Arcane: Broken Mechanism

Sirion instinctively cringed, expecting a blow, but at the last moment something inside him snapped. Adrenaline filled his blood, suppressing his fear. He jerked back, tearing his hand from the stocky one's grip and losing his balance. His back hit the wall painfully, but he kept moving, not giving his opponent a chance to consolidate his success.

"Look at him, how fast," the skinny one grinned, watching Sirion's attempts to dodge. "I didn't think this little guy could fight."

"Now we'll see how long he can hold out," the stocky one snapped, lunging again.

Sirion, still stunned by his own actions, instinctively thrust his feet forward as his opponent approached. It worked - the stocky one stumbled, and his massive body fell to the dirt floor with a dull thud.

"Damn it, kid, you're asking for it!" he growled, getting to his feet.

Sirion didn't wait for a second chance to attack. He began backing toward the window, which was the only exit from the room.

"Where are you going?" the tall one finally took action. He moved toward the boy with the lazy grace of a predator who knows his prey is already trapped. "You think we're that easy to escape?"

"No," Sirion blurted out, looking around. "I think I'd rather die than give you anything!"

The words sounded alien - there was more determination in them than he actually felt. But the words worked: the men hesitated, clearly surprised by the sudden audacity. There was a tense silence for a moment.

Sirion did not break it. He turned sharply and dashed towards the window. The noise behind him made it clear that the chase had begun.

"I can't fight that well," he thought, dumbfounded, as his legs carried him to the window. It wasn't so much a fight as pure instinct, but there was no time to think about that now. The sounds of footsteps and curses behind him urged him on faster than any fear.

Sirion ran to the window and, without even looking back, grabbed the frame. It was rotten, shabby, and seemed ready to crumble at one touch.

"Damn, what am I doing?!" flashed through his head. But there was no choice. He glanced back and saw how the stocky man had already rushed forward to grab him.

He lunged forward, jumping out of the window.

"The bastard is good at parkour! Catch him!" - came from below, the men's voices were getting louder, as if they were very close.

Sirion moved as if he was not the one controlling his body. Jumps, grabs, sharp turns - everything happened automatically, as if someone had turned on survival mode in him. This feeling was reminiscent of the instinctive movement of the hand when an object falls from the edge of a table: the body reacts faster than the head has time to think.

His legs deftly jumped over rusty pipes, his hands grabbed onto cornices and window sills, as if they knew where to go. "It wasn't me... it was definitely not me!" - a thought flashed through his head, but there was no time to think about what was happening.

He jumped over a wide gap between buildings, not even thinking whether he could reach the other side. His fingers grabbed onto a slanted cornice, which creaked ominously. Sirion jerked himself up and rolled onto the roof, feeling his knees hit the rough surface.

The noise of the chase from below began to fade away.

"What's happening to me?" He paused for a moment, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. But not for long: the voices behind him came closer again.

Sirion stood up abruptly and ran on, jumping off the roof onto the metal stairs that led down to the next street. He felt his body choosing its own route, as if someone invisible was guiding his movements. Jumping over the span, he grabbed the iron handrail, and then slid down, ignoring the sharp pain in his hands from the rough surface.

Footsteps and irritated shouts were heard from below:

"Damn kid! Catch him before he escapes the area!"

Outside, the stench of chemicals and rotting organic matter hit his nose even stronger, but Sirion paid no attention to it. Adrenaline drove him forward. He dove into a narrow alley, dodging protruding pipes and barrels, pushing some boxes under the feet of his pursuers as he went.

"This is impossible! I've never had such speed, such reactions..." - thoughts were racing through his head. However, there was no time to figure it out. He felt that his strength was starting to run out, and his breathing was getting more and more ragged.

One of his pursuers was too close: a stocky one jumped out from around the corner with an outstretched arm, trying to grab Sirion. But the guy dodged at the last moment, stepped to the side and sharply kicked the wall, pushing himself upward. He jumped over a barrel, rolled on the other side and broke into a run again.

"He has no more strength left! Pull up, the kid is out of breath!" the tall one shouted, slightly behind.

"If I don't find a way to confuse them... I'll just get caught," Sirion thought, looking around for some kind of cover.

Sirion raced through the narrow corridors of the warehouse, his every step echoing loudly, attracting his pursuers. He ran into a dark room filled with piles of metal debris and broken equipment, and pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath.

"We need to find a way out... but where?" - Chaos reigned in his head, but his legs were already moving on their own, driven by fear. A creaking sound was heard nearby - the pursuers got inside.

"Hey, look in the corners! He's somewhere here!"

Peering into the semi-darkness, Sirion noticed a staircase leading to the upper tier of the warehouse, where the old observation platform was located. "We need to go up. There I can at least see where they're coming from."

He rushed to the stairs, trying to move as quietly as possible, but the steps creaked treacherously under his feet.

"Do you hear? He's up there!"

Sirion found himself on the catwalk. The metal flooring sagged and rattled under his feet, increasing the tension. There was a dead-end wall ahead, and a dirty window to the left, from which he could probably climb out.

He could already hear footsteps behind him — one of the men had started to climb up after him. His stocky partner remained below, and suddenly he pulled an old revolver from his belt and pointed it at Sirion.

"That's it, boy. Move, and I'll shoot!"

Sirion froze, feeling his heart pounding somewhere in his throat. He glanced around, frantically trying to find even the smallest loophole.

"You can't jump, they'll shoot you. Staying here — too. Damn it..."

At that moment, the walkway under his feet creaked ominously, as if it couldn't support his weight. And then it dawned on him.

"If the walkway collapses, maybe that'll give me a chance!"

Without thinking, he lunged for the center of the deck and jumped on it a couple of times, increasing the load. The metal groaned pitifully, and then with a loud crack, part of the structure collapsed downwards, dragging Sirion down with it.

Somersaulting through the air, he somehow caught the edge of a beam just below, preventing himself from falling onto a pile of rubble. The man with the revolver fell backwards in surprise, and his partner, who had climbed up, also staggered, losing his balance. Sirion did not wait for them to recover. Pulling himself up, he climbed onto a stable part of the structure and threw himself at the window, knocking it out with his shoulder. The cold night air rushed into his face as he collapsed onto the metal canopy outside, which sagged loudly under the weight of his body, but held. He stood up, looked around and, almost losing his balance, ran further along the roofs, not looking back.

Sirion raced across the rooftops as if driven by instinct, jumping from one flimsy metal platform to another. Each step echoed with a loud clang, and the old structures creaked under his weight, as if they would collapse at any moment. The city around him seemed like a chaotic labyrinth of pipes, stairs, ledges and bridges connecting the buildings. There were no familiar streets here - the entire space up and down was filled with crisscrossing passages, hanging cables and massive pipes from which steam burst out from time to time.

"How can anyone live here?!" flashed through his mind as he jumped onto another ledge and immediately grabbed the rusty ladder leading to the lower level.

Below, under layers of rotting metal, murky canal waters flowed. Their fetid smell rose up, mixing with dust and soot, making the air heavy and unpleasant. Zaun was like a giant mechanical ulcer: everything here was rotting, noisy, grinding, and danger lurked in every corner.

The city was built vertically, like a giant factory, each element constructed from what was left of upper Piltover. The lower he went, the darker it became, and Sirion could hardly see anything except the faint light that filtered through the windows of old buildings or the sparks that flew from malfunctioning machines.

He stumbled and almost fell as he leaped onto another roof. Trying to regain his balance, he noticed how one of the buildings nearby looked completely empty: broken windows, crumbling plaster and traces of soot on the walls. It resembled a ghost, as if embodying the whole essence of this city, where everything abandoned was on the verge of collapse, but still found use.

The noise of pursuit behind him was still audible, but the pursuers were falling behind. Sirion turned onto a narrow bridge that crossed the pipes and paused for a second to look back.

"This city... it's all like a patchwork. Metal, rot and dirt, mixed with the remains of what still works," he thought, trying to catch at least some direction where he could hide.

He touched his pants pocket, hoping to find at least something useful. But, of course, there was nothing there. Suddenly, the cold mechanical voice of the system sounded in his head again:

"Loading process: 25%. Wait for synchronization to complete."

"Yeah, I'll wait..." Sirion muttered, covering his face with his hands. "But the question is: will I live to see it?"

But there was no time to think. A rumble was heard in the distance: one of his pursuers clearly decided not to give up. Taking a deep breath, Sirion rushed forward again, deciding to trust his instincts.

Sirion hid in the shelter, an old technical room, which he had barely managed to run into. The door he found, although half-ruined, was still locked from the inside. He breathed heavily, leaning against the wall, and tried to calm himself. But the shouts and footsteps outside were getting closer and closer to reminding him that his situation was far from safe.

"Well, of course," flashed through his mind, "Arkane said so: even children in Zaund learn from an early age to jump, climb and survive in this chaos. How could it be otherwise, when your city is a continuous vertical labyrinth of scrap metal?"

He peered through a crack in the wall. His pursuers were approaching with inexorable speed, moving as easily and gracefully as he did. Their movements were fast, precise and almost silent. The tall, thin guy nimbly jumped over pipes and bridges, and the stocky companion, despite his bulk, did not lag behind a single step.

"Damn, what now? They won't leave until they catch me," he nervously clenched his fists. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he tried to pull himself together.

The room he had taken refuge in was practically empty: a few old boxes, a broken mechanism, and a couple of rusty tools that could have been used as weapons if he had had a chance to even think about how to use them. But there was no time to think.

A crash at the entrance made him flinch. The pursuers were clearly trying to open the door.

"Hey, kid, stop hiding!" one of them shouted. "We know you're in there!"

"Don't make us waste time, or it will be worse!" the second added.

"Oh, damn, they're going to break through," the thought flashed through Sirion's mind that running away would hardly save him this time. He needed to think of something, and fast.

The door slammed off its hinges and hit the wall. Sirion lunged for the only exit, but before he could take two steps, a strong hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. His body jerked back, and then flew hard towards the wall. The blow was so powerful that it took his breath away, and he instinctively grabbed his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Well, hero, have you had enough running?" the stocky one grinned, coming closer. His massive figure blocked the light that barely made it through the cracks in the walls.

Sirion looked up at his pursuers. They looked malicious, clearly enjoying his helplessness. The thin one, leaning on the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest, watching what was happening with interest.

"I told you that running away won't give you anything," he said lazily, clearly amused by the situation. - But I have to give you credit, boy, you run well.

Sirion was breathing heavily, feeling his heart pounding somewhere in his throat. He couldn't get enough air, but he tried to keep his cool a little.

"What... what do you want?" - he breathed out, trying to sound confident, although it was difficult.

The stocky one leaned towards him, leaning his hand on the wall next to his head.

"It's simple, boy" - his voice sounded threateningly low. - You live here? So you pay. No money? Then give us what you have, or we'll take it with interest.

"There's nothing to take here" - the thin one added coldly. - "Unless this "hero" himself goes to work for us. Such a fast and jumpy boy, perhaps, will come in handy."

Sirion, feeling the approach of trouble, feverishly thought about how to get out of it. "If only the system had finished loading already..."