips are slightly red, a hint of gloss lingers on yours. Her breathing is heavy, she gasps slightly, and you can feel your own breathing becoming irregular.
She wipes her mouth, a slightly mischievous smile on her lips as she looks at you - her eyes sparkling, still silvery blue, but now with a hint of warmth that you've missed for so long.
"I missed you too..." she finally says, her voice soft but full of emotion.
"And it's not fair that only you apologize for... back then."
You are too speechless to answer. The words echo in your head, but you are unable to say anything.
Instead, you carefully pull her closer again, and this time you kiss her.
The second kiss is calmer, gentler.
It's not a storm of emotions like before, but a moment of peace. Your hands remain at her waist while hers rest gently on your collar.
You move slowly, tenderly, almost as if you want to hold this moment forever. And in this moment, it feels like it's just the two of you.
When you separate from each other, you are both red in the face.
She smiles, gently, almost uncertainly, as she pulls at the collar of your coat.
"You'll never leave me though, right?"
Her voice is soft, almost pleading, but with a hint of playful seriousness.
"Never," you answer without hesitation.
Your voice is firm, full of conviction, and you are sure that no one would dare to duplicate it.
Jinx's hideout is impressive - and somehow oppressive. A huge room at the bottom of the rift, hidden beneath the depths of fencing. The air is stale, and a huge, disused fan towers above you, like a relic of an experiment that never worked.
The hiding place is chaotic, full of colors, drawings and improvised constructions, but it bears Jinx's unmistakable signature.
She throws her gun onto the table with a dull thud.
"Make yourself comfortable..." she says in a seemingly relaxed voice, but you can tell by her posture, by her aura - she is anything but calm.
You let your gaze wander around the room, but stop. Nothing here seems inviting. The chairs are askew, the floor crunches under your boots and everything seems to be infused with a gloomy energy.
As you look at her, you warm up again.
Her silvery blue eyes, the slightly tousled blue hair with the long braids hanging from her ankles - the whole sight of her casts a spell over you.
But there's something else: the thought of the kiss. The moment that feels like a dream, one that you have imagined countless times.
And now it is a reality.
"So you already know the Firelights?" you ask, your voice calm, but with a slight tension that you can't quite hide.
She turns to you, her eyes narrowing slightly. "They've really been getting on my nerves lately."
Her voice sounds annoyed, almost bored, but you can feel the sharpness behind it. It's not just anger at Vi and Caitlyn. There's more to it than that.
"They kidnapped Vi and Caitlyn," you say, your expression serious. "That's no accident. They wanted to break up the crystal and us. At least one of them knows you, or Caitlyn for sure. Otherwise they wouldn't have struck at the perfect moment."
"Why do you think?" you continue to ask, your words calm, but you watch her closely.
She looks at you, her eyes flash.
"Because they think they can stop me." Her voice is sharp, almost defiant. But you notice that her aura is still wavering, restless.
"It's about more than just you," you say. "The crystal... What was that?"
She avoids your gaze for a moment. "Hextech," she finally mumbles. "But you know that, don't you? You sensed it."
You nod. "I did feel it. It was infused with magic, Jinx. More than Hextech usually is. Why was that?"
Her hands clench into fists and she stands up abruptly.
"Don't ask me what I don't know!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the room. "I've had enough of people who want to know everything about me!"
Strong signs of schizophrenia. She also seems to get angry easily, especially when it comes to such topics.
You remain calm, watching as she pushes herself off the table and begins to walk across the room.
"You're angry," you say, your voice quiet but clear. "Not just at them. Not just at the Firelights. At yourself, aren't you?"
She stops, turns to you, her eyes blazing with emotion.
"And if it is?" She bites her lip, her voice trembling slightly. "Then what are you going to do, huh? Save me? Cure me? You know how it used to be, don't you?"
You walk slowly towards them.
"No," you say quietly. "I just want to be with you."
Your attitude is changing.
The tension surrounding her does not completely dissipate, but for a moment she seems to relax. Her hands, which had just clenched into fists, slowly slide down.
"So they got Caitlyn and Vi... that crystal too..." you mumble, more to yourself than to her as you try to sort out the situation. "But what exactly are they going to do with it? They could use the energy from it, but how exactly?"
Jinx stares at you, her eyes full of unspoken thoughts.
"What do I know?" She shrugs, but her voice is less pointed. "The Firelights show up, make a mess and disappear again. Maybe they have a plan, maybe they don't."
You walk slowly to the table where her minigun is lying.
"It's about more than chaos," you say thoughtfully as your gaze wanders over the messy plans and scribbles on the table. "That crystal - it was different. I felt it, Jinx. It wasn't ordinary hextech energy."
She steps closer, her arms crossed in front of her chest, and leans slightly against the table.
"You sound like all those smart alecks from Piltover," she says with a wry grin, but it lacks the sharpness from earlier. "Always thinking they know everything better. You haven't turned into one of them, have you?"
You ignore the comment and look her straight in the eye.
"Jinx, listen to me. They wanted that crystal - and they wanted to break us up. That was no accident."
She returns your gaze, but you can see how she is inwardly reluctant to open up.
"And what do you want to do now?" she finally asks, her voice soft, almost mocking. "Fix everything? Save the world? Vi was only here to get the crystal, she didn't even want to see me again. And this Enforcer is only coming along to put us in jail at the end."
You shake your head slowly.
"No," you say, "but I'm going to get Vi and Caitlyn back. And I'm going to find out what this crystal is all about."
"Why?" she asks, her voice a little louder, a little sharper. "Why are you doing all this? After everything that's happened? After what we both did before."
Your answer comes without hesitation:
"Because I can't lose you again."
She says nothing for a moment.
She turns away, picks up a tool lying on the table and plays with it nervously. "Family," she finally mumbles. "You're still talking about it like it means something."
"It does for me," you say calmly as you walk towards her.
"And you're one of them, Jinx. No matter what was. No matter what comes next."
She pauses.
"You really are an idiot," she says, but the tremor in her voice betrays that she's trying to hide her emotions. As she turns around, you notice the moisture in her eyes - a spark of the old Powder you once knew.
"Yeah..." you say with a slight smile, trying to break the heaviness of the situation. "We both are."
"But you..." She squints her eyes and looks at you like a child trying to solve a riddle. "Something's different now. Something about you... What is it exactly?"
She raises a hand as if to stop you.
"Wait! Don't tell me! I want to guess!"
She turns around in her chair, giggles slightly and sticks a finger in the air.
"Okay! First guess: you've become a psychic!"
"No," you say calmly, your smile widening.
"Mhm..." She continues to spin as if organizing her thoughts. "Oh, I've got it, you've become a secret fighter in the ruins and you've got a killer six-pack! Let me see!"
"Neither, no," you reply dryly as your eyebrow rises slightly.
"Hmmm..." She leans back, taps her lips with one finger and a mischievous grin spreads across her face. "So maybe you've become... a totally famous magician and are now enchanting girls all over the world?"
"Definitely not," you say with a feigned sigh.
"Or wait!" Her grin widens and her voice takes on a cheekier tone. "You must have gotten married along the way, and your wife let you go off alone because of your noble mission. How noble, how tragic!"
"Wrong," you say and cross your arms, trying to hide your amusement.
"All right..." She leans forward, her voice softer, more conspiratorial, and her eyes sparkle mischievously. "Then tell me: did you secretly learn stripper tricks somewhere to finance your magic? I mean, if you did, you should just tell me. That would explain so much."
"No!" you say quickly, feeling the heat rising in your face.
Jinx bursts out laughing, throws her head back and pats her thighs.
"Oh man, your face! You look like I've just caught you in the act!"
"You're impossible," you mutter, but a small smile remains on your face as you watch her.
"Okay, okay, last try!" She leans forward, her hands on the arms of her chair. "You're secretly a prince from Piltover, and all this is just your mission to win back your throne!"
"Also wrong," you say dryly, shaking your head slightly as you try not to laugh out loud.
She leans back, her arms crossed over her chest, and snorts playfully.
"All right, then tell me, Mr. Mysterious! What is it?"
You look at her, your smile softening. "It's quite simple," you say. "I'm only here because I promised you back then that I would never leave you."
Her eyes widen and the mischief disappears from her face for a moment.
"You really are an idiot," she murmurs softly, a blush rising in her cheeks. But this time her voice is soft, almost vulnerable.
"And a magician," you add, with a wry smile that you can't suppress.
Her eyes widen and she looks at you as if she has just seen you for the first time.
"What?!" She blinks, as if to make sure she's heard you correctly.
"Yes, really," you say calmly, and your tone is almost casual, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"No shit?" she asks, her voice now louder and full of curiosity.
"No shit," you reply dryly.
"And where's your wand?" she asks with a wry grin as her eyes scrutinize you as if she's trying to discover a secret detail about you.
"Do I have to answer that?" you ask back, the heat rising in your face and you can feel her mischievous energy spreading.
"If you don't want to..." She raises her shoulders, her tone innocent, but her grin betrays her true intentions. "Then why don't you show me a spell?"
"Do I have to?" you ask, although you already suspect that she won't give in.
"Oh come on!" she says, her voice laced with feigned whining. "I'm so terribly sad." She puts on an exaggerated pout, and you can't help but smile.
"Something to cheer me up."
"Shouldn't we worry about Vi and Caitlyn instead?" you try to change the subject, even though you know it's pointless.
"No, we're coming forward now, aren't we?" She slowly steps closer, her grin widens and her steps are deliberately exaggeratedly slow. "After all, we're in a relationship now!"
Her words hit you like a blow.
It was what you had always wanted. Back then, when you were still children, you never really understood the feelings, but now you realize it.
You like her - more than you would ever admit.
"What's the matter? Are you being shy?" She tilts her head slightly to the side, and her voice has a playful undertone, but her eyes rest intently on you.
"No," you say quietly, but your voice betrays you.
"Oh, really?" She's very close now, her face just a few centimetres from yours. "Then show me what you've got, mister magician."
You take a deep breath.
"All right," you finally mumble, and you feel the magic tingling in your fingertips.
You stretch out your hand and small points of light begin to form from your aura - slowly at first, then faster and faster until they dance around you like tiny stars. With a gentle movement of your hand, a shower of sparks shoots into the air, exploding in bright colors and shapes.
Jinx's eyes widen.
"Holy shit!" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of amazement and excitement. She whirls around, following the glowing arcs of light with her silvery-blue eyes. "This... This is incredible!"
A broad grin spreads across her face.
"It looks like you stole it straight out of a storybook!" She claps her hands, her enthusiasm is infectious. "How do you do that? How?"
You smile faintly, feeling the magic slowly fade and the colors in the air fade.
"It's... just something I've learned," you say calmly, your voice trembling slightly.
But when Jinx turns to you and looks directly at you, something changes.
"How?" she asks, seriously this time. Her voice is softer, but with a hint of curiosity. "How did you learn magic?"
Her eyes meet yours and suddenly everything inside you starts to spin.
Your breath catches. The world around you becomes blurred and instead the memories come crashing down on you like a tidal wave.
Memories that overwhelm you.
The first pictures that come are of your "family".
You are a child, sitting at a table full of scientists, all concentrating on their work. Your parents - scientists, rationalists, unshakeable in their belief in logic and evidence.
"Magic is nonsense, Y/N," says your father. His voice is cool, almost dismissive. "You'll stop believing in those fairy tales eventually."
But you never stopped.
Then come the other memories: Mylo.
"What kind of nonsense are you reading again?" he sneers as he knocks a book out of your hand. "You're just a useless dreamer. No wonder no one takes you seriously."
His words cut deep. Every time you open a book, you hear his voice.
The apartment of Jayce Talis.
The moment you felt the crystal slam into the ground. You could feel the magic - a raw, uncontrolled energy that hit you like a blow.
The Cannery.
You see the explosion again. Your throw with the enforcer gadget at the monkey bomb. The shock, the chaos, the smoke. Vander, Claggor, Mylo... everything shatters before your eyes.
You lie under the rubble. The hours you spend buried under it, screaming, crying, praying that someone will save you. But no one came.
And then...
The arm.
The moment you saw it - the remains of the Corpse digging into your body, into your arm. The magical symbols that appeared on your skin, Latin letters you couldn't understand.
Singed.
His laboratories. His experiments.
"Your Talent is Magnificent" he had said. "Don't Waste it, you're special. "
But then...Vander. The moment you found out - he had Vander. Alive, for his plan to pass him on to Silco.
"He could be saved," Singed had said. But you couldn't. There was nothing you could do.
Your travels.
The countries, the teachers, the fights. Every step is an attempt to repair the shards of your past.
Everything hits you at the same time.
Your breath quickens, your heart races. Your chest feels like it's being crushed.
"Y/N?" you hear Jinx's voice, but it sounds so far away. "Hey, are you okay?"
You can't answer. You are trapped in the images, in the panic.
Her hands reach for you.
"Y/N!" Her voice becomes sharper, more urgent. She shakes you slightly, and finally the fog breaks.
"I..." You take a deep breath, your hands shake.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, your eyes still fixed on the floor.
"Sorry? For what?" she asks, her tone now softer, almost gentle.
You finally look at her, tears in your eyes.
"For everything," you whisper, your voice breaking, and you feel the tears running unstoppably down your face.
Jinx just looks at you for a moment, her eyes glistening wetly, and then she pulls you back into her arms.
"I know," she murmurs, her voice low and full of emotion. "I know, Y/N... and it's okay."
You both cry, together, your bodies nestled close to each other, as if you could save each other from being crushed by the weight of the past.
After a while, as the tears lessen, she leans back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. "You're still a crybaby, you know that?" she says with a faint smile that you immediately recognize - that's Powder, somewhere deep inside her.
"And you're still cheeky," you reply, and despite the heat in your face, you manage to smile back.
Then it happens again.
Her eyes meet yours and the closeness between you suddenly becomes electrifying. Your faces are only centimeters apart and you can feel her breath on your skin.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she leans forward, and this time you are the one who bridges the distance. Your lips meet and everything else disappears.
The kiss is gentle, but full of longing, as if you both want to turn back time - to the moment before everything fell apart. You taste the sweetness of her lips, feel the warmth she radiates, and it's as if the world stops spinning for a moment.
Her hands slide to the back of your neck and you pull her closer, almost panicked, as if you might lose her if you let go.
When you finally break away from each other, you're both out of breath. "You're still so damn dramatic," she murmurs, leaning her forehead against yours.
"And you're still so..." You search for the right words, but all you can come up with is: "perfect."
"Idiot," she says, but her smile shows she's enjoying every word of it.
You sit down next to each other and slowly you start to talk - about everything that has happened.
She tells you about Silco, about her time alone in Zaun, about her struggles, her fear, her anger.
And you open up, tell her about your travels, your lessons, your fights, Singed and magic.
Because it just feels right with her.
You are standing in the middle of the bridge, your arms crossed loosely, your gaze fixed ahead, while the night casts its cold veil over the city. The memories are like a ghost that haunts you - incessantly, relentlessly.
The wind, cool and biting, carries the sound of distant conversations, the rhythm of the city, but you block it all out. Here, in Piltover, it feels like the past is lurking around every corner.
Caitlyn. Vi.
Thoughts of them burn into your consciousness, and you can't help but think of the chaos their decisions have caused. Vander's sacrifice. Vi's arrest.
"If it hadn't been for the Enforcers back then..." you murmur, your voice little more than a whisper carried on the wind.
The anger rises. It's not quick anger, but a quiet, smouldering fire that burns deep inside you. You can feel your magic reacting to it, stirring under your skin, a steady flicker at your fingertips.
But you hesitate.
You know that this path is dangerous. The dark magic fueled by anger is seductive, stronger than anything you could ever control. One part of you wants it, but the other... The other remembers what this darkness can do.
Your aura, normally calm and controlled, flows slightly outwards, forming a warm shield against the cold. You breathe in deeply, your senses wide open. The nearby auras - faint, flickering - are just reminders that Piltover is not what it used to be.
Nostalgia.
That's what's really bothering you. This place - the bridge - is more than just a part of the city. It is the place where you have lost yourself.
You close your eyes and feel the past playing out in front of you, like a living movie.
A younger you, full of dreams.
You remember how you stood here, the spell book firmly in your hands, your face full of hope. The red smoke back then. The screams. The chaos.
And the revolution that destroyed everything.
You shake your head as if you want to banish the images, but they remain. You know they will stay.
"I shouldn't be here," you mumble, and yet you don't move.
It's not just the nostalgia that binds you to this place. It is also the realization that no matter where you travel, you will always return here - to the place where it all began.
You wait for Jinx, and the night drags on, but your heart remains restless.
You feel them first. Three auras, each unique in its own way. One is fierce and determined - undoubtedly Vi. Another is calmer, strategic, but no less vigilant - Caitlyn. The third, however, gives you pause. She is strangely familiar, but alien at the same time. A mixture of self-confidence and power, like a storm that could break out at any time.
Without a moment's hesitation, you let your magic flow into your legs and arms. A warm, familiar tingling sensation spreads as the aura passes through your body. Without a sound, you take a step back, then another, until you reach the railing of the bridge. With a powerful leap, supported by your magic, you pull yourself up onto a ledge.
The platform you climb onto is above a bridge pillar. It is narrow and offers hardly any support, but it is enough for you. Up here you are out of sight, hidden by the darkness and the heavy steel structures that support the bridge.
You breathe quietly, concentrated, as you sit down, legs bent, ready to react immediately. From up here, you have a perfect view of the group below you. Vi, Caitlyn and the man.
Who is he?
Your gaze lingers on him. He is tall, slim and muscular, with dark brown skin that shimmers in the dim light of the streetlamps. His hair is white, bundled into thick curls reminiscent of a storm. You recognize a hoverboard on his back, and his posture radiates a strange mixture of tension and self-assurance.
You continue to analyze him. His movements are smooth, almost silent, like those of a hunter. But there is also something wounded, something he is trying to hide. His gaze wanders over the surroundings, and he speaks softly to Vi and Caitlyn. You can't hear the words, but you recognize the dynamic.
Vi seems focused, perhaps angry, but also unsure. She keeps glancing in your direction, as if she suspects you might be hiding nearby. Caitlyn, on the other hand, is calm but tense. Her fingers clutch her gun, ready to use it at a moment's notice.
Then the man. The name suddenly pops into your head like a flash of lightning that illuminates the darkness.
Ekko.
Of course it's Ekko. The boy you used to know, who was always full of dreams and ideas. But the Ekko standing here is no longer the same. He has changed, just like you. He has become a man, a leader. But which side is he on now?
You press your lips together and feel your heartbeat accelerate. The situation is dicey. Ekko is carrying a container, and even without looking closely, you can feel the magical energy emanating from it. The Hextech crystal.
Your thoughts are racing.
Why does he have it? What does he intend to do with it?
And above all: how will I get him back without a confrontation that we will all regret?
As you watch from your hiding place, you feel your grip on the steel ball in your hand tighten. No matter what happens - you're ready.
So he had them kidnapped, he is the leader of the Firelights.
You even sense a presence climbing up the small platform next to you. You look to your right and see her in the dark: Jinx.
"Oh, you here too?" She says, playfully.
Jinx leans closer to you, her eyes fixed on the scene below you. "Do you hear that?" she asks quietly, her fingers drumming nervously on the platform.
You nod barely noticeably, your eyes still fixed on the group. "Yes, they're planning something. Maybe an escape or a deal."
Jinx snorts softly. "Vi always thinks she can handle everything by just walking right through the wall." Her voice carries a mixture of mockery and affection, a reflection of her inner conflicts.
Your aura, which is focused around your ears, makes the quiet voices clearer. Ekko speaks calmly but firmly. His words are heavy, as if he carries a responsibility that weighs him down with every sentence. Caitlyn sounds doubtful but determined, while Vi, typically for her, sounds driven by emotion.
"Why are you just sneaking around?" asks Jinx, nudging you with her elbow. "In the past, you would have jumped down long ago and done something stupid."
You can feel the memory hitting you, but you don't let it show. "Maybe I've learned to stop acting mindlessly," you reply coolly.
"Boring," she mumbles, although her eyes are studying you intently. "But you know, that down there... it's all for show, isn't it? You're not going to make it."
"Why?" you ask without looking away.
"Because they have no idea how Piltover works," she replies, almost casually. "You don't survive here by playing fair."
You give no answer. Your mind works, analyzing the auras of the three of you. Ekko seems focused, Caitlyn tense, and Vi - wavering between determination and what looks like a spark of hope.
"If you don't do anything, I will," Jinx finally says, her voice challenging.
"Not yet," you reply, and she falls silent for a moment. But you can feel her energy rising, her impatience growing.
The crystal at Ekko's side pulsates slightly, a faint but clearly perceptible glow. You can feel the magical resonance and it evokes a memory in you - one that you would rather have suppressed.
You watch the scene in silence while Jinx mutters quietly to herself. Her voice carries that typical tone, half sarcastic, half painfully honest. You sense the heaviness in her words, even if she tries to cover it up.
Vi and Caitlyn slowly back away from each other, their movements hesitant, as if they don't really want to part. The auras around them are soft and full of warmth - a stark contrast to Jinx's tense, pulsing energy that you can feel next to you.
"Looks like they're getting on well," you say quietly, almost to yourself.
Jinx reacts immediately, her eyes narrowing. "Pfft, sure. Big sister's found a new lover now, hasn't she?" She laughs softly, but her hands are gripping the platform you're on so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
You give her a quick sideways glance, but say nothing. There's nothing you could say at this moment that would reassure her. Instead, you look down again.
The scene continues to play out in front of you. Ekko now steps forward, his stance confident, almost leader-like. His aura pulsates calmly, a manifestation of his confidence. You can feel the small, subtle vibrations of magic in his hoverboard and the crystal at his side.
Jinx notices it too. "Look at him," she mutters, "acting like he's got everything under control."
"Maybe he did," you answer cautiously.
Her laugh is short and sharp. "No one is in control of anything. Even you should realize that."
You leave the words uncommented, your eyes fixed on the crystal. Its resonance is strong, almost demanding. It feels as if it is calling you - or warning you. You're not sure which of the two it is.
Jinx moves restlessly next to you, her impatience almost palpable. "Shouldn't we just go down and get the crap?"
"Not yet," you say, your voice calm but determined. "I need to know what they're up to."
From your hiding place, you watch as the group splits up. Vi walks in one direction, with a firm, purposeful stride, while Ekko and Caitlyn move in the opposite direction. It's almost too quiet until a bright light suddenly shines on Ekko and Caitlyn.
"Stop!" A sharp, authoritative voice echoes through the night and breaks the silence. Your focus immediately sharpens and your observation reaches new heights.
"What are the cops doing here?" Jinx's voice is strained, her eyes sparkling in the darkness. "Don't tell me..."
"But..." You reply, your eyes fixed on the scene as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. "They want the crystal too."
Before you can form the next words, the situation changes in a flash. Marcus, an enforcer, raises his weapon and fires. The shot doesn't hit Ekko directly, but it's enough to force him to the ground. Caitlyn easily takes cover, her eyes desperately searching for a way to save the situation.
Vi, who was already a few meters away, returns abruptly, running at full speed, her eyes fixed on Ekko and Caitlyn.
"Liar..." whispers Jinx next to you, her voice low but full of venom. Your eyes move to her, and at that moment you see her holding a small remote control in her hand. Her finger hovers over the single button on it.
"Jinx, what are you doing?" you ask, the alarm bells in your head ringing loudly. She looks at you, a strange grin on her lips that barely conceals her uncertainty.
"Just a bit of fun," she says, almost casually, and presses the button.
You look back at the bridge, and there you see them: Hundreds of tiny butterflies, glowing an ominous green, moving silently behind Vi. They dance in the air, beautiful and yet deadly, an illusion of splendor and destruction.
They are definitely explosive.
A shiver runs down your spine. You could jump up, run downstairs and warn them all. It would be the right thing to do. But a cold, bitter voice in your head asks: What difference would it make?
It's like back then. The memory grips you with all its might, forces its way into your thoughts and paralyzes you. You stood right here, on this bridge, once before, without the power to change anything - and you failed. Now everything is repeating itself, and this time you do nothing but watch as the chaos takes its course.
The Enforcers, arrogant and confident in their superior numbers, don't even realize that these shimmering creatures aren't real butterflies. You see Marcus, Caitlyn and Ekko looking around, irritated and suspicious, but not understanding what awaits them. The green creatures buzz around, sit on metal armor, helmets and weapons - and wait.
You feel Jinx move behind you. She stands up, takes a step closer and suddenly places her hands on your ears. Her touch is firm, almost reassuring, but there's a tension in her grip that you can't ignore.
"It's about to start," she whispers, her voice so quiet that you can barely hear her. It's a mixture of euphoria and madness that resonates in her tone.
You want to say something, want to stop her, but the words get stuck in your throat. What would you even say? And then she presses the button.
Boom.
The explosions don't come all at once, but in waves. First one, then two, then a dozen. The butterflies shatter in a greenish firework display, and each detonation tears apart metal, flesh and stone alike. A deafening noise fills the night, accompanied by a sharp, acrid smell of smoke and burnt material.
You feel the pressure of the explosions through the ground, see the bridge begin to shake under the force. Jinx continues to hold her hands over your ears, but the noise comes through, a dull thunder that overlays everything.
The enforcers collapse beneath you. Marcus is hit directly by a detonation, his body is thrown backwards like a doll and remains motionless. Caitlyn and Ekko try to find cover, but the butterflies are everywhere.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jinx whispers again, her face close to yours. "Like a painting... Our little work of art."
You can't say anything. Your mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this nightmare, but you are paralyzed. You could have done something.
As the last explosion fades, the bridge lies in silence. The smoke hangs heavy in the air, green sparks flickering in the debris. You can still feel Caitlyn and Ekko - their auras are faint, but they are alive. You want to move, to do something, but your legs feel like lead.
The enforcer's spotlight flickers, a weak, unsteady light that bathes the destroyed bridge in a ghostly scenario. People are scattered everywhere - enforcers moaning in pain or lying motionless. Blood mingles with the smoking rubble, the sweet smell of burnt metal and flesh hangs heavy in the air.
And then you show up.
Your footsteps echo on the cold steel of the bridge, the soft sound like a harbinger of something inevitable. Jinx hums a melody, the same one she hummed back then. It's a song that burns in your ears, conjuring up images you'd rather forget. But now you follow her again - just like back then.
She strides forward, her silhouette dramatic in the fog, revolver held loosely in her hand. You are right behind her, your steps steady, calm, deadly. You stretch out your aura, letting it wash over the bridge like a wave, separating the living from the dead.
The result will not surprise you.
Six alive. The rest are lost. Their auras are faint, like flickering candles just waiting to be snuffed out by a breeze. There is no threat left, nothing that can really stop you or Jinx.
You wonder, in a fleeting moment of clear thinking, what has become of the Y/N you once were. The boy who found solace in the silence of books, who told stories even when no one was listening, who tried to understand the world, not destroy it.
But the answer is simple.
He died under the rubble.
Jinx raises her revolver and points it at an enforcer crawling on the ground in front of you. His movements are slow and shaky. You see it immediately - the explosion has caused internal bleeding. Even if he survives, his death will be agonizing. But you feel no pity, only a piercing cold.
Jinx turns to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her lips twisted into a small, ominous smile. She seeks your gaze, as if she wants your approval. And you give it to her - a single nod, barely noticeable, but enough.
Without hesitation, she pulls the trigger.
The shot echoes across the bridge, cutting through the silence like a knife. The enforcer slumps, his life ending before it really began. You see the blood pooling under his head, a small river running into the cracks of the bridge.
Jinx continues to hum her song softly as you walk along, her eyes darting over the dead and living bodies scattered across the bridge. You feel her shifting emotions like waves hitting you - anger, satisfaction, a fleeting trace of sadness.
Your mind wanders.
Dr. Blythe...
A healing spell you developed yourself to close injuries and save lives when it wasn't too late. You could still save some of these people if you tried. But instead you move on, with every step you take you move away from the possibility of doing it.
You reach your destination. Jinx stops in front of one of the bodies, her gaze fixed on the dead Firelight's belt. She bends down and reaches for the small package containing the Hex Crystal. The energy of the crystal is palpable, like a pulsing heartbeat in the air. She swings the belt around her shoulder and straightens up, a triumphant sparkle in her eyes.
But your gaze has already turned forward. And there you see them.
Vi.
She supports Caitlyn, whose movements seem sluggish and painful. Vi has Caitlyn's arm around her shoulder, supporting her as they both walk slowly in the opposite direction. It's an image that immediately shifts Jinx's mood.
Her aura changes abruptly, a storm of anger and pain. You feel her charging the air around you as she raises her minigun. You see the sparks of emotion in her eyes, the inevitable chaos that will follow.
The moment suddenly takes place in slow motion. Jinx pulls the trigger. Three shots. The bullets hit the ground in front of Vi and Caitlyn, tearing through the metal and sending sparks flying in all directions. Vi recoils, pushing Caitlyn away from her to get her out of the line of fire.
Jinx takes aim again, and your body reacts instinctively before your mind even realizes what's happening. Your fingers clutch the steel ball tightly as your aura ripples through your muscles in a single, concentrated pulse. Your movements are faster than you would have thought possible.
But then you feel it - a third living aura, calm and purposeful, but with an energy that burns with determination. It emerges directly between the two of you, where the gunfire has just stopped. It's Ekko, and he's faster than you ever expected. He stands on his hoverboard and charges straight at you.
What the...? Can he hide his presence? How could I not feel him before?
The moment is a chaos of movement and surprise. Before you or Jinx can react, he's already there. With a deft swipe, he knocks the minigun out of Jinx's hand and it skids across the bridge with a clatter. The surprise is too great to act immediately, but Ekko doesn't stop - he drifts off and aims straight for the next hit.
This time, however, you are prepared. Your mind works at lightning speed and you use the few seconds to act. With a precise movement, you snatch the hex crystal from the container on Jinx's belt and slip it into your coat pocket. Just as Ekko is about to strike again, you skillfully move into his blind spot.
You analyze his movements, his reflexes. Ekko has sharp eyes, you know that, and if he sees that Jinx is looking at you, he'll understand the attack. You have to outwit him, force him to focus on the wrong thing.
Ekko smashes the belt on which the container is hanging with a well-aimed blow and thinks he has made it. But before he realizes it, you've already fooled him. He gets back on his hoverboard, ready to escape - but there you are.
Your steel ball flies through the air with precision and incredible speed. Magic, rotational energy and pure will power it. It hits Ekko directly on the right cheek, like a well-aimed punch. The force of the impact hurls him brutally to the side and the hoverboard tilts dangerously.
Ekko lands hard on the ground as your steel ball flies back into your hand in one elegant movement. You can feel the energy pulsing through your body and your breathing becomes heavy.
Jinx continues to laugh, an uncontrolled, almost triumphant sound that echoes across the ruined bridge. She swings her minigun over her shoulder and takes a step forward so that she is now standing right next to you. Her gaze fixes on Ekko, who is standing up again and facing you, belt in hand.
Ekko deftly throws the belt to Vi, who catches it and immediately hands it to Caitlyn.
"Go!" he calls, his voice determined but tense.
Vi and Caitlyn don't hesitate for a second and hurriedly disappear into the darkness, their footsteps echoing across the bridge. But you stop, your hand still clutching your steel ball, and a faint smile spreads across your face.
"I expected much more from you, Y/N," Ekko finally says, his voice calm but full of disappointment.
"Oh, look who it is. The Boy savior." Jinx starts to laugh as she fully understands that this is Ekko.
The words hit you. Not like a blow, but like a cold, sharp wind that makes its way inside you. You see Ekko looking at you, his eyes penetrating you as if he wants to search deep inside your being for answers.
"Expectations?" you mumble as you slowly slide the steel ball in your hand back into your coat pocket. Your gaze remains fixed on Ekko, your tone dry and full of underlying anger. "From me? And what exactly did you expect, Ekko? You think you can judge me here just because you've built something up? Do you even know what this crystal can do?"
Ekko's eyes flash with disappointment and frustration, and he takes a small step forward. "I expected you to be better," he says sharply. "Better than... This." His gaze shifts to Jinx, who lingers near you with a superior smirk. Her fingers play casually over the trigger of her minigun as she fixes Ekko.
"This has nothing to do with you," you reply sharply, the patience slowly fading from your tone. "And even if it did - you wouldn't understand anyway."
"What are you now? A mage, or what?" Ekko's voice becomes louder, a sharp contrast to his usual calm. You can feel the tension in his aura building more with each passing second, like a wave about to break. "No matter what you are - you two won't get the crystal."
You might laugh. I already have it.
You don't let on, but the threat of battle is palpable in the air. Your mind races, and as Jinx slowly begins to raise her weapon, you feel your own magic building up. A light aura settles over your entire body, almost invisible, but its presence is palpable to someone like Ekko. His eyes narrow, and you recognize the moment he notices.
Ekko hesitates, but only for a fraction of a second. His hoverboard lifts off slightly, hovering just above the ground, ready for a quick movement. Jinx's giggle interrupts the silence, a nerve-wracking sound that echoes across the bridge.
"Oh, I like it when you're so confident," she says with a mocking smile, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Let's see how long you can keep this up, Boy Savior."
You feel your magic tighten further, ready for when the moment comes. Ekko moves a step closer, his posture tense, and in that brief moment you feel the world around you narrow. Only the three of you are still there, everything else seems to fade away.
"Ekko," you say calmly, your voice cutting. "Think carefully about what you do next. This isn't a game anymore. And it's not like it used to be."
Without a word, Ekko sprints towards you, his focus ironclad, his movements precise. Jinx raises her minigun and fires in short, controlled bursts. But Ekko moves as smoothly as a shadow, dodging the bullets with an ease that seems almost superhuman.
That's impressive, you think. He not only has the raw speed, but also the control that can only be achieved through endless training.
The moment seems to stretch out, time slows down in your head. You analyze his every move, his every decision.
He is better when it comes to physics. You admit that without hesitation. But his will? His creativity? These fields are yours. Jinx has grenades on him, and you can cast spells that Ekko could never foresee. You've survived more dangerous opponents. This one? This is nothing.
Bullets slice through the air, smashing into the ground and the bridge railings. Jinx grins, almost playfully, but you notice: she hasn't landed a fatal hit, she hasn't even really aimed. What is she doing? Is she trying to spare him?
Ekko is counting the time. You suddenly realize that. There is a method to his movements, a plan unfolding before you. But what is he trying to do? You sense his concentration, his determination. But to what end?
The fight lasts maybe seven seconds - at most. But in those seconds, it feels like the world stands still.
Then he is there. Ekko breaks out of his serpentine line and closes the distance between you. Your mind registers that he is aiming directly at Jinx. Instinctively, you summon a spell, but he is faster. With a powerful swing of his metal staff, he hits Jinx's weapon and hurls it across the bridge.
You want to react, to let your aura flow around your body, but Ekko is already on you. With a precise blow, he hits you horizontally on the arms as you try to defend yourself. The force throws you back two meters. But your aura absorbs most of the force. No damage, just a disturbance in your focus.
The difference between the two of you is clear. Your life energy, your aura - they far surpass his. But that's not enough. You can't breathe a sigh of relief, because Ekko immediately uses the interruption to attack again.
But it doesn't protect you from the next situation while you're observing events.
Jinx is suddenly lying on the ground, overwhelmed by Ekko, who is leaning on his staff with all his weight. Then he strikes with full force, his fist hits Jinx in the face, and you just stand there. Everything reminds you of the past - of the fights you used to have on this bridge as children.
Back then, it was always just Powder and Ekko. You were the one who watched her beat him again and again. Of course, you can't compare it to the present moment, but the picture is similar. You just watch, let it happen, just like back then.
Jinx tries to push the staff away from her throat, but Ekko strikes again, harder, with more purpose.
What's wrong with you? You have survived so many battles, so many opponents who seemed superior to you, and yet you have won. With your magic and your wits, you could finish Ekko off in the blink of an eye. You could end this fight, bathe the bridge in red and leave everything behind you.
So why are you hesitating?
Why don't you move? Why don't you jump in where Jinx is struggling for air?
That is the answer.
You are in your right mind. And your mind tells you that this fight is pointless. The bloodshed here is pointless. You already have the crystal, Vi and Caitlyn have escaped. So why let this violence escalate any further?
It's the nostalgia of this moment that paralyzes you - this place, this situation that reflects so much of that time that you let it blind you.
But now you decide to act. You focus your magic, your aura enveloping you as you leap towards them with determination. Your thoughts run faster than your body moves.
Jinx is still wrestling with Ekko, her hands are shaking, but she won't let go. Ekko seems more determined than ever.
A tenth of a second. That's all you need to activate your spell - the same one you used in your last fight against the Firelights.
But at that very moment, when your body reacts automatically, you realize the seriousness of your mistake.
"No."
Jinx's voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but it cuts through the air like a knife.
Too late.
With a quick, jerky pull, Jinx snatches the pin from one of her grenades. The explosion begins, in bright, screaming shades of pink, engulfing the scene in the blink of an eye.
At the last moment, you stretch your aura, forcing it beyond its limits to protect both Jinx and Ekko.
You feel the force of the detonation breaking through you, hitting your body and almost tearing you apart. Black. Everything goes black.
The force of the detonation has scarred your body, your mind is still reeling between reality and powerlessness. But as you look down at Jinx, you realize one thing: you can't afford to be weak now.
The voice snaps you out of your state. "Jinx!" It sounds rough and full of panic, and although it sounds familiar, it takes you a moment to place it.
Silco.
It clicks in your head. Of course, who else? But you don't care. Jinx needs you now, and nothing else matters.
The smoke on the bridge is relentless, penetrating your lungs, burning your eyes. The air is filled with blood, fire and burnt metal. As you rise to your feet to go to Jinx, a sudden nausea brings you to your knees. You throw up, blood and stomach acid mixing on the floor to form a disgusting pool.
You tremble, feeling the familiar tug in the Corpse's arm, which supplies you with magic. You gratefully channel the energy into your body, allowing it to strengthen your muscles and sharpen your senses.
You find her. Jinx lies only a few meters away, her figure almost seems to blur in the smoke. Her body is covered in wounds - burns, cuts, blood. Her usually vibrant hair sticks dully to her face, covered in soot and dirt.
Your heart breaks as you kneel over her. Tears stream down your face, mixing with the sweat and dust of the bridge.
"JINX!" Silco's voice is closer, booming through the smoke-filled air. But you ignore him, focusing instead on the wounds in front of you.
I protected them... but not enough. The magic was evenly distributed. If I had concentrated everything on her, Ekko wouldn't have survived.
You feel the gravity of the decision, but there is no time for regret. You tighten your aura around her, stabilizing her condition as best you can.
Suddenly you hear footsteps behind you. Heavy, but determined. You turn your head and see Ekko.
His figure is just as marked as Jinx's. Blood runs from a wound on his forehead, his movements are sluggish, but his gaze is fixed on you. He looks at you, shocked, and... respectfully.
He understands. He felt how you wrapped your magic around him, even though he was your target.
"Just go," you say, your voice weak but firm. You straighten up a little and look him in the eye.
For a moment, the boy from back then is there again. The boy to whom you told stories, who listened to your words in amazement, full of curiosity and hope.
"We have a lot to talk about," Ekko says quietly. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before disappearing into the smoke. "I know about the Corpse."
His words echo in your head, but the meaning slips through your fingers. No time to think about it.
You feel another aura behind you. You turn around and look into Silco's face.
His face is illuminated by the flames around you in an eerie glow. His eyes are sharp, piercing, that one distorted by the scars that run across his face. His suit, otherwise immaculate, is covered in ash, and his gaze is a mixture of anger, worry and... Pain?
Silco stops, just a few steps away. His gaze is a mixture of threat and plea, as if he wants to read every possible reaction out of you.
"Wha-"
"We don't have time to argue." You interrupt him, your voice firm and insistent. With a serious expression, you slowly stand up, Jinx in your arms. "I don't care about mutual hatred, Silco. If we don't act now, she'll die."
For a moment he says nothing, his eyes wander from your face to Jinx, whose motionless body lies in your arms. You see his gaze harden, then soften again as he realizes the gravity of the situation.
"Why should I trust you?" he finally asks, and you can feel the tension in the air.
You immediately recognize what he wants to hear. Without another word, you reach into your coat pocket and pull out the hex crystal. The blue glow of the crystal cuts through the darkness, illuminating Silco's face for a brief moment.
His eyes widen slightly - a mixture of surprise, fear and astonishment. He knows immediately what that means: you had the big picture while everyone else was lost in chaos and destruction.
"She trusts you... I can see that." His voice is rougher, quieter. "And if she does, then so do I."
You nod curtly as your grip on Jinx tightens. Her wounds and weak breathing are all you can see now, all that matters.
"I know someone who can help her." Silco pauses for a moment, as if collecting himself. "But... You won't like it."
A name pops into your head and you feel cold.
"Singed..."
---
And there it is again - another chapter!
A lot really happened, and I mean a lot. Jinx and Y/N kissing, the whole bridge scene, and then the fight where you drift off a bit with your thoughts again.
I've tried to be a bit shorter this time so as not to write as much as I did for the last chapter, but I want to finally get to the end of the first season. I've already watched the second season and can't wait to get our dear wizard into the story.
At the same time, I'm still undecided as to how exactly I should incorporate Y/N into the final act - the battle in Piltover is coming up, and I'm considering three different scenarios:
All-rounder: Y/N fights, heals quickly and supports everyone with tactical moves.
Together with Jinx and Ekko: Y/N goes into battle against Vander and ends up facing Viktor with Ekko.
The emotional climax (my current favorite): Y/N can't take all the pent-up feelings any longer, knows Piltover will lose the fight, and stakes everything on one last confrontation. With all his potential and full of determination, he makes a pact to get all the power he'll ever have and finally fights Viktor.
There are many options, but unfortunately also far too little freedom of choice - almost like in the story itself.
The wheel keeps turning: after a hard setback - Vi now carries a wound from the fight against Sevika - you move on. It becomes clear that Vi urgently needs medical help while you analyze the situation and weigh up possible steps.
At the same time, you reveal a bit of your goal to Caitlyn: the search for the Holy Wizard's Corpse Parts. Your discussion leads to a crucial name: Jayce Talis. A conversation that contains interesting core elements and exciting perspectives.
A confrontation with Silco is inevitable - and even worse: with the only person who ever really understood you. Powder, now Jinx.
---
Holy crap, what a crazy chapter.
Of course you haven't read it yet - you're still up here. But I can tell you one thing: we are so back.
This chapter took a really long time. Never in my life have I written 10.6k words for a chapter, and that's while constantly trying to keep the quality and ideas consistently high. I listened to my playlist almost all the way through (almost 100 songs!).
Without spoiling anything - although the summary does give a few hints - I can say that a hell of a lot happens in this chapter. Read carefully, because there's a lot in here!
I'd appreciate your support for the 10k words - I really sat on this chapter for a long time and pulled myself together to get a piece like this out.
Have fun reading it! ❤️
---
"Corpse parts? "
"Yap. Corpse Parts. "
So, there you three were again, deep in the shadows of the Undercity. Vi, having just emerged from her fight with Sevika, was clearly suffering the consequences - a wound on her stomach that weakened her, even if she didn't lose her pride.
Slowly you move on, through abandoned corridors and dusty paths, until you reach the old mountaineering area. This used to be a place of busy work: coal mining, heavy machinery, a constant coming and going of people who supplied Piltover with energy. Now? Just a hint of the past.
A huge tower rises up in front of you, its neon lights shining brightly in the darkness. They cast restless reflections on the stone walls and sharp edges of the rusted metal. The destination was clear.
But you only have to take one look at the tower to know what's going on. The structure is unstable. Wooden and metal struts are desperately trying to support the weight, but the whole tower seems to shake with every breeze.
"So you collect corpse parts?" asks Caitlyn, giving you a look. Her voice has that slightly skeptical tone that doesn't seem to leave her.
"Haven't I already said that four times?" you reply dryly, your patience slowly waning.
Caitlyn purses her lips, but before she can reply, Vi lets out a soft laugh - despite the obvious pain. "Leave him alone, cupcake. If you don't get it the fifth time, that's your problem."
"I do understand, thank you," Caitlyn murmurs, before focusing back on the path. But her eyes remain intently on you, as if she's trying to read more out of you than you're willing to reveal.
You ignore her gaze and focus instead on the tower in front of you. The thing is a monument to danger. Rusted struts and rotten wooden supports wobble under the weight of the upper platforms, and yet there is no other way down - Silco's men are already behind you.
Vi releases her arms from your shoulders and slowly lowers herself to her feet. Her breathing is heavy, but her determination remains unchanged.
You immediately realize what she's up to.
"Can you do this in your-" Caitlyn begins to speak, her voice skeptical, but she doesn't even get to finish the sentence.
Vi already jumps.
With one leap, she pushes herself off the edge and falls, her hands grasping the rusty bars, which creak and groan under the weight of her movement. She holds on for a moment, then lets go and plunges further down.
Damn.
You feel your stomach tighten. Her temper - that stubborn, unchanging stubbornness - has once again prevented her from thinking clearly. She's always been like that, and that's what cost her so many scars back then.
Still... that was incredibly stupid.
The struts are rotten. A single wrong move, a splinter in her side, and she could have sustained an injury that would have been her undoing down here in the fence. She could have bled to death.
Caitlyn looks at you with wide eyes, her composure briefly shaken. "Is she always like this?" she finally asks, more annoyed than concerned.
You nod, your voice calm but with a hint of sharpness: "Always."
You move closer to the edge and look down, where Vi is standing up and brushing the dust off her clothes. She's unharmed - at least that much.
"Come on!" she calls upwards, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "It's not that hard!"
You sigh, a resigned expression on your face. You turn briefly to Caitlyn and just look at her.
"I'll..." Caitlyn hesitates, looks down and swallows audibly. "I'll have a look first."
You stretch your arm forward and jump, your magic flowing into your feet and arms, strengthening your balance and your movements. You use the struts as jumping aids, move smoothly and finally land next to Vi.
A few seconds later, Caitlyn lands next to you. You had sensed her aura as she carefully but methodically made her way down.
But your focus is suddenly drawn elsewhere. From a distance, you sense a faint presence - barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. Something about it makes you feel uneasy. It's not Silco's men.
"We're being watched," you say calmly, your voice analytical.
Vi turns her head towards you, her eyes questioning. Caitlyn immediately takes a more defensive stance. You and Caitlyn support Vi by putting her arms over your shoulders, and Caitlyn asks the question you were already expecting.
"Which way?" Her voice has that sharp tone that reminds you she must have been using a Sniper forever. "Are you sure it's not just Silco's goons?"
"South-east," you answer curtly. "But we should still hurry. Silco's men are less than a few hundred meters away."
You set off immediately. The footsteps of the three of you echo softly in the darkness as you make your way along the narrow path.
Your thoughts are racing. You look at Vi, whose face is tilted downwards, the pain obvious even though she is trying to suppress it.
Doctor Blythe would help. It could treat the wound - efficiently and precisely. But it would take time. Time we don't have. Besides, I wouldn't be able to move freely or use my magic to sense auras in the area.
You look over at Vi, then further ahead. The surrounding neon light refracts off the rock faces, and the contrast between the natural darkness and the artificial colors is overwhelming. Then something else draws your attention.
Caitlyn.
Her eyes meet yours, questioning, skeptical. Finally she speaks. "So... you're siblings now, are you?"
"We were taken in by Vander," you answer briefly and succinctly. You don't reveal any more.
Now is not the time to talk about your true heritage - the family of scientists you come from. You keep the information to yourself, certain that Caitlyn would either not understand or misinterpret it.
Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, but says nothing more. Instead, she seems to accept your curt answer, at least for the moment.
"And you can... do magic?" she asks again, her voice slightly skeptical as you notice Vi shifting uneasily.
"Yes." Your answer is short and direct, without any embellishment.
"You don't really seem to like talking," Caitlyn mutters, her gaze traveling to Vi's wound on her side, which is starting to bleed slightly from the movement.
"It wouldn't do much good to explain it to you," you reply. "You can't see my magic for the most part, at best you can feel it. Besides, I'd have to get my spellbook out of my coat pocket. And that would probably just cause Vi more pain."
"I'm not that fragile," Vi murmurs, her voice almost defiant, but her gaze remains fixed on the ground.
Caitlyn remains silent for a moment, but then she speaks again. "You said earlier that you were looking for... corpse parts?"
Her tone of voice changes, and you immediately notice the change in her aura. A sudden increase, a clear indication that she knows - or at least suspects - something.
Could it be that she knows something about the corpse parts?
The pieces of the puzzle start to move in your head. Progress Day. You remember Caitlyn talking to Jayce Talis. They know each other, that was obvious. But how well? And for how long?
Can she also use magic? you think further. Is her sniper possibly powered by hextech? Or do they know each other from the academy?
But then another memory hits you, one that gives you pause.
Back when we broke into Jayce's apartment... There were two voices at the door. Don't tell me Caitlyn was the second voice.
You pause, your analytical mind working at full speed. That would be a connection that could change everything.
"Caitlyn..." you speak suddenly, your voice calm but with a hint of sharpness.
"Yes?" she asks, leaning her head forward slightly to look past Vi.
"You wouldn't happen to have been outside his apartment with Jayce Talis a few years ago before it was blown up seconds later?"
The running stops.
Vi's posture changes, her aura becomes heavier, almost oppressed. You can feel it - this moment was a disaster for her. After all, she had planned the mission back then.
"Y/N... you don't think-" Vi begins, her voice strained, but Caitlyn interrupts her.
"Yes, I do!" Caitlyn's voice is suddenly louder, sharper, almost reproachful. "Then you were so-"
"We don't have time for apologies." You interrupt her, your voice clear and controlled. "What exactly do you know about Jayce in regards to the Corpse Parts?"
Caitlyn hesitates visibly, her expression a mixture of unease and uncertainty. Finally, she takes a deep breath and begins to speak.
"He used to tell me this story..." she says hesitantly, her voice muffled. "He and his mother were rescued by a wizard, somewhere in a snowy area... or something."
"What next?" You cut in, your patience slowly waning.
Caitlyn hesitates again, her hands clench into fists, and she lets her gaze wander back and forth between you and Vi. Finally, she continues speaking:
"He said he asked the wizard where he would go now that he had saved him and his mother. The wizard... showed him several places on a map. Jayce was totally confused at the time and didn't know what it meant."
"When did he understand that it was about Corpse Parts - and not about any places to perform?" you ask, your voice sharp.
"A couple years into his research... you know, with Hextech." Caitlyn glances at you, her brow furrowing slightly.
That is too late. Much too late. Everything had already happened by then: the explosion in the Cannery, your break with Singed, and your own decision to look for the Corpse Parts yourself. If Jayce has them, it's only one part at most... but no more.
"Does Jayce have letters anywhere on his body?" you ask suddenly, your tone remaining calm, but Caitlyn seems surprised.
"'anywhere on his body'? Where exactly?" Her voice sounds confused and you can see her getting slightly nervous.
The letters could be anywhere - from the corpse's head to its legs.
"Well, somewhere?" you reply, slightly impatiently.
"So-! We weren't that good!" she suddenly blurts out, her cheeks taking on a hint of red. You notice how she keeps glancing at Vi before quickly continuing. "No, I really didn't see anything."
You snort softly and decide not to follow up. "Then it doesn't matter. We have to get going."
At this moment, you feel Vi start to sway. She almost falls down.
In the blink of an eye, magic flows precisely into your feet and hands, your movements intensify, and you reach out before she falls to the ground. You hold her arm just in time before she falls.
Without your magic, you wouldn't have been able to hold her weight. Even now, you can feel how hard it is to lift her up again, but you succeed.
She needs help, but I don't have a healing spell other than Doctor Blythe, and we can't use that. However, a little shimmer and a painkiller should solve the problem.
"What is this place?" Caitlyn breaks the silence as she shines her flashlight into the darkness.
"It's where the kind of people you topsiders don't want to think about wind up," Vi replies with a pained tone in her voice.
Suddenly something moves in the darkness. A man crawls towards you, his hands outstretched like a beggar. Caitlyn shines her flashlight on him and he immediately retreats, hiding like a frightened animal.
You don't need magic to recognize what's wrong with him. The marks on his skin are clear. Spots and scars, typical symptoms of Shimmer abuse. An addiction, a broken life - exactly what Singed showed you back then, when chemicals are used unprofessionally.
Damn. Just thinking about him brings back memories you'd rather forget.
"It was never this big, though," Vi mumbles as she looks around.
You turn around and notice that the tower does indeed have an entrance. But the structure looks anything but stable. You already know that it's only a matter of time before the whole structure collapses.
Caitlyn takes the lead, supporting Vi and walking ahead. You stay just a step behind them, your eyes wandering back and forth between your surroundings and Vi.
The door is pushed open. Caitlyn enters the room first and shines her flashlight inside. The room is sparsely lit, dust swirls in the air, and the darkness seems to swallow up everything that doesn't reach the dim light.
You and Caitlyn carefully lower Vi onto a table.
Vi's condition is deteriorating by the second. You know she would never admit it, but you can see it clearly. With your knowledge of medicine and anatomy, you recognize the signs: Blood loss, adrenaline crash, a condition that could soon become critical.
"Don't move," you say calmly, your voice controlled, despite the seriousness of the situation.
Vi raises her eyes to the ceiling. To you there is nothing but darkness, but you know that she is slowly starting to see things that aren't there - a result of the blood loss and the overloading of her body.
Caitlyn looks at you, her brow furrowed in concern. "We have to do something. What do you suggest?"
You think. Time is running out, and every second you stay here makes you more vulnerable. You have options, but none of them are ideal.
If I use Doctor Blythe, we have no defense. My magic would be completely focused on stabilizing Vi - no radar, no way to track Silco's people early. But her condition is becoming more critical by the minute. The symptoms could worsen, and we need to move on.
"We only have a limited amount of time. I can stop most of the bleeding..." Your voice remains calm, controlled. As you speak, you pull one of your Steel Balls from your coat pocket. The blue surface of the sphere glows slightly, a calming contrast to the urgency of the situation.
"...but we still need painkillers and a small amount of shimmer."
"Shimmer?! But that's-" Caitlyn begins in a horrified tone, but you interrupt her immediately.
"Not in moderation." You turn to her, your gaze steady but firm. Caitlyn's expression is not only confused, but also skeptical and inquiring - almost as if she wants to discover more in your words than you're revealing.
"If I stop the bleeding, the shimmer will heal and close the wound," you explain.
Caitlyn stares at you, obviously trying to process everything. Finally, she asks, "You... how do you know all this? You can use magic, and you know about all this stuff? What was someone like you doing in the Undercity?!"
You think for a moment, the memories of your life running through your head like a fast movie: your childhood in Piltover, the cold rejection of your family, the time at Singed, the trips to faraway countries, the teachers who shaped you, the people you became close to - and who you had to leave again and again.
"I was born in Piltover," you finally say, your voice quiet, almost toneless. The sentence hangs heavy in the air, as if you have revealed a secret that you have long kept hidden from the world.
Caitlyn's eyes widen in surprise. "Piltover..." she mumbles, and you can see her trying to process that. She was probably expecting any other answer - anything but this.
"We can talk about that later," you say quickly to end the topic. "Bring me Shimmer. Now."
Caitlyn nods slowly, almost mechanically, before turning and walking to the door. You see her pause briefly, hesitate for a moment, before opening the door and disappearing into the darkness.
When the silence returns, you take a deep breath. Your gaze falls on Vi. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow, but she is alive. That's all that matters.
You can still feel Caitlyn's aura in the distance. She moves cautiously, but you can feel her thoughts circling around you. A hint of admiration mixed with incomprehension - a mixture that would almost make you smile if the situation weren't so serious.
That leaves just the two of you. You and Vi.
She is lying on the table, her breathing shallow and irregular, sweat glistening on her forehead as her condition slowly deteriorates. You know that time is short.
You reach into your coat pocket and pull out a leather-bound spell book. It's old, the corners worn, the pages yellowed - still the one from back then, from your parents' house. But between the original entries are new notes, your own spells and insights that you have gathered on your travels.
Your eyes fly over the pages as you go through the spells. You're looking for something - a stabilizing spell for human wounds. But most of the entries are either too time-consuming for the limited time you have, or they require resources you don't have with you.
An alternative would be to use the steel ball. You could use precise magic to forcibly close the wound via the muscle tissue. But that would hurt like hell.
You look down on Vi. She's already been through enough. You can't do that to her.
"I'm sorry..." Vi's voice breaks the silence. It is weak, her words little more than a whisper, mixed with a hint of pain.
Your gaze wanders to her. She lies there, sweating and halfway between sleep and unconsciousness.
"I'm so sorry..."
You know what she's alluding to. She's probably apologizing for that time - the Cannery. Maybe also for leaving you and Powder behind.
But this fault is not theirs alone. The explosion was your fault. You and Powder caused it.
"It's okay," you say quietly, your voice calm, almost gentle.
You carefully put the spellbook aside and reach into your coat pocket again, this time pulling out another book - a notebook. The corners are also worn, and there are small marks and bookmarks stuck to the edges of the pages, evidence of frequent use.
"Here," you say and open the book as you lean against the table. You open to a page filled with sketches and handwritten notes. "I wrote this when I was traveling."
Vi slowly opens one eye, her breathing remains shallow, but she seems to be listening to you.
"I've seen so much, Vi," you say as you turn a page with a small drawing of a marketplace in a foreign city. "Stories of places you can't imagine. Magic so different from anything we've ever known."
A faint smile flits across Vi's face, despite her condition. "Tell me a..." she mumbles, her voice barely audible.
You look at the page and remember the moments you have captured.
"That's a great story..." you murmur and turn the page, your fingers running over the faded lines of the drawings. You exhale deeply, collect yourself and prepare to speak the memories.
"So..." you begin, your voice soft, but lively, as you flash back to the past.
-----
You breathe out heavily. Your lungs are burning, but you can't stop. You run.
"HEY! STOP NOW!" shouts an angry voice behind you, piercing and loud enough to echo through the narrow streets.
You know exactly who it belongs to.
You keep running, your arms packed with various baked goods - a loaf of bread, a few sweet rolls, some pastries that are still warm. Behind you, you hear the pounding sound of footsteps: a growing group of chasers, at first just boys, then a few adults too.
Their target is you.
Since you arrived here in Demacia, you've been hiding in an abandoned sewer. Why exactly? That's yet to come.
"HEY! I TOLD YOU TO STOP!" The voice shouts again. It belongs to a middle-aged man, perhaps in his mid-thirties. His smoky voice tells you he must be a heavy smoker - or someone who gets upset a lot. Maybe both.
It should be clear by now why you're running away from these people: You've stolen the baked goods you're carrying in your arms.
You had entered the bakery, chosen the best pastries and then created a distraction with a tiny touch of magic. That made you doubly culpable.
Now they were chasing you and you had to be quicker.
Not much longer! The entrance should be here soon!
"DAMN! STOP THAT BRAT ALREADY!"
Your footsteps echo on the cobblestones and you can hear your pursuers approaching. But you know these alleys better than they do by now. A few more corners, a jump over a low fence, and then...
There he is!
There it was: a small, hidden entrance to the old pipes, just wide enough for you to slip through.
You're not tall or particularly strong, but that's an advantage here. The narrow alleyways and hidden passages are made for someone like you.
Your coat blows behind you as you clutch the baked goods even tighter. With a purposeful leap, you let yourself fall - or rather slide - to the ground. You activate your magic. You didn't know how to control it precisely back then, and so it spreads all over your body, a light, shimmering glow that surrounds you.
"WHAT THE FUCK! WHY IS IT GLOWING?"
The scream behind you almost makes you laugh. It was risky, but effective. You glide across the floor, a perfect, controlled slide that takes you straight through a small gap into the pipe.
"FUCK! WE LOST HIM!"
The voices echo through the alleyways, growing fainter as you escape into the darkness of the sewers.
The air down here is damp and heavy, with an acrid smell of sewage and mustiness in the air. The weak light from above falls through the few gratings of the street and casts pale, restless shadows on the walls. Green and yellowish stains cover the walls, a mixture of algae and dirt that has accumulated over the years.
The water in the main channels shimmers turbidly, streaked with occasional streams of waste and garbage. A network of corridors stretches in all directions, some leading to larger collecting basins, others ending abruptly at blocked drains.
The sounds down here are muffled, almost soothing - the dripping of water, the gentle rush of a distant river washing through the pipes. But you know that this place is not without its dangers. Rats, people who have even less to lose than you, and the constant decay make this sewer a place that few enter willingly.
After a few minutes of walking, you reach your destination. Passing the city's garbage, you come to a large room.
This was your hiding place. A spacious area that probably once served as a maintenance room for the sewer system. The walls are a little drier here, the floor is flat, and there are a few old metal plates scattered around, which you used to create a kind of base for yourself.
At the edge of the room lies your little world: your spellbook, carefully opened, the pages full of notes and scribbles. Next to it is the book with the map of the Corpse Parts that you have added to on your travels.
Another dark coat hangs from an improvised holder made from an old pipe - similar to the one you're wearing right now, yet different. This coat is thicker, reinforced with extra layers of fabric, a symbol of your constant adaptation to the world down here.
But your gaze doesn't rest on it for long. Your real destination lies before you: a large, homemade bed. A simple construction made from various fabrics and old jackets, spread out flat on the floor, but it radiates a warmth that dispels even the clammy cold of the sewers.
A horse lies on the bed, huddled together, its breathing calm. Next to it, a couple of dogs and cats huddle around it, as if to offer each other protection and company.
That was the reason for your theft. Not just to provide for yourself, but to feed these animals. Some of them are pregnant and you take care of them all.
But before you can go any further, the broken light of the lamp above you flashes - a flickering light bulb that works every few seconds. You see him in its cone of light.
A man.
He leans casually against the horse, one hand on his neck, the other in his lap. Dogs surround him, lying relaxed at his feet. Cats snuggle up to him, some on his arm, another on his shoulder.
His appearance is unusual, perhaps in his mid-thirties. His posture seems completely relaxed, as if he belongs here - as if he has been watching all this for a long time.
You stop abruptly. The sound of one of the rolls falling out of your hand and rolling onto the floor echoes through the silence. Your heart beats faster.
Is that a policeman? Did they find me? How could they? I chose this place carefully, deep in the most hidden part of the sewers, where no one should find me - not even by chance.
Your nervousness increases. A drop of sweat slowly runs down the side of your face. You notice the man suddenly look up, and for a moment his gaze catches you.
His cap sits askew, almost comically, but it's his relaxed demeanor that irritates you the most. The animals around him... They seem not only calm, but almost happy. They snuggle up to him as if he were an old friend - or someone they trust completely.
"You live with these guys?" His voice is unexpectedly cheerful, almost childlike in its enthusiasm. "Man, that's really cool! And the way you led the people out there by the nose - that was impressive! Almost like art!"
You don't answer. His appearance throws you out of focus. A man found you - down here, with your animals. And he knew what happened outside.
He was watching me?
He came here from outside? That means he not only had to be quick, he also had to find the animals and take the route that only I know.
He's faster than me... no, even faster.
Who is this guy?
You stare at him as he continues to lean against the horse. The dogs lie relaxed at his feet, cats rest on his arms and shoulder. He looks as if he belongs here - as if he has already made this world his own.
But then his expression changes. A slight twinkle in his eyes gives way to a more serious expression, and you feel your nervousness reach a new peak.
"But..." he begins, his gaze drifting down to the baked goods in your arms. "That was magic, wasn't it?"
Dead silence.
Your breath stops. You are sure that another small pastry has fallen out of your hand, but your mind is too busy with his words.
He knows it.
That's bad - damn bad. How does he know that? How could he see it? Did I show myself to be so careless?
I have to get out of here! you think frantically, your mind desperately searching for a plan. I knew it was a bad idea to choose this place.
"I-!" you start, but he interrupts you with sudden enthusiasm.
"Awesome!" he shouts, his voice full of enthusiasm. "Wrapping your body in magic - a kind of aura for protection and sliding on the floor! Really creative!"
You remain speechless. His words bring you back from your flood of thoughts, but they immediately raise new questions.
He knows about it. Of magic.
In the background, you can hear the cats meowing softly and the dogs howling. The atmosphere around you becomes quieter and more sinister at the same time.
"But I do have one question..." He leans forward slightly, his gaze penetrating, but his voice remains relaxed, almost casual.
"Why didn't you just surround your back up to your legs with aura?" he asks, making a small gesture with his hand as if to explain the mechanism. "That would have saved you energy and been much more effective."
His words hit you like a blow. Not only does he recognize magic - he also understands it.
Magic. What most people think is a fairy tale, stories from the past. He talks about it as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Your head is racing. Who is this man? How can he be so sure? And more importantly, how does he know so much about something that most people don't think is real?
"I don't know how that works..." you mumble quietly to yourself as you slowly bend down to the floor.
You kneel down, pull out a small blanket and begin to carefully spread the baked goods on it. You tear off pieces and portion them out for the animals. Every movement is precise, thorough.
"I see..." the man mumbles, almost to himself. His voice sounds lost in thought as the animals that were clinging to him a moment ago slowly detach themselves from him and run towards you.
The cats and dogs gather around the blanket, sniff the cookies and start eating. You watch them for a moment, with a piece of bread in your hand that is intended for the pregnant horse.
The silence between you and the man remains, but it is not oppressive. It is a strange calm - almost as if the world stands still for a moment.
"You know... all good wizards get along well with animals," he says suddenly, breaking the silence.
His words make you think. Even back then, before you could consciously use magic, you always had a talent for attracting street animals. They liked you, trusted you - even in times when you knew nothing about magic.
Memories come back. Piltover. Fence. Singed. The events that shaped you force their way into your consciousness.
"I can tell you have real potential!" he says, his voice full of enthusiasm as he slowly walks around you. "Your aura really shines! That's a very good sign."
His words hit you. You feel his gaze resting on you, analyzing, as if he is trying to understand every aspect of you.
"Your... physical performance may not be perfect," he continues, almost casually, "but you have a frightening talent for magic!"
You can feel the words resonating inside you, a strange feeling of uncertainty and curiosity that you can't quite place.
"I'll teach you everything," he says, his voice suddenly serious but full of energy at the same time. "A few simple spells and how to balance your physique with aura and magic. But with your talent, you'll master all that within weeks. And then... I can show you how to use magic in a fight - just in case."
He leans forward, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "So, I'll teach you all about magic and you'll be my student!"
His words draw you into a whirlpool of memories. You think of Singed.
He was also a kind of teacher for you. A teacher who always spoke of your potential, who told you how far you could go - only to betray you in the end and misuse your talent for horrible experiments on corpses.
"I... I don't know," you finally mumble, your voice rough and shy, an expression of your uncertainty and nervousness. "I don't plan to stay here for long. Just until the animals have whelped... and then I'll travel on."
"'Travel on' hmm... I see," he says more quietly, almost thoughtfully. But suddenly his voice rises again, full of vigor. "Then I really must make an effort!"
Huh?
You look at him, your gaze lingers on his face. A huge, beaming smile has spread across it.
It's strange - as if he's having fun teaching the real magic to a lost child looking after animals in a dark, dirty sewer.
And then it hits you. His smile reminds you of Powder. This familiarity. That warmth. That light that always broke through despite all the darkness that surrounded them.
He stretches out his hand and, without even thinking about it, you take it. His grip is firm, warm - almost reassuring.
"All right then! I'll teach you everything I know!" he exclaims enthusiastically. "Me as your Sorcerer and you as my Sorcerer's Apprentice!"
-----
Vi sleeps peacefully. Her breathing is slow and even, a sign that she can finally relax a little. The exertions of the day have completely exhausted her.
You are still standing next to her, your spellbook in your hand. The familiar touch of the old cover gives you a hint of comfort, even though your thoughts are far away.
The memories are still fresh, almost as if you've just relived them. When you told Vi everything, it felt for a brief moment as if you were there again - in that sewer, with him.
The nights come to mind. The nights you spent alone, just with the animals or the few people you met on your travels. But never with your family.
Your gaze wanders to Vi.
A faint light falls through the dirty ceiling, illuminating her face. It is peaceful, almost as if she were the girl she was back then - before everything fell apart.
But the thought of family hurts. Powder. Vi. Vander. They were your world, and yet you lost them. Or have they lost you?
You close the book and carefully put it back in your coat pocket. The silence around you is almost palpable, accompanied only by the steady sound of Vi's breathing and the soft trickle of water somewhere in the distance.
With Caitlyn still on the road, you have a little time. Time that you can put to good use.
You concentrate, focus your magic. Your life energy slowly, almost automatically, forms into a transparent, gently pulsating mass around your hand. The feeling is familiar.
Normally you would be cold down here - the sewers have a relentless chill that penetrates even through thick clothing. But the energy in your hand quickly becomes warm, almost comforting.
And that is exactly your goal.
You immerse yourself in the technique, direct the energy and expand it, bit by bit. The aura, which normally only exists just around your body, begins to expand.
It is like a warm blanket that covers the room.
This is not a simple spell. The extended aura that covers the whole room is more demanding than ordinary magic, but you don't feel any strain. Not this time. You've used this technique many times before - for yourself, for others.
Slowly, the surroundings begin to lose this unyielding cold. The air becomes warmer, more pleasant, almost cozy.
Your gaze falls on Vi. She lies quietly, continuing to sleep while the warmth envelops her.
Everything you do, you do for her - so that she can endure the pain in peace, without freezing.
The magic remains stable. You know it might be a while before Caitlyn comes back, but it doesn't matter. You're going to stay here and make sure Vi has as pleasant a time as possible.
Your gaze remains on her face. Your thoughts drift back.
All the trips you've taken, the places you've seen. The magic you have mastered. But more than that: the words of your old magician.
"You should enjoy the little detours to the fullest. Because that's where you'll find things more important than what you want."
A faint smile spreads across your face. That you have to think about it right now...
But somehow his words were right. On your long journey to find the corpse parts, you ended up here again - back at the beginning. Without having found even one of these parts.
But the fear remains.
Fear of failing again. Fear of letting down the people who need you. Fear that the ghosts of the past, the memories, will become the present again.
It becomes too much for you. A hint of panic rises in you, your thoughts go round in circles. But then...
You can feel it.
Caitlyn's aura, about ten meters from the door. It's not that you've just noticed her - you've just blocked her out to focus on Vi and the magic.
You stand at the door and open it just as Caitlyn is barely a meter and a half away.
"Damn-!" Caitlyn winces, her voice a startled gasp. "Oh...you really scared me."
You don't answer, your gaze remains neutral. You step slightly to the side and wait for her to enter.
Caitlyn gives you a quick, skeptical look before entering the room. Once she's inside, you close the door behind her and go back to Vi.
"And you're sure..." Caitlyn hesitates, her eyes on the small dose of Shimmer in her hand. "...That this... stuff helps?"
You look at the bottle, study the color and the smell.
The dose is definitely stretched. Probably mixed with a neutralizing agent to soften the effect. But it will be enough.
"Yes." Your tone remains calm, confident, as Caitlyn leans over Vi.
Slowly, she tips the liquid from the vial into Vi's mouth. You stand right next to Caitlyn, one hand under Vi's chin to make sure nothing spills and everything gets to where it needs to go.
Suddenly Vi cries out. The sudden sound breaks the silence, and Caitlyn and you react immediately, holding her straight before she slowly leans against the wall.
You are close to each other, your faces just a few centimetres apart. In the suddenly colder air of the room, you can feel each other's breath.
"Easy, easy..." Caitlyn speaks softly, almost soothingly, as she holds Vi's shoulder.
"Calm down," you say calmly, still supporting your hand. "The shimmer is already working."
Vi's breathing gradually calms down, but she still looks pale, her eyes cloudy as she slowly sits up.
"What was the name Sevika gave you?" Caitlyn suddenly speaks as she stands up and walks towards the door. "Jinx?"
"Right," Vi mutters, her voice raspy. "How could I forget?"
Caitlyn stops at the door and turns to you. "We're going to have to be more careful now." Her tone is serious, watchful. "Silco will be watching."
You are about to say something, but before you can open your mouth, the floor rumbles beneath you.
The sound is deep and menacing. All three of you freeze, your eyes wander upwards. The water tower above you trembles and sways.
I knew it, you think, your mind already on alert. This thing is so unstable that it could fall on us at any time.
Caitlyn quickly stands by a beam which, as you've already seen, is so unstable that it could be the cause of all this crashing down. She looks at the drawings on it, the different colors and what exactly was painted.
"You used to live here. Who's Powder?" she asks, without taking her eyes off the drawings. But then she turns and looks straight at you, her eyes piercing.
You return her gaze, silent, while your mind rattles.
I'm not allowed to say 'sister' now, you think. That sounds far too close, far too familiar. But 'step-sister' is just as strange. What should I even say?
"Vi's sister."
Your voice is calm, almost stoic, but precise. Perfect. You keep the tone sober, as if it were purely factual information.
Caitlyn tilts her head slightly, her eyes scanning your face before she looks at the drawings again.
"I thought she died," she mumbles to herself, her voice filled with frustration, almost as if she's talking to herself. "But no. We have to try and find her."
As she says the word "We", she turns to you again, her eyes fixed firmly on you. You immediately understand what she means.
Preparation.
But your thoughts drift off.
You don't know how to react when you meet Powder - or now Jinx - again.
So much happened back then. You were all still children, unprepared for the cruelty of the world. But you have changed. Vi has changed, Powder has changed... and you have changed.
The memory of the last time you were together pulls you out of reality for a moment. The explosion, the loss, the screams.
Can I even bear to face her again?
Your gaze wanders to Caitlyn, who is still examining the beam. Her posture betrays determination, but also something else - uncertainty.
"How do you not know if your sister is alive or dead?" Caitlyn speaks with a tone that is somewhere between reproach and confusion.
From now on, you prefer to just listen to the conversation. You can sense where it's heading - your intellect has long since recognized the direction.
"It's hard to check up on people from inside a concrete cell." Vi's answer is terse, cutting.
"What? You don't have parents?" Caitlyn continues to ask, and you notice how the atmosphere changes.
This is where it hits you.
You remember. The red smoke on the bridge. The screams, the chaos, the pain that began then and has never left you since. This feeling of loneliness that has burned itself into you and has accompanied you your whole life.
If Caitlyn had asked you, what would you have said?
Yes, I have parents?
No, I don't have parents?
Or maybe: My parents were brutally murdered just like Vi and Powder's - back then, on the bridge in Piltover?
Would you lie?
Would you tell her the truth - especially to an enforcer?
"No! They were killed by Enforcers. "
Vi's voice breaks through your thoughts. Her words pass you by, almost like a distant call, but they stir something inside you.
For years, really years, you have been thinking intensely about your old family.
Your parents.
They were ordinary people. Your father - a scientist, a brilliant mind whose passion for research often drove him away from you. But you admired him. He taught you how to think and how to observe.
Your mother - a gentle, calm presence, but with an unshakeable will. She was the anchor of the family, holding you all together no matter how stormy things got. She had a knack for calming you down, making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it didn't seem that way.
When you remember your siblings, an unpleasant feeling rises up inside you. A nausea that is not of the physical kind, but comes directly from the deepest parts of your memory.
Your brother.
He had a way of dealing with you that balanced between teasing and cruel. Sometimes he told you stories - stories that threw you off balance.
"You know, you're not really one of us."
His voice, always with a hint of mockery, echoes in your head. "Mom and Dad only adopted you because they were lonely."
You didn't believe it at the time - at least you wanted to. But every time he repeated it, it left a little doubt, a little uncertainty that slowly settled inside you.
Your sister.
Instead of defending you or refuting your brother's lies, she often went along with them. Sometimes she even laughed at the stories.
"Imagine," she said with a grin, "if it's true? You'd be like a magician, someone who doesn't even belong here!"
But over time, the distance between you grew. The tensions grew. Piltover was a cold place, even for a family like yours.
And then: Vi and powder.
Vander took you in, gave you a home when your old one went up in flames - literally and figuratively.
Vi was strong. She always wanted to fight, always wanted to prove that she was in control. But she also had a heart that was bigger than she would ever admit.
Powder. Your heart tightens as you think of her. She was small, vulnerable, full of life and hope. She wanted so much to be part of everything, so much to prove that she was useful. But the world was cruel to her.
You feel a heavy lump in your throat. Every memory brings both warmth and pain.
Caitlyn and Vi keep talking, but their voices blur in your head. You feel like a child for a moment - lost, on the bridge, in the red smoke.
But then you feel it.
Something enters your expanded aura.
A presence. Calm, almost silent, but at the same time imbued with a deadly sharpness that alerts your senses.
What... is that an aura?
Your breath hitches. A sudden chill spreads through your body and you feel a single drop of sweat run slowly down the side of your face. Something big is happening - you know it.
"What's wrong?" Vi's voice brings you back to reality, and you look over at the two of them.
"Seven people," you say succinctly, without beating around the bush. Your tone is calm, but your words hit like a hammer. Vi and Caitlyn stare at you with shocked faces.
"They're standing about ten meters outside... they're waiting."
"You-!" Caitlyn starts, but before she can continue, she is interrupted by noises outside. Soft shuffling, muffled footsteps, like the prelude to an impending catastrophe.
"Wait. We're not armed against seven people!" Caitlyn speaks hastily, her voice laced with tension. "I gave my gun to the Shimmer, and-!"
"We don't need them." Vi interrupts her with a firmness that is both reassuring and unsettling. She steps forward, straight to the door.
That could end badly.
Vi's skills might be stretched to their limits here - especially down here, in an area where any of these attackers probably have Shimmer in their blood.
Before she opens the door, Vi turns to you. Her gaze is sharp, her face serious. "You sensed her. What do you think of her?"
You hesitate for just a moment. "All auras are weak..." Your voice remains calm, but you add, "...I'd still be careful. If they consume Shimmer..."
Vi nods curtly, opens the door and steps out.
For a brief moment - when the door is open - you see him.
The thin figure, the bright orange left eye. An aura that is almost unnaturally calm, and yet... there is something deadly, something hidden beneath this calm.
You feel your hand unconsciously clench in your coat pocket, your fingers close around one of your steel balls. Your senses sharpen, your magic is ready.
"Caitlyn, get ready to collapse this water tower," you say in a serious voice, your gaze resting firmly on her.
Her face reflects shock at first, but it only takes a few moments for her to understand. She recognizes your plan, and without a word, she moves to the supporting beam of the tower.
Caitlyn rams her shoulder against the support pillar, again and again, in a desperate attempt to put your plan into action.
You continue to concentrate on the situation outside. With a boost of your magic, you amplify your hearing. The voices outside become clearer and you hear him speak - Silco.
"You don't know your limits, girl. It's what got Vander killed."
Your blood is boiling.
You fucking scum. Memories flash in your mind of the cowardly attack he used to backstab Vander.
"You talk too much," you hear Vi reply sharply, her voice full of anger.
This is the moment. Everything will happen very quickly now.
You turn to Caitlyn. But before you can say anything, you hear Vi's footsteps approaching the building.
She storms past you.
Only a few centimetres separate you from her as her pink hair swirls past your face. Her movements are full of energy, full of determination.
Vi positions himself in front of one of the pillars.
With a fluid movement, she reaches out and hits it with all her strength. The room shakes, the structure trembles, but it's not enough. Only a second passes - an agonizingly slow second of silence.
You see the expression on Silco's face. He looks directly into the tower, and at that moment his gaze meets yours.
He recognizes you.
The eyes of the man who betrayed you back then widen. His face betrays both surprise and panic.
What is he doing here? He must be thinking it. Didn't he die in the Cannery back then?
But you don't wait. Your determination is unsurpassed, just like back then.
You pull your hand out of your coat pocket, the blue sphere in your hand, glowing from your focused magic.
With a precise throw, you hurl the steel ball against the pillar. The shake is like thunder that rips through the entire structure. Vi and Caitlyn, who were disappointed and shocked a moment ago, now see the tide turning.
Everything begins to collapse.
The water tower gives way.
The first thing you hear is a deafening crunch as the supporting beams break. The creaking of wood and the screeching of metal mingle with the shouts of the men outside.
The tower topples. The huge mass of wood and metal comes crashing down, throwing dust and debris into the air. The water erupts, a tidal wave that engulfs everything around it.
Then you feel it.
A strong, sturdy hand grabs your arm, pulling you out of the path of the falling debris. You know immediately that it's Vi.
She pushes you and Caitlyn forward, her steps quick and determined. Rubble crashes down behind you, but Vi's grip remains firm.
You run.
The crash, the dust, the chaos - it reminds you of that time. Of the cannery, of the explosion, of the moment when everything shattered.
But this time you are not alone.
You run through the dark, narrow streets of Zaun, away from the chaos you have left behind you. Vi runs full speed ahead, her steps hard and determined. Caitlyn follows close behind her, while you tend to stay on the edges of the group.
You focus your aura on your legs to keep up with their speed. Without this support, you would have fallen behind long ago.
Vi occasionally bumps into people, pushes them out of the way. Some shout after her, others just look startled, but she hardly seems to notice. She even raises her middle finger once, her energy completely controlled by adrenaline.
"Enforcers are coming now!" Caitlyn yells after you, her voice loud and strained. "We have to go!"
Their words almost blur for you. Everything in the background sounds the same - a mix of voices, noise and the echoing footsteps of your escape.
But then you realize it.
Vi's gaze changes. She no longer simply looks ahead. Her gaze is fixed, as if paralyzed, in a certain direction.
A deeper direction of fence.
You follow her gaze and then you see it. A thick, blue smoke rising into the air.
A sign.
"Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you."
Vi's words from back then flash through your mind. It barely takes a second for you to remember.
Back then. Vi, Claggor and Mylo went to the Cannery, while you and Powder were to stay behind. Vi gave you a torch with blue dye.
"I promise." she had said.
And now - there it is. This blue smoke rising into the air, an unspoken echo from the past.
Vi stops abruptly, her eyes staring at the smoke. Her breathing is heavy, her posture frozen.
Caitlyn also stops, confused. "What is that?" she asks, but Vi doesn't answer.
Your heart beats faster and faster.
Without a word, you change direction, all as if pulled by an invisible force. The smoke gets thicker the closer you get.
The sky seems to turn blue, a strange, unnatural blue swirling in the air. The chemical smell settles in your noses, unpleasantly acrid, and yet you can't stop walking forward.
Your nervousness grows. Unconsciously, you pull your coat hood up, only to pull it down again straight away. Your hands slide into your coat pockets. A steel ball in one hand, your spellbook in the other. Your fingers play restlessly with both - a reflex, an attempt to tame the storm inside you.
"Powder?"
Vi's voice breaks through the strange silence that the smoke has brought with it. A single word, full of emotion - hope, fear, doubt.
For a brief moment, you think about simply turning around, walking away, avoiding the confrontation. But your body remains still, your feet frozen in place.
Your mind switches off.
You rely completely on your magic, expanding your aura to sense everything around you. But you only feel the obvious:
Vi's aura. Caitlyn's. And then... another. Calm, waiting.
You see Vi start walking. Her steps are hesitant, but she doesn't let anything stop her. She disappears into the darkness and you hear the soft, almost choked sound of her hugging the person.
Powder.
You don't see her yet, but the thought is enough to make your throat clench. The fear of this moment, of what you will feel when you actually see her, creeps through your body.
"Is that..." Caitlyn's whisper snaps you out of your thoughts.
You look at her, she looks at you, and then you just nod silently.
Something falls to the ground.
A small crystal with a blue reflective surface glitters faintly in the weak light. The sound of the impact is almost loud in the silence.
Your eyes follow the crystal. Caitlyn has noticed it too. You both exchange a glance, then look back at the crystal.
And then... you see them.
Jinx. No, Powder.
Her skin is pale, almost sickly, and the lighter tones of her childhood have disappeared. The lines in her face are sharp, her cheekbones clearly defined. Dark circles stand out under her silvery powder-blue eyes, which are streaked with darker spots - a look that seems both empty and full of storm.
Her lips, a dull purple, seem to have lost all color. Tear burns run lightly across her cheeks, visible traces of emotions she couldn't hide.
Her bright blue hair, which used to be wild and untidy, now falls to her ankles in two long braids adorned with bullet casings. The small engravings on the cartridges look like her drawings, memories that she with her. A few strands of hair hang loose around her face, and a sharp side strand emphasizes the left side of her forehead.
Her clothes are adventurous and messy. A dark, brown leather crop top, with a thin, dirty white fabric forming an X on her chest. Her low-riding, striped pants in shades of purple and pink are ripped, asymmetrical and rough, like herself.
It looks different.
That was all you could think while staring at her.
Her eyes wander to you. Your face is open, the hood is down. She sees you in full clarity, and you see her.
Vi steps back imperceptibly. She senses that this is not her moment, that it is something that belongs only to the two of you.
You are facing each other.
Only one step separates you, and it feels like this step could change a world. The air between you is heavy - not with words, but with memories, with feelings that flood both of you.
You can see it in their eyes. The same memories, the same feelings. Images of shared moments, of laughter and tears, of promises that were broken.
And then, without words, you move towards each other.
Your steps are slow, almost hesitant, as if every movement carries a thousand questions and answers. But the moment you reach each other is effortless.
You put your arms around her.
She puts her arms around you.
The contact is intense, overwhelming. You feel each other's warmth, you feel the years of separation and pain that have stood between you.
Nothing else exists for this moment. No past, no present, no guilt, no questions. Just the two of you.
You're about the same height as you were then, and you feel her tremble briefly before she squeezes you tighter. It's not a simple hug. It's a bond that has never really been broken.
"Powder..." you whisper, almost like a prayer.
"I missed you." Her voice is quiet, brittle, and yet it carries everything she can't say.
You stare into each other's eyes. You are almost the same size, which makes the moment even more intense. There is no escape route, no place you could retreat to. Only each other.
Time seems to stand still. Vi and Caitlyn have faded out, the world around you is blurred. In this terrifying world full of chaos and pain, you have found each other.
And then... after what felt like an eternity...
You withdraw.
You continue to stand close together, just one step away. But there is a new desire - the desire to feel each other's warmth again.
Vi steps closer, her eyes fixed on you.
But the moment breaks abruptly when Jinx's gaze turns to Caitlyn.
"Who's she?" Her voice cuts through the air, cutting and full of rage. Her gaze burns, hitting Caitlyn with an intensity that almost pierces her.
You feel it immediately. Jinx's aura becomes heavier, it contracts before suddenly spiking. A clear sign of her inner turmoil.
Vi reacts quickly, placing herself between Jinx and Caitlyn, who is standing behind her. "It's okay," she says, her voice calm but firm. "She's a friend."
But Jinx's eyes widen and her features harden. "Sevika wasn't lying? You're with an Enforcer? "
The crystal.
A slight shift under Vi's shoe, and your gaze wanders to the small glittering object. Suddenly it all makes sense.
The blue smoke, her presence here... She wasn't here to help you, to invalidate Silco. She was here for this crystal.
A crystal with a slight magical signature.
"This is a trick!" shouts Jinx.
Her hand reaches for her minigun, and you feel the energy in the room change. It's no longer the Jinx that was hugging you a moment ago.
Two shots are fired.
The impacts are loud and hard. Both bullets land right in front of Caitlyn's shoes. A clear warning. Smoke rises from the minigun, the sound echoes through the alleyways.
Powder - no, Jinx - scans the situation. Her eyes are narrow, watchful as they dart back and forth between you all. But you notice that she's avoiding you.
Maybe it's fear. Fear that your gaze will trigger something that she can't control.
Your head stops thinking.
The events of the last few days have overwhelmed you, and this moment is no different. The voices blur, the screams, the anger - everything becomes a dull background noise.
You see it. Jinx raises her minigun, holding it to Vi's chin for a brief moment. Your heart races, adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your grip on the steel ball in your pocket tightens.
But deep down... you know that you could never hurt Powder.
Then you will feel it.
Something is approaching.
A tingle runs over your skin, a signal from your expanded aura. Your instinct - both human and magical - sounds the alarm.
"Did you hear that?" Jinx's voice snaps you out of your trance-like state. Her eyes dart around and you see that she has noticed it too.
You hear it too.
A soft creaking of metal.
The call of a crow.
A low, vibrating hum, just out of sight.
It's not in your head. It's real.
You can feel it with your expanded aura. Several auras coming closer. They are not strong, at least not magical, but something feels wrong. An unsettled feeling that spreads through your inner being.
Then you will see the green light.
Faint at first, almost invisible in the fog, but then it becomes clearer. A signal, a luminous glow radiating from one of the pipes in the distance.
The deep, mechanical rumble follows.
You don't have to look twice to know what it is. A man on a hoverboard, framed by this eerie green glow.
His silhouette is sharp, focused. And at that moment, you sense the other auras.
Weak. But something is wrong. Why now? Why at this moment, when we've just found each other again?
Are they after the crystal?
The battle begins.
Everything happens too quickly.
The people on the hoverboards rush at you, fast and chaotic. You are paralyzed, your mind struggling with emotions, memories and the sudden danger.
One time you dodge an attack, another time Vi stands in front of you to protect you. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Vi screams at you, her voice cutting, but you can barely process it.
Jinx laughs.
A maniacal laugh as she shoots wildly with her minigun.
You reach for your spell book - the only thought forming clearly in your mind. Your mind is too foggy, too overwhelmed to react logically or strategically.
So you let the autopilot take over.
You open your book, surround it with your aura and activate the spell. One that you have created yourself.
A spell that makes your body react automatically - precisely, instinctively, without your conscious control. It consumes enormous amounts of magic, but that doesn't matter now.
Your body moves.
You feel an opponent behind you. Your body turns without hesitation, a steel ball flies with full force against his side.
With the steel ball on the side of the person, you control the movement by rotating it, and this lets you shoot the person with the weapon at another of the opponents, as you did with the guy on Progress Day.
You continue to react only automatically, an instrument of your own magical creation. Your body moves, defends itself, attacks - precisely and deadly.
But your mind remains absent, overwhelmed by the events that come thick and fast. You are a puppet, driven by magic, focused only on not dying.
And then it's suddenly there. The moment.
The world becomes silent.
No shot, no scream, no metallic buzzing of the hoverboards. Nothing.
You pause. Your gaze darts around the area, but all you see is her. Jinx.
Your figure stands out clearly in the darkness, surrounded by the remains of the battle. Her eyes - silvery blue with dark spots - are searching for you.
"Y/N?"
Her voice is little more than a murmur, a call that hits you like a punch in the gut.
You want to collapse.
The weight of your actions, the consequences, everything you didn't do - it weighs on you like an invisible burden.
Vi and Caitlyn. Kidnapped.
And you? You were so mentally exhausted that you couldn't do anything.
Jinx moves.
She walks towards you, her steps uncertain, almost like a child who wants something back that she has lost.
You move too.
Your hand clutches a Steel Ball tightly, already loaded with rotation and magic, ready to defend you - but you know you wouldn't use it against her. Never.
Just as Jinx has almost reached you, her arms stretching out to embrace you, it happens.
Behind her.
A sound, quiet but clear enough to catch your attention. One last opponent.
A Firelight, floating on a hoverboard, just one or two meters above the ground.
You react instinctively. Your steel ball leaves your hand with brutal precision.
Jinx turns around as the ball hits the Firelight.
The blow is direct - the mask splinters and the person is knocked off the hoverboard. The rotation of the ball pushes the opponent through the air with a force that surprises you.
Silence returns.
Just the two of you.
Separated from Vi, separated from Caitlyn, separated from the world. Just you and Jinx, alone in this cold, dark reality.
The fight is over.
But the weight of the outcome weighs heavily on both of you. The losses, the loneliness, the separation - all of that hangs in the air.
But Jinx... she doesn't stay sad for long.
On the contrary.
She stares at you, her eyes focused, as if she's trying to really see you - you, the boy from back then, and the man of today.
Then, suddenly, she lifts her head and a broad smile spreads across her face.
"Then I guess we finally have some time to ourselves."
---
And interrupted at precisely the most important and emotionally gripping point - yes, I know, I'm sorry.
In my opinion, this chapter is one of the most important so far. We discovered a bit of your backstory, the years after Singed and what you did during that time. Plus brief memories of your family... It was really intense.
As I mentioned in a previous chapter, my Poppy Playtime chapters are now taking a bit of a break, or rather will be coming out a bit slower, as another chapter of the game will be released at the end of the month.
This means I'm focusing on getting as far along in the series as possible with this fanfiction. It's going to be a challenge, though, as there are several plots going on at the same time and I still have some details to plan out - be it the Holy Wizard's Corpse, Viktor's reality-bending magic, or the whole idea of magic in this world.
As always, I appreciate any support. This chapter really took a lot of work. Thanks for reading! ❤️
You are back in Zaun. Silent and pensive, you try to concentrate on your thoughts as you grieve at Vander's statue.
But suddenly two people appear behind you, and you immediately realize that one of them is an Enforcer. As you demonstrate the difference in abilities, however, you notice something: One of the two doesn't seem to be a complete stranger to you.
Thus begins your journey together, and with you at the head of the group, you move on to round 2.
---
This marks the start of the main story, and I can proudly say that I've finished more than half of the first season. Now all that's left is the rest of the first season - and of course the second, which I STILL haven't seen in its entirety.
But never mind! I just advise you to pay close attention to this chapter, as many things are happening at the same time.
Have fun reading!
wc: 7.5k
---
Magic.
If you had told anyone back then, they would have laughed at you. Maybe they would have thought you were crazy or a desperate boy lost in his fantasies because reality is too cruel to bear.
But you remember exactly what it was like - back then, when everyone was still alive. You threw yourself into the books to escape the harsh world around you. Reality was something you didn't want to visit, something that pushed you back.
You were aware of the expectations of society in Piltover, but you never really cared about them:
Learn something.
Attend a school.
Find a job.
Start a family.
Of course you would have liked to have had a place in the shimmering city above you, where the sun was never obscured by dirt or smoke. But without your family in Zaun - without Powder - it would all have been meaningless.
If someone knew your story, there would be no more questions.
You were neglected by your first family, a wealthy, scholarly dynasty in Piltover. Siblings who humiliated you as if you weren't even worthy to live in the same house with them. You were the disruptive factor in a world of perfection.
And then came Zaun. There, for the first time, you found a community, real people who accepted you. Friendship, yes, maybe even love. But what you had found was destroyed by a single mistake. Your mistake. Powder's mistake. Your attempt to prove yourself only showed the world how useless you really were. The people who loved you died, and you have borne the scars of that guilt ever since.
Then you sought refuge with Singed, the only person who explained the world to you the way you always understood it. Science, logic, progress. Finally, a mentor. But he betrayed you. All the knowledge you gathered, every formula, every idea - they were used by him to serve Silco. Everything you did was turned into betrayal.
And now you're back. Piltover.
This time you are not the boy who lives in the shadows. No longer naive, no longer foolish. You're stronger, faster and far smarter than back then.
In the back of your mind, you may be hoping to see some of the people you've lost again. Vi. You haven't heard from her since her fight with Powder. Powder. She's gone too, a ghost that lives in your mind. Ekko. You wonder if he ever understood what happened at the Cannery - what happened to you.
But that's not why you're here.
You came back to finish things. No more hesitation. No regrets. No looking back.
With every journey, every new country and every encounter, you had changed. You were no longer just a survivor - you were a seeker. Your magic, fed by the Wizard's right arm, had turned you into a being that redefined its boundaries. Your aura compensated for the weaknesses of your body, your will overcame obstacles that once seemed insurmountable. The Steel Balls, your deadly precise tools, made you a force that no one would have expected.
But that was not enough.
Your goal was clear: the Corpse Parts.
The map of Jayce Talis that you had recovered from the academy led you across continents. Places once imbued with magic, ruins that told stories of great power, hid the pieces you sought. Each a fragment of immeasurable energy, each a piece of the puzzle to restore something that transcended life and death.
But again and again you came across empty rooms, deserted places.
The map was precise. You were in the right place at the right time. But someone was quicker.
The heart.
The left arm.
The eyes.
The spine.
The rib cage.
The ears.
The legs.
The skull.
All these pieces had disappeared, in places that still left traces of their power. Residues of magic that you could feel through your right arm. They had existed, you knew that. But they were no longer there.
Whoever had taken it was ahead of you. A phantom operating in the shadows, just like you. Maybe it was a single opponent, maybe a group. But there was one thing they didn't know - you had the right arm. The most important part for attacking. Without it, the whole thing was powerless.
That gave you an advantage. But also a responsibility.
Inside you burned with the hope that you could not only find these pieces, but also use them to correct the past. Vander. Vi. Powder. Mylo. Claggor. Their deaths, their suffering - all of it could be undone if only you could fully restore the Wizard's magic.
But with every day you searched and every place you roamed, you realized:
Whoever had collected these parts before you had a plan of their own. And this plan could change the world - or destroy it.
You're back in Piltover. Not by chance, but because your path has led you here. The place where it all began. The place where everything will be decided.
Magic is real, you thought. And I will prove that I not only understand it, but control it. Whoever got their hands on it will get to know me.
This is no longer a journey. It's a race against time - and you can't afford to lose.
That's why you're here right now, in Zaun, the depths of the Undercity, a place that has swallowed you up and spat you out so many times. Officially, you're looking for answers, for clues, for people who might be able to help you. But deep down, you know that's just an excuse.
You love nostalgia.
That quiet, bittersweet ache that slowly runs through your chest when you think of the past. The days when you were still together - a chaotic but complete family. Vi with her determination, Powder with her childish smile, Mylo and Claggor who always fought but were always a team. And Vander, who stood like a rock and held the whole town together.
But now you are alone.
Maybe you could take direct action, face the problem that brought you here. But you know it would tear you apart. The possibility of encountering Powder or Vi is not only a danger, but also a test you're not prepared for. Your mental state is unstable, a fragile balance of determination and despair. And as long as you don't deal with these feelings, you will avoid the problems.
You stay in the shadows.
Your hood is pulled low over your face, your black coat completely covers you. You don't want to be recognized, not now. No whispers, no unintentional glances that could awaken old ghosts. You have learned how to make yourself invisible, and Zaun is the perfect place for it - a labyrinth of darkness where faces fade and names die in the corners.
But then...
The statue.
On the outskirts of the city, half-hidden between the buildings, there it is. Vander.
When you heard about it, you thought it was a rumor, an exaggeration. But now you're here, and it's real. Time seems to stand still for a moment when you see it - a massive, rough sculpture, chiseled from the material that defines this city: scrap and steel.
Vander, in all his strength and dignity, looks out over the fence. His stance is proud, his presence monumental, even in this rigid form. It is a strange contrast - a reminder of a lost past, upheld in a city that forgets nothing and forgives nothing.
You stand there, unable to move. Images flood your mind - his voice, his hands that once helped you, the unwavering way he protected you. And everything that happened afterwards.
Part of you wants to put your head down and walk away, as if you're not worthy to stand here. But another part - a small, rebellious part - forces you to stay.
What would he think now if he could see me?
This thought gnaws at you, burns in your chest like an ember. The statue is a symbol, a legacy, but for you it is a silent reproach. A constant reminder of what you have lost - and of what you have failed to save.
I'm so sorry...
You stand rooted to the spot, hidden in the darkness, your magic keeping you invisible to the world around you. An inconspicuous shadow that is nevertheless torn apart by memories.
If I hadn't been so stupid back then...
Your gaze remains fixed on the statue. Vander's posture radiates the same strength as before, but to you it feels as if she is accusing you. A silent monument that questions your every decision.
If Powder and I hadn't tried to prove to you that we were worth something...
Thoughts from the past flood your mind. You see yourself again, hidden in Singed's lab, watching through the crack of the door as Silco and Singed manipulated Vander's body. The sight of his lifeless form, locked in that glass cylinder, still haunts you.
I did this. I killed Vander.
The words repeat in your head, an endless, crushing chorus. The images from back then flicker - the bridge, shrouded in red smoke, Vander's last act of heroism to save you. The kidnapping, the desperate attempt to free him. And then the moment you saw his body, broken, irrevocably changed.
He wouldn't have died if I hadn't been there.
Your breath hitches, and for a tiny moment you are on the verge of collapsing like you did on the bridge. Your knees tremble, the memories tug at you, dragging you back to the darkest days of your life.
But this time...this time you stay calm.
It's already happened and I can't undo it.
This is the thought that brings you back to the now. It's simple, almost brutal, but it's true. And therein lies your strength - the ability that makes you so dangerous. You can see things as they are without getting caught up in the illusion of "what if".
Singed was right when he recognized this side of you: Your cold logic, your ability to face reality without being overwhelmed by emotion, makes you a dangerous genius.
Vander is dead. You know that. Mylo and Claggor too. Maybe Vi, Powder, Ekko and everyone else who ever knew you. You've stopped telling yourself that you could bring them back - instead, you focus on what lies ahead.
And then you feel it.
For a moment, the darkness returns to your eyes, the same darkness that drove you to throw The Enforcer Gadget at the Monkey Bomb. That unwavering determination that drives you on, no matter how deep the abyss before you.
I will finish it.
Then you feel it: Life energy. A faint aura, not far behind you - perhaps fifteen steps away. The hint of a presence that sharpens your senses.
"He saved us back then and took us in." The voice comes from the darkness, feminine, soft and imbued with something nostalgic. "He was our salvation... our hero."
You don't move, your gaze remains fixed on the darkness in front of you as your right hand slides into your coat. Your fingers find the cold metal of the lighter you always carry with you - a tool, not just an accessory.
They could be enforcers. You feel the familiar tension in your muscles, the quiet twitch of your magic, ready to burst out of you if needed. I should play it safe.
"Wait..." A second voice speaks up, also female. This one is a little deeper, more definite. "Someone is standing there... do you think-"
That's all the time you give them.
With a precise movement, you open the lighter, ignite the flame and drop it. The small flame trails through the air, a tiny light in the darkness. At this moment, you feel their aura waver - they have become careless.
That's all you need.
In a single breath, you focus your magic into your feet. A flash of energy and the world blurs for a moment as you move with inhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, you are with them.
A quick glance is enough to recognize it. An enforcer uniform - no more, no less.
You react instinctively. The woman with the blue hair is the first, and you knock her aside with a precise movement. It's not a heavy blow, not enough to do any serious damage, but just enough to send her staggering and flying away.
Even before she goes down, you're already with the second woman. The one with the pink hair.
Tougher. You feel it immediately, in her stance, in her presence. Your blow hits her with the back of your hand, and although she is thrown to the side, she doesn't stay down as easily as the other one.
You stand still, watching them, ready in case they get up.
But you held back. Killing was not necessary - at least not yet.
The flame of the lighter continues to dance on the ground, a flickering companion in the darkness as the seconds tick by. One after the other. Silence.
Your gaze remains fixed on the two women. First the one with the blue hair. A poor attempt to hide her Enforcer uniform. Her hair, dark blue and shoulder-length, tied into a loose ponytail, bobs slightly as she moves. Her aura is unstable, but focused. You can tell she's searching - a goal, perhaps a truth or justice that she herself doesn't know if she can find.
Your analysis goes deeper. You can feel her life energy concentrating in her fingertips. Definitely a sharpshooter. Her body betrays her; she is trained to act silently and precisely.
But then your gaze glides to the other woman.
First you notice her pink hair, short and wild. Then her strong stature, the muscle tone, the fighting spirit that emanates from her like a glowing flame. And suddenly... suddenly your magic stops.
That can't be...
"You hit harder than you did back then..."
Her voice reaches your ear and your mind refuses to process the words. A torrent of memory, denial and naked emotion crashes over you.
No... never. It can't be her... not now.
"To think that my little brother..."
Her words come again, clearer, cutting like a knife. She spits on the floor, raises her head, and her eyes - those unmistakable blue eyes - meet your gaze.
Impossible... impossible!
Your mind stalls, like an old cogwheel jammed in the machine. Images flood you, tearing you out of the present.
Your eyes meet hers. You are no longer the child you were back then, and yet you feel just as small, just as weak, as you did in those memories.
"Vi..." you whisper, but it barely makes it past your lips. Your throat is dry, your breath catches, and for a moment you are simply trapped. Caught between past and present, guilt and hope.
A mental abyss opens up in front of you and it takes all your strength not to fall into it. You can feel the darkness raging in your thoughts, a spiral of guilt, sadness and self-loathing.
You let them down. You let them all down.
Your fingers unconsciously clench into fists, your aura flickers, and you feel like you did back then - small, lost, and unable to control the chaos around you.
The blue-haired woman's words break through the tense silence like a shot in the dark:
"You... you know each other?"
The question fades away and for the next six seconds there is absolute silence. No noise, no movement - just looks that say more than words ever could.
You are the first to analyze these looks.
Vi. You feel her life energy like a flickering flame, nourished by an unshakeable strength. Not only physically - as you would expect - but also mentally. The tattoos that adorn her body tell stories of battles and victories. But there is no anger or dislike in her gaze. Curiosity. Reassurance. It's as if she's been waiting to find you.
The other woman. Her aura is the exact opposite. Cold, precise, dangerous. Her posture, the tense shoulders, the energy tensing like a bow in her muscles - everything about her screams that she sees you as a potential threat. If Vi wasn't there, she would have drawn her weapon long ago. You can see it in her gaze, how she calculates your movements, how she waits for you to make a mistake.
But you know how to deal with situations like this.
You slowly reach for your hood. With a fluid movement, you pull it back, exposing your face. Your hair, long and dark, falls loosely to your shoulders, a contrast to your serious expression. The flame of the lighter on the ground casts dancing shadows across your features as you look Vi straight in the eye.
Her reaction is mixed. Her eyes widen briefly before a sort of reflection appears in her gaze. She continues to stare at you, as if she can't quite believe it's really you.
The other woman is not so subtle. Her gaze wanders from your face to your hair, then back again. You can see questions rising in her, almost like a flood about to break loose. But she remains silent, at least on the outside. Inside, you already know that she's doing everything she can to find out who you are and what's going on here.
"It's been a long time," you finally say quietly, your voice calm, almost cold. Your eyes remain focused on Vi, although you can clearly feel the other woman's presence.
Vi hesitates. Her lips open as if she wants to say something, but she closes them again. Then she finally breaks the silence: "You look... different."
A simple statement, but there is a lot in it. Surprise, perhaps a hint of affection, and deep in her voice - pain.
The blue-haired girl crosses her arms and fixes you with a look that is anything but friendly. "Who are you?" she asks sharply. Her aura vibrates, as if just one wrong move will separate her from you before she acts.
You slowly slide your hands into the pockets of your coat, a neutral move that is also intended to avoid any confrontation. Your eyes move to her, cool and distant. "It's not important. The question is why you're here."
The tension remains, but something has changed. The moment you took off your hood has triggered something - something you can't quite grasp yet. But one thing is certain: the conversation has only just begun.
The conversation went on for another ten minutes or so, but you quickly realized how one-sided it was. It was a cycle: Vi asked you a question, you answered. Before you could ask anything yourself, the woman who had introduced herself as Caitlyn interrupted with her own question.
It bothered you - not just a little, but deeply. You are the one who has been thinking about them all these years, about all the lost faces. And now that they are standing in front of you, you have no opportunity to ask your own questions.
But then Vi breaks the routine with something that stops your world for a moment.
"We suspect that Jinx..."
The name falls easily from her lips, as if it's familiar, as if she's said it many times. It doesn't really surprise you - not when you think of the years Vi has spent behind bars. But still, you feel your insides tighten.
"Powder is."
These two words. Powder. Your heart skips a beat and suddenly the air around you seems to get heavier.
Your body reacts on its own. Your steps falter, your shoulders tense and your gaze slowly sinks to the ground.
You notice it immediately.
Vi takes a small step forward, almost instinctively. Caitlyn, however, remains standing, watchful, observing.
Your mind races, images of Powder flash through your head. Her smile, her childlike joy, the way she looked at you as if you meant the world to her. But then other images are mixed in - the explosion, the screams, her expression as she realized what had happened.
What did she have to go through without Vi? Without me?
The realization hits you like a blow: Powder could just as easily have been you.
You could have gone down the same dark path. The loneliness, the pain, the sadness - everything could have swallowed you up if you hadn't chosen to flee forwards.
A soft whisper escapes your lips, barely audible: "Powder..."
Vi reacts first. "Listen, I know this is a lot. But we need you. She's no longer..." She hesitates, struggling with her words. "She's not the same."
You raise your head, your eyes meet hers. Something in your gaze changes. The flame that began to flicker inside you when you saw the statue of Vander now burns brighter.
"Powder." You say the name with more force this time, almost as if you're trying to pull it out of the darkness. "Where is she?"
Caitlyn opens her mouth, but Vi raises her hand to stop her. "We'll explain, but first..." Her eyes pierce you, "Are you ready to help us?"
You feel your breath catch. A question so simply formulated, yet with a complexity that almost overwhelms you.
Help.
A brief moment of silence.
You feel the weight of the question weighing on you, settling in your chest and making your breathing heavy. "Are you ready to help us?"
The words echo in your head, but instead of answering directly, your mind plunges back into the past.
You have done so much to them.
Powder... Vi... Mylo... Claggor... and even Vander. You had disappointed them all, hurt them all. You had lost them, and no matter how hard you tried to run from those thoughts, they were always there, lurking in the corners of your mind.
It was your mistake.
If I had stopped Powder... if I had acted differently back then... maybe things would have been different. Maybe Vi wouldn't have had to suffer so much. Maybe Powder wouldn't have embraced this... darkness they now call Jinx.
And now? Now you have the opportunity to do something - maybe even put things right. But what if you fail again? What if you disappoint someone again? You can hardly bear the thought of hurting Vi or Powder again.
You can feel your hands unconsciously clenching into fists, a hint of magic flowing through your body, uncontrollably and unevenly. What if they end up hating you even more?
Your gaze wanders briefly to Vi. She trusts you - or at least she's trying to. Can you really deserve that?
But then you feel it. A little spark inside you, something that refuses to let you give up. You have the opportunity to help. Not just because you have the power, but because you owe it to them.
Of course you want to find Powder. See her again, help her - maybe even heal the wounds you've both borne from each other. But the circumstances...
Your gaze glides briefly to Caitlyn. An enforcer. Everything about her, from her posture to her aura, radiates discipline and a sense of duty. And that's exactly the problem. Sooner or later, her position in the Piltover hierarchy will become an obstacle. How many times will she be able to question her rules before she has to decide which side she's really on?
Your gaze returns to Vi. And then there she is.
You thought you had lost her forever. The possibility that you have just found each other again makes it unthinkable to part with her now. Even though everything inside you is screaming at you to be careful, you want to trust her.
You have to trust her.
"I..." You hesitate, feeling the weight of the decision. Your thoughts jump to your magic, your knowledge. You could actually help. Your abilities far exceed those of a normal person. With your Steel Balls and your magic, you can see through lies, track traces, detect life energy. You're not just useful - you're essential.
You take a deep breath, look Vi in the eye and finally nod.
"I'm in."
Caitlyn visibly relaxes, but her suspicious look remains. Vi, on the other hand, seems almost relieved, a hint of tenderness flashes across her face before she puts her cool façade back on.
"Good," Vi finally says. "Then I'll explain everything to you as soon as we're out of here. But from now on..." Her gaze sharpens. "No turning back."
"No turning back," you repeat.
For a moment, no one says anything, and the only sounds are your footsteps echoing on the cool floor. Occasional glances are exchanged between you - Vi looks back scrutinizingly every now and then, Caitlyn gives you skeptical sidelong glances, and you keep your focus on the path ahead of you, trying not to get too distracted.
But as you stop in front of the dark red door, you feel the mood change.
Vi knocks three times, and after a few seconds the door opens automatically with a soft click. Behind it is a long, narrow corridor in deep red, only sparsely lit by flickering candles.
You can feel the energy behind it immediately. Life energies, chaotic and intense, a mixture of restraint and desperate openness.
A brothel.
"The one place all the secrets are spilled," Vi says dryly and takes the first step inside. Caitlyn exhales audibly and follows her, her movements betraying her tension.
As you enter, the corridor opens up into a labyrinth of colorful corridors and heavy curtains. Voices emanate from rooms on either side, some muffled and whispering, others loud and harsh. You feel uncomfortable, almost repulsed by the atmosphere - a mixture of false intimacy and genuine despair.
A small goblin scurries past you, and you flinch involuntarily. Caitlyn is no better - she's obviously making an effort not to look down the corridors, but her nervousness is palpable.
"How exactly do you propose we go about this?" asks Caitlyn, her voice trembling with unease, and it's clear she's out of her element.
"We don't necessarily have to stand out..." you start, hoping to calm the situation down a little.
But before you can finish the sentence, Vi interrupts you with a cheeky grin: "Let them think you work here."
You blink. What?
Caitlyn immediately turns to her, her face a mixture of indignation and disgust. "Excuse me?" Her voice cuts through the air. "I will not."
Vi just shrugs her shoulders, her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, and steps closer. "You know what your problem is?"
Caitlyn raises an eyebrow. "Please, tell me."
Vi walks around her and lets her words hang sarcastically in the air: "You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you have to let them think you have what they want. "
This is getting too awkward.
You feel a strange shame rising up inside you and decide that you'd better sort the situation out on your own as soon as they're distracted enough.
Vi doesn't stop. She walks around Caitlyn, her eyes scrutinizing her from top to bottom, and finally she stops right in front of her. "And what do I have?" Caitlyn asks dryly, her eyes shifting to you briefly before she stares at Vi.
"You're hot," Vi says casually, without hesitation, and makes a sweeping gesture in her direction. Then she circles Caitlyn again, gives her a meaningful look and adds: "Cupcake."
Caitlyn takes a step back, and for a moment she seems completely caught off guard by the comment. She stumbles slightly against the wall behind her, but before she can react, Vi follows up - she places her hand right next to Caitlyn's head and leans a little closer to her.
"So, what'll it be? Man or woman?" Vi asks quietly, her voice taking on an almost provocative tone.
You stand next to her and feel the heat rising in your face. It's a moment of indescribable embarrassment as Vi tries to explain the reality of Zaun to Caitlyn - in the middle of a corridor, while voices from the rooms around you echo.
"Um..." Caitlyn finally mumbles, her voice unsteady as she tries to keep control of the situation. But the look on her face reveals that she's just as overwhelmed as you are.
Right at this moment, you notice someone walking past you. A young man, a calm aura, his face hidden behind a mask. You instinctively follow him, analyzing him, until Vi reacts faster and grabs him by the arm.
He turns around nervously, his posture tense.
"I-Im Pim," he stutters, his voice low and uncertain. "What's your name?"
Vi smiles broadly and answers without hesitation: "Matilda... But you can call her whatever you want." She points to Caitlyn with a nod of her head.
Caitlyn's eyes widen in shock and she lets out an incredulous "Yes, Matilda. My parents named me Matilda after my great-grandmother-".
You no longer listen.
The situation is just too much - Caitlyn's sudden improvisation, the absurd dynamic between the two and the overwhelmed Pim. You feel like you're about to punch yourself in the forehead, the whole thing looks so unprofessional.
Instead, you direct your gaze forward, where Vi has already taken a few steps. She's waiting with her arms crossed and a mischievous smile, as if she knows she's got you thinking.
You leave Caitlyn's side and go to Vi.
"Do you really think that was a good idea?" you ask as you approach her.
Vi shrugs her shoulders, her expression impassive. "It doesn't matter. I already know where we're getting the information from."
You continue on your way and for a moment you are silent until she turns her head towards you. Her gaze meets yours and there is a knowing, an unspoken understanding in both eyes.
"You want her to conform, right?" You phrase it as a question, but the answer is already in your words.
"Just as clever as before..." Vi smiles slightly, turns her gaze forward again and adds: "Not just smarter, though, is it?"
Her words give you pause. It's not a casual remark, but one that carries more weight than you realize at first glance.
One counter-question and you suddenly realize what she's getting at. Without Caitlyn, this conversation would be completely different. You could talk openly. About everything that's happened. About you. About the skills you've acquired - skills that have changed more than she can imagine.
"I couldn't even see you, and there you were, in front of us, at his statue," Vi says, her voice calm, but there's something in her words that borders on fascination. "And before I could blink, you knocked me away with a force I never expected from anyone... It was almost like a punch from like Vander."
You've been training. Not your body, like Vi or others, but your magic. You have learned to focus your life energy, to channel it. When you concentrate it on a specific part of your body, it amplifies your natural abilities far beyond what should be possible.
But to explain that here and now? It doesn't feel right. Not with Caitlyn around. Not until Vi is ready to hear the whole truth-about magic, the Corpse's right arm, and everything that's changed you in the last few years.
"I know that..." Vi begins again, but this time her voice is softer, almost hesitant. She pauses, and you realize that she is choosing her words carefully. The small breeze brushes your ears, a quiet, almost unnoticeable sign of how quiet the corridor has become.
"It was probably very difficult for you without all of us."
Her words hit you directly. Not like a blow, but like a cold shiver that runs through your body. She is honest. And you know she's right.
"Vi..." Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but the words catch in your throat. You look at her, but the knot in your chest is getting heavier.
It was hard. Nights you spent alone, moments when you wondered why you kept going at all. And the guilt - it was always there, lurking, a constant companion, reminding you of what you had lost.
Vi holds your gaze and continues speaking. "I thought then... I thought I was the only one trying to endure it all." She pauses, and you see her hands move restlessly. "But now that I see you... I don't think I ever really thought about what it meant for you or Powder."
You want to contradict her, tell her that it doesn't matter what you've been through. But deep down, you know that's not true.
"It was hard," you finally admit, your voice calm but brittle. "But it had to go on, somehow."
Vi nods slowly, and you see something change in her gaze. A hint of tenderness, of understanding.
"We were a family," she finally says, her words quiet but firm. "And I think we can be again."
You can feel how the words trigger something inside you. It's not just pain, but a bittersweet feeling - hope mixed with the fear of losing it again.
"Maybe..." You pause, searching for the right words. "Maybe we really can."
Vi puts a hand on your shoulder, a simple but meaningful act. "We will," she says, her voice firmer now. "Together."
But the moment doesn't last long. Vi takes her hand off your shoulder and turns her gaze to the right. A red curtain, heavy and velvety, hides what lies behind it. She pauses for a moment, as if pondering, before smirking slightly.
"Hmmm... Actually, I would have given you the same task as Caitlyn now... But safe yourself for Powder."
Your face gets hot. Not just a slight red - it burns. A storm of thoughts and memories runs through your head. Images that you have long since tried to suppress, ideas that suddenly take you by surprise and a wave of shame that seems to suffocate you.
What is that supposed to mean?
You open your mouth to answer, but not a word comes out. Vi gives you a look, grins cheekily and winks. She's obviously enjoying it.
"Vi!" you finally say, your voice a mixture of indignation and embarrassment. But she just shrugs her shoulders and puts her hand on the curtain as if nothing had happened.
"Relax," she says with a light laugh. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
So with that, you split up, Vi goes into the room behind the curtain, Caitlyn doesn't seem to be in the hallway anymore, and you leave the building.
Without another word, you walk down the narrow corridor, away from Vi and Caitlyn. You need the distance - not just from them, but also from the thoughts that are overwhelming you. Now that you're alone, you can focus on what's important: Finding answers.
Powder.
Of course your mind was with her now. You had spent the last few years alone, and although the world kept turning, it always stood still for you - always with her.
Loneliness had been a constant companion. Nights when all you had was the empty, cold feeling that no one was there. No Vi, no Vander, and above all, no Powder. You had lost yourself in your knowledge, in the magic you were trying to understand, and in the desperate hope that one day you could return and make amends.
But through it all, it was Powder who never let you go. Her laughter, her tears, the way she looked at you like all was right with the world. These memories were both comfort and torment, a constant tug on your spirit. What had become of her? What had she had to go through - alone, without you, without Vi?
Now outside, you stand nearby, the darkness of the fence surrounding you like a cloak. You watch the people, see how they scurry through the narrow streets, lost in thought or involved in business that no one would question. But you're not thinking about them - you're thinking about Powder.
Vi and an Enforcer... Powder won't like that.
The thought hurts. It wasn't just Powder who didn't like it - you didn't like it either. You knew firsthand what the people of Piltover were like. You had been one of them, a part of their world, until you found the shadows of Zaun. Piltover and Zaun - they don't go together.
Caitlyn...She might reach out to Vi and Powder now that she needs them. But you knew how that would end. If Caitlyn didn't need anything more from them, she'd betray them without hesitation - and lock them up.
Your thoughts go round in circles, the facts, the connections, the possible consequences. Everything becomes too much. You had so much knowledge about the world, but at that moment you felt powerless.
And then you feel it.
The aura of two people.
A sudden surge, like a piercing flicker in your mind. You recognize one of them immediately - Vi.
Not a second goes by and you're running.
Your magic pulses through your body, channeled in your legs. The energy amplifies your every step, making you run faster and quieter than would otherwise be possible. Your hands slide into the pockets of your coat, find the cool surface of your steel balls, ready in case you need them.
Your mind works at high speed. You analyze the surroundings, every movement, every detail. The alleyways, the noises, the faint auras of passers-by - nothing escapes you.
And then you see them.
Vi stands over a woman lying on the ground. Her posture is dominant, her fist clenched in front of the woman's face. Vi seems to be asking something, but her voice doesn't reach you. You are still too far away.
But then... something changes.
The woman on the floor says something - words you can't hear, but the effect is immediate. Vi's aura changes abruptly.
She is no longer in fight mode. The determination, the anger - all that is gone. Her posture becomes more relaxed and for a moment she seems almost confused.
Careless.
The same carelessness she had when she met you today. But this time it's different. This time you're not sure if she'll recover.
That's bad.
The thought "This is bad" barely has time to settle in your mind before the situation escalates.
Sevika.
You recognize her the moment her metallic prosthetic arm hits Vi in the stomach with a violent thrust. Vi is thrown backwards, like a toy carelessly discarded, and lands heavily on the floor.
The memory strikes with full force. The monkey bomb. Silco. Sevika, who threw herself protectively in front of him while the explosion engulfed everything nearby. The same face, the same arm.
Sevika limps to Vi, who desperately tries to crawl away from her. You see the pain in Vi's movements, her weakness - and you know that she has no chance if Sevika reaches her.
You have to act. Now.
You analyze the situation within a fraction of a second. The right moment is clear. Your legs move almost of their own accord, and you position yourself far out on the bridge where you have a better angle. Your hands pull themselves out of the pockets of your coat, and a steel ball is already in your right palm, its surface smooth and cool.
You let it rotate.
The energy in your hand begins to pulsate as you focus your magic. The steel ball spins faster and faster, the characteristic buzzing fills your ears.
You don't wait another moment.
You throw the steel ball with a precise swing. At the same time, you hear a shot. Your head jerks to the right and you see Caitlyn pointing her sniper at Sevika.
Her shot hits first. The small glass with shimmer attached to Sevika's arm shatters. A cloud of purple dust rises and Sevika staggers briefly, irritated.
Then your Steel ball hits.
He hits Sevika directly on the back of the head, the rotation deforms the surrounding muscle fibers and forces her body to move uncontrollably. She staggers, her knees buckle and she almost falls to the ground.
Direct hit on the nerve center.
Sevika raises her head, her eyes flashing with anger and confusion. For a moment, she looks at you and Caitlyn at the same time - you with your arm raised, ready to throw again, and Caitlyn aiming her sniper at her again.
Sevika runs.
With a gasp, she straightens up and stumbles into a nearby alley. Caitlyn fires twice more, but both shots miss. You see Sevika disappear into the shadows, her silhouette swallowed up in the darkness.
Silence.
Your breathing is heavy as you move towards Vi. She's still lying on the ground, one hand on her stomach where Sevika hit her. Her face is contorted in pain, but you're relieved that she's alive.
While Caitlyn checks the alley one last time, you kneel down to Vi.
But she remains in her position.
"Why did you let her go?" she asks, her voice laced with frustration and incomprehension.
You are confused - not only by the stupidity of this question, but also by Caitlyn's third shot that almost hit Sevika in the head.
Did they really want to kill her? Are they crazy - or just stupid?
"Do you ever say 'Thank you'?" Caitlyn counters sharply as she reloads her sniper and gives Vi an annoyed look.
"He's gonna know we're here now," Vi mumbles as she struggles to sit up.
"Whose fault is that?" Caitlyn shoots back immediately.
Their little argument ends when Caitlyn reaches out to her and helps her stand up. You use the moment to take a closer look at Vi's injury.
The wound is not particularly deep. She was incredibly lucky - a little deeper and Sevika would have severed her intestines. It could have been the end for her.
You were angry with Sevika a moment ago, but now you're thinking clearly again.
Caitlyn and you help Vi by supporting her by the shoulders. You realize that you're the smallest of the three of you, but since Vi is walking with a stoop anyway, you don't mind.
"Hey..." Caitlyn suddenly speaks to you. You turn your head towards her and see her serious look. "You had good aim... But why didn't you finish her off?"
For a moment, you want to stop, scream and explain to Caitlyn how absurd her question is. Yes, she can handle the Sniper, but quick thinking doesn't seem to be her strong suit.
"The short answer is: you lose track of things far too quickly," you finally say, your voice calm and precise. "If we had killed Sevika directly, we wouldn't be one step closer. You would also have lost your evidence."
Caitlyn frowns, but before she can answer, you add, "Besides, I made provisions..."
They both look at you in confusion as you slide one hand into your coat pocket. Caitlyn takes all of Vi's weight so that you can continue undisturbed.
You pull out your steel ball, a calm expression on your face. The smooth, reflective blue surface lies limply in your hand.
A second passes and they both watch you in silence. Then you drop the steel ball on the floor.
Nothing happens at first. Caitlyn gives you a skeptical look, and Vi just looks tired. But then the steel ball starts to rotate, slowly at first, then faster. A small, white aura surrounds it, barely visible to normal eyes.
You raise your hand. As if on a silent command, the ball flies back into your hand with a precision as if it had never done anything else.
Both of them stare at you, their gazes somewhere between confusion and astonishment. You can feel your patience slowly breaking.
"And now?" Caitlyn finally asks, her voice dry.
"Look closely," you reply and point to the floor.
The steel ball has left a white trail on the floor, a kind of glowing path that leads through imaginary walls and corridors. It looks like a map - and it doesn't take long for Caitlyn to understand it.
"Is that-!"
"Yes," you interrupt her. "The human central nervous system consists of the brain and the spinal cord. With a precise throw, I aimed exactly at the gap and read out information."
"How...what?" Vi stares at you in disbelief. She glances at Caitlyn, who looks just as confused, and back at you.
"I usually target muscle fibers," you explain further, your voice calm. "It's easier and uses less energy. But in this case... I thought you might want to know where Sevika and Silco are hiding."
You take a deep breath and slowly pull your hood over your head, the movement deliberately dramatic. "This is my... magic."
Vi can't help but smile. She grins broadly, despite the pain, and mumbles:
"Fucking genius."
---
That was quite an action-packed, emotional and varied chapter!
But hey, you finally met Vi again - and she even brought company. You now form a group determined to change everything: To find Powder, now Jinx, and take down Silco.
The upcoming interactions and encounters with different characters will be even more unique and heartbreaking, don't worry.
The next chapter will be up for my Genius Story. I don't have much more to say as there will be another chapter for this story after that anyway.
Thank you all for reading and for your possible support and feedback! ❤️
Christmas - a holiday that everyone here probably celebrates. As not all the presents have been bought yet, you and Powder head off to Piltover to do the last bit of shopping.
Back at home, small conversations arise and familiar faces reappear.
And Vander dresses up as Santa Claus.
---
Piltover's streets are a chaos of life and color.
Golden decorations shine everywhere, the windows of the crowded stores glow in warm light and the air is filled with the voices of traders shouting out their prices. It's as if the whole city has breathed for this moment, as if everything were a dream - vivid, intense and yet almost too beautiful to be real.
But the best thing about this dream runs right next to you: Powder.
She had insisted on going into town with you, up here, into the shining streets of Piltover. And now you're both off to buy presents for the others.
The crowds, the noises, the glittering decorations - normally you would concentrate on them, soaking up the details, as you always do. But today is different. Your eyes keep wandering to Powder. She's wearing clothes you've never seen on her before - a coat in a soft shade of blue that matches her hair and a scarf that wraps around her neck. Everything about her seems to be bathed in the golden light of Piltover, and you can hardly concentrate.
Your stomach tightens, almost like a knot, and your heart beats so fast that you can feel it even in the noisy crowd.
What's wrong with me?
Even her voice confuses you.
"Where are we going next?" she asks, her words playful yet curious as she lightly touches your arm.
Your heart skips a beat and you swallow hard. You look at her - the hundreds of people in the background fade away as if they no longer exist. All that reminds you that this is real are her eyes: those deep, sapphire-colored eyes that meet you in your dreams and never let you go.
"I... um, I heard about a family who walked past us," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "There's supposed to be an inventor's store at the end of the main street."
A slight smile spreads across her face and you wonder if she has noticed the stutter in your voice. Probably not - the background noise is loud enough to swallow everything.
"You're going to get something for Mylo and Claggor, aren't you?" she asks, her tone curious and familiar.
"Yes... and Vi. I've already done for her... I think." You're not quite sure if you should really say it.
If she tells Vi... No, better not.
Powder laughs softly, and the sound alone throws you off balance. "Ha! I've already got your present too!" she exclaims proudly.
You smile automatically, but your eyes quickly wander away to hide your cheeks. The crowd around you thins out, the streets quieten, and at that moment she reaches for your hand.
Her grip is gentle, her skin warm despite the cold, and your heart starts to race again, this time even faster. You try to maintain control, but the feeling floods through your body, a tingling sensation that you can't really place.
Powder turns to you and you almost stop. The bright city behind her, her soft face in front, her blue eyes, her red cheeks - it's an image that burns itself into your mind.
"Then let's walk faster!" she says with a smile that almost knocks you off your feet as she tightens her grip on you. "Then we can go to a bakery later and get cookies for everyone!"
Her words pull you back to reality, and without really realizing what you're doing, you let her pull you through the streets - still caught between the warmth of her hand and the chaos in your head.
The cool wind tugs at your coat and you are actually glad to be almost completely wrapped up in it. But Powder doesn't seem to mind the wind - at least for a moment.
She stops for a moment, a few seconds at most, and pulls a black scarf out of her hip pocket. With a concentrated expression, she tries to tie it around her neck, but the knot just won't work.
Her gaze wanders to you, and that alone makes your heart beat faster.
"Can you... help me for a moment?" she asks, her voice soft, almost shy.
You feel the blush creeping back into your cheeks and for a moment you can't breathe. You don't say anything - not because you don't want to, but because you're afraid of stuttering or saying the wrong thing. Instead, you just nod slowly and step closer.
You slowly walk around her and stand behind her. The wind blows through your hair as you take the ends of her scarf in your hands. The fabric feels soft, almost like the moment itself - calm and strangely personal.
Your fingers move carefully as you adjust the scarf and tie a knot. You can feel Powder's closeness, she's so close you can almost hear the hitch of her breath. Your heart is beating so loudly that you're sure the people around you can hear it too.
Some passers-by in the crowd actually give you a quick glance. Maybe it's the gesture, which radiates more affection than you realize. Maybe it's just the way you both stand there so still, almost like you're in a little world of your own in the middle of the hustle and bustle.
When you're done, you slowly let go of the scarf. Powder turns to you, and her blue eyes meet yours. She smiles - a small, genuine smile that hits you right in the face. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and whether it's from the wind or the situation, you can't tell.
You notice that you are staring at her, that your gaze lingers on her eyes and you admire the depth of their sapphire blue color. They sparkle in the light of the city, and for a moment, everything around you is unimportant.
"Thank you," she finally says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Then let's go! We'll get the last presents!" Powder shouts, with an enthusiasm that is infectious. She snatches her right arm in the air, her other hand remaining securely in yours.
You continue through the streets of Piltover, which are still full of people, but the fading sun slowly bathes everything in a warm, golden glow. Powder pulls you from one stall to the next, her eyes shining with every little trinket, every idea she has for the others.
You find a pair of new boxing gloves for Vi - sturdy, made of high-quality leather, and in her favorite color. Powder laughs when she sees the price tag, but you split the amount with her, and the sales clerk wraps the gloves in paper and puts them in a bag before handing them to you.
You discover a small tool bag for Claggor, packed with everything he needs to continue his repairs. "He'll love this," Powder says with a broad smile as she holds up the bag. "Especially because I picked it out!"
She fetches a small, mechanical toy for Mylo - a sort of robotic bird that flutters with a few crank movements. "This is perfect," Powder says, her voice almost a whisper as she carefully places it in a small box. "He'll show it off, but that's what Mylo is."
You also find something for Vander: a small bottle of a special spice drink he loves, plus a handmade card that Powder designs on the spot while you wait for the vendor to wrap the bottle.
You keep taking short breaks between presents. At one point, you stop at a stall selling warm, freshly baked cookies, the smell of which is irresistible in itself. Powder orders a large portion and, without thinking, you break a cookie in half to share it with her. Your fingers touch briefly and you feel your heart skip a beat again.
Another time, you find a stall selling hot chocolate served in small, decorated cups. You both drink slowly as you sit on a bench and watch the people pass you by. Powder carefully blows on the hot liquid, her face focused, and you catch yourself looking at her instead of drinking your own mug.
Time passes faster than you expected. Between the laughter, the conversations and the warmth of their company, you barely notice the day fading away. The sun slowly sets over Piltover, the golden colors give way to soft reds and purples, and the streetlights gradually come on.
"Almost over," Powder mutters as you stop together at a corner and look out at the fading sun. She looks thoughtful, her eyes briefly fixed on the evening light before she smiles at you. "But that was the best day I've had in a long time."
Her words hit you and you feel your heart stop for a moment. It's strange, but at this moment everything around you seems to fade into the background - the sounds of the streets, the light, even the cold.
You both know it. You are the outsiders.
That was clear from the start, and the whole group knows it just as well as you do. Claggor, Mylo and even Vi - they're all connected somehow, a close-knit team that stands up for each other without hesitation. But you and Powder? You're... different.
No less part of the group, but still apart in a way. Maybe it's because you both live in your own world, one that is sometimes hard to understand. Maybe it's because you both see things differently, feel differently, than the others do.
Powder knows that as well as you do. And maybe that's exactly what connects you two on days like these - a silent agreement that it's okay to be different.
With your hands full of bags overflowing with presents for your friends, you make your way back to Zaun.
The streets of Piltover become quieter the further away you get. The glorious lights and gleaming store windows gradually disappear, and the crowds that previously populated the streets become fewer. The air becomes colder, denser, and the familiar smell of metal and smoke creeps back in.
You cross half of Piltover, your steps accompanied by occasional laughter and brief conversations. But at some point, even this becomes less frequent as you pass a run-down house - a building that stands in sharp contrast to the elegant streets above.
In front of you is the elevator, old and rickety, the metal doors rusty and covered in countless scratches. Powder gives your coat a gentle tug, as if to tell you it's safe, even if it looks anything but trustworthy.
You step inside and the elevator emits a weary squeak as Powder pulls the lever. With a jolting jerk, it starts moving and takes you down, deeper and deeper into the hideous undercity of Zaun.
The light flickers dimly as the elevator rattles, and you notice Powder holding the bags with one hand and leaning briefly against the wall with the other. Her gaze is calm, but there is a hint of tiredness - or perhaps melancholy - in her eyes.
Zaun finally greets you with its familiar, dreary sight. Dark streets, green lights, damp concrete, the smell of oil and chemicals - a different world compared to the festivity you have just left behind. But strangely enough, it still feels familiar.
At home.
The word echoes in your head as you continue to walk through the dark streets of Zaun. You call this place that, even though it wasn't originally. It's a term you've become familiar with, but deep down you know it's more a facade than the truth.
Because that is a secret that only Vander knows.
He is the only one who knows the truth about your origins - about the family you were born into. A family known in Piltover, not for rebellion or oppression, but for their groundbreaking inventions and scientific breakthroughs. The most famous scientists in the upper town.
But down here you are not the child of visionaries or scholars. Here you are simply you - someone who is trying to find a place in a world that always seems to throw you off the rails.
Powder gives you a quick sideways glance as you continue walking. Her smile is faint but genuine, and you wonder if she ever suspects that the world you come from is so different from hers. That you have more in common with the shiny streets of Piltover than you let on.
But that doesn't matter. Not now, not here. Zaun may be bleak and cold, but the people here - your family - have given you something Piltover never could: a place where you belong.
You continue on your way to The Last Drop, exposed to the cold of the Undercity, which feels different to the clear, almost clean cold of Piltover. Here it has a heavy, raw quality that pushes through your clothes and makes your breath visible.
Some people give you looks as you walk past - two children with bags full of presents. Such easy prey.
An unpleasant feeling creeps into your stomach. You try to ignore it, but the shadows of the alleyways and the figures lurking there keep your nerves on edge. We should hurry. Although Vander knows everyone here, you feel an underlying fear that you can't quite shake off.
When you finally arrive at the Last Drop, some of the tension is gone. But the bar is absolutely packed, the air heavy with conversation, laughter and the smell of alcohol. People crowd around the wooden tables, their voices loud and energetic as large jugs are pushed across the table.
Some of the guests notice you and greet you with a nod or a brief smile. Powder waves to a few people as you move through the crowd.
You reach the solid wooden door at the back, which separates you from the other rooms in the bar. You push it open with a creak and behind it are the stairs leading down to the cellar.
The room downstairs is a familiar sight - warm, cozy and filled with the sound of voices that already carry the festive mood. Vi, Claggor and Mylo are already waiting, and it's obvious they're excited for the feast.
Vi is sitting in her usual armchair, her head resting casually on one hand as she looks at you with a wry grin. Her fiery red hair is combed back, a few small strands falling loosely over her forehead. She has a posture that looks relaxed, but her eyes are watching everything attentively, as always.
Claggor and Mylo are sitting on the couch, each on their own side. Claggor leans back, one arm resting casually over the back of the couch. His round face wears a broad smile, and his short, dark brown hair is neatly cut, almost as always, as if he has just had a fresh trim.
Mylo, on the other hand, sits almost on the edge of the couch, his body bent forward, gesticulating wildly as he talks to Claggor about something. His thin, wiry figure is in motion as always, his brown hair sticking out in all directions as if he had forgotten to tame it.
But the moment Mylo sees you and Powder, he pauses. A broad, mischievous grin spreads across his face and he lets out a short, two-note whistle.
"Well, look who's here! Little Miss Christmas Fairy and her faithful servant!" he calls out in his typical, slightly nasal voice. His gaze wanders to the bags in your hands. "Are those presents for us, or have you finally decided to rob a bank?"
Powder rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face shows that she is not really annoyed by the comment. "I don't know, Mylo," she replies dryly and slightly annoyed. "Then again, maybe you're not on the list because you've been a jerk all year."
Claggor laughs out loud, the sound filling the room with a pleasant warmth. Vi, on the other hand, just shakes her head slightly, a wry grin on her lips, and beckons you over with a relaxed look. "Come on. Sit down and show us what you've got."
"Huh? These are mostly presents for you!" Powder replies with playful indignation and lifts up one of the bags. She points a finger at the group in front of you, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I can show the present for Vander - but not the others!"
Mylo dramatically puts a hand to his chest, his face put on aggrieved. "What, why not? We're the most important people in your life, aren't we? I want to see that now!"
"Shut up, Mylo," Vi says, her voice calm but authoritative. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms in front of her chest, a smile that looks like silent victory on her face. "She's right. Gifts are a surprise. Unless you want your present now and then you won't get anything at Christmas."
Claggor laughs again, his broad shoulders shake, and he nods in agreement. "Yes, exactly, Mylo. It's called self-control. Give it a try."
Powder grins with satisfaction and takes the bottle out of one of the bags for Vander. She holds it up in the air, the label reflecting the cool light of the cellar. "This one's for Vander. And I know he'll love it!"
Vi looks at the bottle, raises an eyebrow and finally nods approvingly. "Not bad, you two. You really picked something good."
Powder beams with pride, but before anyone can add anything, Mylo speaks up, as always loudly and without being asked. "Yes, yes, yes. Can we talk about the important stuff now?" he says, leaning forward and waving his hands. "Who else is joining us later? I want to work out how many presents I'm going to get!"
Vi snorts audibly and gives him an annoyed but also slightly amused look. "As far as I know, Ekko, Silco and maybe Benzo are still coming. At least that's what Vander told me yesterday."
Mylo grimaces and shakes his head exaggeratedly. "Silco? Really? That's great. That guy brings nothing but those boring speeches anyway. I bet his present is something like... books again."
"Better than nothing," Claggor comments dryly as he leans back a little more comfortably on the couch. "And besides, Mylo, you probably won't get anything from him anyway. So calm down."
Powder giggles softly as she puts the bags down on the small table and sits down on a free seat. "I'm glad Ekko's coming. I'm sure he'll bring something cool - and he likes to play with us."
"Yeah, Ekko's okay," Mylo mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "But when Benzo shows up, it means we have to behave. The guy's kind of like Vander, only... stricter."
Vi rolls her eyes and brushes back a strand of hair. "Benzo's not so bad. Besides, you're never quiet long enough to behave anyway."
"Hey! That was mean!" protests Mylo and crosses his arms, trying to put on an offended expression, which is drowned out by Claggor's loud laughter.
You just keep watching as they all talk, laugh and tease each other. The room is filled with their energy, but you feel strangely absent.
Your mind wanders as you look at the bags of presents.
There is still a lot to do.
Some of the gifts are not quite ready yet, and you still need to prepare them to make them really special.
The conversation in front of you seems to be going in all sorts of directions - but none of them are really important to you. You already know who else is coming today, and that's enough for you. It's the details that really matter to you: the little moments, the finishing touches to make sure the gifts are perfect.
With a soft sigh, you lean back and take a moment to go through your plan in your head.
Everything has to be right tonight.
With that, you move quietly and disappear from the room without saying anything. The presents and everything else must be perfectly prepared.
"I'm really nervous," Powder says, her voice echoing slightly through the large room, which is suddenly surprisingly quiet.
You're all back upstairs, and by all we really mean all of you. The Last Drop has officially closed and the announced guests have also arrived.
Silco, with his unmistakable, sharp gaze and cool charisma, sits relaxed on one of the chairs, his posture both casual and aloof.
Ekko, always full of energy, is a shining contrast. His eyes light up and he bobs his foot slightly as if he can't sit still. Every few seconds, the little boy looks over at you and Powder.
Benzo, calm as ever and with that unmistakable authoritarian presence, leans back and watches the group with his arms folded.
To accommodate you all together, Vander, Benzo and Vi have put together several tables, creating one long, massive table. The atmosphere is cozy, but also a little tense - it's not often that so many different personalities come together in one place.
Powder is sitting right next to you, and her nervous hands tell you that she's just as uncomfortable as you are - maybe even more so. She gives you a quick glance, an uncertain smile on her lips, before turning her attention back to the table.
Should I say something?
The thought bounces like an echo in your head. But immediately the familiar uncertainty comes back:
No, what if my voice sounds too high? What if I make a total fool of myself?
You force yourself to stay calm, your hands resting firmly on your lap, almost like Powders. Maybe Vander will break the ice. Someone like him - strong, confident - is made for situations like this.
Your gaze wanders to the other end of the table. Vander is sitting on the last single chair, his massive body leaning heavily but relaxed against the backrest. To his left sits Vi, in her typical posture - one arm casually resting on the edge of the table, the other supporting her head, while her fiery red hair frames her forehead in light wisps.
Silco sits to his right. His figure is narrower, almost like a shadow in contrast to Vander. His face is motionless, almost cold, and his eyes wander slowly across the room, as if he is weighing up everything and everyone in his mind.
But it's Vander who fixes you.
His gaze is calm but firm. You have the feeling he's been watching you for a while, and the longer you look back, the harder it becomes to bear the silence.
Why does he look like that? Does he expect something from me? Does he want me to say something?
Your pulse is quickening. Come on, think! Say something!
But your fear is holding you back. No! Be calm! Don't embarrass yourself!
You break eye contact, lower your head and stare at the grain of the wooden table. It suddenly seems incredibly fascinating, almost hypnotizing.
It won't be long now. We'll all be eating in a few seconds anyway and then it'll be over.
But before you can think any more about the food or the strange tension, a loud bang breaks the silence.
Benzo places a huge plate on the table, the wood literally shakes under its weight, and all heads turn to watch the spectacle.
"Well, it's about time!" exclaims Mylo enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling as he examines the food.
But Benzo is not finished yet. He goes back behind the counter and brings plate after plate, each laden with food that almost looks like a feast in Zaun. Plates of steaming pieces of meat, perfectly roasted vegetables, crispy potatoes and even a basket of freshly baked bread - the smell alone makes your stomach growl.
Claggor whistles softly, his eyes widening in surprise. "This is... more than I expected."
"By our standards?" Powder murmurs quietly next to you, almost as if she's saying out loud the thought that's running through all your minds. "That's... unbelievable."
Vi leans forward and examines the plates with a critical but appreciative look. "Benzo, did you buy half the market empty or what?" she asks, her voice slightly amused.
"It's Christmas," Benzo grumbles back as he places another plate on the table. His voice has its usual gruff tone, but there is a hint of pride in it. "I thought you kids deserved something proper."
The eyes at the table wander from the food to Benzo and back again, everyone seems lost for a moment in the sheer abundance of this feast. Even Silco, who normally seems rather emotionless, raises an eyebrow slightly as if acknowledging the effort.
Vander nods at Benzo, his gaze warm, grateful. "You've done well, Benzo."
"Come on, Vander," Benzo replies as he sits down heavily on a chair. "Just start eating before Mylo here devours half of it by himself."
The meal proceeds with a warmth and joy that is rarely found elsewhere. Conversations buzz around the table, from boisterous laughter to quiet, serious stories. Mylo, of course, has the floor most of the time, but everyone contributes something - even Silco with a sharp but dry comment that unexpectedly makes the others laugh.
Later, you are all gathered in the cellar. The air is heavy with conversation, but pleasantly warm - a contrast to the cold outside. Vander, Silco and Benzo are sitting together on the larger couch. Vander has his arms relaxed over the backrest, while Benzo leans forward with a slight grumble, his hands wrapped around a glass. Silco, on the other hand, sits quietly, his legs crossed, and his penetrating gaze occasionally wanders around the room.
Vi, Claggor and Mylo are sitting on the other couch. Vi leans back and relaxes, her arms folded loosely over her head as she tells one of her stories, which always sounds a little exaggerated, but captivates everyone nonetheless. Claggor listens attentively, occasionally nodding or laughing, while Mylo tries to draw attention to himself with a slightly mocking comment.
You, Powder and Ekko are standing a little apart, but together in a small group. Powder gestures animatedly as she tells Ekko about your day in Piltover, her eyes shining with excitement. Ekko nods, a broad smile on his face as he occasionally throws in something himself that makes them both laugh.
The gift-giving takes its course as Vander leaves the room, followed by a brief moment of silence. Silco and Benzo stand up and lean backwards, reaching for the presents they had hidden behind their couch. The tension rises noticeably as they pull out the packages and place them on the table.
One by one, they follow her example. Some quietly place their presents on the table, while others - like Mylo - can't wait to get up and press the parcels directly into the hands of those for whom they are intended.
"Here, Claggor," Mylo says with a broad grin as he presses a bulky package into his hand. "Open it quickly, I want to see if you like what I've picked out."
Claggor laughs softly, his gaze slightly skeptical. "If you chose it, I'm sure it's... interesting."
Vi leans back and relaxes, her arms crossed, but a smile plays on her lips as she watches the first parcels being opened. Powder presses a small, carefully wrapped present into Ekko's hand as she grins excitedly. "I hope you like it! I've been thinking about it for hours."
Ekko returns the grin as he holds the package like a treasure. "I'm sure it's perfect."
The atmosphere becomes louder and more exuberant as more gifts are presented. The crackling of paper and the laughter of the group fills the room, and for a moment everything around you seems unimportant - only this moment counts, the warmth and the smiles you share with each other.
But suddenly a new figure enters the room - something that nobody expected. No one but you. You had seen the shadow under the door, a tall, broad silhouette that had moved inconspicuously.
Santa Claus?
Tall, broad and with a bushy white beard, the man dressed in red enters the room with a box full of presents. The effect is immediate - all conversations fall silent and heads turn towards the door.
"Santa Claus!" Ekko exclaims enthusiastically, his eyes as big as saucers as he almost jumps up from the couch.
But you can recognize it immediately.
That is clearly Vander.
The beard, the cap, the red and white clothing - it's not enough to hide his unmistakable stature and striking eye color.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Who's up for a few presents?" he calls out in a deep, overly festive voice as he enters the room. The box in his arms seems to be almost overflowing with small, lovingly wrapped parcels.
Powder begins to giggle, her hands over her mouth as Mylo laughs out loud. "That's definitely Vander! Really now?!" he exclaims, but the smile on his face shows that he's enjoying the moment anyway.
"Don't ruin the magic, Mylo," Vi says dryly, but even she has to grin as Vander, aka "Santa Claus", places the box on the table and glances around.
"Good, good," he murmurs in his deep, feigned voice as he lifts the first present out of the box. "Who's been good this year? Or should I start with the naughty ones?"
"By the naughty ones, you probably just mean Mylo..." replies Benzo dryly, looking around the room with a mischievous smile. His gaze lingers briefly on Vander, who has to remain serious in his Santa costume. "Mister... Santa."
The group bursts out laughing, even Mylo, although he crosses his arms indignantly. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean? I was great this year! Even better than Claggor!"
"Dream on, Mylo," Claggor murmurs, his voice accompanied by a broad grin as he leans back casually. "I'm sure Santa already has an extra list just for you."
"Shut up," hisses Mylo, but he can't help smirking as Vander, alias Santa Claus, reaches for the first package.
"All right," Vander begins in his deep voice as he holds the gift in the air and looks around. "Let's see who's been really good... or who's just pretending."
His gaze deliberately falls on Mylo, causing the group to burst into further laughter. Even you giggle slightly as you put a hand over your mouth.
But now Vander, or Santa Claus, pulls out a list. And he starts reading it out:
"The bravest, smartest one on the list is... Y/N," Vander announces with an overly theatrical tone as he looks directly at you.
All eyes are immediately on you. You feel how the attention feels like a spotlight - intense and uncomfortable. Your heart beats faster and you notice how you unconsciously lower your gaze as nervousness rises within you.
Vander steps forward, in his "Santa Claus" manner, and hands you several presents. They're not just small packages - some are big and heavy enough that you have to put them down on the floor for a moment to be able to hold them.
And then Silco suddenly gets up.
The attention in the room shifts to him almost instantly, and you feel the tension rise. Silco moves with his characteristic calm, his face expressionless as he steps towards you. For a moment, time seems to stand still as he holds a large, elegantly wrapped gift in his hands.
Without a word, he places it in your hands. His gaze is penetrating, almost as if he is looking deep inside you, and the silence his presence leaves behind feels almost overwhelming.
"You have potential... don't waste it."
Those are the only words he says. His voice is quiet, almost like a whisper that nevertheless reaches everyone in the room.
He remains standing in front of you for a moment, then turns around and returns to his place on the couch, where he settles down with a serene movement.
The room is silent for a moment. Everyone seems surprised by the brief interaction, perhaps even a little intimidated. Powder stands next to you, her eyes wide with wonder as she stares at you.
You look at the gifts in your hands and feel the weight of Silco's words as if they are heavier than anything you are holding.
Potential...
The laughter and conversation slowly resume, but you are caught up in your thoughts for a moment.
The laughter and conversations return, slowly but steadily, filling the room with warmth and liveliness again. But you are still trapped in your thoughts as you stare at the gifts in your hands. Potential... don't waste it.
Silco's words echo in your head as the others get stuck into the presents. Presents are passed around, the rustling of paper and the laughter of the group momentarily drowns out your thoughts.
Mylo tears open a package with exaggerated enthusiasm and triumphantly lifts up a mechanical bird. "What did I say? I'm the best here!" he shouts, while Claggor shakes his head next to him and Vi playfully throws a pillow at him.
Powder beams with joy as she unwraps a small set of tools - something she can use for crafting and inventing. Ekko claps his hands enthusiastically when he finds a new watch, hand-engraved and perfect for him.
One by one, each gift is unwrapped and you only notice it peripherally, while your thoughts revolve around the words and the books that Silco has given you.
Later, as the gift-giving comes to an end and the evening draws to a close, you take a closer look at the books. They are heavy, high-quality works on physics, chemistry and biology - certainly not easy reads, but each one feels like a challenge, an opportunity to fulfill the potential Silco sees in you.
You got all sorts of things from Vander and the others: warm clothes, a hand-carved knife, even a little leather-bound notebook from Powder that she handed you with a shy smile.
The gifts reflect the people who gave them to you - each with a meaning that reminds you that you are part of this family.
Wow...what a great Christmas. Hopefully it's not the last holiday you'll ever celebrate with them all.
Notes:
It was a pretty quiet Christmas, I think. Of course, none of this is canon - it's a special chapter after all.
It was the first idea that came to mind - a quiet celebration with familiar characters and, of course, Powder by your side. A little warmth is simply part of a winter celebration.
I really appreciate any feedback and am happy to answer any comments. So I would be delighted if you could let me know what you think.
Merry Christmas to everyone.
The once shy little boy who lived in the underworld with Vander and the others. But you are no longer that, a figure filled with guilt, consequences of his actions and a mixture of everything bad.
But now with magic, a part of the Corpse and more knowledge so far.
---
Here I am again! Even with a double update!
Yes, it hasn't been that long, but here's the next chapter in the story. I've been procrastinating, taking care of documents for my job and doing all sorts of things apart from sitting down at the computer and writing.
I hope the hype from Season Two (which I still haven't seen) isn't over yet, because now it's really starting with this story!
Have fun reading!
wc: 5k
---
"A ticket for Progress Day."
So there you were.
It felt like half a lifetime, and yet it had only been five years. Five years since the day that ended your old life, three years since you had found a home - or at least a place - with Singed.
And now you were back.
Back in Piltover.
The city had changed, or maybe it was you who had changed. You had grown - not much, but enough to no longer look like a child. Your body was slimmer, but your gaze was sharper. Strength had settled in you, not that of a fighter, but that of a survivor. Not through muscle, but through the mastery of your magic.
Piltover, with all its shiny facades and dark shadows, felt strange and yet familiar. And on this day, Progress Day, when the whole city was buzzing with life, you were here again - not as a child, but as someone who carried secrets that this city would never understand.
"Of course!" shouts the little man at the counter in front of you with exuberant energy. His movements are frantic, almost exaggerated, as he fishes around in a chaotic pile of papers and tickets. Finally, he triumphantly holds up a small, shimmering golden ticket in his right hand, while his left hand waves towards you. "That'll be five coins!"
You already had the coins to hand. It was no secret how much a ticket cost - you had just heard the price when the person in front of you had paid. So, with a steady hand, you reach into the hidden pocket of your black coat and pull out the appropriate coins.
Your coat was unmistakable, a constant in your life. As a child, it hung off your shoulders like an oversized robe, its hems almost dragging on the floor. But now, after all these years, it fits perfectly. The dense fabric hugged your slim, lithe figure and finished just above the floor - an understated elegance that made you stand out from the crowd.
With the hood pulled low over your face, you are little more than a silhouette. Hidden in the shadows, your face can only be guessed at, even on closer inspection. You have learned to conceal yourself, and in this crowd it was only right for you to remain anonymous.
In case anything unforeseen happened on Progress Day - and that could happen in a town like Piltover - you were of course prepared. In the deep pockets of your cloak you carried everything you needed: your two Steel Balls, carefully polished and ready for use, plus your two spellbooks and a few home-brewed potions.
The potions were simple but effective - designed to release smoke instantly when needed. It was a safe way out in case you needed to disappear quickly. Caution wasn't just a virtue, it was a necessity when going your way.
Over the years, you had visited countless places, gathered knowledge and learned from a wide variety of people. You were a wanderer, always on the move, always looking for the next thing that could take you further. Other countries, unexplored territories, ancient ruins and vibrant cities - you had left a mark everywhere as you tirelessly progressed to become stronger.
But no matter where you were, it never felt like home. No place could fill the emptiness that grew inside you or erase the guilt that seeped through your mind like a poison. It was as if you were constantly haunted by a shadow, a silent witness to all the things you couldn't undo.
At night, when you were alone and lying in your bed, it was the worst. You stared at your hand - the hand that had thrown the Enforcer gadget at the bomb. Powder's bomb.
The memory of it was like an endless, burning movie that played before your eyes. It didn't matter how far you had traveled or how much time had passed. That one decision, that one movement of your hand, had set off a chain of events that you couldn't stop.
Over the years you have gathered knowledge, visited many, many different places and wandered. Other countries, unexplored territories, you've been everywhere to get ahead, somehow
The sound of the ticket clerk's voice barely registered in your mind, his words dull and distant.
"There are still three coins missing," he murmured, holding out his hand expectantly.
You stood still, mind a haze, the scene in front of you blurring into a whirl of memories and half-formed thoughts. It wasn't as though you hadn't heard him. You had. But at that moment, you weren't really there.
And then it happened.
A man brushed past you from behind, his footsteps quick and deliberate, the brush of fabric and a sudden lightness in your pocket snapping you back to reality. Your instincts kicked in too late - a single golden coin, pinched effortlessly from your mantle, vanished into the man's greedy palm.
Normally, you might've let it slide. The streets were alive with noise and motion, and making a scene wasn't exactly in your best interest. But as your eyes tracked his retreating figure, you spotted something that stopped your passive dismissal cold: a pistol, holstered at his hip, its polished surface gleaming in the light.
Your breath hitched.
He wasn't just some petty pickpocket. And that gun? It was too real, too dangerous to ignore.
The guy has a gun. And stole from me.
That alone might have been enough to let him go. It was Piltover - pickpocketing was almost an art form here, and you'd seen worse. But there was something about him that gave you pause. It wasn't just the smarmy way he moved, or the confident swagger in his gait, but more importantly the gun dangling from his hip.
Your instinct screamed the alarm.
He wouldn't just disappear. Men like him never did. No, he was the type to cause problems later - maybe not immediately, but eventually. And somewhere in this event, he would cause a ruckus.
The idea made your fingers run restlessly over the spheres in your coat pocket. Part of you wanted to look away, ignore the risk and just let the day go on. But you knew better. You'd gotten too used to the kind of chaos that people like this brought with them over the past few years to ignore it.
The man stops behind you for a moment, just long enough for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Your instinct screams in your face: he wants to steal the coins on the table.
You remain calm - at least on the outside. But when you see his hasty movements out of the corner of your eye, his fingers already reaching out for the vendor's coins, your body starts moving of its own accord.
Your hand slides into the inside pocket of your coat. Without hesitation, you wrap your fingers around one of your steel balls. A brief whisper of your magic sparks the rotation in your palm, a buzzing, controlled tingle pulsing at your fingertips.
You turn slightly towards him, your movement fluid, unobtrusive - and yet faster than he can realize what is happening. In a lightning-fast moment, you touch his right hand with two rotating fingers, just as he is about to reach for the coins.
His skin twitches and crackles, a pulsing tingle spreading from your touch. The echo of the rotation sends waves through his nerves, not strong enough to do any damage, but intense enough to throw him completely off balance. With a strangled sound, he stumbles backwards and slumps to the floor.
He gasps. "Hah... hah..." His breathing is ragged, full of panic. His left hand clutches his right arm as he stares at you, his eyes wide. You can see a mixture of fear and confusion reflected in his gaze - he has no idea what just happened.
As soon as the man lies panting on the ground, two enforcers grab him with a quick, routine grip. One of them pulls him up roughly by his jacket, and for a moment the weapon attached to his belt dangles dangerously in the air before being pulled back by the belt.
"Come on! Come on!" one of the enforcers yells in the thief's face, while the other heaves him off the ground and onto his feet without a word. The thief still looks too shocked to fight back, his eyes flicker nervously and he mumbles something unintelligible that is lost in the general commotion.
Behind you, you hear a stifled gasp. The sales assistant, who is still holding your ticket, has noticeably retreated. His features are white as a sheet, his breathing shallow and frantic - as if he himself had just survived a robbery. "Oh you..." he finally utters, almost choking on the words as his trembling hand clutches the counter.
"Should I call more enforcers?" He casts a frantic glance in the direction of the crowd, then back at you as he finally hands the ticket over the counter. "A man with a gun... I can't believe it! I've never seen anything like it!"
You take the ticket calmly and don't answer him. Your hand, which has just touched the steel ball covertly, remains relaxed at your side. But inside you are alert, the whole scene has put you on alert. The thief is taken away, the weapon safely under the eyes of the enforcers - but something about the way it all happened leaves you with the feeling that this is not the end of events for today.
Nobody should have noticed that I used magic, let alone rotation. Maybe I shouldn't have done it after all, but the guy would be a danger to the other people here.
You step down from the small wooden structure that connected the kiosk to the ground and feel the creaking of the old wood under your boots. With your ticket in hand and a short, controlled breath, you set off.
The crowd stretches out in front of you, packed and full of life, as the hustle and bustle of Progress Day reaches its peak. Voices buzz through the air, accompanied by the crackle of machines starting to move and music playing from somewhere in the distance.
Your destination is clear: the big stage, the centerpiece of the entire event. The banners waving above it bear the symbols of Piltover - cogwheels and progress, as they proudly call it.
"IT'S NOT OVER, MAN!" the voice behind you echoes through the alleyways. You pause and turn around reluctantly. There he is: the man who just tried to rob you. His arms are being held by two enforcers, but he wriggles like a fish on a line, angry and desperate.
His face is red with exertion and his cries echo in the cold morning air.
"TURN AROUND! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO BIG OVER THREE COINS?" he shouts again. His words are shrill, full of anger and shame, and although you don't want to pay any further attention to him, your attention lingers on him for a moment.
You shake your head slightly and turn away again. You don't want to make a scene, you don't want to attract attention - especially not here, especially not today.
But his voice cuts through the air again, even louder and with a venomous bite: "IT WAS A THRILLING TRICK, YOU DAMNED BITCH!" The hissing of soles on the pavement reaches your ears, a sign that he is still fighting desperately against the Enforcers.
"THEN KILL ME WITH YOUR WEIRD TRICK!" The man screams at the top of his lungs while you simply stand still. Your hands rest calmly at your sides, but your mind has already drifted off into other worlds - a thousand thoughts, memories and scenarios that separate you from reality.
"JUST KILL ME WITH YOUR TRICK, HUH?" His voice continues to echo through the street, shrill and full of defiance, as if he is really hoping for an answer - or perhaps even a reaction that will restore his dignity.
"HEY, SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP AND WAIT FOR THE LEADING ENFORCER!" One of the enforcers holding him loses patience and shouts back. His voice is deep and authoritative, making it clear that he has no interest in the thief's shouting.
The crowd was still and silent. Not one person let out a breath - not a single murmur broke the tense quiet that had bubbled up and threatened to spill over.
And then, just as you are about to continue running, your step falters. Something is different - the air is charged, your instinct sounds the alarm. You see it, as if in slow motion, out of the corner of your eye: The gun pointing at you. You feel it in your magic - the danger is palpable, like an electric tingle on your skin.
Abruptly, the thief twisted in the Enforcers' grasp and reached for his holster - triumphantly, he grasped the gun, and the crowd froze in place.
How could he reach for the gun?
"AH!" he yells right behind you, the words piercing the silence like a knife. "HA! YOU'RE DEAD!"
A moment of rigidity. Your body wants to react, but you are frozen. Your mind races - how could this happen? The enforcers who held him stand rooted to the spot. Perhaps paralyzed by surprise, perhaps overwhelmed.
"DAMN!" yells one of the enforcers as he hastily swats away the arm of the thief whose gun was pointed at you. "HE GOT A GUN!" The alarm in his voice is unmistakable, and they reach out together to restrain the man again. The grip is harder now, tighter, almost desperate - they know he's more dangerous than they first thought.
"HYA! HAHA!" The thief laughs, a shrill, piercing sound as he continues to thrash around in her grip, struggling to free himself. "IF I FELT LIKE IT, HYAHA! YOU'D BE DEAD NOW! YOURE-! SUCH AN EASY KILL!"
The words penetrate you like a cold sting.
An 'easy kill'.
It's as if someone has deflated the air around you. The words echo in your head, mingling with memories that you would have preferred to bury deep down. Back then, in the ruins, when the world looked down on you - a child, lost, alone. You can see the ruins in front of your inner eye, feel the cold that enveloped you.
"You're NOT ready!"
Vi's voice thunders through your head, like an echo from a time long past but never forgotten. You hear her so clearly, as if she's right behind you, as if she's ready to tell you again to your face how wrong you are, how out of place you are.
The words tear at you, pulling you back into the shadows of the past. The moment flickers before your inner eye: You and Powder, the two little siblings, armed with nothing but hope and childlike determination. Vi had tried to protect you, her voice then a mixture of anger and despair.
"You're NOT ready!" she had shouted at you, the words were like an order - and yet a plea.
And then you did go. Into the cannery. Into the abyss.
The memories come like a tidal wave, unstoppable and merciless. Images flash through your mind: the smoke, the thunderous explosions, the sound of screams, the stench of blood and burnt metal. You remember the trembling in your fingers, the freezing fear that almost suffocated you, and the stares that threw you what you thought was the judgment of the world.
"YOU DIDN'T CATCH ME! RIGHT WHEN I TOOK THE COINS FROM YOU!" he roars, his voice hoarse with rage and despair. The enforcers press him further into the ground, but he doesn't give up.
"YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU BASTARD?!"
You are still standing there, motionless, your gaze fixed on a point in the distance. It's not that you can't react - you could. But your mind refuses to deal with the noise behind you. It pulls you back, deeper into your thoughts, deeper into the pain you've tried to ignore for too long.
"I WON'T SETTLE IT LIKE THIS!" he continues to scream. You hear the crunching of the floor as he writhes desperately. "YOU HUMILIATED ME... I'M GOING TO STALK YOU DOWN..."
An enforcer puts his hand on the man's face, but even that can't stop his torrent of threats.
"I'M GONNA ENTER THE EVENT AND BLOCK YOU!"
His words are meaningless. They fade away in your head like the echo of a storm that has already died down. The world around you seems to fade away, the voices, the movement, the sounds of the crowd. Everything becomes quieter until only one thought remains:
I have to take care of this guy.
You feel the weight of the steel ball in your pocket. A reminder that you are no longer the helpless person you once were. You are here, in control, and ready to do whatever it takes to continue your journey.
"I'M SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT KILLING YOU! KEKE!" he mumbles, half-suppressed by the pressure of the enforcers still forcing him to the ground. But he speaks loud enough for both you and the assembled crowd to hear every word clearly.
You hesitate for a brief moment before turning backwards. Your gaze falls on the thief, who continues to be pinned to the ground by the enforcers. Maybe it's the shadow falling over him, or the hand pressing his face down - but for a moment he looks like Silco.
And his laughter, his tone of voice, this burning contempt - it sounds like him.
That's enough.
Your gaze sharpens, your steps firm and purposeful as you turn around completely. Your voice, clear and unwavering, cuts through the oppressive silence:
"If you're done talking, give him the gun back. "
The enforcers, surprised by your announcement, pause. Their hands, pinning the man down, tremble slightly before looking up at you in confusion. The crowd, which has been holding its breath, turns to you - astonished, disbelieving, as if someone had issued an order that goes against all logic.
As if your words had cut the air themselves, the crowd steps back as if on an invisible command. They make room, retreat a few meters from the scene and form a huge circle.
Muttering struck through the crowd - varying degrees of 'what?' threaded through the disbelieving, until the writhing mass of bodies turned as one to watch the showdown. Even the Enforcers - inexperienced in matters like this - gave each other confused glances, as if they didn't know what they were hearing.
"You heard me. I won't charge the man - in fact, I'll let this slight go. Give him the gun back," you spoke with such intense authority that the guard who held the gun slowly - but surely - placed it back on the dusty floor. It lay beside the thief's bulging eyes, then by his knees as he sat up on them. He stared at the lethal weapon, then back at you who wore a neutral expression on his face.
The older of the two enforcers blinks, his lips quivering briefly as if he wants to protest. But your gaze - firm, unwavering, penetrating - silences him. It is not a threat, not a sign of violence, but pure authority that speaks from your stance.
There they were again, your eyes full of determination. No flickering, no hesitation, just a blazing fire that sent goosebumps down the spine of everyone present. It was the same fire you had once seen in Vi's eyes when you fought the world together - a fire that radiated unshakable strength and an indomitable will.
But this time it was burning inside you. Where once there was the shimmering light of your curiosity and childlike innocence, there was now this ember. Clear, hot and unstoppable.
"Pick it up," you commanded once more. Not a single ounce of hesitation traced your voice: no tremble, no unwarranted twitch of facial muscles. You are so certain of yourself that the crowd stilled at once. A duel - a duel - was about to take place. "That'll be the signal - if you're truly serious about killing me."
The thief, still kneeling, hesitated with his palm on the ground - but ultimately, he didn't pick it up. His hands, instead, were held up in surrender and his uncertain smile was lined with sweat.
"H-Hey," he stammered out. "It's just a joke - I'm just a pickpocket, I swear, so don't look at me with that scary face - everything I said was a bluff, nothing more! Have fun on Progress day, I mean..."
Silence was broken by the stirring of the crowd as the leading Enforcer barrelled his way through, his heavy boots thudding against the dirt. For a brief moment, your attention flickered to his arrival-a figure of authority cutting through the chaos.
But then, it hit you.
That familiar sensation.
The thief's aura spiked, sharp and jagged like a blade drawn from its sheath. It was faint, barely noticeable to the untrained, but to you-someone who had honed their magical senses over three years-it was as clear as a ringing bell.
"You two! What's going on here?"
And in that split second, the thief grabbed the gun and held it up - for the second time this day, you are turned away from your impending death.
You didn't even turn fully toward the thief.
Faster than anyone in the crowd could register, you moved. Before a single person could grasp the situation, your hand darted into your mantle's depths with practiced precision.
A millisecond-no more, no less.
In that sliver of time, you charged the steel ball with magic and rotation. The energy hummed at your fingertips, a power you had mastered through tireless practice. And then, with an effortless flick, you threw it.
The steel ball cut through the air like a shooting star, its trajectory unerring. The impact was swift, precise-it struck the thief square in the shoulder.
The gun bent down as the flesh of his arm rippled: twisting and driving itself into his clavicle. Then, the blue sphere rebounded straight to your waiting hand - it crackled and pulsed with such faint energy that only you were able to see.
Did he really think that just because I was looking at the Leading Enforcer that he could shoot me down? Just because I have a blind spot in front for a second, if not less? What an idiot.
A building crescendo of horror erupted as the flesh of the thief's arm spiralled into trembling, meaty ripples - yet the climax hadn't even been reached yet.
"I'm not a nice guy," you said, your tone devoid of inflection, carrying no weight of malice or mockery-only an unshakable certainty. "Let go of that gun, and see a doctor... Before lunch, preferably."
Once more, you turned away. But the thief, who had his pride trodden on enough, raised the gun once more - ready to shoot. His trembling fingers clutched the gun, and with a burst of desperation, he raised it once more.
"YOU BASTARD!"
As the thief pulled the trigger, his arm shifted so the barrel was pointed straight to his own forehead.
He shot.
The aftermath crashed down on the gathered crowd around you - yells, screams rang out in the seconds following the bang. But all you could hear was the roaring silence in your ears; transfixed, you thought about what terrible gun smoke was pouring from the barrel, and the poor dead fool lying in his own blood.
He should have just not shot, swallowed his honor and done nothing.
All people could see as you made your way to the huge stage of the event was your coat. Not even your hair, as it was covered by it, nor anything about you.
"-just a duel. No laws were broken-"
"-threw that steel ball. Then it accidentally bounced back-"
Whispering voices broke through the silence, everyone tried to interpret what had happened for themselves. The events that had just taken place were too much, too fast - and yet they seemed to be indelibly etched in the minds of those around them.
You knew exactly how the situation would end. When he got loud and heated, when he threatened that he was "SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT KILLING YOU", the verdict was in.
From this point on, it was no longer just a moment of instinct or self-defense. No, it was an echo of the past. The cannery, the smoke, the screaming - it was all back, burned into your mind like a brand. You had made up your mind then. You had learned then that a moment's hesitation could cost you everything.
Because Ties are to be severed...not forgotten.
Your hatred and Determination are Second to none. And now, You...Are completely disconnected from the Human race.
---
You stroll through the alleyways of Zhaun, where the light of Progress Day barely casts a shadow.
The contrast between the heights of Piltover and the depths of Zaun has never been more palpable. At the top they cheer, celebrating their progress, while down below children rummage through piles of rotting garbage with hungry eyes.
Your thoughts revolved around Jayce Talis, this man who was a hero to many. To you, however, he was nothing more than a ticking time bomb - a symbol of the ignorance of the privileged. You remember the spellbook with the Corpse Parts, which you once saw as a curse but now use as tools.
And today you have created your own weapon from them, your Steel Balls.
But Jayce embodies a dangerous mixture of naivety and power for you. He had the opportunity to make this world a better place - or to plunge it into chaos. His radiant presence on stage at Progress Day didn't fool you. You heard the empty optimism in his words and recognized the small flaws in his logic.
And you thought of Viktor, the man in the shadows. He may be the real genius behind the Hextech revolution, but he too carries the stigma of idealism. His vision of a "better future" could just as easily lead to disaster if it is overtaken by reality.
The world is a fragile balancing act, and people like this 'Jayce' tend to dance on that line without realizing how many lives depend on their next move.
A few hours later, you find yourself in a run-down hotel room in Piltover. It's not a particularly large room - a narrow corridor leading to a simple bed, a bedside cabinet next to it, and a small bathroom whose tiles are long past their prime.
The key you received on arrival is lying on the table. You have already paid for the next two nights - anonymously and without attracting attention.
As you close the door behind you, you take a deep breath and then slowly exhale. The day has been grueling. The scene with the thief, Progress Day, the crowds and finally the rumors of a mugging you picked up from the conversations in the crowd. It feels like the whole town is conspiring against you, even though you know it's not true.
You take off your coat and throw it over the back of the only chair in the room. You run a hand through your long hair, which has been in your way for months, but you've never found the time to cut it. It feels damp and heavy, like the rest of your body, exhausted by the weight of the last few hours.
You carefully place your steel balls on the bed, along with the spell books and documents you have collected. On the bedside table, you arrange your home-brewed potions in a neat row - a small comfort in a chaotic world.
With another deep breath, you move into the bathroom. The light is harsh and unpleasant, and the water in the shower takes an eternity to heat up. But when it finally flows over your back, it seems to wash away the heaviness of the world for a moment.
As the water hits your skin, the memories come flooding back. Every bad decision, every wrong turn in your life hits you like a wave. For a moment, the weight threatens to overwhelm you and you cling to the edge of the sink to keep from sinking to your knees.
But you force yourself to take a deep breath. You can't give in now.
When you finally step out of the shower and see your face in the mirror, you wish you hadn't looked. Your ribs are clearly visible under your skin and your eyes - sunken and tired - look like those of a half-dead person.
But you are here.
You're back in Piltover.
And an unshakeable feeling grows inside you, a certainty that drowns out any uncertainty:
I'll find Powder, Vi and Ekko, and then everything will be fine.
Oh, how wrong you are.
---
That's it for the next chapter!
Yeah, it wasn't necessarily that much action, but I have to say, you turned out pretty damn cool, just with the encounter with the thief, wow!
So in a nutshell: Two years after the incident in the Cannery, you were with Singed, learning various things like biology, chemistry and physics under his guidance, and you were happy. After you realized that he was just using you to turn Vander into a weapon, you disappeared.
Disappeared in the sense of: Visited different countries, educated yourself further and most importantly; you searched for the Corpse Parts.
And now you're here, in the same town as Ekko, Jinx (Powder) and Vi. Ekko has become some kind of freedom fighter, Vi is in prison and Jinx is Silco's daughter... What a mix.
This chapter will come in a double update with my "Rat" story, from then on there will be nothing for the first time. But don't panic, that's because I'm writing the Christmas chapters that each of my stories gets. When exactly they will come, absolutely no plan.
Thank you for reading (including the notes) and leave a comment and a Fire thingy.
The once shy little boy who lived in the underworld with Vander and the others. But you are no longer that, a figure filled with guilt, consequences of his actions and a mixture of everything bad.
But now with magic, a part of the Corpse and more knowledge so far.
---
Here I am again! Even with a double update!
Yes, it hasn't been that long, but here's the next chapter in the story. I've been procrastinating, taking care of documents for my job and doing all sorts of things apart from sitting down at the computer and writing.
I hope the hype from Season Two (which I still haven't seen) isn't over yet, because now it's really starting with this story!
Have fun reading!
---
"A ticket for the Progress Day."
So there you were.
It felt like half a lifetime, and yet it had only been five years. Five years since that day that ended your old life, three years since you had found a home - or at least a place - with Singed.
And now you were back.
Back in Piltover.
The city had changed, or maybe it was you who had changed. You had grown - not much, but enough to no longer look like a child. Your body was slimmer, but your gaze was sharper. Strength had settled in you, not that of a fighter, but that of a survivor. Not through muscle, but through the mastery of your magic.
Piltover, with all its shiny facades and dark shadows, felt strange and yet familiar. And on this day, Progress Day, when the whole city was buzzing with life, you were here again - not as a child, but as someone who carried secrets that this city would never understand.
"Of course!" shouts the little man at the counter in front of you with exuberant energy. His movements are frantic, almost exaggerated, as he fishes around in a chaotic pile of papers and tickets. Finally, he triumphantly holds up a small, shimmering golden ticket in his right hand, while his left hand waves towards you. "That'll be five coins!"
You already had the coins to hand. It was no secret how much a ticket cost - you had just heard the price when the person in front of you had paid. So, with a steady hand, you reach into the hidden pocket of your black coat and pull out the appropriate coins.
Your coat was unmistakable, a constant in your life. As a child, it hung off your shoulders like an oversized robe, its hems almost dragging on the floor. But now, after all these years, it fits perfectly. The dense fabric hugged your slim, lithe figure and finished just above the floor - an understated elegance that made you stand out from the crowd.
With the hood pulled low over your face, you are little more than a silhouette. Hidden in the shadows, your face can only be guessed at, even on closer inspection. You have learned to conceal yourself, and in this crowd it was only right for you to remain anonymous.
In case anything unforeseen happened on Progress Day - and that could happen in a town like Piltover - you were of course prepared. In the deep pockets of your cloak you carried everything you needed: your two Steel Balls, carefully polished and ready for use, plus your two spellbooks and a few home-brewed potions.
The potions were simple but effective - designed to release smoke instantly when needed. It was a safe way out in case you needed to disappear quickly. Caution wasn't just a virtue, it was a necessity when going your way.
Over the years, you had visited countless places, gathered knowledge and learned from a wide variety of people. You were a wanderer, always on the move, always looking for the next thing that could take you further. Other countries, unexplored territories, ancient ruins and vibrant cities - you had left a mark everywhere as you tirelessly progressed to become stronger.
But no matter where you were, it never felt like home. No place could fill the emptiness that grew inside you or erase the guilt that seeped through your mind like a poison. It was as if you were constantly haunted by a shadow, a silent witness to all the things you couldn't undo.
At night, when you were alone and lying in your bed, it was the worst. You stared at your hand - the hand that had thrown the Enforcer gadget at the bomb. Powder's bomb.
The memory of it was like an endless, burning movie that played before your eyes. It didn't matter how far you had traveled or how much time had passed. That one decision, that one movement of your hand, had set off a chain of events that you couldn't stop.
Over the years you have gathered knowledge, visited many, many different places and wandered. Other countries, unexplored territories, you've been everywhere to get ahead, somehow
The sound of the ticket clerk's voice barely registered in your mind, his words dull and distant.
"There are still three coins missing," he murmured, holding out his hand expectantly.
You stood still, mind a haze, the scene in front of you blurring into a whirl of memories and half-formed thoughts. It wasn't as though you hadn't heard him. You had. But at that moment, you weren't really there.
And then it happened.
A man brushed past you from behind, his footsteps quick and deliberate, the brush of fabric and a sudden lightness in your pocket snapping you back to reality. Your instincts kicked in too late - a single golden coin, pinched effortlessly from your mantle, vanished into the man's greedy palm.
Normally, you might've let it slide. The streets were alive with noise and motion, and making a scene wasn't exactly in your best interest. But as your eyes tracked his retreating figure, you spotted something that stopped your passive dismissal cold: a pistol, holstered at his hip, its polished surface gleaming in the light.
Your breath hitched.
He wasn't just some petty pickpocket. And that gun? It was too real, too dangerous to ignore.
The guy has a gun. And stole from me.
That alone might have been enough to let him go. It was Piltover - pickpocketing was almost an art form here, and you'd seen worse. But there was something about him that gave you pause. It wasn't just the smarmy way he moved, or the confident swagger in his gait, but more importantly the gun dangling from his hip.
Your instinct screamed the alarm.
He wouldn't just disappear. Men like him never did. No, he was the type to cause problems later - maybe not immediately, but eventually. And somewhere in this event, he would cause a ruckus.
The idea made your fingers run restlessly over the spheres in your coat pocket. Part of you wanted to look away, ignore the risk and just let the day go on. But you knew better. You'd gotten too used to the kind of chaos that people like this brought with them over the past few years to ignore it.
The man stops behind you for a moment, just long enough for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Your instinct screams in your face: he wants to steal the coins on the table.
You remain calm - at least on the outside. But when you see his hasty movements out of the corner of your eye, his fingers already reaching out for the vendor's coins, your body starts moving of its own accord.
Your hand slides into the inside pocket of your coat. Without hesitation, you wrap your fingers around one of your steel balls. A brief whisper of your magic sparks the rotation in your palm, a buzzing, controlled tingle pulsing at your fingertips.
You turn slightly towards him, your movement fluid, unobtrusive - and yet faster than he can realize what is happening. In a lightning-fast moment, you touch his right hand with two rotating fingers, just as he is about to reach for the coins.
His skin twitches and crackles, a pulsing tingle spreading from your touch. The echo of the rotation sends waves through his nerves, not strong enough to do any damage, but intense enough to throw him completely off balance. With a strangled sound, he stumbles backwards and slumps to the floor.
He gasps. "Hah... hah..." His breathing is ragged, full of panic. His left hand clutches his right arm as he stares at you, his eyes wide. You can see a mixture of fear and confusion reflected in his gaze - he has no idea what just happened.
As soon as the man lies panting on the ground, two enforcers grab him with a quick, routine grip. One of them pulls him up roughly by his jacket, and for a moment the weapon attached to his belt dangles dangerously in the air before being pulled back by the belt.
"Come on! Come on!" one of the enforcers yells in the thief's face, while the other heaves him off the ground and onto his feet without a word. The thief still looks too shocked to fight back, his eyes flicker nervously and he mumbles something unintelligible that is lost in the general commotion.
Behind you, you hear a stifled gasp. The sales assistant, who is still holding your ticket, has noticeably retreated. His features are white as a sheet, his breathing shallow and frantic - as if he himself had just survived a robbery. "Oh you..." he finally utters, almost choking on the words as his trembling hand clutches the counter.
"Should I call more enforcers?" He casts a frantic glance in the direction of the crowd, then back at you as he finally hands the ticket over the counter. "A man with a gun... I can't believe it! I've never seen anything like it!"
You take the ticket calmly and don't answer him. Your hand, which has just touched the steel ball covertly, remains relaxed at your side. But inside you are alert, the whole scene has put you on alert. The thief is taken away, the weapon safely under the eyes of the enforcers - but something about the way it all happened leaves you with the feeling that this is not the end of events for today.
Nobody should have noticed that I used magic, let alone rotation. Maybe I shouldn't have done it after all, but the guy would be a danger to the other people here.
You step down from the small wooden structure that connected the kiosk to the ground and feel the creaking of the old wood under your boots. With your ticket in hand and a short, controlled breath, you set off.
The crowd stretches out in front of you, packed and full of life, as the hustle and bustle of Progress Day reaches its peak. Voices buzz through the air, accompanied by the crackle of machines starting to move and music playing from somewhere in the distance.
Your destination is clear: the big stage, the centerpiece of the entire event. The banners waving above it bear the symbols of Piltover - cogwheels and progress, as they proudly call it.
"IT'S NOT OVER, MAN!" the voice behind you echoes through the alleyways. You pause and turn around reluctantly. There he is: the man who just tried to rob you. His arms are being held by two enforcers, but he wriggles like a fish on a line, angry and desperate.
His face is red with exertion and his cries echo in the cold morning air.
"TURN AROUND! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO BIG OVER THREE COINS?" he shouts again. His words are shrill, full of anger and shame, and although you don't want to pay any further attention to him, your attention lingers on him for a moment.
You shake your head slightly and turn away again. You don't want to make a scene, you don't want to attract attention - especially not here, especially not today.
But his voice cuts through the air again, even louder and with a venomous bite: "IT WAS A THRILLING TRICK, YOU DAMNED BITCH!" The hissing of soles on the pavement reaches your ears, a sign that he is still fighting desperately against the Enforcers.
"THEN KILL ME WITH YOUR WEIRD TRICK!" The man screams at the top of his lungs while you simply stand still. Your hands rest calmly at your sides, but your mind has already drifted off into other worlds - a thousand thoughts, memories and scenarios that separate you from reality.
"JUST KILL ME WITH YOUR TRICK, HUH?" His voice continues to echo through the street, shrill and full of defiance, as if he is really hoping for an answer - or perhaps even a reaction that will restore his dignity.
"HEY, SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP AND WAIT FOR THE LEADING ENFORCER!" One of the enforcers holding him loses patience and shouts back. His voice is deep and authoritative, making it clear that he has no interest in the thief's shouting.
The crowd was still and silent. Not one person let out a breath - not a single murmur broke the tense quiet that had bubbled up and threatened to spill over.
And then, just as you are about to continue running, your step falters. Something is different - the air is charged, your instinct sounds the alarm. You see it, as if in slow motion, out of the corner of your eye: The gun pointing at you. You feel it in your magic - the danger is palpable, like an electric tingle on your skin.
Abruptly, the thief twisted in the Enforcers' grasp and reached for his holster - triumphantly, he grasped the gun, and the crowd froze in place.
How could he reach for the gun?
"AH!" he yells right behind you, the words piercing the silence like a knife. "HA! YOU'RE DEAD!"
A moment of rigidity. Your body wants to react, but you are frozen. Your mind races - how could this happen? The enforcers who held him stand rooted to the spot. Perhaps paralyzed by surprise, perhaps overwhelmed.
"DAMN!" yells one of the enforcers as he hastily swats away the arm of the thief whose gun was pointed at you. "HE GOT A GUN!" The alarm in his voice is unmistakable, and they reach out together to restrain the man again. The grip is harder now, tighter, almost desperate - they know he's more dangerous than they first thought.
"HYA! HAHA!" The thief laughs, a shrill, piercing sound as he continues to thrash around in her grip, struggling to free himself. "IF I FELT LIKE IT, HYAHA! YOU'D BE DEAD NOW! YOURE-! SUCH AN EASY KILL!"
The words penetrate you like a cold sting.
An 'easy kill'.
It's as if someone has deflated the air around you. The words echo in your head, mingling with memories that you would have preferred to bury deep down. Back then, in the ruins, when the world looked down on you - a child, lost, alone. You can see the ruins in front of your inner eye, feel the cold that enveloped you.
"You're NOT ready!"
Vi's voice thunders through your head, like an echo from a time long past but never forgotten. You hear her so clearly, as if she's right behind you, as if she's ready to tell you again to your face how wrong you are, how out of place you are.
The words tear at you, pulling you back into the shadows of the past. The moment flickers before your inner eye: You and Powder, the two little siblings, armed with nothing but hope and childlike determination. Vi had tried to protect you, her voice then a mixture of anger and despair.
"You're NOT ready!" she had shouted at you, the words were like an order - and yet a plea.
And then you did go. Into the cannery. Into the abyss.
The memories come like a tidal wave, unstoppable and merciless. Images flash through your mind: the smoke, the thunderous explosions, the sound of screams, the stench of blood and burnt metal. You remember the trembling in your fingers, the freezing fear that almost suffocated you, and the stares that threw you what you thought was the judgment of the world.
"YOU DIDN'T CATCH ME! RIGHT WHEN I TOOK THE COINS FROM YOU!" he roars, his voice hoarse with rage and despair. The enforcers press him further into the ground, but he doesn't give up.
"YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU BASTARD?!"
You are still standing there, motionless, your gaze fixed on a point in the distance. It's not that you can't react - you could. But your mind refuses to deal with the noise behind you. It pulls you back, deeper into your thoughts, deeper into the pain you've tried to ignore for too long.
"I WON'T SETTLE IT LIKE THIS!" he continues to scream. You hear the crunching of the floor as he writhes desperately. "YOU HUMILIATED ME... I'M GOING TO STALK YOU DOWN..."
An enforcer puts his hand on the man's face, but even that can't stop his torrent of threats.
"I'M GONNA ENTER THE EVENT AND BLOCK YOU!"
His words are meaningless. They fade away in your head like the echo of a storm that has already died down. The world around you seems to fade away, the voices, the movement, the sounds of the crowd. Everything becomes quieter until only one thought remains:
I have to take care of this guy.
You feel the weight of the steel ball in your pocket. A reminder that you are no longer the helpless person you once were. You are here, in control, and ready to do whatever it takes to continue your journey.
"I'M SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT KILLING YOU! KEKE!" he mumbles, half-suppressed by the pressure of the enforcers still forcing him to the ground. But he speaks loud enough for both you and the assembled crowd to hear every word clearly.
You hesitate for a brief moment before turning backwards. Your gaze falls on the thief, who continues to be pinned to the ground by the enforcers. Maybe it's the shadow falling over him, or the hand pressing his face down - but for a moment he looks like Silco.
And his laughter, his tone of voice, this burning contempt - it sounds like him.
That's enough.
Your gaze sharpens, your steps firm and purposeful as you turn around completely. Your voice, clear and unwavering, cuts through the oppressive silence:
"If you're done talking, give him the gun back. "
The enforcers, surprised by your announcement, pause. Their hands, pinning the man down, tremble slightly before looking up at you in confusion. The crowd, which has been holding its breath, turns to you - astonished, disbelieving, as if someone had issued an order that goes against all logic.
As if your words had cut the air themselves, the crowd steps back as if on an invisible command. They make room, retreat a few meters from the scene and form a huge circle.
Muttering struck through the crowd - varying degrees of 'what?' threaded through the disbelieving, until the writhing mass of bodies turned as one to watch the showdown. Even the Enforcers - inexperienced in matters like this - gave each other confused glances, as if they didn't know what they were hearing.
"You heard me. I won't charge the man - in fact, I'll let this slight go. Give him the gun back," you spoke with such intense authority that the guard who held the gun slowly - but surely - placed it back on the dusty floor. It lay beside the thief's bulging eyes, then by his knees as he sat up on them. He stared at the lethal weapon, then back at you who wore a neutral expression on his face.
The older of the two enforcers blinks, his lips quivering briefly as if he wants to protest. But your gaze - firm, unwavering, penetrating - silences him. It is not a threat, not a sign of violence, but pure authority that speaks from your stance.
There they were again, your eyes full of determination. No flickering, no hesitation, just a blazing fire that sent goosebumps down the spine of everyone present. It was the same fire you had once seen in Vi's eyes when you fought the world together - a fire that radiated unshakable strength and an indomitable will.
But this time it was burning inside you. Where once there was the shimmering light of your curiosity and childlike innocence, there was now this ember. Clear, hot and unstoppable.
"Pick it up," you commanded once more. Not a single ounce of hesitation traced your voice: no tremble, no unwarranted twitch of facial muscles. You are so certain of yourself that the crowd stilled at once. A duel - a duel - was about to take place. "That'll be the signal - if you're truly serious about killing me."
The thief, still kneeling, hesitated with his palm on the ground - but ultimately, he didn't pick it up. His hands, instead, were held up in surrender and his uncertain smile was lined with sweat.
"H-Hey," he stammered out. "It's just a joke - I'm just a pickpocket, I swear, so don't look at me with that scary face - everything I said was a bluff, nothing more! Have fun on Progress day, I mean..."
Silence was broken by the stirring of the crowd as the leading Enforcer barrelled his way through, his heavy boots thudding against the dirt. For a brief moment, your attention flickered to his arrival-a figure of authority cutting through the chaos.
But then, it hit you.
That familiar sensation.
The thief's aura spiked, sharp and jagged like a blade drawn from its sheath. It was faint, barely noticeable to the untrained, but to you-someone who had honed their magical senses over three years-it was as clear as a ringing bell.
"You two! What's going on here?"
And in that split second, the thief grabbed the gun and held it up - for the second time this day, you are turned away from your impending death.
You didn't even turn fully toward the thief.
Faster than anyone in the crowd could register, you moved. Before a single person could grasp the situation, your hand darted into your mantle's depths with practiced precision.
A millisecond-no more, no less.
In that sliver of time, you charged the steel ball with magic and rotation. The energy hummed at your fingertips, a power you had mastered through tireless practice. And then, with an effortless flick, you threw it.
The steel ball cut through the air like a shooting star, its trajectory unerring. The impact was swift, precise-it struck the thief square in the shoulder.
The gun bent down as the flesh of his arm rippled: twisting and driving itself into his clavicle. Then, the blue sphere rebounded straight to your waiting hand - it crackled and pulsed with such faint energy that only you were able to see.
Did he really think that just because I was looking at the Leading Enforcer that he could shoot me down? Just because I have a blind spot in front for a second, if not less? What an idiot.
A building crescendo of horror erupted as the flesh of the thief's arm spiralled into trembling, meaty ripples - yet the climax hadn't even been reached yet.
"I'm not a nice guy," you said, your tone devoid of inflection, carrying no weight of malice or mockery-only an unshakable certainty. "Let go of that gun, and see a doctor... Before lunch, preferably."
Once more, you turned away. But the thief, who had his pride trodden on enough, raised the gun once more - ready to shoot. His trembling fingers clutched the gun, and with a burst of desperation, he raised it once more.
"YOU BASTARD!"
As the thief pulled the trigger, his arm shifted so the barrel was pointed straight to his own forehead.
He shot.
The aftermath crashed down on the gathered crowd around you - yells, screams rang out in the seconds following the bang. But all you could hear was the roaring silence in your ears; transfixed, you thought about what terrible gun smoke was pouring from the barrel, and the poor dead fool lying in his own blood.
He should have just not shot, swallowed his honor and done nothing.
All people could see as you made your way to the huge stage of the event was your coat. Not even your hair, as it was covered by it, nor anything about you.
"-just a duel. No laws were broken-"
"-threw that steel ball. Then it accidentally bounced back-"
Whispering voices broke through the silence, everyone tried to interpret what had happened for themselves. The events that had just taken place were too much, too fast - and yet they seemed to be indelibly etched in the minds of those around them.
You knew exactly how the situation would end. When he got loud and heated, when he threatened that he was "SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT KILLING YOU", the verdict was in.
From this point on, it was no longer just a moment of instinct or self-defense. No, it was an echo of the past. The cannery, the smoke, the screaming - it was all back, burned into your mind like a brand. You had made up your mind then. You had learned then that a moment's hesitation could cost you everything.
Because Ties are to be severed...not forgotten.
Your hatred and Determination are Second to none. And now, You...Are completely disconnected from the Human race.
---
You stroll through the alleyways of Zhaun, where the light of Progress Day barely casts a shadow.
The contrast between the heights of Piltover and the depths of Zaun has never been more palpable. At the top they cheer, celebrating their progress, while down below children rummage through piles of rotting garbage with hungry eyes.
Your thoughts revolved around Jayce Talis, this man who was a hero to many. To you, however, he was nothing more than a ticking time bomb - a symbol of the ignorance of the privileged. You remember the spellbook with the Corpse Parts, which you once saw as a curse but now use as tools.
And today you have created your own weapon from them, your Steel Balls.
But Jayce embodies a dangerous mixture of naivety and power for you. He had the opportunity to make this world a better place - or to plunge it into chaos. His radiant presence on stage at Progress Day didn't fool you. You heard the empty optimism in his words and recognized the small flaws in his logic.
And you thought of Viktor, the man in the shadows. He may be the real genius behind the Hextech revolution, but he too carries the stigma of idealism. His vision of a "better future" could just as easily lead to disaster if it is overtaken by reality.
The world is a fragile balancing act, and people like this 'Jayce' tend to dance on that line without realizing how many lives depend on their next move.
A few hours later, you find yourself in a run-down hotel room in Piltover. It's not a particularly large room - a narrow corridor leading to a simple bed, a bedside cabinet next to it, and a small bathroom whose tiles are long past their prime.
The key you received on arrival is lying on the table. You have already paid for the next two nights - anonymously and without attracting attention.
As you close the door behind you, you take a deep breath and then slowly exhale. The day has been grueling. The scene with the thief, Progress Day, the crowds and finally the rumors of a mugging you picked up from the conversations in the crowd. It feels like the whole town is conspiring against you, even though you know it's not true.
You take off your coat and throw it over the back of the only chair in the room. You run a hand through your long hair, which has been in your way for months, but you've never found the time to cut it. It feels damp and heavy, like the rest of your body, exhausted by the weight of the last few hours.
You carefully place your steel balls on the bed, along with the spell books and documents you have collected. On the bedside table, you arrange your home-brewed potions in a neat row - a small comfort in a chaotic world.
With another deep breath, you move into the bathroom. The light is harsh and unpleasant, and the water in the shower takes an eternity to heat up. But when it finally flows over your back, it seems to wash away the heaviness of the world for a moment.
As the water hits your skin, the memories come flooding back. Every bad decision, every wrong turn in your life hits you like a wave. For a moment, the weight threatens to overwhelm you and you cling to the edge of the sink to keep from sinking to your knees.
But you force yourself to take a deep breath. You can't give in now.
When you finally step out of the shower and see your face in the mirror, you wish you hadn't looked. Your ribs are clearly visible under your skin and your eyes - sunken and tired - look like those of a half-dead person.
But you are here.
You're back in Piltover.
And an unshakeable feeling grows inside you, a certainty that drowns out any uncertainty:
I'll find Powder, Vi and Ekko, and then everything will be fine.
Oh, how wrong you are.
---
That's it for the next chapter!
Yeah, it wasn't necessarily that much action, but I have to say, you turned out pretty damn cool, just with the encounter with the thief, wow!
So in a nutshell: Two years after the incident in the Cannery, you were with Singed, learning various things like biology, chemistry and physics under his guidance, and you were happy. After you realized that he was just using you to turn Vander into a weapon, you disappeared.
Disappeared in the sense of: Visited different countries, educated yourself further and most importantly; you searched for the Corpse Parts.
And now you're here, in the same town as Ekko, Jinx (Powder) and Vi. Ekko has become some kind of freedom fighter, Vi is in prison and Jinx is Silco's daughter... What a mix.
This chapter will come in a double update with my "Rat" story, from then on there will be nothing for the first time. But don't panic, that's because I'm writing the Christmas chapters that each of my stories gets. When exactly they will come, absolutely no plan.
Thank you for reading (including the notes) and leave a comment and kudos.
The end of an era, and at the same time the conclusion of an act.
With Singed at your side, your new mentor and teacher, you try to build a new life for yourself. It was to be expected that this would not be without challenges for your psyche and well-being.
But as you continue to develop, you are hit by another stroke of fate that sets everything on a different course once again.
Notes:
Oh my god, this chapter is just...phew.
Welcome back!
Yeah, took me a bit, but what more could you ask for than a chapter of this fanfiction on a Sunday. I've (maybe) proctastinated a little, but I have to say that this chapter is the best yet, and longest, in my opinion.
Almost 7K words of pure development, science, magic, relationships, old memories and a breach of trust that destroys everyone again.
But I don't want to say too much, welcome to your new home of Singed, and have fun reading this chapter!
---
"Hydrogen?"
"63%"
So this is how it looks now:
You, two years later than then, next to Singed in a laboratory. The green lights illuminate all the equipment, all the test tubes, individual substances that even react to the light, and of course your and Singed's face.
You've grown a little, according to Singed still too little for your age, but you didn't mind. You had slightly longer hair, which was quite soft and lay on your shoulders. You weren't anorexic, but you were so incredibly thin that you hated looking in the mirror and seeing your ribs.
"Oxygen?"
"26%"
Your mental maturity and intellect inevitably increased. With Singed as your teacher, the foundations were laid. You, continuing to research magic and Singed as a mentor in the fields of science, such as chemistry and biology. While he teaches you things about humans, you continue to research areas that a normal person would never get to.
It was funny when you thought back:
How you were weeping at Vander's corpse, with newfound magic flowing through your arm and slowly but surely healing your body. How your mind was in as much shambles as the Cannery. How you clung desperately to your 'Steel Ball' and your Two Books because they were the last things you had left from your old life.
Your memories of Vi, Powder, Claggor and Mylo were already a little hazy. Not in the sense that you couldn't remember how they looked or what they did, it was more an ethical question of whether any of you could ever live a normal life.
Your life was already anything but that in this corrupt world.
A little later after the incident in the Cannery, you realized that you could use the magic that flowed through your body through the Corpse's arm. At first, it was difficult to control the aura that flowed through your life energy and the arm. In your room at Singed's home, you were awake almost every night for the first few weeks, trying to find a moment when you might be able to use one of your spells.
But it simply didn't work, at least not yet. Magic was and is a complicated thing, it wasn't written in your two books, but this reality made you aware of it.
It was impossible to create something out of nothing.
"If one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given"
These were the laws of magic, which you diligently noted down in the books. In general, you began not only to read, but to write notes and discoveries in the books yourself. The book with the map of Jayce Talis was almost completely empty before, but you filled it with drawings of the Corspeparts and descriptions that you were best able to give.
But even if no spell of your own was created from your magic, there was something that was just as powerful: Rotation. You noticed it before, the letters on your arm pointed it out to you, but you hadn't understood it yet.
Rotation was a natural force in this world. You don't normally see it, but if you look very closely, you can find it everywhere. The energy with infinite potential, and more importantly, it reacts incredibly strongly to magic.
One night when you wanted to try something, you came up with the following theory:
You, sitting on your bed, books to your left and right. Sweaty hair due to nervousness, a serious look and an idea that you now wanted to test. In front of you, on your blanket, lay a blue crystal that Powder had given you back then.
The idea was that the Enforcer Gadget might be able to stabilize it and create an incredible source of energy. So you stretched out your two arms, went to both sides of the crystal and focused your magical aura on it.
When a bright blue light, a dangerous feeling and a threatening explosion followed, you stopped immediately. But less than a minute later, Singed was already at your door. You, who thought you were in trouble, were wrong, because Singed wanted to know all about the energy that these small crystals emit.
And after three months of hard work, you both made it: Spheres, about the size of a baseball, blue and more dangerous than any weapon a single person could use. The rotation gave you the ability to spin them incredibly fast in your hands, allowing you to throw them at things and, in the case of a human, even ripple their muscles.
So, you called them Steel Balls. Since you, the too small and weak boy, had a big disadvantage in a direct fight, you could now compensate for this. A good rotation on your steel ball with your right arm, a good throw and determination brought you one step closer to victory.
And after a year, you even learned to adjust the rotation so that it worked like an algorithm. You put it on, through the magic of the corsepart, threw your steel ball, fulfilled the purpose, and your steel ball flew back into your hand, truly magical.
But no matter what, somewhere deep inside you couldn't shake the thought that this life didn't suit you.
Of course Singed was a good teacher, in his field he was definitely second to none, even if he often told you that there were other people who came close to him, you just knew that they were far from his level, at least in practice.
You could disappear every day, just run away and somehow ask someone in town for help, I mean, who wouldn't want to take in a little boy like you? Besides, Singed wouldn't care if you disappeared, he's just thinking about his experiments anyway...
And that's exactly why you were here.
To save Vander.
The tall and physically strong man who was about to die was a task in itself. Even Singed wasn't sure at first whether Shimmer would bring him back or heal his injuries. According to blood and oxygen data, Vander was already brain dead, and without brain, no life.
But you created the Shimmer version that would ultimately save Vander. It took time, and you learned incredibly quickly, which Singed noticed. The process was logical to you, but you seemed to have more understanding of the chemistry behind the drug than Singed himself, the creator of it.
"No, less of the serum and more of the growth hormones." Singed's voice rises through the large lab, the size and equipment making it echo at the same time. He is sitting behind you at a small table, giving you instructions. "To push the nerves to their limit, you have to... give them a push."
Meanwhile, you're standing at your little work table, with your standard coat on your silhouette, mixing various chemicals in a test tube. You've only been here a few weeks, with Singed, and you're already researching his drug, the 'Shimmer', with him.
Although you knew what the drug could do, it was really interesting for you. Since your parents only ever conducted legal experiments in the kingdom and other things back then, it was important to see the other side, and here you could even work on that.
This is your very first attempt at chemical drugs. Before that you may have read about them in one of the books at home, but of course they were not a guide.
You get more and more nervous when you think about how Singed is just a few steps behind you and you are trying to mix his special drug - it was a strange situation that you could never have imagined before. All your chemical knowledge that you had stored away somewhere, now tested by a genius.
Shimmer was incredibly complicated, but you quickly got the hang of it. You had no other choice, Singed doesn't give you instructions, nor does he explain how the drug is structured. You have to do everything yourself while he watches you and evaluates you like a teacher evaluates a student.
You mix a kind of dopamine booster into the purple liquid and the color immediately changes - it becomes more intense, almost glowing. A fine, iridescent smoke rises, like mist curling in the air. The mixture begins to pulsate slightly, as if it is coming alive, and a sharp, metallic smell fills the room. It feels as if you have created something uncontrollable - and that was exactly your goal.
You know the ingredients of Shimmer, at least you think you do. But to heal Vander's wounds and internal bleeding, you need a much stronger version of it. More stem cell activators, more viruses that introduce genetic information into cells and all sorts of other things to help Vander regain his former strength.
You hold the container in your hand and see how the liquid inside pulsates gently, as if it had its own heartbeat. The glow is mesmerizing, an intense, dangerously beautiful purple that makes the shadows dance in the room. There's something eerie about the smoke that rises from the mixture - it wafts around your fingers in fine clouds and leaves a cool, tingling sensation on your skin.
A feeling of pride flows through you, mixed with a nervous excitement. You've done it, for the first time in your pathetic life. You have created something that resembles pure power - but at the same time you are aware of the danger that lies in this small, liquid catastrophe. Part of you hesitates, wondering if you're doing the right thing.
But the other part of you, the part that showed Pure Determination and did not hesitate to kill for its goals, showed you what you were doing it for:
Your eyes wander from your workstation to the large glass cylinder placed in front of you, in which Vander's body is preserved. His swollen skin, and the veins visible through the shimmer currently flowing through his body, evoke in you a reference to the object you are holding in your hand.
Your heart beats faster as you put the container down. At that moment, you feel like a creator and a destroyer at the same time - and the power you hold in your hands sends a cold shiver down your spine.
In a way, the Shimmer even reacted with you, and Singed noticed that right away, and something else as well.
Impossible?!
There stood Singed, looking directly over your shoulder at the test tube in your hand. His mind raced with thoughts as he kept his gaze on the substance in your hands.
This boy...He made Shimmer for the first time, and it's already better than my recipe. And all this without experience? If Heimerdinger only knew what a genius I've found... But he's dangerous.
His gaze fell on you again as you stood at the workstation and looked down at the test tube.
He was sure he wasn't imagining it, the substance was trying to warn him.
Exactly at the point where your fingers were attached to the glass, the substance began to boil and a putrid smell to be released, a warning that literally stung him in the eye. As if magma was emerging, wanting to be seen, reading signs of incomprehensible potential.
His potential will catch up with us all at some point, whether it's Heimerdinger or me. He has already surpassed even this boy called Viktor... I have to teach him before it becomes my undoing. And he's only been here for seven weeks...
His Talent is Magnificent...And Terrifying. With the magic that flows through his body...
I have awakened a monster.
"Carbon?"
"9%"
But no matter how many new skills you've discovered, steel balls or magic, no matter how much new knowledge you've acquired and how much of a genius you've become, the memories, feelings and consequences of that one day continue to haunt you.
Depression of the worst kind, sudden hallucinations of Mylo, Claggor or Vander standing in the distance. But no matter how hard you try to get to them, they disappear at the last moment and realization sends you back to reality. You thought it was schizophrenia combined with trauma.
However, Singed seems to have found another disease that affects you. He doesn't have a name for it, but your size and strength should develop slowly due to puberty, but it does so much slower than the average human.
He made an assumption that you may have had contact with chemicals from an early age.
At that moment you stopped dictating the chemicals in the human body, and were briefly, very briefly shocked. Hundreds, thousands of memories of your real family flooded your mind, especially the days when you watched them in the lab.
The memories of your mother, father, sister and brother appeared like a tumor in your brain that you should have cut off a long time ago. Insults, snide behavior and so much more that you had to endure in that household.
And no one had ever believed in you.
And now look at you: Your body is flooded with magic, you have a part of the Wizard's body. You have become proof of the impossible, so to speak, which everyone used to see as nothing more than a fairy tale.
Now you could explain spells from the book, even perform some of them and much more. You would never have expected to be able to do something like that, and now look.
Furthermore, in the two years you spent at Singed, your magical abilities grew far beyond anything you could have ever hoped for.
You could feel life energy in a kind of sixth sense. You could already feel the aura that was converted from energy and now surrounds the body from afar, as well as the intention and feelings behind it. With Singed, it was always calm, constant and absolutely in harmony with his work.
You called it an aura because everyone had one, which actually supports your theory. Aura was basically life energy that helps the human senses to perceive things. But no human could feel it or control it... Except you, at least. Through the right corpse arm you could let the magic flow through your body, and also anchor it outwards to protect yourself or 'scan' the environment.
So you have literally evolved, unlike before, so let's get back together:
Back then: small and petite, engrossed in books, without any physical strength. Reserved, insecure - more anxious than anyone else in the group. Marked by a painful realization of your weaknesses, with a goal in mind that seemed unattainable, and surrounded by people who were far too good for you in your eyes.
And now: Still small for your age, but full of danger. A body imbued with magic and steel balls that can manipulate the muscles of others with a single throw. A mind that is constantly sharpening and developing. Yet deep within you still lingers the guilt and shadows of the consequences left by your past.
Your connection to magic, through the corpse arm that is in you, certainly made you a different person.
All beginnings are difficult, but this is not a new beginning, but a rebirth.
You have been reborn as The Sorcerer's Apprentice.
But even as a reborn, the past still pulls at your shadow. Especially because what happened back at the Cannery is your fault. You had to try to prove yourselves with Powder, and what happened? Sacrifices and consequences that couldn't be worse.
It's funny to have seen the white side of science from your parents back then, and now to find the talent from you on the dark side. It's like you were never going to be part of the scientist family anyway, and now you're more sure of it than ever.
"Protect her"
Every time you remembered Vi's words, you had to throw up. There was no other way you could bear the guilt, it was tearing you apart and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.
And so the memories of Powder resonated with you for the next while, and you finally understood: You liked her.
You're sure that you're probably the last person to have understood it properly. It must have been really obvious and the others must have always talked about it among themselves, how embarrassing.
Your yearn for Powder only got stronger without her presence, so strong that even Singed noticed it during the experiments and often asked if "something was wrong?". Of course you didn't tell him, it would not only be embarrassing but also complicated. He actually understood and left you alone, apparently realizing that you didn't want to be reminded of it.
Powder's eyes, her soft skin, her smile... Having everything taken away from you hurts so incredibly. And not knowing what had happened to her since that day gave you so much pain in your stomach that you often had to cry yourself to sleep.
But the shock hits you harder than the explosion in the Cannery.
You destroyed their lives. Not just hers, but Vi's, Vander's, Claggor's, Mylo's and every other poor soul who witnessed your determination. Not only you had to live with the consequences, they all did, at least the ones that survived.
As you lay buried under the thousands of pieces of rubble, you could hear Powder and Vi outside for a moment. You were sure you heard Vi angry, and Powder crying or screaming, all because of you.
And then one day came...
It was at night, you're pretty sure.
Singed's home, as he called it, was incredibly quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the wind blowing through the whole construct, leaving a light melody as it bumped against it.
You sat on your bed almost every night, unable to close one eye. Because when it happened, you had bad nightmares, nightmares where everyone blamed you for everything you deserved. Mylo, Claggor and even Vander, who seemed to have lost their lives because of you.
You've been counting the days since you've been here. 906 days since the explosion at the Cannery and the attempt to save Vander. 906 days since you stopped sitting on her bed with Powder, laughing or talking about something. 906 days since you've been battling sleep deprivation and depression every day, brought closer to the edge every day.
You focus your magic on your whole body, you see it with your open eyes. Your aura radiates a permanent, calm white that floats evenly around you like a gentle mist. It feels peaceful and stable, almost calming, yet there is an unshakeable strength in its quiet presence.
It was something like meditation, and at the same time it helps you to deal better with your magic. You didn't have this sixth sense for years, and you've only had to live with it for two years.
You imagine what it would be like if you had one of your Steel Balls in your hand right now. The shimmering blue color and how it would fly if you put enough magic into the rotation. And after it hits its target, it spins and magically flies back into the palm of your right hand.
Your legs feel strangely heavy, your head strangely light and the whole situation strangely alarming.
What is that feeling?
It doesn't take a second, and you're already standing at the door to your room. It was right next to the lab, so you had a good view of the huge glass container where Vander is kept. The various lights shining throughout the lab, some of which hit your eyes, make you dizzy.
And then you realize it.
This is not Singed's aura.
Your mind sharpens within seconds, even if you are insanely tired, it feels wrong not to pay attention now. So you try a little harder with your magic and your logical and rational thinking.
And so your gaze falls on him.
Silco.
You didn't even need to analyze the features. His height-tall and imposing, though his thin frame gives him a wiry, almost spectral presence. His skin is pallid, with a greyish hue that seems to absorb the dim light around him, and his jet-black hair is neatly styled into an undercut, stark against his weathered features.
His aura had a minimal difference to Singed's, it was spiking. Singed was always calm, but you're not sure about him, it looks like he could explode at any moment, like he's hiding an incredible amount of anger with a calm demeanor.
But you're not worried about his aura or his appearance, rather:
What is he doing here? And what does Singed have to do with him?
"I hope he survived without injury?" Silco's calm voice carries throughout the lab as you continue to peer through the door slit.
"Yes, but not without internal bleeding." Answers Singed, also with a calm tone and an undertone.
They both stand in front of the glass container, so you can see them both at the same time. However, if one of them were to turn backwards now, it would definitely not be good for you or Singed.
"He was like a brother to me..." Silco finally speaks, taking a step closer to the container. He puts his right hand on it and looks up, where Vander's face was covered by the dark-colored liquid. "It's a shame he went that way."
"Well... You can't always count on everything..." Singed mentions after a few seconds, still in the same voice, but now in a different position. He moves two steps away from Silco and leans against a table while fiddling with the bandage on his face with one hand. "Especially not with humans."
Your eyes fall on Silco. After all he's done, he's here now, standing within ten feet of Vander, who you gave everything you had to save. The many cables, combined with the dark light reflection, already make Vander look dead, but you wouldn't let that happen.
You concentrate on Silco's silhouette and think about your tactics and your chances.
He wouldn't even notice me if I was fast. Singed would react too slowly, I'm sure of it. I could simply strengthen both my arms with magic and break his neck...
He deserves it.
It was a dark thought, but you had changed since then. The little boy who wouldn't even hurt a fly was already gone, now everything was filled with cold logic and feelings that were too much for you.
He deserved it, you echo in your head. Your look at Vander brought back the memories you were trying so desperately to forget. The reaction was anger, after all, he is also responsible for Vander's death, and much more.
What is he doing here anyway? And what is he discussing with Singed?
"You said he would survive..." Silco puts his hand down, turns to Singed and fills the silence with a scowl. He puts the hand that was on the container in front of his chest and squeezes it into a fist. "How strong do you think he is compared to the other monsters?"
Your heart stops for a moment, the unexpected clarity of his words pulls you out of your composure. Your hands tremble and unconsciously form into fists, your knuckles snow-white with tension.
Your magic flows through your body and with all your might you force yourself to control it, to hide it - but it becomes more difficult the more your desire for revenge flares up inside you. You know that if you give in, everything here will go up in flames and they will feel you through your magic.
Singed finally breaks the silence, his voice calm, almost casual, but with a hint of caution. "He is unstable. More dangerous than the others because he has more control over himself. But that's what makes him unpredictable. He understands what he is - and what he can do."
Silco nods slowly, a sharp spark of curiosity in his gaze that briefly displaces the icy determination. "Interesting..." he murmurs, his voice low and thoughtful.
But then his gaze briefly falls on you.
You've never moved so quickly before, after all, your body reacted completely automatically. For a moment, you forgot your anger and hid as quickly as you could. Your body is hidden behind a corner, your breathing as shallow as possible, but something about his posture makes you think he's noticed you.
A slight tremor runs through your muscles. You're sure your magic is making itself felt - like a touch of electricity lifting the air around you. You can barely hold back the words that rise up inside you, a silent cry of retribution, but you know that one false step could ruin everything.
Dammit! Did he see me?
"And if he escapes our control?" Silco suddenly asks, his tone sharper as he steps closer to Singed.
"Then," Singed replies with a small, imperturbable smile, "we have to kill him before he can kill us."
These words pierce you like a cold dagger. Your grip tightens around the corner, your nails scrape against the wall. Your magic screams inside you, begging to be unleashed. But you force yourself to calm down. Not yet. Not yet.
Letters form on your right arm, literally carving themselves into your skin again, but you don't notice. The situation in the room in front of you gets all your attention.
Your gaze falls for a brief moment, incredibly brief, on your steel ball. It's just lying there next to your bedside cabinet, so close that you could just grab it. Take it, fill it with a little magic, which is converted into rotation anyway, and simply throw it.
"We'll be fighting together again soon Vander..." For a moment he turns away from Singed again, glances at Vander and then looks around. All the experiments seem to catch his eye, while his mind seems to be somewhere else entirely.
You calm your breathing, concentrate on the conversation and make a decision:
That's it now. Singed just used me to pass Vander on to Silco in the end. I'll never forgive you for that, you bastard.
But what are you doing? You were dependent on Singed. You can't just go out into the wide world without any solid facts. Where would you go? You can't go back to your real family, after so many years you wouldn't be able to go back mentally.
So, what now? You want to disappear, but completely alone? You, absolutely alone in this dark and disturbing world?
Normally you would turn to Vander now, ask him for answers... And he would be able to provide you with some. But he wasn't far away from you, about ten meters in front of you, in a large glass container that was barely keeping him alive.
I did this. I Killed Vander.
Your magical aura disappears completely. You don't tremble, not a single movement follows from your body as a result of your thoughts, which are tearing you apart from the inside.
He wouldn't have died if I hadn't been there.
Your chest tightens as the memory resurfaces, raw and vivid, like an open wound that refuses to heal.
Vander is gone...?
The realization twists in your gut, sharp and relentless. The anchor of your world, the man who kept you steady - ripped away in a moment of chaos.
NO!!!
The scream reverberates in your head, a desperate attempt to push the truth away. But it clings to you, heavy and suffocating.
Silco killed him. Not me!
Your fists clench, your nails digging into your palms as you try to find someone, anyone, to hold responsible. Silco's face flashes before you, his cold, calculating smirk, the embodiment of everything you want to destroy.
I had to follow him.
You try to rationalize, to make sense of the senseless.
I should've known better.
Your stomach churns. The guilt, a familiar poison, takes hold.
I didn't do it!
Your inner voice cracks, a futile defense against the crushing weight of your conscience.
It was me. I knew it.
The admission is a whisper, barely audible over the roaring in your ears.
NO!!!
The floor beneath you seems to shake as you fall to your knees. The world around you blurs, the walls of the room seem to stretch and warp as the exhaustion and emotional strain wash over you. A fine film of tears breaks free and runs down your cheeks, but you no longer feel the pain - only the emptiness.
The magic that burned so vividly inside you just moments ago has vanished, as if someone had turned off the power. Your body suddenly feels heavy, like an empty shell, and your hands, which were just ready to turn into a weapon, are now shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes, once sparkling with anger and defiance, lose their light, becoming dull and empty.
The room seems to stand still for a moment, as if the world itself is pausing to watch you collapse. There are no words, no thoughts, just the paralyzing silence that settles around you. Your aura, which was once the only layer of protection, is now gone - the strength you defended for so long is nothing more than a fading shadow. The coldness growing inside you is stronger than any other sensation you have ever known.
Somebody help me.
The cry comes unbidden. Tears streak your face, hot and uncontrollable, as you clutch at the emptiness in front of you.
Someone help Vander.
The words are a plea, a wish that time could reverse, that some miracle could undo the unthinkable.
Someone...please help Vander.
But the silence answers you, merciless and final.
No...he's beyond help.
The truth crushes you, leaving you hollow. The weight of your failure presses down until you can barely breathe. All that remains is the sound of your broken sobs, lost in a void that feels endless.
You hear a voice from outside "But fire without control..." He pauses, his eyes narrow dangerously and his voice becomes dangerously calm. "...always ends in ashes."
You have to disappear. The decision doesn't hit you like a bolt of lightning, but slowly seeps into your consciousness, a painful but irrevocable conclusion. A true scientist follows logic - and logic screams in your face that you can't stay here any longer.
Your eyes fall on the bedside table where your most important belongings are. Your hands are shaking, but you are already moving in your thoughts, collecting, sorting, planning. Inside, you are on your knees, crushed by the weight of what has happened, but your body is functioning mechanically.
My Steel Balls, you think, a touch of pragmatism in the midst of chaos. The two spellbooks, clothes... and preferably something to eat.
You don't wait another second. You stand up on shaky legs, your hands wiping the tears from your face. There is no time for weakness, no time for doubt. The plan doesn't form in your head, it simply exists, clear and unavoidable: you have to leave.
You reach for the bag lying in the corner and start throwing your things into it. Your steel balls land clattering on the bottom of the bag, followed by the spellbooks you absentmindedly grab from your bedside table. Your mind is still blank, like a machine that is only tuned to function. There is no hesitation, no pondering - just movement.
You hurry through your small room, lifting clothes from the chair and stuffing them carelessly into your bag. Your hands are still shaking, but you force them to calm down, your breathing short and intermittent. The thought of food crosses your mind and you throw in a few rationed supplies, bread and some dried meat, without a second thought.
Waiting. Waiting until Silco has disappeared. Waiting until Singed is back in his room.
Your heart pounds like a drumbeat in your chest, every breath heavy and tense. You walk to the door, peering through the small gap to keep an eye on the lab outside. It's a wait that feels like an eternity, but you know it's necessary.
Then I'll disappear, you think, and the thought gives you a strange sense of calm. No plan B, no doubts. Just the first step - out of here. You take a deep breath and prepare yourself inwardly for the moment.
Your eyes linger on the bag and the comparison with the Haul from back then hits you like a blow. It was the moment when it all began - the chaos, the losses, the suffering. But you force yourself to push this thought aside, to ignore it as best you can.
Am I really doing this now?
A quiet doubt settles in and for a moment you stop moving mechanically. Your mind switches on, your feelings are left out. You force yourself to think soberly, even if reality almost overwhelms you.
If I disappear now, I have absolutely nothing.
The thought weighs heavy, pulls you down. You no longer have a family. Your friends? The few you had are long gone or... worse. And Singed? A teacher, yes, but one who overstepped boundaries and shamelessly exploited you to weaponize Vander.
I have to survive alone in the world.
The image of you alone in the streets of Piltover and Zaun spreads through your mind. The cold, the hunger, the constant danger.
What should I do anyway?
The question remains unanswered while your mind feverishly searches for possibilities.
How am I supposed to get out of Piltover? And where to?
The city seems like a huge fortress, and the world outside is no less threatening. Your steps falter and your grip on the bag tightens. The panic tries to find its way back into your head, but you force yourself to stay still, to think.
A plan. You need a plan. But the clock is ticking, and the walls of this small room feel like they're going to constrict you at any moment.
I have to find the other corpse parts.
The thought hits you like a thunderclap, and for a moment everything around you stops. Your breath catches and your heart races as you stare at the bag containing Jayce Talis' notebook. The pages you had only half-heartedly flicked through before now start to make sense.
He's looking for them too...
A spark of hope, no, a plan begins to form in your head. If you follow this path, if you find the Corpse Parts, if you develop your magic - then everything will be different. No problem would be too big, no threat insurmountable.
I don't care what I have to do for it. I'll get those corpse parts. Whatever it takes... I will do it.
Your eyes lose their light again, an expression of complete devotion and determination takes over your face. You stop in the middle of the room, your breathing heavy, your mind filled with a dark determination that also frightens you.
But deep inside you feel that the burden is tearing you apart. The memories of everything you've lost, the feeling of betrayal by Singed - it's too much. You are still a child, at least a part of you. And yet life forces you to act like an adult, to make decisions that could break even a veteran.
Your head lowers, your hands clench into fists. The world may bring you to your knees, but a promise is growing inside you. An oath to yourself:
I will find them. And no one, not even myself, will stop me.
As soon as the apartment sinks into silence, you seize the moment. With your bag over your shoulder, you sneak through the lab, your steps as quiet as possible. Your gaze sweeps over the countless experiments set up here, each apparatus a testament to Singed's sick genius. You grab a few chemicals that seem useful and carefully put them in your bag. To be on the safe side, you tell yourself, even if you don't know exactly what for.
But just before you reach the door, you stand rooted to the spot. The huge glass container rises up in front of you, its cold glow illuminating the dark laboratory. Your gaze wanders upwards to where Vander is floating in the liquid. His body is still, motionless, and yet you can see the traces of life that are still inside him.
"I'm sorry, Vander," you whisper, your voice barely audible but heavy with guilt. You feel the lump in your throat, the tears threatening to burst out again.
"If I were stronger... I could take you with me."
Your gaze lowers, your hands tremble slightly, but then you force yourself to look at him again. It's a promise that germinates inside you, a spark that gives you stability in all the chaos.
"But I will come back."
The words echo in your head, an oath to the man who once saved your life, to the rock that protected you. Then you turn around, your heart heavy, but your steps determined.
There is no turning back.
Like a bitter joke from the heavens, the rain starts as soon as you pull the door shut behind you. The drops patter softly but steadily, like a gentle tapping on the surface of the world, as you leave home behind you - or what's left of it.
The cold rain washes the warmth of the past from you, layer by layer. It soaks your hair, cools your skin, but inside the emptiness burns. Every step feels like a farewell, not just to the place, but to the part of you that once existed here.
You throw on your black coat, the fabric of which lies heavily on your shoulders - like a second skin that protects you and yet bears everything you are. You fill the pockets with calm, almost mechanical movements. The notebook slides in, its edges rough, full of secrets. Next to it, the two Steel balls find their place, cold and familiar in your hands, before disappearing.
Then you pause. A moment of silence in which you take a deep breath. Your determination feels like a fire that burns quietly inside you, unstoppable. You adjust your coat, pull on the hood and get ready.
There is no more hesitation. Only the path before you.
The streets of Piltover are quiet at night, almost eerie. The rain has made the cobblestones shiny and dark, the shimmering light of the lanterns dances in the puddles. Your footsteps echo softly, but it's loud in your head - deafening.
How could this happen? The thought nails itself into your mind, repeating itself over and over again. You had a plan. A place where you belonged. But all of it was wiped out in an instant. Singed's betrayal, Silco's plans, Vander's condition - it was too much.
I should have been stronger. The words are like a mantra that tears at your heart. Your will, which you thought was indestructible, has been broken with an ease that terrifies you. Everything you thought you were now feels like a lie.
The memories come in waves. Vander's smile. Singed's experiment. Silco's voice. Everything mixes together, a chaos that almost makes you stagger. Your steps become heavier, your breathing shallower.
Maybe I'm not strong enough. Maybe I never will be...
But then - another thought. An image forms in your mind's eye. The corpse parts. The possibility they hold. You remember the notebook in your pocket, the drawings, the descriptions. When you find them, when you unite them... then everything could be different.
You stand still, the rain pelting down on you, but you barely feel it. Your hands clench into fists, the cold night air bites into your skin, but a fire flares up inside you.
No matter what it costs. No matter what I have to sacrifice. I will find her. And I will never have to think like this again.
With this thought, you continue on your way. The night may swallow you up, but your gaze is now only directed forward.
Wait for me, Piltover. I'll be back soon.
But not as Y/N.
But as the Sorcerer's Apprentice.
When will you see everyone again?
Oh, sooner than you think.
A thin, bitter smirk flits across your lips as you form the words in your head. They reverberate through your mind like an echo, unstoppable, insistent. You imagine their faces - Silco, Singed, Vi, maybe even... Powder? But this time you will not return as someone weak, not as someone they can break.
Your grip on the bag tightens and your footsteps echo through the empty streets, accompanied by the gentle rhythm of the rain. The night will swallow you up, but you know - you will return, smarter, stronger, more dangerous, ready.
Soon enough.
Notes:
And that was it again with the new home. But what should you have done, Singed was just using you and you fell for it.
But now with the beginning of the search for the Corpse Partsm the development of your magic and everything else will be even more exciting.
The next of my stories to get an update is I think the Hold on story, or Rat, honestly, no plan.
Thanks for reading, please comment how you liked it and leave kudos!
So there you were: buried under a thousand tons of heavy rubble after the explosion in the Cannery. Broken bones, blood everywhere and a broken will that makes itself felt.
But that's about to change; with the discovery of a part of the Wizards Corpse, your whole life up to now is turned upside down, and with a few difficult decisions and inner complexes, you are reborn.
The chapter that changes everything now; heaps of trauma, a new power flowing through your body and an adventure that will soon have you, Vi and Powder crossing paths again.
Notes:
The next chapter!
By the way, I haven't even started the second season yet, in case anyone is interested. I'm just getting into the real plot of the series with this chapter, and there's still a lot, lots, of things to come.
But I don't want to keep you that long, so have fun reading and leave kudos and comments!
wc: 5K
---
What exactly was it that was going through your mind right now, in this moment, in this second?
Buried under so many tons of ceiling pieces just waiting to collapse on you and crush your body like your arm lying under a heavy piece of rubble. The only thing stopping all that debris, like the long piece of wood slowly drilling through your guts, was the thin steel wires of the Enforcer Gadget.
You were truly lucky in misfortune, although the misfortune is more present. Anyone who would see you now, here in the Cannery, buried under countless debris from the ceiling, would probably cry or simply not know which emotion to show on their face first. But who knows; a little boy who didn't know any better and made a brave attempt to prove himself now had to suffer the consequences.
"Remember Y/N, no matter what you do...Everything, and I mean everything, has consequences. You may not notice them at first, but on a deeper level they will always find a way."
You could only scoff because of the words of your real father that were running through your mind. Scoffing was an exaggeration, you open your mouth and the metallic taste makes you taste it, and your eyes see the red substance that is slowly escaping your mouth. You could barely move, even though there is a little space above you, your arm is still crushed under the rubble.
Never in your life did you expect to die like this. You didn't often think about death, after all, it caused you grief to know that everyone you ever cared about would die at some point, but it was important. Basically, everyone dies, you always told yourself, and then you just kept reading some book and stayed calm.
But this slow death was the worst thing ever. Not only were you buried under the countless debris just waiting to fall on you, but also under your own stupidity. Thinking that you could do anything. Thinking that you and Powder could be important one day. To think that there's a reason you were ever born.
Funny, right now you had to think about your real family. The pitying look you always got from your siblings when you started talking about magic. The feeling of being worth less than them, which they always told you and instilled in you.
Sad, the second time you think about it. You're already on the verge of death and you think about the worst moments of your life, but you always thought you'd see the best moments just before you died. There's hardly any air left to breathe, everything hurts, you can hardly see anything and you haven't heard anything for hours.
You were foolish: the action of throwing the Enforcer gadget at Powder's monkey bomb. At that moment you acted on instinct, after hearing what was going on in there you had to do something. But because of you, because of you alone, people were dead and soon you were too. Without you, The Monkey Bomb would never have exploded, Vi wouldn't have ditched Powder and everyone else would probably still be alive.
No matter what I do, it ends in disaster. Why exactly did this always have to happen? Couldn't something go right in your life just once, just once? Why did you always have to be the weak, little boy who had to be looked after? Why couldn't you be strong like Vi or Vander for once?
While you are asking yourself all these questions, watching your life pass you by, you don't even realize it.
Even though the adrenaline has worn off...you can feel your arm again. At first you don't pay any attention, after all you are probably seconds away from brain death.
But then you also feel no more blood in your throat, and that fills your body with energy.
What the?
It was strange, you were just about to die, and now your body gets an energy boost? Are you sure you weren't just dead and imagining it? Maybe this is the real death? Simply without any feeling of not existing again and again.
You try it out of sheer curiosity, like a researcher. It hurts, hardly any light or air and you try to pull your apparently crushed arm out from under the heavy rubble. With a few stitches, pulling on the sides a few times and slightly bending the stone with your other arm, you somehow manage it.
Using simple physics, namely the law of leverage, you pull out your arm, take a look at your Pale Skin and expect that what reaches your eyesight now is a completely bloody, crushed and dead arm.
But your right arm...
Looks brand new.
What's going on here? It was just completely crushed? What the hell is going on here?
The situation couldn't seem more surreal, as good as buried under a pile of heavy rubble, everything about to collapse from the steel wire you can already hear dragging, and your completely crushed arm has just healed itself. It sounded fake as I mentally went through the events, fantasy-like and a bit like...magic.
You take a good look at your arm, turn the inside towards your face and look at the veins. Everything looks fine, you think. It just looked the same as the last time you looked at your arm properly, but there was one thing you noticed the second time you looked over it.
Small scars on the palm of the hand.
You hardly noticed them the first time you looked at them, minimal scars, fading in with the darkness and barely noticeable on the surface when you brush over them. But the scars continue, which you can't believe at first. As if you had cut yourself on sharp wood, the small cuts continue towards your elbow.
WHAT THE?!
Slow, red spots that run from the palm of your hand, i.e. the top of your fingers, through your entire arm and stop at your elbow. You continue to look at the spot as you slowly realize that your heart is starting to beat faster, seemingly trying to breathe a second life into your body.
And then, just when the situation couldn't be funnier, you go through it again mentally:
I activated the monkey bomb using the enforcer gadget, and now I'm buried under all this rubble. When the adrenaline was gone, I could clearly feel my shattered arm? Why does it look like brand new now? And what kind of cuts are those?
Wait a minute...
Right now, right now. Just as you took an extra look at your arm, when a small beam of light passed through a groove in the rubble and hit your eyes for a moment, you could see it:
Another arm has just fallen out of your arm.
And to make matters worse: it's a corpse arm.
WHAT?!
You immediately become agitated, fidgeting like crazy and doing your best to understand the situation without freaking out, although you didn't really have the strength to do so. You here, buried under thousands of pieces of rubble and barely alive, and now some weird dark, fleshy arm coming out of you?
WHA?!
But as you look down at it, slowly choking on your own intestines, you realize something. It's taking a really long time, and normally you were definitely the smartest one in the group. But with hardly any air down here, cramped and wounded legs, blood on almost every part of your body and a mind that could barely cope with it all, it's taking longer, of course.
This is the Arm of the Wizards Corpse.
It was softer than you thought. Your inquisitive fingers poked at the flesh that had eluded your grasp all those days ago; you'd expected it to be crackly like baking paper, but it wasn't. It had the same softness of the wrinkled skin of old people: fragile and thin and delicate.
This is...
Your mind flees the situation; you end up somewhere else mentally, unlike this situation where minutes, seconds ago you were wondering if you were going to die. Although you are here right now, barely room to move, in a reclining position with your back slightly bent, your right arm propped up with your left, yet your mind allows itself to wander elsewhere.
The map.
It's like a cogwheel clicking in your head, slow puzzle pieces coming together to make a logical connection that you hadn't even thought about.
The map of this Jayce Talis, on which the positions of the Corpse Parts are marked. All nine parts of the Wizards Corpse, which are apparently so important that people spend years trying to find them, and even create maps...
And you ended up right in the middle of it.
How the hell did this come about?
The monkey bomb explosion destroyed and killed so much and you magically find yourself a part of the Corpse? Everything you've done since you learned of its existence has led you here.
And now you've paid the price.
Everything had a price. In this world, people count as objects just as much as anything else, you knew that. No matter what you did, would have done, everything had led you right here, buried under tons of rubble and the worst physical condition you've ever had.
You can only feel your whole body twitching a little: a tremor goes through your cramped legs and along your stomach, causing pain. Then it continues along your shoulder, where you feel a reaction especially in your right arm, and ends at your head, where you suddenly no longer feel the sore throat.
I don't want this.
Your eyes, now widened, look down at your right arm. The large cut in the middle, from which the Corpse Arm rushed out, suddenly seemed more like a disease than a blessing. You were just on the verge of death, but now you are suddenly healthy again and with a part of the most important magic object ever, a part of the Wizards Corpse.
You look down and feel along the corpse part. The dark flesh was strangely soft, almost squishy. The individual nails of the part, which look as if they are primary parts, the perfect construction of the flesh and the inner bone structure, which is barely visible...
With that, you look at your right hand, the corpse not being inside.
If you had the strength, you would probably scream. Your right arm was, to your shock, absolutely ruined. Bruised, bloody and bones hanging out. It was as if you'd been banging against a metal plate for hours, which is roughly how you could describe the sight, mashed up and absolutely disgusting.
At your slight shock, the Corpse Arm reenters yours. Slowly sinking in, the Dark Flesh disappears into your Pale Skin, leaving absolutely no trace. But one trace was left: Your 'Crushed' arm quickly reassembles, looking completely normal, as if nothing had ever happened.
The thing healed my arm...by magic?
You could see it, as if your eyes had a thermal vision you could see the little blue streaks along your arm. It looked like an aura, a certain life energy that originally flowed through the Corpse...now flowing through your arm.
The fine stripes stretched across your body and it left a strange feeling on your skin. As if you had goose bumps, but without the shock effect. As if a kind of sixth sense had just been born in you...
Magic.
You stand up a little further, bend your back so that your arm was right next to your stomach and you had a clear view of it. The familiar feeling of your arm, the nerves, was still there. But at the same time there was this other feeling that flowed from your arm through your whole body like energy.
Is that magic? This strange twitching feeling that flows through my body?
What exactly was it that was going through your mind?
A few minutes ago you were down here, completely devastated. Broken ribs, injured intestines, blood everywhere, a completely crushed arm and a broken will. Your mind was a mess, as were your intestines.
And now, the only thing that has improved is your physical condition. Mentally, you're still in a state of shock, for several reasons: What happened to the other people here in the explosion? Powder, Vi? Did your sacrifice make any sense at all?
I don't want this thing.
I want to see the others again.
Tears slowly form in your eyes and you can't stop them. The warm tears run down your rough cheek and drip onto the stone floor beneath you.
"I DON'T WANT THIS THING!" You scream, oh God, how you scream. You desperately try to stand up, only to hit your head against a pair of the debris and stumble to the ground: Without the Enforcer Gadget, you would be dead by now.
You grit your teeth, drop back down and just cry yourself out. You can do absolutely nothing, buried under thousands of tons of rubble, absolutely no strength and no will to go on. A few more times you try to scream, somewhere in the back of your mind the hope that someone will come and save you.
You are behaving childishly... But what should you do?
You are a child.
A child who received no love even from his parents and was seen as an outsider, even at home. A child who preferred to go from the Upper Town to the Lower Town in the hope of not being seen as absolute garbage there. But that's exactly what you were, a small, weak boy who preferred to live in fiction rather than reality.
You are so incredibly close to an emotional breakdown because of so many things. They're buzzing around in your mind, desperately trying to get you to finally give up.
One look down, at your arm, and you have found something that makes you think and distracts you from the thoughts that were threatening to kill you.
Surge
It was text, on the palm of your hand. Small letters that resembled scars, as if someone had carved something on your skin.
"Surge," you read. The Latin felt foggy on your tongue, and you weren't even one hundred percent even sure if it was Latin. But after a few seconds of thinking, you remember something.
These letters look like...
Your eyes catch sight of the shape of the letters in the little light beneath the rubble. It was as if they were composed of several individual shapes, like a mathematical equation that makes no sense without individual components.
Your magic book.
It makes sense, the same signs from your spellbook that were also in the notes of this Jayce Talis have something to do with the Corpse, of course. Now, of course, answer the question "What does it mean?" and maybe something will happen.
You think desperately, your hope of somehow surviving increases with every second that you have already discovered the Corpse Part. It's as if someone has breathed new life into you and whispered in your ear "There's always a way"
What can I do?
What should I do?
This Corpse Part changes absolutely nothing about my situation! It's no good, even if my wounds heal, it won't get me out of here!
Except...
Oh oh, there it was. A thought that will change everything, turn the whole world you've known upside down and show you much more than you ever thought possible.
You think, if you can really use magic, you need to use it wisely now. A spell from your book that gets you out of this wreckage while not overdoing anything to avoid attention.
For a moment, a very short one, you don't think about magic, death or the Corpse. Your thoughts land on the other important things that are worth living for, the reason why you haven't just given up and faced the pain until now.
It was powder and Vi, what else?
You don't waste another second thinking, you go straight to what you were thinking, an ice spell.
I can manage that.
Back then, when you were still with your parents, you always tried it in the garden. You almost giggle when you think about it. Pain all over your body that slowly subsides, hope that returns through the words that pass through your mind...and a determination that is once again unsurpassed.
"O Fearsome snow golem." The words you thought were fantasy before suddenly feel...real.
But you had forgotten one thing that you now had to do differently. As you were always able to draw your magic circle on the floor before, you put your right arm to your mouth and bite off a fingertip. With the blood that is now slowly dripping down, you draw a circle on the floor and the hieroglyphs you have memorized on the floor.
"O Fearsome snow golem. "
It feels as if power is gathering in your body, your aching limbs relax and you concentrate on focusing all your magic on one point: Your right arm.
Before you say the next words, think about everything again:
Your real family that has never blamed you.
Powder and Vi, who were helpless in this explosion.
All the pain and injuries you created by throwing the bomb.
And the last hope in your life: The Wizards Corpse.
"Give me your strength! "
Not a second passes, not even a fraction of a moment, but so much happens at once that your mind takes longer than usual to understand everything. Your body absolutely can't keep up in terms of understanding, but three things seem to have changed about your situation:
Firstly, several blue magic circles suddenly appear in the air. It looks like a perfect description of space, but with an incredible amount of hieroglyphics and small zips that look like electricity.
Secondly, you were no longer buried under tons of rubble. The stones, as you noticed with an upward glance, fly around weightlessly in the air. Below you, the steel wire that had held them up before, now acting like a spider's web.
Thirdly, you were finally able to get out.
You don't waste a second, even if you would like to look at everything for hours. Standing up quickly, against your cramped legs, you run straight out and out of the storm.
Heavy steps, an even heavier conscience, and a freedom you could only have believed in minutes ago. You managed to stand on the brink of death and still live on. Not only that, you just used magic that no one had ever believed in.
There's a huge crash and you turn backwards; all the debris has fallen again, and the Azure Magic seems to have disappeared. A little bit of dust comes towards you, and you have to hold an arm in front of your face. You can almost see it in your mind's eye: You under all the rubble, hunched up and completely devastated.
I was buried in there until just now...
So there you were: now standing in front of the huge pile of debris that was threatening to absolutely crush you. Any one of these single large pieces of rubble could have hit you in a place that would have meant direct death for you, but you survived.
Just as you are about to ponder the whole situation, your mind threatening to break and your will confessing, you see something: out of all the rubble rolls your Enforcer Gadget. The Small Steel Sphere that has already saved you several times and always seems to find its way back to you.
You walk over, with slow and faint steps that all leave a stinging sensation in your lower body, bend down and pick up the gadget. Here it is, in the palm of your right hand with a strange sensation running through your whole arm. But as you turn your hand over, not wanting to look at the object any further, you notice something.
Rotatio
It was text again. It was carved like a scar on the back of your right hand, making you think. The other letters were gone, the new text was longer than before, and seemed to be trying to bridge a new message to you.
When did that happen?
These letters were never there before, I would have noticed them, wouldn't I? Or have they only been there since I've been holding my 'steel ball'?
But the word was closer to your language this time than before, and with a re-reading of the carved letters on your hand, you realized what it meant. Your mind goes through your vocabulary, even though your mind is still Hazy, it quickly finds the one word that might fit:
Rotation.
But why now? I know that the gadget rotates and thus extends the wires? What does the arm of the Corpse have to do with rotation or anything here?
Out of pure instinct, you look around and your eyes adjust to the new view. The Cannery was absolutely destroyed, piles of debris and wrecked machinery everywhere. It looked like the aftermath of a war that had ended in kamikaze action.
You look down at the letters in your hand again. They are still there, but something is wrong, why are they still there?
What is that feeling in my hand?
Your right hand feels like something is happening, but it wasn't familiar, it was something new.
And when you turn your hand over, voilà: Your 'steel ball' spins like crazy in your hand. You haven't even put any pressure on it, but the spinning doesn't stop, and you can already see the weak muscles of your hand being affected by the rotation.
WHAT?!
It was strange, even crazy. Not exerting any force, but there seemed to be a source of energy that fed the rotation and kept it going.
The arm of the Corpse.
It sounds logical, but you shouldn't think about that now, you first have to understand the whole situation here and move on. The destroyed Cannery, Vi and Powder, Vander and the fact that everyone probably thinks you're dead.
You'll have to get used to this at some point anyway, so why not do it now?
It was a smart thought, seriously. You don't have the energy or the head to solve any puzzles or make connections to your New Magic and the rotation in light of the Corpse anyway.
So you leave, with your Steel Ball in hand, a few of the Blue Crystals and your spell book and Jayce Talis' notebook in your coat pockets, and head off.
Slow, experimental steps in the hope of finding something, anything. The thick air outside the rubble floods your lungs and you have regained the feeling of being able to breathe without worry. Long, comfortable breaths physically, and mentally already recounting all the events of the day.
["But the flow of things will always lead to calamity."]
Tears flow from your eyes again. You can't stop thinking about all the sacrifices and consequences of your actions, and it crushes you worse than the rubble could ever have.
It's all your fault, as always. If you hadn't dropped the monkey bomb, it would never have exploded, Vander and the others would have escaped and Powder wouldn't be alone now. But you were determined to prove yourself for once, just like her. And what do you both get out of it now? Absolutely nothing except psychological problems.
You don't get far, after just a few minutes of wandering around the paths of the Cannery you find something. Your eyes don't recognize it on the ground at first, but you didn't have enough energy and your mind was somewhere else.
It's Vander's body.
He no longer looked normal: with dramatically increased muscle mass, several feet bigger in height, and purple veins that pop out all over his body.
You don't have time to risk another glance at him, in fear of collapsing completely if you did. But you fall to your knees and simply can't move.
Vander...
You can't stop the tears, neither the soft mumblings that come out of your mouth. Your eyes have already lost the light that slumbered in them before: curiosity died with the conscience that you are responsible for all of this.
The realization sets in again; people have died because of you. Everything here, all the destruction, the dead, the injured, the trauma that others now have and all because of you.
Why didn't I just die?
Thoughts like this fill your mind as you continue to look down at the seemingly lifeless Vander. It feels like you now have a certain choice, either to give everything you have for this moment or to just keep going somehow.
The tears stop for a moment and, by pure chance, you catch sight of the new letters on your right arm.
Serva eum
This changes the sad expression on your face. You become angry, Pure Rage is visible in your face and your posture, but you don't care.
Clenched teeth, slightly narrowed eyes and single drops of sweat flowing down. Your hands tense automatically, letting blood flow through your veins to somehow let out the Pure Frustration. You scream out of your Pure Selle what your Pure Frustration and Rage whispers to you.
"SERVA EUM?! I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS DAMN! DAMMIT! WHY?! WHYYYY!"
"It means 'save him ' ."
You immediately turn your head in an upward direction, where you catch sight of a man. A tall, lanky, and pale man, with a few bandages on his body and a purple scarf covering his chin and neck. At the same time, you notice that the right side of his face looks quite burnt.
Was he also hit by the explosion? Who is that?
"Are you one of those kids who...did all this?" He says, and you only see minimal movements of the cloth. But like his previous statement, it hits you and at the same time shows you that you have to be careful with this guy.
"No I..." Your voice sounds rough, still the voice of a child, but with an undertone that corresponds to many recent events. Maybe you've matured, or maybe you're just more traumatized than you were before. "Was just pulled along by the explosion"
"I see..."
You look away from his face, certain that he is still staring at you. You try to keep your expression as stoic as possible, but it's incredibly difficult in this situation.
"We can still save him."
You immediately open your eyes and stare at the man. When he sees how quickly you have changed your stoic expression, his look softens, and he raises a hand in a beckoning gesture.
"But I should warn you..." With that, your mind switches back on and you don't let your emotions guide you any further. "This path is... dangerous."
Dangerous? What does he mean?
"But from the looks of it..." With that, he looks around at what's left of this mess. "Doesn't seem to be any other way past it."
But then his eyes hit the huge pile of rubble that lay further away. Beneath it was a fine line of blood that was already beginning to dry and turn black. This line ran through a large part of the cannery and stopped... At the little boy sitting in front of him, you.
This boy really survived down here? Did he come out of the rubble up there? How? He must be damn clever. I could use someone like him. But I should be careful...
His gaze analyzes you, your posture, physique, injuries and then your eyes. But now he sees something that seems to have changed: ever since he mentioned that Vander was savable, the light in your eyes was missing.
This boy...is damn dangerous. His Fangs and Determination are Second to none, if I'm not careful his fangs may even reach me.
"Then I'll teach you..." He says after a few seconds, eyes still set on you, slowly sensing a slight nervousness in his voice. "And you'll be something like my apprentice..."
His apprentice? Who is this guy?
The moment was surreal, with Vander's big body in front of you and this man behind it. While your mind understands absolutely nothing, your body simply does what it wants and your conscience grows stronger again, you continue to listen to him.
"My name is Singed, and you are now...The Sorcerer's Apprentice"
On this day, you were born again, not as a human, but as a magician.
---
Notes:
That was...traumatizing. The only somewhat positive thing in this chapter was the ending, which I really picked extra for the progression of the story and series because Vi and Powder finally think Vander is dead. But a pact with Singed? Well, you don't really have a choice.
I have to admit that the scenes with the magic were so much fun to write, seriously, way too much. Since the Corpse Parts awaken magic in your body, you can now use it, the pairing with the rotation of your 'Steel Ball' makes you the character with the most potential in the whole story, by far.
The next update is coming for the genius story, where we'll finally get to Pure Panic, which I also like!
Thanks for reading, feel free to leave kudos and comments!
