Arcane: Broken Mechanism

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Fine drops of water fell on his right cheek, breaking the silence. He flinched in surprise, but before his eyes could focus, his body was still resisting awakening. The pain in his head was unbearable - intense, as if his brain was trying to split in half from a sudden shock. Every thought came with difficulty, and his consciousness floated, as if it had just been pushed out of deep water.

He lay face down on the dirty floor, unable to rise. It became clear that at some point his body refused to respond to commands, and he was completely helpless. Pain throbbed in his temples, giving sharp flashes in the crown of his head when he tried to look up. His eyelids, feeling heavy, resisted, but still he was barely able to lift his head to look at the room.

The room he glanced at was dark and devastated. Garbage was strewn almost everywhere, the walls were covered in layers of dirt and mold that grew like echoes of something long dead. A yellowish-greenish tint seeped from every corner, and the air was so heavy that even breathing became torture. Drops of water trickled from the ceiling, where they apparently got stuck on moldy pipes, filling the space with a disgusting smell of dampness and chemicals.

Drip...

Only his eyes slid around the room, the only active parts of his body. His brain still couldn't collect thoughts, and the pain in his head was so bright that it seemed to fill everything around.

He didn't have the strength to stand up, and his body seemed to be asking for a little more rest. He pressed himself against the floor again, feeling its cold and dirt on his skin. He needs to get up... he needs to understand what's going on here, he tried to force himself to think. But this world, his strange awakening, it all seemed so impossible that he couldn't ask himself the question of what to do next right now.

"Am I dreaming now?" he thought wearily and without any hope, closing his eyes and trying to somehow push away the feeling of reality that was pressing on him from all sides. The pain in his head, the smell of rot, the dampness that permeated every cell of his body - all of this felt too real to be a dream.

Drip...

"Please tell me that all of this is just a dream..." he continued in his mind, as if if he said it out loud, reality could dissipate like morning fog. But instead, the world remained cruel and unfriendly, as before.

He knew that this was not a dream. But still, despite this, it was difficult to come to terms with what was happening. Mentally, he continued to struggle with himself, with the feeling of unbearable emptiness and fear that filled his consciousness. But none of these feelings could change the fact that he was here, in this strange, alien world, with no answers to the questions that tormented him.

Drip... Drip...

With a groan, he tried to sit up, forcing his body to move with all his might. Every movement was difficult, and the weakness that had overtaken him felt like his limbs were foreign and heavy. Eventually, he managed to sit up, but that only made things worse. As soon as he straightened up, a wave of pain shot through his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

The pain was unbearable - the sharp pulsation in his temples seemed ready to split his skull. Every movement, even the smallest, only increased the feeling that his brain was about to fail. He clenched his fingers into fists, hoping to at least slightly relieve the pressure in his head, but this did not reduce the pain.

He turned his gaze to the surrounding space, but everything around him was blurred, as if in a fog. The smell of rot and dampness continued to surround him tightly, and the barely perceptible sounds of water drops that continued to fall from the ceiling only added to the feeling of unnaturalness of what was happening.

What's wrong with me? Where am I? Why...?

The thoughts did not connect, and this fog in his head continued to only deepen.

Out of nowhere, a sign suddenly appeared before his eyes, making him flinch. He barely had time to register what he had heard before he froze again, his body frozen as if waiting for something even more absurd.

"Congratulations. You have been reborn. Subject - 2807. World number - 1721. City - Zaun."

He froze, trying to comprehend these words. His heart skipped a beat or two as the meaning of the phrase began to break through his foggy consciousness. Reborn? In what sense? What does "subject" mean? And... Zaun? This is the place where he ended up? The city? But why is it so... strange?

"Zaun, Zaun, Zaun..." - spun around in his head. Each repetition of the word, like a spell, slowly unraveled the skeins of fog in his consciousness, gradually opening the way to clarity. A picture of the city began to form in his mind, from some distant memory, as if the reality of this world itself did not want to be fully understood.

He looked around him again. The dim light barely illuminated the ruined walls covered in mold, and the moldy air barely kept him conscious, forcing him to return again and again to the thought of what kind of place this was - Zaun. When he watched the series, he did not have the best impression of this city from the side of the viewer. The entire world of Runeterra was built on dualism. And Piltover-Zaun was the main reflection of this dualism. The bright, prosperous city of Piltover and, in contrast, Zaun, rotting from the actions of Piltover. Zaun is a huge industrial metropolis where technology and rot merge into one. From the tall, gloomy buildings, covered in rust and soot, in the dark alleys of the city, where smoke and chemical waste fumes spread along the ground, it would be impossible to see a single clear horizon.

The city lived its own cruel, merciless life. Enormous pipes, like black snakes, protruded from the buildings and led somewhere upward, into clouds of gray smog. The labyrinths of streets, flooded with sewage and old garbage, seemed closed, as if another disaster or an unknown monster lurked around every corner. There was a pungent smell in the air, not allowing you to breathe deeply, and in the dark streets Zaun was always like under your fingernails, in dirt and mold.

In some places, the streets were clogged with old garbage, and many buildings seemed to have been uninhabited for a long time. It was a city of contrasts, where the rich lived in the upper layers, high above all the polluted quarters, while the poor and outcasts wandered below, hiding from prying eyes. Shards of expensive technology, long forgotten and melted down into garbage, were scattered in dark corners, where no one noticed them. But for all this, Zaun was not dead. It was alive, breathing, full of hidden danger and opportunity. It was a city that knew no mercy and promised no salvation.

"This can't be true. This can't be..." - he repeated mentally, but the voice in his head, like an echo, was adamant. And again his consciousness was consumed by pain, not allowing himself to be distracted by anything else. - "I hope now I wake up in my bed and go about my business." - he hid his hope. He just needed to wake up. His gaze fell on the palm of his hand. She reached out to pinch the forearm of his other hand. It hurt, but for some reason the dream didn't seem to be ending. He did the same thing a few more times, but to no avail.

- Damn it! - He gave himself a hard slap. A loud bang echoed throughout the room, his cheek burned with pain, but still - no result.

As a 21st century citizen living in the capital of his country, it was hard for him to imagine life in the slums, where danger reigned at every step. A world where poverty, violence and lawlessness were not uncommon, but an everyday reality. A city where even the simplest actions could lead to tragedy. In his home country, in his city, at least in terms of physical safety, everything was relatively calm. And here... everything around was breathing threat.

Of course, almost every person who has ever watched anime would dream of one day waking up in a world similar to the one revealed in the series. To be part of a huge story, to find themselves among characters full of power and magic, or at least in a world full of bright adventures and intrigues. But he knew: this was just a fantasy. Such a world is just a work of art, a carefully constructed reality, where everything happens according to the laws of the scriptwriters, and you always know that you will be safe, because the hero, as a rule, survives.

But here, in Zaun, it was not so. The world didn't welcome you with open arms, like the fan heroes do. It was cruel, indifferent, and there was no place for the weak. And no matter how much he tried to present himself here as part of some great story, the reality was different: hard, dirty, and full of fear.

Even if you look at it from the other side, if he ended up in Piltover, what would he do? Would he end up an illegal immigrant without documents, who would either be put in prison or thrown out into the lower city, mistaken for a criminal from there? He wouldn't even pass for a guest from another city or region. It's trivial only because the lore of the world outside of Piltover and Zaun remained unknown to him. They only showed Mel Medarda's mother - Ambessa, who was originally from Noxus. But he doesn't know anything about Noxus, except that it is a country of warriors.

"Congratulations. The Inventor's System has begun loading. 0%... 1%"

A small tablet with text suddenly appeared before his eyes, as if it had materialized out of thin air. Before he could understand what was happening, the line froze in front of him, as if something as alien and mechanical as everything else in this place. Loading, percentages... none of it made any sense, but somehow he felt that it was not an accident.

He wanted to get up, to understand what was happening, but he was again glued to the screen, which did not disappear. The Inventor's System? What nonsense...

The tablet continued to change the numbers on the screen, as if each new percentage was recording, increasing the loading, as if time and space at that moment depended on this procession.

"2%... 3%..."

Each new value increased the feeling that he was part of something important, something that he could not yet understand. But his body, still without strength, did not allow him to move. The sign continued to flicker before his eyes, and he, unable to tear his gaze away, increasingly felt how his life was about to enter an unknown channel.