Arcane: I have Plasmids F*** YEAAAAAAH!!!

Lukas arrived late.

Which—yeah, fine, it happened. He had overslept a little at the Last Drop.

Not his fault Powder was a goddamn furnace when she latched onto him like a leech in her sleep. Seriously. That kid radiated heat.

By the time he reached Fontaine Futuristics, the sun had fully risen, casting harsh beams of light through the factory's rusted windows.

But something felt… off.

The place was quiet.

Too quiet.

---

Lukas frowned, stepping through the doors.

Where the hell was everyone?

His usual workers, the kids, even the occasional loiterers looking for scraps—gone.

His boots echoed against the factory floor.

The air was stale.

Empty.

Maybe the enforcers spooked them. Maybe they figured staying home was safer.

Lukas exhaled through his nose.

Couldn't blame them.

Not after what happened.

Still… something didn't sit right.

He pushed the thought aside for now.

First thing's first—

His office.

---

Lukas opened the door, stepping inside.

The familiar sight greeted him.

His desk, cluttered with blueprints and half-sketched ideas.

The old, worn sofa in the corner.

The faint hum of static from his failed radio prototype.

He sat down heavily in his chair, fingers drumming against the wood.

Last night was still lingering in his mind.

Vander.

The look in his eyes.

Not just exhaustion.

Hope.

For the first time in years, Vander had looked like he still believed in something.

Lukas leaned back, exhaling slowly.

Zaun wouldn't bow.

Not again.

But that didn't mean war was the answer.

If it came to it, though…

He'd protect them.

No matter what.

---

His fingers twitched.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small key.

The drawer in his desk unlocked with a faint click.

Inside—

The Hextech Gems.

Glowing softly in the dim light.

Humming with untapped power.

Lukas stared.

No.

This was a fool's errand.

He didn't need Piltover's scraps.

He already had the tools to fight.

Fuck Piltover.

---

[SYSTEM MENU.]

Lukas's vision blurred as the blue interface filled his sight.

[AVAILABLE POINTS: 1200]

Not enough.

Not nearly enough.

He needed defenses.

His fingers scrolled.

[BLUEPRINTS AVAILABLE:]

[- Automated Turrets – 3500 Points]

[- Security Drones – 5000 Points]

[- Surveillance Systems – 1800 Points]

Lukas clenched his jaw.

The numbers mocked him.

The system hadn't given him any more missions or rewards since that day.

The realization sat heavy in his chest.

Did it want him to kill more people?

Did it want genocide?

The thought made his stomach churn.

Every person he killed would give him another 500 points.

And it looks like he doesn't have enough time left to take over a Baron's territory to Please the system.

Fuck.

"What should I do?"

---

And then—

A smell.

Faint.

Rotten.

Like sulfur. Like decayed eggs left out in the sun.

Lukas wrinkled his nose.

"What the fuck?"

"Did someone take a shit in my Office?"

Holy shit.

This smells bad.

He pushed back from his desk, moving toward the window for fresh air.

And then—

Pain.

A sharp, sudden migraine, stabbing straight through his skull.

His vision blurred.

His balance wavered.

His nose started bleeding.

And then—

His stomach twisted violently.

He vomited.

A thick, green gas curled through the room, seeping from the corners, swirling at his feet.

His breaths came in sharp, choked gasps.

His head throbbed.

His thoughts wouldn't focus.

Poison.

What—

What was happening?

The door creaked open.

And through the haze—

He stepped in.

Silco.

Wearing a gas mask.

Along with four of his men.

The realization was slow. Delayed.

Like his brain was working through molasses.

But then it clicked.

"He's here to kill me."

Lukas tried to step forward.

His knees buckled.

Silco sighed.

His voice was muffled through the filter of the mask.

"Don't fight it, child."

He stepped forward, slow.

Measured.

"The weakness creeping in. The way your thoughts slip between your fingers. How your body is failing you—"

"—Like it was never yours to control in the first place."

Lukas growled.

Silco gestured vaguely toward the gas.

"It's fascinating, really."

He tilted his head slightly, watching Lukas struggle to stay on his feet.

"This toxin was designed decades ago. A relic of Piltover's paranoia."

He took another step closer.

"Created to neutralize magical threats."

A pause.

"Because a mage cannot cast—"

He tapped his temple.

"—If they cannot focus."

---

---

---

---Flashback---

The doctor explained it well enough.

"The mage cannot focus if his body is in distress."

"If his nerves are flooded with pain, if his mind is too overwhelmed—he cannot cast magic."

"This will make certain of that."

A gas designed to neutralize Zaun's biggest outlier.

A variable that could not be controlled.

The boy who could change everything.

---

---

---

---end of flashback---

Lukas's breath hitched.

His hands shook.

Silco crouched slightly, watching him.

"You made the wrong choice, Lukas."

His voice was softer now.

Regretful.

"You could've stood with me. Helped build something greater."

A slow exhale.

"But instead, you forced my hand."

Lukas gritted his teeth.

And through the haze—

Through the poison clawing at his mind—

He did the one thing Silco wasn't expecting.

He smiled.

Silco's eye narrowed.

Lukas inhaled shakily.

Then—

"Thank God I'm not a mage."

And with a flick of his wrist—

BZZT.

A violent arc of electricity erupted from his palm.

It struck two of Silco's men.

The impact was instant.

Their bodies seized up.

Muscles locked.

And then—

They were thrown through the wall.

A sickening crash followed.

Silco's entire body went rigid.

His single eye widened.

Impossible.

He shouldn't have been able to—

Lukas staggered.

His vision doubled.

His head pounded.

But he still grinned.

"SCIENCE, BITCH."

---

The remaining goons barely had time to react.

Lukas flicked his fingers—

Telekinesis.

The force hit them like a train.

Their bodies were yanked off their feet.

And before they could even scream—

CRASH.

They were launched through the goddamn window.

Glass shattered.

The sound echoed through the empty factory.

And then—

Silence.

Except for the faint, ragged breathing from Lukas.

His limbs were heavy.

His vision was swimming.

But he wasn't done.

Not yet.

He turned—

And grabbed Silco by the throat.

Lifted him.

Forced him against the desk.

Lukas's voice was low.

Raspy.

Dangerous.

"I should've never let you leave this Place alive."

Silco's fingers clawed at Lukas's grip.

Panic flickered in his eye.

Lukas tightened his hold.

This was it.

He just had to—

Something shifted.

Silco's panic faded.

And Lukas realized too late—

That he wasn't the one in control anymore.

The window behind them shattered.

And something huge barreled into the room.

Shimmered. Twisted. Wrong.

Lukas barely had time to react before—

A fist slammed into his chest.

And everything went black.

---

Lukas hit the ground hard.

The world spun.

His skull cracked against the cold factory floor, sending white-hot pain shooting through his head.

His ears rang.

His limbs were numb.

He tried to push himself up—tried to breathe—

A massive boot slammed down on his chest.

Lukas gasped.

The pressure crushed the air from his lungs.

Ribs screamed in protest.

And standing over him—

A monster.

Deckard's body wasn't human anymore.

Twisted muscles bulged under sickly purple veins.

His jaw stretched too wide, teeth bared in a grotesque snarl.

His breath reeked of Shimmer.

Lukas barely managed a grin.

"Still mad about the alleyway, huh?"

Deckard growled.

And then—

He swung

Lukas rolled just in time.

Deckard's fist slammed into the ground where his head had been a second ago.

The sheer force cracked the floor.

Dust exploded into the air.

Lukas's mind raced.

I can't fight this head-on.

His body was already failing.

The gas was still in his system.

Every muscle felt like lead.

I need distance.

Lukas staggered back.

Deckard lunged.

Lukas dodged—barely.

But barely wasn't enough.

A second punch caught him mid-movement.

Lukas hit the ground.

Hard.

The world tilted.

He tasted blood.

Shit.

Deckard loomed over him.

His shoulders heaved with every breath, his movements erratic.

Like he was still adjusting to his own monstrous strength.

Lukas gritted his teeth.

His hands curled into fists.

He needed an opening.

Any opening.

Silco stepped forward, his voice calm.

"Give up, Lukas."

His lone eye glowed in the dim light.

"You lost the moment you chose to stand against me."

Lukas wiped blood from his mouth.

He forced himself to his feet.

His entire body protested.

His limbs screamed.

But still—

He smirked.

"Then I guess I'll just have to win on my feet."

Deckard roared and charged.

Lukas's instincts screamed.

His EVE bar was draining by the second.

His veins burned.

His vision blurred.

BZZZZZT.

Lightning erupted.

The crackling arc of Electro-Bolt struck Deckard straight in the chest.

The monster stumbled.

His muscles seized.

For just a second.

But that second was all Lukas needed.

---

Lukas ran.

Not away.

Up.

His boots slammed against the factory floor as he sprinted toward the scaffolding.

Deckard snarled, shaking off the paralysis.

Too slow.

Lukas jumped.

His hands grabbed onto a steel beam, swinging himself up.

Deckard followed.

Climbing after him.

Lukas's lungs burned.

His arms ached.

He reached the top platform.

Deckard hauled himself up after him.

Lukas turned—

And then—

He grinned.

"Hey, dumbass."

Deckard snarled.

Lukas jumped backward—off the platform.

And Deckard lunged after him.

Exactly what Lukas wanted.

Because as he fell—

Lukas reached out.

And pulled.

The wrench hanging from the ceiling jerked.

Its thick metal chain swung—fast.

Deckard didn't have time to react.

The full weight of industrial steel collided with his head.

The impact was brutal.

Deckard's body flipped mid-air.

His monstrous frame crashed through the floor.

Wood splintered.

Metal screamed.

And then—

Silence.

---

Lukas hit the ground.

Hard.

Everything hurt.

Everything fucking hurt.

His vision swam.

His ears rang.

But—

He was alive.

He coughed, rolling onto his side.

Deckard was motionless beneath the debris.

A slow exhale.

Then—

Boots.

Silco's boots.

Lukas barely had time to lift his head before—

"You should've chosen differently, Lukas."

And then—

Pain.

A blunt impact against his skull.

His vision went dark.

His body went still.

And the last thing he heard—

Was Silco's sigh.

"One day… you'll understand."