(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)
The aftermath was worse than the fight.
Not because of noise.
Because of the silence after it.
When Adriel finally returned to the sealed office entrance, Vi, Jinx, and Isha were already pressed close to the small opening he had left behind. All three of them had heard the fight. The screams. The impacts. The stone breaking. The voice of the other man. The way Adriel's breathing had changed by the end.
They hadn't seen most of it.
That almost made it worse.
Adriel stood on the other side of the makeshift wall, shoulders tense, his black suit still shifting over him like it was alive and unhappy. One hand lifted toward the blockage of stone, metal, and debris.
"Fucking domes," he muttered under his breath.
His fingers curled.
The gesture looked small. Almost lazy.
But the pressure around the cave changed.
It felt like something invisible cracked between his fingers.
The sealed wall tore itself apart.
Metal bent backward. Stone crumbled. The debris folded inward and peeled away from the entrance piece by piece, clearing the path until the office stood open again.
Vi was the first one to step forward.
Then she stopped.
Jinx froze beside her.
Isha tried to peek around Jinx's hip, but Jinx immediately covered the little girl's eyes with one hand.
"Don't," Jinx said quickly, voice tight. "Don't look."
The smell hit them next.
Gore.
Not just blood. Blood they knew. Blood was almost normal in Zaun.
This was worse.
The air was thick with torn flesh, burnt meat, exposed organs, wet stone, and smoke. It crawled into the back of the throat and stayed there. The glowing mushrooms along the walls pulsed dimly beneath streaks of red, making the entire tunnel look like the inside of something dead.
Vi's stomach twisted.
Jinx went very still.
Both of them had seen horrible things. Done horrible things. Lived through the kind of violence that left marks no mirror could show.
But this?
This was different.
Because Adriel stood in the middle of it like he had done this before.
Not proudly. Not happily.
But familiarly.
His suit moved across him in slow, liquid motions, sealing cuts and closing wounds. A slash across his side disappeared under the symbiote's red surface. A deep bruise on his jaw faded beneath shifting armor. Blood that wasn't his slid off him and vanished into the suit like it had been absorbed.
He looked tired.
Not victorious.
Just tired.
Jinx swallowed. "Adriel..."
He didn't answer right away.
His eyes were somewhere else.
Farther than the tunnel. Farther than Piltover.
The words Daredevil had said still sat inside his skull.
How did I become this?
Adriel's jaw tightened.
There were enemies he could kill without blinking. Monsters who wore their cruelty like jewelry. Darks who laughed as they tore stories apart.
But heroes?
Heroes twisted into something they never should have been?
That left a stain.
He wished he could be colder about it. Wished he could just shrug, say it was part of the job, move on like nothing in him had cracked a little deeper.
But he couldn't.
Not when it was someone he admired.
Not when it was a hero dragged through the mud and forced to wear his own corruption like armor.
Vi and Jinx heard enough of that conversation to know better than to ask.
Not now.
Not with his eyes looking like that.
Then the cave answered with a roar.
It came from deeper in the tunnel.
Low. Animal. Violent.
The sound crawled through the stone and made Isha flinch behind Jinx's hand.
Vi spun instantly, gauntlets coming up now that their power had returned. The Hextech cores hummed back to life, blue light flickering across the metal.
Jinx grabbed her arm.
"Don't," she snapped.
Vi's eyes were wide, wild. "That thing is coming right at us."
"I said don't!"
Another roar shook the tunnel.
Heavy footsteps followed.
Not human.
Something massive was charging through the dark, dragging claws over stone, breath ragged and furious. The smell of blood had drawn him in. Or triggered him. Or both.
Adriel looked toward the sound.
Warwick.
That was the name his knowledge supplied.
But that wasn't what mattered.
To Vi and Jinx, this was Vander.
And Adriel was too tired to be careless with that.
The beast burst into view.
Huge. Twisted. Muscled like a nightmare stitched together by science and suffering. Metal and flesh. Claws. Teeth. Eyes burning with feral recognition buried under rage. Blood smeared across his maw before he had even reached them.
Vi took half a step forward, gauntlet pulled back for a strike that would've turned into one ugly, desperate Superman punch.
Jinx shoved herself in front of her.
"Vi, no!"
"He's gonna kill us!"
"That's Vander!"
The beast charged.
Adriel didn't move.
His mind was still half stuck on the fight. On Daredevil. On the question. On the way the Darks kept turning people into weapons and leaving the Guardians to clean the blood off the floor afterward.
"Adriel!" Jinx screamed.
That snapped him back.
His head lifted.
The beast was almost on them.
Adriel raised one hand.
Reality stuttered.
Lines of light unfolded beside him—holographic, sharp, and incomprehensible to everyone except him. A translucent interface snapped open in the air like a page of raw existence being forced to render itself.
Text. Variables. Layers of character data. Biological state. Behavioral aggression. Active neural override.
A character sheet formed and distorted beside Warwick's charging body.
Adriel's eyes flicked through it at impossible speed.
"Sorry, Vander," he muttered. "Nap time."
His fingers moved once.
A single line highlighted.
Then he rewrote it.
// Guardian Override: Temporary Neurological Shutdown// Target: Vander / Warwick// Intent: Non-lethal forced sleep stateCharacterEntity target = World.ScanNearest
The code flashed.
The beast's eyes widened mid-sprint.
His body simply turned off.
One second, Vander was barreling toward them like a living engine of claws and rage.
The next, his limbs lost command.
He crashed face-first into the gore-slick stone with a heavy, wet impact, sliding a few feet through blood before stopping right in front of them.
Silence.
Vi stared.
Jinx stared.
Even Isha, peeking between Jinx's fingers now, stared.
Adriel lowered his hand.
The holographic code collapsed into sparks and vanished.
For a full second, no one spoke.
Then both sisters exploded.
"What the fuck was that?!" Vi shouted.
Jinx pointed at the unconscious beast on the floor. "Did you just—did you just turn him off?"
Adriel stepped over a severed arm and crouched beside Vander, checking him with a quick glance. "He's asleep."
"Yeah, we saw that!" Vi snapped. "How?"
"Carefully."
Jinx threw her hands up. "That is not an answer!"
"It is technically an answer."
"Adriel!"
He ignored her, checking Vander's breathing. Stable. Heartbeat elevated, but not dangerously. No immediate neural collapse. Good.
Vi looked between him and the beast, her face caught between horror, confusion, and the deeply unfair realization that Adriel had solved in one hand motion what she had been ready to punch with both fists.
"You just waved your hand," Vi said, voice lower now. "And he dropped."
Adriel stood. "Yeah."
Jinx stared at him, still processing. "Can you do that to anyone?"
Adriel looked at her.
Jinx blinked.
"Okay. Stupid question. Don't answer that."
"I wasn't going to."
Vi's eyes narrowed. "You're seriously not going to explain?"
"Nope."
"Adriel—"
"I want out of this cave," he said, and for once there was no humor in his voice. "It smells like a butcher shop lost a war."
Jinx opened her mouth.
Adriel pointed at her without looking. "And before you ask another question, yes, he's alive. Yes, he'll wake up. No, I didn't hurt him. No, I'm not explaining the hand-wave thing until we are somewhere that doesn't have organs on the floor."
Jinx slowly closed her mouth.
Then, after a second, she muttered, "Bossy."
"Alive," Adriel corrected.
Vi looked down at Vander.
At the beast.
At the man who used to be their father.
Her fists tightened inside the gauntlets.
She didn't know what to feel. Relief was there. Fear too. Anger, because anger always found a seat at the table even when no one invited it.
Adriel moved before either sister could argue about what to do next.
He grabbed Vander carefully—far more carefully than his mood suggested—and hoisted the massive body over his shoulder like he was carrying a scolded child who had fallen asleep after throwing a tantrum.
The sight was so absurd that Jinx nearly short-circuited.
"You're just... carrying him?"
Adriel started walking. "Yes."
"He's huge."
"I noticed."
"You're carrying Vander like a sack of potatoes."
"A very angry sack of potatoes."
Jinx followed immediately, still not done interrogating him. "So the glowing letters were a thing you do?"
"Yes."
"And you can just make people nap?"
"Sometimes."
"Can you make Vi nap?"
Vi's head snapped toward her. "Excuse me?"
Adriel didn't even turn around. "Don't tempt me."
Jinx grinned despite everything.
Isha looked between them, then shrugged like this was now simply the world she lived in, and hurried after Jinx.
Vi stayed behind for a moment.
Her gaze drifted back to the battlefield.
The corpses. The gore. The broken red armor of the man Adriel had killed. The silence he left behind.
Daredevil's words echoed faintly in her mind, not because she understood them, but because the tone had been impossible to ignore.
He had said things about Adriel.
Concerning things.
And Adriel had told her what he'd been doing before returning to Piltover, sure. But now Vi understood that what he gave her was the smallest version. A clean version. A version with the sharpest edges sanded down so she wouldn't cut herself on it.
There was more.
A lot more.
The real question was whether Adriel would ever actually say it out loud.
Vi looked ahead.
Adriel was already walking, Vander over his shoulder, Jinx orbiting him with nonstop questions, Isha trailing close beside them.
No.
He probably wouldn't say it.
Not unless something forced him to.
He was too busy worrying about Anansi.
Too busy saving everything.
Too busy pretending that if he kept moving, he wouldn't have to process what was rotting inside his own head.
Vi clenched her jaw, then followed.
Because whatever else Adriel was hiding, Vander was breathing.
And right now, that had to be enough.
About an hour passed before either sister had anything that even resembled a plan.
The time had not been quiet.
Vi and Jinx went back and forth beside Vander's unconscious body, both trying to process the same impossible truth from different directions. Vi still couldn't fully accept it. Every time her eyes landed on the beast lying in front of them, her face tightened with doubt, grief, and disbelief tangled so tightly together it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
That thing was Vander?
Their Vander?
The man who raised them, protected them, scolded them, carried them through hell with those tired eyes and heavy hands?
It felt wrong. Insane, even. Like someone had taken the memory of their father and wrapped it in claws, metal, rage, and pain.
Jinx, on the other hand, clung to the truth with both hands because she had already chosen to believe it. She had seen enough. Heard enough. Felt enough. To her, doubt was just another delay, and delays meant Vander kept suffering.
That difference sparked another argument.
Not as explosive as the one in the tunnel, but sharp enough that Adriel's patience thinned almost immediately.
He cut through Vi's doubts faster than either sister expected.
Not with anger this time. Not with a lecture. Just certainty.
Adriel knew.
He didn't need his hacking ability to confirm it. He didn't need to pull up glowing code or force reality to give him an answer. Even without that, he had enough tools to understand what was in front of him. Matter manipulation. Molecular manipulation. The ability to sense what something was beneath the shape it had been forced into.
Vander's body had changed.
But the truth of him was still there.
Buried. Twisted. Mutated. Drowned beneath experiments and rage and pain.
But there.
Of course, Adriel refused to explain the full extent of what he could actually do. Vi and Jinx kept pushing for details in their own ways—Vi through suspicion, Jinx through frantic curiosity—but he dodged the core of it every time.
They already knew he was powerful.
They didn't need to know he could play god if he wanted to.
That kind of knowledge did things to people. It warped how they looked at him. Turned gratitude into worship. Turned trust into dependency.
He'd had enough of that in Ixtal.
Being treated like a god was uncomfortable enough there. He didn't need Piltover or Zaun joining the list.
So he kept his answers limited, careful, and annoyingly vague.
And when it became clear Adriel wasn't going to magically hand them the perfect solution, Jinx started thinking.
Vi was too emotionally tangled to be useful. Adriel was intentionally refusing to solve everything with one snap of his fingers. Isha stayed close, watching the adults with quiet, wary attention.
So Jinx paced.
She muttered to herself. Pulled at strands of her hair. Stared at Vander. Looked away. Looked back. Followed threads only she could see until one finally tightened.
The Herald.
That was the name she remembered hearing.
The man people were whispering about in Zaun. The one tied to some kind of sanctuary. A place people called a utopia, though that word always sounded suspicious coming from desperate mouths.
Adriel knew instantly who she meant.
Viktor.
Around this point in the story, Viktor was being treated like the second coming of Christ. People from Zaun were already moving toward him, toward the strange refuge he had created in one of the worst pits the Undercity had to offer.
A place that used to be a shithole before Viktor decided to do a little remodeling with powers he barely understood.
Adriel didn't like it.
Not because the idea was useless. It wasn't. In fact, following Jinx's lead was exactly where the current flow of events seemed to want them to go.
That was the problem.
Knowing what was supposed to happen messed with his head. It always did. There was comfort in following the original path because it gave him structure. Predictability. A framework. If he stayed close enough to the intended sequence, he could see where things were going and prepare for whatever deviation Anansi tried to force into it.
But the moment Adriel changed too much, the path became blind.
His knowledge was useful because the road already existed.
If he tore that road apart and started making a new one on the spot, then even he could lose sight of what came next.
That was what frustrated him most.
He could fix Vander right now.
He knew he could.
With enough focus, enough precision, enough careful manipulation of what Vander had become, Adriel could reach into the beast's body and start correcting the damage piece by piece. He could force flesh, metal, chemistry, and corrupted biology to obey him.
But doing that here, now, would bend the chain of events too violently.
And if the story twisted too far out of shape before Anansi revealed himself, Adriel might lose the only advantage he still had.
So he hesitated.
Then followed.
Jinx took the lead, determined to find the Herald and his so-called utopia. Vi followed with Vander's condition weighing heavily on her face, still doubting, still afraid to hope. Isha stayed near Jinx, glancing back every so often at the massive unconscious beast Adriel carried as if checking whether Vander was still breathing.
And Adriel walked with them, Vander slung over his shoulder, expression unreadable.
A soft scoff left him somewhere along the way.
People who believed themselves messiahs always had a way of becoming calamities.
Viktor was dangerous because he thought he was saving people.
Anansi was worse because he knew exactly what he was doing.
And Adriel was certain of one thing.
Eventually, the spider would show himself.
For what reason, Adriel didn't know yet.
But if following the intended path brought him closer to that moment, then he would walk it.
For now.
Until the first true deviation appeared.
And when it did, he would be ready.
A little more time passed before they reached the lowest levels of Zaun.
The descent felt endless at first—stairs, rusted walkways, narrow passages carved through old metal and stone, the air growing heavier the deeper they went. The city above had tension. Zaun had weight. A pressure that sat in the lungs and reminded everyone there that breathing had always been a privilege down here.
By the time they reached the lower paths, they weren't alone anymore.
A crowd had formed.
Sick people. Tired people. Families holding each other upright. Children wrapped in patched cloth. Old workers with hollow cheeks and trembling hands. Some limped. Some coughed into rags. Some carried the too-still bodies of loved ones who were still alive, but barely.
All of them were heading in the same direction.
Viktor's commune.
The so-called paradise at the bottom of Zaun.
Vander had woken up along the way.
That, naturally, had almost turned into a whole disaster.
The beast stirred under the heavy cloak Adriel had thrown over him—less a cloak and more a blanket at this point, considering the size of him. Vi tensed immediately. Jinx nearly panicked. Isha hid behind Jinx's leg, wide-eyed and silent.
But Adriel acted before fear could turn into violence.
He adjusted one thing.
One small thing.
Vander's scent responses were dampened—enough to keep the beast from being overwhelmed by the world around him. Warwick, as a body, was still animalistic. Still reactive. Still dangerous. But with that flood of instinct pushed down, Vander managed to surface.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to look at Vi.
Enough to look at Jinx.
Enough for something like recognition to pass through those monstrous eyes.
And that almost broke both sisters.
Vi's face went pale in a way Adriel hadn't seen from her before. Jinx froze completely, like one wrong movement would scare the moment away. Neither of them knew whether to cry, scream, or reach for him.
They asked how Adriel did it.
He did not elaborate.
He was getting very good at that.
So they kept moving.
Vander followed with them, hunched under the oversized cloak, quiet for now. Isha kept glancing back at him every few seconds. Jinx stayed close, like she was afraid he would disappear if she gave him too much room. Vi walked tense and silent, her doubt not gone, but shaken enough that she couldn't fully hold onto it anymore.
The crowd thickened as they approached the entrance.
People whispered about the Herald.
About healing.
About a place where pain stopped.
Adriel listened and said nothing, but the words crawled under his skin.
He already knew who they meant.
Viktor.
A man standing at the edge of becoming something the world would mistake for holy.
That thought alone made Adriel uneasy.
He wasn't against faith. Far from it. His own roots had been shaped by family, prayer, and a belief system that had stayed somewhere inside him no matter how far from home he was dragged.
But people who acted like messiahs?
That was different.
And as the group approached the commune's entrance, Adriel saw a face he recognized.
Huck.
Fully reformed.
Standing calmly near the entrance as if waiting to welcome the sick and desperate into salvation.
Vi stopped the moment she saw him.
Her expression hardened instantly.
Jinx noticed too, eyes narrowing.
Huck looked different now. Cleaner. Healthier. No longer the trembling Shimmer addict Adriel remembered from the show. His body had been restored. His posture steadier. His skin no longer carried that sickly desperation.
But something about him still bothered Adriel.
Not because he was healed.
Because he looked like a follower.
A man pulled out of one addiction and placed gently into another.
Vi's gauntlet flexed.
She looked about three seconds away from giving Huck a brand-new face.
Huck, however, didn't flinch.
He looked at Vi with calm regret, hands loosely folded in front of him.
Vi visibly snarled, "You fucking traitor."
"I wronged you," he said softly. "I betrayed your trust for Shimmer. It was... awful."
Vi's lips curled. "Yeah. That's one way to put it."
Huck lowered his gaze, accepting the bite without defending himself.
"The Herald freed me from that self," he continued. "Gave me a second chance. A chance to make amends."
Jinx leaned slightly toward Adriel and muttered, "He always this creepy now?"
Adriel didn't answer, but his face said enough.
Huck stepped aside. "Everyone is welcome here."
Then his eyes dropped.
Vi's gauntlets.
Jinx's weapons.
"But this is a place of peace," Huck added gently. "Weapons must remain outside."
Vi looked like she was about to tell him exactly where he could put that rule.
Then Huck finally seemed to notice Adriel.
His entire body went still.
The calm, reformed expression cracked.
Shock overtook him so completely that, for a second, he looked like the old Huck again—wide-eyed, breath caught, unable to process the impossible thing standing in front of him.
"You..." he whispered.
Adriel already hated where this was going.
Huck's eyes shone.
"You're alive."
Vi and Jinx both glanced at Adriel.
Huck took one step closer, awe spreading across his face like sunlight over water.
"The Herald heals the broken... and now the Angel returns from death." His voice trembled with reverence. "What miracle is this? First the Herald, now you... Piltover's hero. Zaun's hero. The one who fell from the heavens to save us."
Adriel stared at him.
For one full second, his brain simply refused the sentence.
Angel?
No.
Absolutely not.
He was not doing this again.
He could already feel the Ixtal trauma crawling up his spine.
Vi squinted at Huck. "The hell are you talking about?"
Jinx pointed at Adriel, then at Huck. "Wait, wait, hold on. Angel? Since when is he an angel?"
Adriel panicked.
Not visibly.
Internally, very much.
"Nope," he said quickly.
Vi frowned. "Nope what?"
"Nope to this conversation."
Before either sister could react, Adriel moved.
Vi's gauntlets shut down instantly.
The Hextech hum died, and both massive weapons slid off her arms like the locks had simply given up. They hit the ground with a heavy crash.
"What the—?"
They vanished into Adriel's inventory.
At the same time, Jinx's gun disappeared from her person so fast even she didn't notice him take it.
She blinked.
Then patted herself down.
"Hey."
Adriel grabbed them both by the shoulders and started pushing.
"Inside."
Vi dug her heels in. "What did you just do to my gauntlets?"
"Stored them."
"Where?"
"Away."
Jinx twisted around, still being pushed forward. "Did you steal my gun?"
"Temporarily borrowed."
"That's stealing with fancy words!"
"Correct."
"Adriel!"
He kept pushing her, Vi, Vander, and Isha through the entrance while Huck stared after him like he had just witnessed a holy event wrapped in petty theft.
"Move, move, move," Adriel muttered. "Before he starts a church."
Vi snapped, "I swear to God—"
"Later."
Jinx continued complaining. "I had stuff in that gun!"
"I'm sure you did."
"Important stuff!"
"Deeply tragic."
"Stop being calm while committing crimes against my emotional support firearm!"
Despite the arguing, Adriel forced the group far enough inside that both sisters finally went quiet.
Because the commune opened before them.
And for a moment, there was nothing to say.
The lowest depths of Zaun should have been dark.
Instead, light poured through the cavern like morning had somehow found its way underground.
The commune stretched wide beneath a massive hollowed ceiling, built from pale, organic-looking structures that curved like folded canvas and bone-white tents. Smooth roofs rolled over the settlement in soft waves, catching the strange blue-green glow of the cavern and reflecting it back as something gentle. At the center, farther ahead, a larger dome rose above the others, crowned by delicate, horn-like arches that framed it almost like a halo.
Color hung everywhere.
Lanterns swayed from wires. Small ornaments dangled from beams. Strips of cloth and painted decorations moved lightly in the air. The usual filth of Zaun seemed held back here, softened by gardens, stalls, and winding paths where people walked without the hunched posture of fear.
For a place built at the bottom of the Undercity, it looked impossible.
A sanctuary carved into rot.
A dream planted in the worst soil imaginable.
People moved through the streets with quiet purpose. Some tended flower beds and patches of vegetables growing where metal and poison should have made that absurd. Others sold fruit from small stalls, their voices gentle as they greeted the newcomers arriving from the tunnels. Healers or attendants moved through the crowd, supporting the sick, checking bandages, offering water, helping children sit in the shade.
Farther in, workers hammered glowing metal at a smithy.
The sound rang through the commune.
Sharp.
Hot.
Alive.
The moment red steel touched cold water, steam hissed violently into the air.
Vander reacted.
The beast inside him snapped awake.
A growl tore from his throat, deep and panicked. His body lurched, cloak sliding off his shoulders as his claws scraped against stone. His breath came fast, eyes wild, instincts dragging him back into whatever nightmare had built him.
Vi moved instantly.
Jinx did too.
Isha flinched back.
But Adriel was faster.
He stepped in front of Vander and lifted one hand—not threatening, not forceful. Just present.
"Easy," Adriel said, voice low. "You're okay. You're not there."
Vander snarled, teeth bared.
Adriel didn't move.
"You're here," he continued. "Vi's here. Jinx is here. You're safe."
The beast's breathing shuddered.
His claws dug into the ground.
Then, slowly, the panic dulled.
Not gone.
But contained.
Jinx rushed to pull the cloak back over him, Vi helping despite herself. Isha scrambled to grab one edge, her small hands clutching the fabric with all the seriousness of someone holding the world together.
Around them, the commune had stopped.
People stared.
Not in terror.
In shock, yes. Surprise, definitely. But not fear.
That almost made it stranger.
Huck stepped forward, calm as ever.
"It's alright," he said.
Vi shot him a warning look. "Does this look alright to you?"
Huck's gaze rested on Vander—on the monster, the man, the suffering thing between both.
"No one here will judge him," Huck said. "He is welcome."
Jinx's fingers tightened in the cloak.
Then Huck looked at them all.
"The Herald was expecting you."
Adriel's eyes sharpened.
Of course he was.
As Huck turned to lead them deeper into the commune, Adriel followed in silence.
But he felt the eyes.
All around him.
People recognized him.
Not as Adriel.
As the hero who had died.
The legend who had returned.
A miracle walking beside the Herald's path.
Some stared openly. Others whispered. A few pressed their hands together like they were trying not to pray out loud. Every look carried the same dangerous shine Adriel had seen too many times already.
Admiration.
Reverence.
Faith.
His stomach twisted.
He had escaped Ixtal's worship only to walk straight into Zaun's version of it.
Adriel pushed the thought aside and kept walking behind Huck.
Toward Viktor.
Toward the Herald.
Toward whatever Anansi was waiting to ruin next.
It would have been a lie to say Adriel wasn't anxious.
So far, this little outing with Vi, Jinx, Isha, and Huck had stayed relatively close to what he expected. Not perfectly, obviously. His presence had already shifted things. Dialogue had changed. Reactions had changed. Huck nearly starting an entire "angel" speech at the entrance had almost made Adriel consider walking into traffic just to avoid the headache.
But the bigger structure was still intact.
For now.
That was the part that kept him on edge.
The group continued through the commune, Huck guiding them toward the upper path where the largest structure waited. The place still looked impossible every time Adriel glanced around—too peaceful for Zaun, too clean, too bright. People smiled here. Worked here. Helped each other here. Sick bodies were carried in and somehow hope still managed to hang in the air instead of rot.
It was beautiful.
That bothered him.
Because beautiful things made people lower their guard.
They passed a man standing near one of the paths, his hands wrapped around the wooden handle of a massive bell. With one strong swing, he sent it rolling to the side.
The sound echoed through the commune.
Deep. Hollow. Almost ceremonial.
It rolled through what used to be a dumpster pit and made it feel like a holy ground.
Adriel's eyes narrowed slightly.
Yeah. Totally not cult-like at all.
He kept that thought to himself.
Vi and Jinx walked near Vander, who remained covered beneath the large cloak. He was calmer now, but still tense, his massive frame twitching every so often whenever a sound hit him wrong. Isha stayed close to Jinx, glancing up at the commune's structures with silent curiosity.
Huck led them higher.
Eventually, they reached the largest structure in the commune.
It sat near the center like the heart of the entire place, pale and curved, its smooth architecture catching the light in a way that made it look less built and more grown. The entrance was quiet. Too quiet. People nearby seemed to lower their voices naturally, as if they were standing near a shrine.
Then, as if the moment had been waiting for them, Viktor appeared.
He stepped out slowly from within the structure, and for a second, no one spoke.
He looked nothing like the man Adriel remembered from the early days of Piltover.
The limp was still there, but different now. Less like weakness. More like the body had been rewritten around old pain and still hadn't decided what shape it wanted to keep. His frame remained thin, almost fragile, wrapped in pale robes that fell around him with a soft, almost priestly simplicity. Dark hair framed his face, longer and messier than before, and his skin had taken on an unnatural pallor beneath the strange glow of Hextech influence.
Faint lines traced across him—subtle at first, then more visible when the light shifted. Arcane marks along his face, his neck, his hands. Not wounds. Not scars. Something in between. Like his body had become a map for a power that didn't belong in flesh.
His eyes carried the worst part.
Calm.
Not peaceful. Not exactly.
Resolved.
The kind of calm that belonged to someone who had looked into suffering and decided he knew the answer.
Adriel hated that kind of calm.
Viktor observed the group in silence.
His gaze moved from Vi, to Jinx, to Isha, then to the massive cloaked shape beside them.
And finally, to Adriel.
For a brief second, something passed through Viktor's eyes. Recognition, maybe. Curiosity. A quiet assessment.
Adriel kept his face neutral.
Vi spoke first.
"We heard you can heal people."
Her tone was blunt, but the meaning was obvious.
Viktor's gaze shifted toward Vander.
The beast stirred beneath the cloak, a low growl rumbling in his chest as Viktor approached. Vi tensed instantly. Jinx moved closer to Vander's side. Isha took a small step back.
Adriel didn't move.
He just watched.
Like a tired audience member sitting in the back row of a movie theater, waiting for the scene to play itself out.
Viktor approached carefully. Slowly. His hand lifted, fingers thin and pale beneath the strange marks crawling along his skin.
Vander growled louder.
"Easy," Adriel murmured, more to Vander than anyone else.
The beast's claws scraped the ground, but he didn't lunge.
Viktor reached him.
His fingertips touched Vander's forehead.
The reaction was immediate.
Viktor's body went rigid.
His eyes widened.
For one suspended second, he wasn't in the commune anymore. Not fully. His mind had gone somewhere else—somewhere deep inside the beast, past the metal, past the claws, past the violence forced into his body.
Then Viktor staggered back and collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
Jinx flinched. "What did you see?"
Viktor didn't answer at first.
He stared at Vander like the truth had unsettled him more than the monster ever could.
Adriel already knew.
He had seen the man inside the beast.
Vander was still there.
Buried. Asleep. Overpowered by the creature wrapped around him. The monster had control, but the man had not vanished.
Then Adriel saw her.
A figure behind Viktor.
Faint. Almost translucent. A ghost made of memory, grief, and Hextech residue.
Sky.
She stood close to Viktor, her expression worried but composed, the way someone looked when they had been warning a person for far too long and knew they were not going to listen.
"I remember you saying," Sky told Viktor gently, "that all systems have limits."
Viktor slowly gathered himself, still kneeling. His breathing remained unsteady, but his face had already settled back into that dangerous resolve.
"He is worth the risk," Viktor said.
Adriel stared at the invisible exchange with a dull, unimpressed look.
Of course he could see her.
His knowledge filled in the details before he asked for them.
Sky Young.
Poor Sky.
She had only wanted to help Viktor. Had only wanted to reach him before the Hextech he was tampering with went critical. Instead, the unstable energy consumed her, erased her body, and left behind this echo tied to Viktor through the same miracle that killed her.
Adriel replayed the memory in his head without meaning to.
The glow.
The panic.
The ash.
The way Viktor survived and she didn't.
His eyes stayed on Sky a moment too long.
That was his mistake.
Sky noticed.
Her gaze shifted away from Viktor and landed on Adriel.
She froze.
For the first time since Adriel had seen her, her calm cracked.
Viktor was still too focused on Vander to notice. Huck stood silent behind them. Vi and Jinx were watching Viktor, waiting for an answer, neither of them aware of the ghost standing right there in plain sight.
But Sky was looking directly at Adriel.
And Adriel was looking directly back.
Her expression sharpened with confusion.
Then curiosity.
Impossible curiosity.
Because no one should have been able to see her. Not here. Not like this. She was not standing in the world the way they were. She was tied to Viktor, connected through Hextech, through memory, through whatever remained of her after the accident.
Viktor could see her.
No one else should.
Yet Adriel could.
Sky's voice was quiet when she spoke, so quiet it seemed meant only for him.
"You can see me?"
Adriel snapped out of the memory replay instantly.
His eyes shifted toward Viktor, then Vi, then Jinx, then back to Sky.
Of course.
Of course this had to become another problem.
He exhaled through his nose, already tired.
"Ahh..." he mumbled, barely under his breath.
Then, with deep and sincere exasperation—
"Fuck."
A few minutes later, the group reached a fountain.
The water moved gently through the center of the commune, clear enough to reflect the pale structures above and the faint glow that seemed to breathe through the place. Compared to the rest of Zaun, it almost looked insulting. Too peaceful. Too clean. Too carefully made.
Jinx, naturally, didn't stay still for even five seconds.
She climbed onto the fountain's edge and started balancing along it, arms slightly out, boots stepping over the narrow rim like she had done this a thousand times. Isha watched from below, following close enough to catch her if she slipped, even though Jinx was probably the last person in the world who needed that kind of help.
Vi stood nearby with her arms crossed, still tense.
Vander remained close, hunched beneath the oversized cloak, his breathing heavy but controlled for now.
Adriel stood off to the side.
And Sky stood right next to him.
That was the problem.
A very annoying problem.
Because Sky was supposed to disappear whenever the scene shifted. That was how this usually went. She appeared when Viktor needed his conscience, his guilt, or whatever remained of the woman he lost to speak to him. Then she faded back into the Hextech bond they shared.
But no.
Not this time.
For some reason, she was still standing beside Adriel, staring at him like he was a puzzle she had every intention of dissecting piece by piece.
Adriel kept his eyes forward, trying very hard to pretend a ghost wasn't standing inches from his shoulder.
Viktor stepped closer to Vander, his expression composed but troubled after what he had seen inside the beast. His gaze lingered on Vander's monstrous frame, not with disgust, but with a kind of clinical sorrow.
"His essence is deeply entangled with the beast," Viktor explained. "The man you remember is still present, but buried beneath layers of instinct, pain, and forced transformation. His control is limited. Fragmented."
Vi's eyes narrowed.
"That's a fancy way of saying you don't know how to fix him."
Viktor did not react to the bite in her tone. "It is a way of saying the condition is delicate."
Jinx stopped on the fountain's edge, turning slightly. "Delicate? He's huge, furry, and growls at kettles. Delicate's not the word I'd use."
Viktor's gaze shifted to her briefly. "The body is violent. The mind is not entirely lost. Vander is still there."
Vi looked at him more sharply then.
"How do you know his name?"
The question cut through the air.
Jinx's balancing slowed.
Even Adriel glanced at Viktor from the corner of his eye.
Viktor's expression stayed frustratingly calm. "He told me."
Vi stared at him.
"He told you," she repeated.
"Yes."
"Right," Vi said flatly. "That clears everything up. Not creepy at all."
Adriel almost snorted.
He didn't.
Mostly because Sky chose that exact moment to lean closer to him.
"You still have not answered me," she said quietly.
Adriel's jaw tightened.
Sky studied him with open fascination, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "You can perceive me. Not through Viktor. Not through the Hexcore's connection. Directly."
Adriel stared forward.
"You are not reacting like someone startled by a spirit," she continued. "Which suggests either previous exposure to similar phenomena, an advanced understanding of the Arcane, or an ability unrelated to the systems I am currently bound to."
Adriel slowly inhaled through his nose.
Sky's questioning had started simple.
Then it had become complicated.
Now it was becoming a full interrogation.
It made sense, unfortunately. She had been Viktor's assistant. Experimentation, testing, observation, analysis—it was part of how she thought. A mystery showed up, and her mind immediately started pulling at the edges.
The issue was that he was currently the mystery.
"You are not a mage in the traditional sense," Sky murmured, walking around him slowly. "Your energy does not resemble common Arcane signatures. It reacts differently. Structured, but not rune-based. You also appear aware of events beyond standard perception. Are you some kind of Arcane master?"
Adriel's eye twitched.
He wanted her to shut up.
He wanted her to vanish back to wherever she usually disappeared to so he could focus on the actual conversation happening in front of him, not on the ghost trying to solve him like he was a damn math problem.
Sky leaned into his field of vision.
"Or perhaps your abilities are connected to a higher-order magical system outside Runeterra's known classifications?"
Adriel muttered under his breath, "Jesus Christ."
Viktor's eyes flicked toward him.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
But Viktor said nothing, at least not yet. His attention returned to Vi and Jinx, though Adriel could tell the question had been filed away for later.
Wonderful.
Now Viktor was curious too.
Jinx, still balancing on the fountain, folded her arms.
"So," she said, "we ask for a magic healer and get a metal fortune cookie."
Viktor ignored the jab with impressive patience.
"I saw your father," he continued. "Not as he is now, but as he was. His memories. His dream of family. His vision for Zaun as it could have been."
He paused.
For a moment, something softened in his expression. Not fully, but enough to show that whatever he had seen in Vander's mind had reached him.
"A vision of Zaun with dignity," Viktor said quietly. "With community. With peace."
The air around them shifted.
Even Vi went still.
Then Jinx coughed loudly into her fist.
"Cookie."
Adriel took that as his chance to stop pretending he wasn't hearing everything.
He lifted both hands in a small shrug and looked at Jinx. "Can you maybe not heckle the guy trying to help?"
Jinx stopped walking along the fountain rim.
Her expression turned offended in seconds. "Excuse me?"
"He's helping," Adriel said. "The least we can do is let him finish the diagnosis without turning it into a comedy act."
Jinx looked genuinely betrayed.
Like Adriel had personally stabbed her in the back with a very rude spoon.
"I thought you were on my side."
"I am on the side of making this take less time."
"That's a terrible side."
"It's a practical side."
Jinx opened her mouth to argue, but Adriel reached up and gently placed one finger against her lips.
"Stop," he said. "Just for now."
Jinx froze.
Her eyes crossed slightly to look at his finger, then slowly narrowed at him.
She pouted.
Adriel removed his hand before she could bite him.
Vi didn't say anything about the interaction, but her eyes lingered on it for a moment too long. Viktor, however, looked grateful.
Then Vi asked the question that mattered.
"Can you help him?"
Viktor turned back toward Vander.
His face settled into firm resolve. "I will do everything within my power."
Jinx hopped down from the fountain's edge, landing lightly. "Sounds like there's a 'but' coming."
Viktor looked at her. "There are conditions."
Jinx raised a brow. "Only conditions? Huh. Thought you'd have a couple."
Adriel closed his eyes.
Barely.
Just for half a second.
She physically cannot keep her mouth shut.
Viktor sighed, and for the first time, there was a faint edge of exhaustion in him.
"You have much to offer this commune," he said.
Jinx blinked. "Me?"
"Yes," Viktor answered. "Your skill. Your creativity. Your understanding of machinery and volatile systems."
Jinx's face flattened. "Uh-huh. Sounds like a fancy way of saying you want free labor."
"You have used your talents for destruction for a very long time," Viktor said calmly. "Perhaps you might discover what they are capable of when turned toward creation."
Jinx's fingers tightened around a loose piece of metal near the fountain.
Viktor's gaze did not waver.
"Powder."
The name landed like a match in oil.
Jinx's entire expression changed.
A small metal piece slipped from her hand and clinked into the fountain water.
Vi noticed.
Adriel noticed.
Isha noticed most of all.
Jinx's smile came back, but it was thin and wrong. "Careful with that name."
Viktor turned his head slightly toward Adriel, as if inviting him to confirm the point.
Adriel blinked.
He had not expected the attention to jump to him.
Viktor waited.
Adriel stared at him for a second, then realized what he was asking.
"Oh," Adriel said, awkwardly. "Right."
Jinx slowly looked at him.
Adriel sighed internally.
This was going to suck.
"He's not wrong," Adriel said carefully.
Jinx's face fell a little more.
Adriel kept going, because stopping now would somehow make it worse.
"You're talented, Jinx. Stupidly talented. Engineering, weapons, explosives, improvising under pressure. You can build things most people here wouldn't even know how to imagine."
Jinx's eyes narrowed.
"That talent doesn't have to only destroy," Adriel continued. "You could build. Repair. Protect. Improve things. You've always had that in you."
Viktor watched him quietly.
Vi looked visibly surprised.
Even Isha seemed to look up at Jinx differently.
Jinx, however, looked more betrayed with every word.
"Wow," she said softly. "You too?"
Adriel's expression tightened. "That's not what I'm doing."
"Sounds like it."
"I'm saying you're more than the damage you've caused."
Jinx's lips parted, but no sound came out at first.
Adriel's voice softened. "I know what you can do. I know how much good you're capable of."
Jinx laughed once.
It was sharp.
Not happy.
"You don't know what I went through."
The words were meant to cut.
But she was wrong.
Painfully wrong.
Adriel knew.
He knew the threads that made her. Knew the history of this reality. Knew the losses, the breaks, the mistakes, the blood, the voices, the guilt. He knew more than he should. More than anyone had a right to know.
But he couldn't say that.
Not without breaking something worse.
So he only looked at her.
And somehow that made Jinx angrier.
Her eyes shone with something she refused to let become tears.
"Maybe if you didn't fake your death," she said, voice trembling beneath the sarcasm, "if you had actually been there, maybe I could've been that girl you're picturing."
Adriel went still.
Jinx's smile twisted.
"But that's not how it went, is it?"
No one spoke.
Jinx turned away before anyone could stop her.
"Isha," she said, voice tight.
The little girl hesitated, glancing between Adriel and Jinx, then followed.
Adriel watched them go.
His hand lifted slowly to pinch the bridge of his nose.
He exhaled.
Long.
Tired.
He missed when conversations were simple.
When people could talk without every sentence opening another wound.
Viktor seemed to understand the need to move away from the emotional wreckage, because he returned to the matter at hand.
"The first condition," Viktor said, "is that Vander must be restrained at night."
Vi's attention snapped back to him. "Restrained?"
"For his safety," Viktor said. "And everyone else's. What I saw in his mind suggests his condition worsens with certain triggers. The night may make control more difficult. I cannot allow him to rampage here."
Vi looked toward Adriel.
Not because she liked needing his opinion.
Because out of everyone there, he was clearly the most competent person in the room.
Adriel lowered his hand from his face and nodded once.
"It's valid," he said. "If Vander loses control, people here die. Restraints at night make sense."
Vi's mouth tightened, but she didn't argue.
Not yet.
Viktor then turned fully toward Adriel.
"There is a second condition."
Adriel raised a brow.
"Of course there is."
Viktor's expression remained calm. "I require your assistance with a more personal matter."
Adriel studied him.
Sky, still standing near his side, went quiet for the first time in several minutes.
That alone made Adriel suspicious.
"What kind of personal matter?" he asked.
Viktor did not answer directly.
His gaze moved briefly toward Vi, then toward the path Jinx and Isha had taken.
Adriel followed that glance.
He understood enough.
Whatever Viktor wanted to discuss, he didn't want to say it in front of them.
Adriel's eyes returned to Viktor.
For a moment, he considered refusing.
Then he thought of Vander.
Of Jinx walking away hurt.
Of Vi trying not to fall apart.
Of Sky standing beside him with questions too sharp to ignore.
He sighed.
"Fine," Adriel said. "Whatever you need help with, I'll hear it."
Viktor nodded.
"Thank you."
Adriel didn't answer.
He only glanced once toward where Jinx had gone, then back to Viktor.
Because somehow, he had gone from stopping a corrupted Daredevil in a blood-soaked mine to being dragged into Viktor's spiritual therapy session with a ghost who wouldn't stop staring at him.
He really missed when saving the world was just punching something hard enough until it stopped moving.
The small group guided Vander toward an enclosed garden.
It was tucked deeper within the commune, away from the busier paths and the constant movement of people seeking shelter, medicine, or purpose. The garden itself was quiet, surrounded by pale curved walls and soft greenery that looked almost impossible in the lowest parts of Zaun. Flowers grew between smooth stones. Vines climbed the sides of the structure. The air smelled cleaner here, touched by damp earth instead of smoke and metal.
It would serve as Vander's safe space for now.
A place where he could rest without startling the people outside. A place where Viktor could begin figuring out how to reach the man buried beneath the beast. A place where Vi and Jinx could look at him without having to pretend they knew what they were feeling.
Vander was guided inside carefully.
He remained tense, enormous shoulders rising and falling beneath the heavy cloak, claws occasionally flexing against the ground. But he did not lash out. He did not run. He seemed to understand, at least in some small way, that the people around him were not enemies.
Jinx lingered near the entrance longer than anyone else, eyes locked on him.
Vi stayed quiet beside her.
Isha held onto the edge of Jinx's sleeve, glancing between them.
Adriel watched the three of them for a moment and said nothing.
Everyone eventually drifted away to do what they could inside the commune. Vi remained nearby, still processing. Jinx moved only when Isha tugged her gently. Vander was left within the garden, watched over but not surrounded.
Then Viktor stepped beside Adriel.
"There is something I wish to discuss with you," Viktor said.
Adriel already felt the sigh forming in his soul.
Of course there was.
He didn't let it show on his face, but internally, he sounded like an old man tired of hearing the same story for the hundredth time. He should have been used to this by now. He was an anomaly everywhere he went. Someone who did not belong to the natural order of the places he entered. Someone whose presence made systems bend, characters stare, and people with too much intelligence ask too many questions.
It came with the job.
That did not make it any less exhausting.
Still, Adriel nodded. "Lead the way."
Viktor turned and began walking.
Adriel followed.
They moved away from the garden and down a quieter path, far enough that the low noise of the commune softened behind them. The sound of workers, running water, footsteps, and quiet conversation faded until there was only the faint hum of the strange energy that lived beneath Viktor's sanctuary.
Sky followed.
Of course she did.
Adriel could feel her gaze on him with the pressure of a microscope.
Eventually, Viktor stopped.
They were far enough from the others now. No one nearby. No Vi listening with her arms crossed. No Jinx pretending not to care. No Isha watching silently from behind someone's leg.
Viktor turned to face him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Viktor studied Adriel with the kind of quiet focus that made it clear he was not looking at a man. He was looking at a phenomenon.
"I remember you differently," Viktor said at last.
Adriel raised a brow.
"You were smaller then," Viktor continued. "You sounded younger. Like a child who had seen too much and somehow mistook that for wisdom."
Adriel scoffed softly.
Not mocking.
Remembering.
He remembered it too.
Jayce Talis, standing at the edge of what used to be his apartment, ready to throw himself into open air after Spider-Man's battle with Morlun had ruined the place and broken everything around him. Jayce had been standing on the edge of his own life, and Viktor—without realizing what he was interrupting—had walked in at the exact moment needed to stop him.
Not long after that, Spider-Man appeared.
Karito.
That old name.
That old lie.
He remembered introducing himself, trying to set up a plan that never fully happened. Because not long after, the five villains came. The attack started. Piltover and Zaun were dragged into a nightmare they had never been built to survive.
And then everyone thought he died.
Viktor's eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but fascination.
"What happened to you?"
Adriel's face remained neutral.
Viktor stepped closer, his voice quieter. "There is power within you. Not simply strength. Not merely energy. Something vast. It moves as though everything around you is forced to acknowledge you."
Sky stood just behind Viktor's shoulder, watching Adriel with the same intense curiosity.
"You are like an anchor," Viktor said. "Not to this commune. Not to this city. To something far larger."
Adriel did not like how accurate that sounded.
Viktor's gaze sharpened. "And you can see Sky."
Sky's expression shifted slightly at hearing her name.
Adriel looked from Viktor to Sky, then back again.
He had expected this.
Of course he had.
Viktor and Sky were scientists. Observers. People who built understanding by tearing mysteries apart. Viktor had touched the Arcane and lived. Sky had touched the same force and been reduced to something that should not have remained, yet somehow did.
They had both been changed by the same impossible power in opposite ways.
One transcended.
One was pulverized.
And now they were standing in front of a man neither of them could categorize.
Sky folded her hands together. "You perceived me before I spoke to you. You did not react as if I were an apparition. You recognized me. That implies prior knowledge."
Adriel said nothing.
Viktor watched him carefully. "Are you connected to the Arcane?"
"No," Adriel said.
Sky tilted her head. "Then what are you connected to?"
Adriel almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because there was no good answer.
He could explain it for ten hours and they still would not understand. Not truly. Not safely. Some truths were not meant to be dropped into minds that had never been built to carry them.
What was he supposed to tell them?
That their world was only one layer in something larger?
That everything they believed to be reality was fragile, structured, observed, and capable of being rewritten by forces outside their understanding?
No.
He could not do that.
He had seen what happened when people were forced to see too much too quickly. He had seen minds collapse under truths that were never supposed to fit inside a human skull. Even geniuses could break when confronted with the full shape of their own limitations.
And Viktor?
Viktor was already standing too close to the edge.
So Adriel chose the safest answer.
"I'm not from here," he said.
Viktor's eyes narrowed. "That is not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Sky studied him. "You are intentionally withholding information."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you don't need it."
Viktor's expression tightened—not with anger, but with frustration. "That is a familiar arrogance."
Adriel's gaze hardened slightly. "No. Arrogance would be telling you everything and assuming you'd survive it."
That silenced both Viktor and Sky for a moment.
Adriel exhaled slowly.
He could have let the conversation continue that way. Questions. Dodges. More questions. More dodges. Viktor growing more suspicious. Sky growing more curious. The whole thing circling endlessly until one of them pushed too hard.
But Adriel had already seen enough.
He had seen where this path led if left alone.
Viktor's future.
The commune's future.
The war that would eventually unfold because of desperation, fear, faith, and power pressed too tightly into one place.
Adriel knew those events were meant to happen.
But he also knew Anansi was going to change them.
That was the real problem.
If Adriel did nothing, he would follow a path already poisoned by an enemy waiting in the dark. If he changed too much, the road became unpredictable. But if he changed the right thing—if he shifted one piece that could stabilize Viktor before he fell too far—then maybe he could prevent one disaster while forcing Anansi to reveal what he intended to replace it with.
His gaze moved to Sky.
She noticed immediately.
Viktor noticed too.
Adriel's expression became unreadable.
"Sky," he said.
She straightened slightly, surprised by the direct address.
"Yes?"
Adriel held her gaze.
Then, very calmly, he asked the impossible.
"Do you want me to revive you?"
The air seemed to die between them.
Sky stared at him.
Viktor's eyes widened.
Adriel continued before either of them could speak. "Do you want your body back? Do you want to return to the living?"
For a moment, neither Viktor nor Sky moved.
Then Viktor spoke, voice low. "That is impossible."
Sky's expression had gone pale in a way only a ghost could manage. "Adriel…"
"It isn't," Adriel said.
Viktor's composure cracked. "Death is not a mechanism one simply reverses."
"It can be," Adriel replied.
Viktor took one step forward, disbelief and outrage mixing in his expression. "You speak as if causality is clay."
Adriel's eyes sharpened.
"To me," he said quietly, "sometimes it is."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then Adriel lifted one hand.
Matter began to gather above his palm.
Not from the ground. Not from the air in a way Viktor could understand. It was as though the universe itself had been given instructions and decided, reluctantly, to obey.
Particles formed first.
Invisible pieces becoming visible through structure. Carbon. Calcium. Oxygen. Hydrogen. Iron in the blood. Keratin. Bone. Feather. Muscle. Tiny nerves threading into place with impossible precision.
A shape formed.
Small.
Delicate.
A sparrow.
At first, it was only a body. Empty. Perfectly constructed, but still. No breath. No spark. An incredibly detailed vessel resting in Adriel's palm.
Viktor stared at it with open horror and fascination.
Sky covered her mouth with one hand.
Adriel did not stop.
He reached farther.
Not with his hand.
With something else.
The air around him bent, not violently, but reverently. Like the rules of the world were being asked to step aside for something older than them. A faint glow flickered above the sparrow's body, then tightened into a thread of light so small Viktor almost missed it.
Adriel pulled.
Something answered.
A soul.
A tiny, fragile thing dragged gently from beyond the veil and guided into the vessel he had made.
The sparrow's chest rose.
Once.
Twice.
Its eyes opened.
It blinked.
Then it chirped, hopped once in Adriel's palm, and flew away.
Neither Viktor nor Sky breathed.
The bird circled once above them, alive, real, and utterly unaware that it had just shattered every law Viktor had ever believed in.
Then it vanished beyond the garden path.
Viktor staggered back half a step.
Sky looked like she might cry.
They had just watched someone play god.
No machine.
No Hexcore.
No sacrifice.
No equation they could trace.
Adriel had created a body from knowledge and matter, reached beyond death, retrieved a soul, and returned life to an empty vessel like it was something his hands already knew how to do.
Viktor's voice came out barely above a whisper.
"How?"
Adriel lowered his hand.
"I can't explain it in a way that helps you."
Sky's eyes were fixed on the place where the sparrow had disappeared.
"That was real," she whispered.
"Yes."
Viktor's expression twisted, not with denial, but with the torment of a scientist who had seen proof of something he could not begin to calculate.
"There must be a structure. A principle. A cost."
"There is always a cost," Adriel said.
Sky slowly turned back to him.
"What cost?"
Adriel met her gaze.
"That depends on what I'm bringing back."
Viktor looked at Sky.
Sky looked at Viktor.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Sky stepped closer to Adriel.
Her voice trembled, but her answer was clear.
"Yes."
Viktor's breath caught.
Sky did not look away from Adriel.
"If what you showed us is truly possible," she said, "then yes. I want to live."
Adriel nodded once.
He had expected fear.
He had expected hesitation.
But Sky had been trapped between existence and absence for too long. Of course she would choose life.
Adriel looked at Viktor then.
And for once, Viktor had no clever response. No theory. No calm, controlled phrase to wrap around the impossible.
He only stared.
Adriel's thoughts moved quickly.
If Sky returned, Viktor might not descend the way he was supposed to. She might anchor him. Challenge him. Stop him from mistaking salvation for control. Stop him from becoming the kind of man who caused a war while believing he had ended suffering.
Adriel had already changed the path.
He could feel it.
Something in the air shifted.
A thread pulled loose.
A future broke.
But that only raised the next question.
If this war was no longer guaranteed to happen, then what would replace it?
What was Anansi waiting to create in its place?
Adriel glanced upward, as if he could feel the invisible web tightening around the city.
Then he looked back at Sky.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's bring you back."
To Be Continued...