Arcane: Sea of ​​blood

After the massacre on the Bridge of Progress, Piltover changed. The city, which had always seemed so radiant and invulnerable, was now shrouded in gloom. The losses were enormous—not only among the Zaunites but also among the Enforcers. The Council and the influential families, who had always considered themselves unshakable, were stunned. They hadn't expected that "simple workers" from Zaun could inflict such damage.

I saw how the city began to change. More Enforcers appeared on the streets, their faces tense and their eyes filled with suspicion. Propaganda against the Zaunites became ubiquitous. Posters depicting them as traitors and a threat to society hung on every corner. The remaining affluent Zaunites were deported back to Zaun or sent to the Silent Experiment prison.

I don't think this will last long. In the original timeline, the conflict didn't escalate beyond the bridge. Seeing all these sacrifices, the death of those dear to him, one of the resistance leaders, Vander, decided to retreat. Moreover, the Council's priority wasn't to wage war or protect the population but to restore control and clean up their reputation.

One of their tasks was also to calm the population. After all, the city, which had always seemed so strong, now trembled with fear and anger toward those it had driven into a corner.

But despite the heavy atmosphere, the children in the orphanage remained as innocent as ever. They continued to play, laugh, and dream as if nothing had happened. For them, the world was still a place full of wonders and possibilities.

One day, I watched a group of children playing in the yard. They were building castles out of sticks, pretending to be kings and queens. Lina, as always, was at the center of it all. She laughed, running around the yard, and her joy was so genuine that even I, for a moment, forgot about everything happening around me, about my plans.

— Abel, come join us! — she shouted, waving at me.

I didn't respond, but I smiled. There was no fear or hatred in her eyes. She was pure, even after everything she had seen. Sometimes I couldn't even tell if she was too naive or just overly optimistic.

Eric, as usual, sat in the corner, sketching a new flower he would create in the future. He didn't join the games, but his eyes lit up when he looked at the other children. He knew his art would bring them joy, and that was enough for him.

Even amidst this innocence, I felt tension. The caretakers had become stricter, and the Enforcers patrolled the streets more frequently than before.

I couldn't help but think of Laura. She always said the world was cruel, but I hadn't understood just how cruel. Now I saw it with my own eyes. People who had considered themselves superior were now afraid of those they had oppressed. It was almost ironic.

Six months had passed since the massacre, and much had changed in that time. The orphanage had a new matron. The new woman, named Mrs. Grace, was old and worn down by life. Her face was covered in wrinkles, and her eyes, which had probably once been full of life, now seemed empty and tired. She rarely smiled, and when she spoke, her voice trembled as if she were afraid of her own words.

Mrs. Grace wasn't cruel, but there was no kindness in her either. She performed her duties mechanically, as if her soul had long since left her body. The children were afraid of her because she rarely showed any interest in them. Her arrival at the orphanage was yet another reminder that the world around us was growing colder and more indifferent.

But the biggest change was with my friends. Eric was adopted by the Kiramman family. They were known for their workshops and had apparently seen potential in him. When Eric left, he looked happy, but there was sadness in his eyes.

— Will you take care of Lina? — he asked me as he packed his things.

I nodded, but he, as usual, decided to remain silent, saying nothing. We both knew this was the end of our little family.

Lina was taken in by an Enforcer family. She didn't want to leave, but I knew she couldn't stay here.

— You have to go, — I told her as she cried in my arms. — This isn't the place for you.

— But I don't want to leave you, — she whispered, looking at me with her big eyes.

— You're not leaving me, — I replied, trying to sound confident. — You're just moving forward. And I'll move forward too.

When they left, I felt emptiness. Lina and Eric were the ones who had helped me let go of the anger and pain I had felt when I first came to the orphanage. They were gone, and now I was alone. I needed to prepare for the future.

Mrs. Grace didn't seem to notice my loneliness. She continued to perform her duties, paying no attention to what was happening around her. Her indifference was almost frightening.

But I knew I had to keep moving forward. The world wouldn't stop because of my losses. And I couldn't afford to stop either.

After Lina and Eric left, I was alone. The orphanage, which had once seemed like a place where I could find some solace, now felt empty. The other children tried to talk to me, but I distanced myself from everyone. Their innocent games and laughter no longer touched me. I felt completely detached from the atmosphere they created around themselves.

Mrs. Grace, the new matron, didn't even seem to notice my detachment. She performed her duties mechanically, as if her soul had long since left her body. Her indifference was almost frightening. But maybe that was for the best. She didn't ask unnecessary questions, and I could focus on my training.

I began training even more intensely. Every morning, I ran around the yard while the other children were still asleep. Then I did endurance exercises: push-ups, squats, pull-ups. My adaptability allowed me to recover faster than others, and I used that advantage to the fullest.

But even that wasn't enough. I knew I needed more. My ability, "Blood is Worth More Than Life," was powerful, but I couldn't use it. There was no one in the orphanage with an extra couple of liters of blood to spare, and as I had learned from local shopkeepers, livestock wasn't raised in the city. Meat was imported from other regions, and I couldn't just go out and kill someone.

I started looking for another plan. I knew that in the future, I would need to contact Viktor, a student of Professor Heimerdinger. But that wasn't easy, especially now. I wasn't even sure I could find him outside the Academy, let alone get him interested in me. But his research on Hextech combined with Shimmer could give me what I needed, so establishing contact with him was now my priority.

If I couldn't get close to Viktor, there was always Singed. But again, who knew what was going on in that mad scientist's head? I'd have to be careful with him. It was amusing that even with that lunatic, I'd have an easier time getting along than with Jayce.

Singed was obsessed with the idea of evolution, and I knew my adaptability could interest him. We could help each other. But how to find him?

After organizing my thoughts, I began exploring the city, searching for information. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I had no other choice.

My first solo outing into the city was spontaneous. Overhearing that some of the orphanage staff would be busy celebrating Mrs. Grace's birthday, I decided to leave without hesitation.

When everyone was gone, I waited another ten minutes to be safe, and after making sure no one was coming back, I slipped out of the orphanage and headed toward the market. The city was almost empty, and the setting sun reflected off the metalwork on the buildings, highlighting the city's rich architectural heritage. Only occasionally did I encounter Enforcer patrols or people returning home.

I wandered the streets, observing the people. They seemed so ordinary, so... carefree. As if the massacre on the Bridge of Progress had never happened.

But the more I walked, the more I became convinced that this was just a facade. Beneath the surface, there was a subtle fear lingering from recent events, especially among those living closest to the bridge. They were still boarding up their windows, afraid that thieves from the other side of the bridge might break in. Every evening, they asked the guards about the situation, fearing that the events would repeat and the defense would collapse.

After my first outing, my frequent absences from the orphanage no longer raised questions, becoming almost routine. There were those who complained about me to the matron, but they were met with only two indifferent gazes—mine and Mrs. Grace's.

Over time, as I memorized the city's streets and grew accustomed to its atmosphere, my outings became more purposeful. I started by walking around the Academy. I observed the students, listened to their conversations to find out if Viktor was currently at the Academy and what students usually crafted to get in.

One day, I approached a group of students and asked them what it took to get into the Academy. They looked at me in surprise, but one of them, a guy with glasses, answered:

— You need to be a genius or have connections. Do you have either?

I shook my head.

— Then forget it, — he said, turning his back.

After asking a few more people, the answers were roughly the same. — City of Progress, my ass, — I cursed under my breath. I realized my plan would be much harder to execute than I had initially thought. So I decided to ask around if any other families of craftsmen were taking on apprentices.

After visiting several workshops, the answer was always the same:

— We only take Academy students.

It was disappointing, but I didn't give up. I started collecting scraps from the city streets: gears, coils, metal parts. I knew I needed to create something, something that would showcase my abilities.

I decided to make a bicycle. It was the simplest thing I could think of. Fortunately, there were many workshops in the city, and sometimes I could find simple parts in the trash bins around them.

I began collecting everything I could find. Every day, I returned to the orphanage with new parts. I hid them under my bed, proudly watching the pile of junk I imagined as gold grow. After all, this pile could be my ticket to the future.

Mrs. Grace, the new matron, had always seemed strange to me. Her eyes were empty, and her movements were mechanical, as if she were performing her duties on autopilot. I had never seen her smile or show even a hint of emotion. But on the day she called me to her office, I realized that behind her lifeless demeanor, there was something more.

One of the older children had told her that I was the child of a woman from Zaun who had been imprisoned. This was the last straw for Mrs. Grace. Her husband had died on the Bridge of Progress during the massacre, and since then, she had lived in constant pain and bitterness. Upon learning of my origins, she decided to transfer me to an orphanage in Zaun. An orphanage? In Zaun? Are you even listening to yourself, woman?

As I stood there lost in thought, an Enforcer arrived—the same guard who had brought me here years ago. When he entered the room, his eyes were full of mockery. Mrs. Grace approached him, handed him a handful of coins, and whispered:

— Get rid of him. You know what to do.

Thanks to my adaptability and heightened hearing, I heard every word. My thoughts were filled with sarcasm. Why now? Why was this cycle of pain returning to me? Why did I have to suffer because of others' actions?

The guard crouched down, patted me on the shoulder with what he probably thought was a kind smile, and said, — Don't worry, kid. We're going to a better place now. — After these words, without even bothering to handcuff me, he simply led me through the city. As we walked through narrow alleys, familiar to me, I felt his gaze drilling into me. He didn't say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes.

— Kid, do you want to see your mother? — he finally said when I suddenly stopped in one of the alleys he was leading me through.

I didn't answer. My thoughts were occupied with something else. I needed to act quickly.

As we stood there, I exhaled sharply, turned to the guard, and with a smile under his confused gaze, I struck the nearest pipe carrying hot water. Knocking the valve loose, I released a powerful burst of steam that instantly filled the alley.

The guard coughed, blinded by the steam. Seizing the moment, I jumped into the sewer he had conveniently opened earlier, apparently planning to dump my body there.

But before I could disappear, a shot rang out, accompanied by pain in my side. Darkness engulfed me. I didn't know what awaited me below, but I knew it was better than death.

Darkness engulfed me. I didn't know what awaited me below, but I knew it was better than death.