Arcane: Sea of ​​blood

Abel glided through the tunnels of the underground, his movements almost silent, his glowing eyes flickering in the darkness, reflecting the dim light from the occasional chemical puddles. He was no longer the person he had once been. Adaptation, his primary weapon, drove him forward, forcing him to survive, change, and grow stronger. However, over time, the mines had ceased to be a challenge for him—they had become his natural habitat. Where he once had to fight for his life, he now simply existed. But this also meant that his adaptation had slowed. Without threat, there was no need to change. And this stagnation troubled him.

The crimson flowers that appeared at the sites of his kills had become markers, gradually outlining a map of the mines and tunnels. These plants reacted strangely to his presence, as if sensing him, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. Thanks to them, Abel had been able to create a mental map of the labyrinth that had once seemed endlessly chaotic. He knew where the toxic lakes were, where the mutated rats hid, and which tunnels led to the surface. But this map was more than just a collection of lines and points—it was a part of him, like the flowers themselves, like the darkness that now felt like home.

Despite the hellish conditions, the mines teemed with life. They were home to a variety of creatures he hadn't noticed at first, like chemical mushrooms. These weren't dangerous on their own, but upon contact, they released toxic spores into the air, capable of causing hallucinations, internal burns, or suffocation. There were other, larger creatures—poisonous rats whose skin had absorbed so much toxin that even their claws left deadly wounds. But the most terrifying were the ones no book could name—creatures altered by prolonged chemical mutation, like the giant rat.

In the less toxic parts of the catacombs lived people who had nowhere else to go. They had vanished from the world above to find refuge in this underground hell. But calling them "people" was difficult. Years spent in the toxic environment had left them as mere shadows of their former selves. Their skin was covered in sores, their eyes dull, and their movements slow and uncertain. They lived in small groups, surviving on whatever they could scavenge and trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Abel watched them from a distance, hesitant to approach. He saw how they shared their meager finds, how they cared for one another, but he also saw how easily they could turn into predators if they felt threatened.

Abel knew that each of these creatures was part of an ecosystem that had existed here for years. They were products of the toxic environment, just like him. But unlike them, he wasn't just a victim of circumstance. He was a hunter. And the mines had become his hunting grounds.

One of the most unexpected discoveries Abel made was the presence of smugglers. These people used the catacombs as a route to transport contraband between Zaun and Piltover. They wore special suits and masks to protect themselves from the toxic environment and moved quickly and confidently, as if they knew every corner of these tunnels.

Abel observed them from afar, studying their routes and habits. He saw them carrying crates of illegal substances and sometimes even exotic creatures they had captured in the catacombs or on the surface.

During one of his reconnaissance missions, he heard the sounds of a struggle. Two men in masks and protective suits, shielding themselves from the toxic fumes, were trying to fend off mutated insects. These creatures were the size of large dogs, with chitinous plates covered in spikes and mandibles capable of tearing flesh in seconds.

One of the smugglers screamed—his arm caught in the grip of an insect, blood pouring onto the dirty stone. The other tried to fight back, but stress made his efforts futile.

Abel watched from above, clinging to a ledge on the wall. His glowing eyes reflected the flickering light of a torch, creating an eerie sight. He felt his body tense, ready to pounce, his claws slightly extending in anticipation of the strike.

"If they die, I'll have no one to talk to. If they survive—I'll get answers," he decided.

Pushing off the wall, he dropped down, landing directly on the insect hovering in the air. With a sharp motion, he sliced through its neck plates with his claws. Using the momentum, he landed on the second mutant and broke its neck with a kick.

The last creature turned, but Abel, grabbing the severed head of one of his victims, hurled it at the insect. The skull struck its wing, disrupting its balance, and it crashed onto the rocks, where it became easy prey.

But in that moment, as the last enemy fell, a realization hit him. He felt no fear. Not for a second. It had been too easy. So much so that he felt no adrenaline, no thrill of victory. His instincts were honed, his reflexes perfected, but without challenge, he was beginning to lose himself. That meant he had to leave. He couldn't allow himself to be stuck here forever.

After the fight, Abel approached the smugglers, his glowing eyes studying them. They wore masks and special suits that protected them from the toxic environment. Their reaction to Abel was a mix of fear and confusion. However, seeing that the figure before them was just a child who barely reached their chests, they relaxed slightly but remained wary.

"What… who are you?" one of them exhaled.

A white, toxic mist escaped Abel's mouth as he took a step forward. He didn't need a suit, didn't need filters. He had become part of this world.

"I'm the one who just saved your lives," Abel replied, trying to make his voice low and raspy. "Now tell me, who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"We… we're part of a group working for a chem-baron," one of them spoke cautiously, never taking his eyes off the mutated youth. "We deliver cargo to the Upper City… through these tunnels."

"A chem-baron…" Abel whispered. "So, you have connections. You're lucky I decided to intervene. But now you owe me."

The smugglers nodded, understanding they had no choice. They knew Abel could kill them as easily as he had saved them.

Abel looked at them, and two voices fought in his head. Staying in the darkness was safe. Here, he was the predator. Up there, the rules were different, the dangers unfamiliar. Perhaps he would lose himself, perhaps he wouldn't be as strong.

But hadn't he already lost that? His adaptation had stalled, his challenges had vanished. If he stayed, he would simply rot here, like those rats. He had to go.

"Take me to the surface," he said, his voice quiet but full of threat. "And lead me to your chem-baron. I need to speak with him."

The smugglers exchanged glances. The wounded one tried to protest:

"It's… it's not that simple. We can't just bring someone to him. He doesn't like unexpected guests."

Abel stepped forward, his movements fluid and unnatural, like a predator's. White mist escaped his mouth, and his eyes glowed brighter.

"You can either do as I say, or stay here forever," he said, and there was no doubt in his voice.

The smugglers realized they had no choice. They nodded, and one of them said:

"Alright… we'll take you. But the path will be long. We can't go directly through the toxic zones. We'll have to take the safest route."

Abel snorted but agreed. He knew there was no rush, but now that he had made his decision, every extra hour in these catacombs irritated him.

The smugglers led Abel through the labyrinth of mines and tunnels. They chose the most winding and lengthy paths, avoiding toxic zones and dangerous areas. Abel followed them, his glowing eyes tracking their every move. He grumbled under his breath, annoyed by how slowly they were moving.

"Why can't we go straight?" he asked, his voice impatient. "You're wasting time."

One of the smugglers, the less injured one, turned:

"The direct path is too dangerous. The toxin levels are too high, and we wouldn't make it without risking our lives. We're taking the safest route."

Abel snorted but didn't argue. He understood they were right, but that didn't make the journey any less irritating. He walked behind them, his body moving with unnatural ease, but inside, he felt a growing frustration.

As they walked, Abel observed the smugglers. Their suits were specially designed to protect them from the toxic environment. Masks with filters, thick coveralls, gloves—it all made them look like aliens from another world. They moved confidently but cautiously, constantly checking their devices, which displayed the toxin levels in the air.

Abel, on the other hand, walked without protection. His body had already adapted to the poisons, and he felt no discomfort. His glowing eyes and the white mist escaping his mouth made him look like a creature from a nightmare. The smugglers glanced at him with a mix of fear and respect. They knew he wasn't an ordinary person, and that made him even more dangerous.

After several hours of walking, they finally reached the exit to the surface. The smugglers stopped at a large metal hatch leading to the Undercity. One of them opened it, and for the first time in a long while, Abel saw light. It was dim, but after the darkness of the catacombs, it seemed blinding.

"We're almost there," one of the smugglers said. "The chem-baron isn't far from here. We'll take you to him."

Abel nodded, his eyes narrowing. He knew this was just the beginning. Meeting the chem-baron would be his chance to gain the resources and information he needed. But he also understood it would be dangerous. Chem-barons weren't the kind of people you could easily negotiate with.