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In a quiet corridor of Piltover Academy, Kael sat with a notebook, his pen scratching out complex variables. The equations on the paper weren't just math; they were a roadmap to the Ark Runes.
Just as specific resonance frequencies revealed the secrets of Hex-crystals, the magnetic confinement within the Arc Reactor acted as a prism, reflecting the runes born from its core. The energy output was no longer the clean, predictable nuclear fusion of another world; it was a potent hybrid of atomic power and the Arcane.
Magic, in Runeterra, isn't just an abstract concept. It is a fundamental force separated from the material realm by a thin dimensional veil. By arranging runes, one creates a circuit for that power to flow. Jayce had discovered the magic of Time within his crystals, leading to his "Hexgate" theory. Kael, however, was seeing something else in his reactor: the magic of Space.
He had identified nine distinct runes so far. But runes possess a predatory self-awareness; they evolve. Nine was just the beginning.
A furry, round creature nudged Kael's knee. It was a Poro, its tongue lolling out in a silent plea for attention. Behind it, the familiar click-clack of small, brisk footsteps echoed.
"It seems to like you," a voice squeaked.
Professor Heimerdinger rounded the corner. With his massive, fluffy head and diminutive Yordle frame, he looked like a wise plush toy. Yet, his eyes held the weight of centuries.
"Are you here to tell me I passed the written exam?" Kael asked, closing his notebook.
"I think you should remain seated. Children grow far too quickly these days," Heimerdinger noted, his beard twitching as he looked up at the boy. "But yes, congratulations. You achieved a perfect score—a feat last accomplished by Jayce. Your talent is... dazzling. Welcome to the Academy."
"Can I touch your head as a reward?"
"What?! Absolutely not!" Heimerdinger spluttered. He looked around to ensure no other students were watching, then let out a defeated sigh. "Just once."
Kael reached out. The fluff was as soft as it looked, but the skull beneath was solid—a testament to the Yordle's enduring intellect. Heimerdinger's ears trembled slightly. Despite his age and status, he was still a Yordle, and they were suckers for a bit of genuine, curious affection.
The Mentor and the Meal
"I assume you'll be my mentor, Professor?" Kael asked.
"Indeed," Heimerdinger coughed, trying to regain his professional dignity. "I've taught many, but a student of your age is a first. I hope you're not a troublemaker."
"I have a few questions for you, Professor," Kael said, leaning in. He began rattling off technical queries that would have left most senior instructors in a daze. Heimerdinger's expression shifted from casual to intense. He realized this wasn't just a bright kid—this was a mind capable of challenging the status quo.
"Uh... it's getting late," Heimerdinger said, visibly sweating as he realized he couldn't answer the third question immediately. "Let's try the cafeteria. The head chef caught a rare, giant fish today. A 'Eating Escape Maneuver', if you will."
Kael smirked and picked up the Poro. "Lead the way, Professor."
The Investment Rush
News of Kael's perfect score and his personal recruitment by Heimerdinger spread through the Academy like a wildfire in a chem-lab. By the time Kael returned home, his doorstep was buried under a mountain of scented invitations from noble families.
Wealthy Piltovian nobles weren't just looking for friends; they were looking for investments. A genius certified by both the Kirammans and Heimerdinger was a "Blue Chip" prospect.
Caitlyn arrived shortly after, looking disgusted. She gathered the letters and dumped them into the trash. "These are filthy. They'll rot your brain before you even start classes."
"Sister Caitlyn is right," Orianna chirped, helping her clear the remaining envelopes. To the two girls, these "noble ladies" were nothing more than predatory aunties.
"Mother sent me to congratulate you properly," Caitlyn said, her tone a bit sour. "Getting into Heimerdinger's lab is... well, it's agonizingly impressive."
"Madame Kiramman is a pragmatist," Kael noted. "What's the real news?"
Caitlyn produced a formal contract. "She's building you a private Mechanical Workshop in the city center. And the royalties from the Orianna Cube patent have been finalized."
Kael looked at the figures. He was officially wealthy. The Rubik's Cube alone had generated enough capital to elevate his family to the lower nobility. The Kiramman contract offered a path to the elite circles of Piltover.
"We're moving, Anna," Kael told his sister. "To a villa near Caitlyn's estate."
"Will I have my own dance studio?" Orianna asked, her eyes wide with hope.
"Of course. And Sister Caitlyn can teach you some moves."
Caitlyn froze. "Me? Dance?"
She remembered the time she'd accidentally fractured a dance partner's foot during a gala. Madame Kiramman had banned her from the dance floor for a year. "Maybe... we should stick to marksmanship, Orianna."
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