Arcane: I have Plasmids F*** YEAAAAAAH!!!

Lukas had always considered himself a man of culture. A true connoisseur of the digital arts. His days were spent grinding ranked matches in whatever competitive game was currently ruining his mental health, and his nights? Well, let's just say they were dedicated to refining his tastes in animated entertainment.

But six months ago, he had undertaken the ultimate challenge. The peak of human discipline. The true test of mind over matter.

Edging.

At first, it had been a joke. A dumb bet he made with himself after reading some nonsense online about "semen retention increasing your energy and willpower." But somewhere along the way, it had become a personal crusade. A battle against his own primal urges. Six months of self-imposed torment, six months of balancing on the knife's edge of ecstasy and suffering, all leading up to this moment—this final session.

Tonight, he was going to break his streak.

He had prepared meticulously. Candles? Check. Noise-canceling headphones? Absolutely. His magnum opus of degeneracy? A 4K, 60FPS, director's cut of Elizabeth from Bioshock being absolutely ruined by a genetically modified monstrosity. The lighting? Immaculate. The animation? Flawless. Every detail, every pixel, every subtle expression on Elizabeth's face—it was art. Pure, unfiltered art.

Lukas leaned back in his chair, his breathing uneven. His hands were sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy—but there was no spaghetti, only the pure, unrelenting need to finally release six months of frustration.

And then, at the very last second…

BOOM.

Pain. Agony. A violent, all-consuming explosion erupted from inside him, as if his very essence had decided that six months of denied nutting was a violation of the Geneva Convention. He felt himself being torn apart at a molecular level, his consciousness spiraling into an abyss of pure, unfiltered WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

Darkness. Cold. Silence.

Then…

Light.

Lukas gasped as he jolted awake, his lungs burning as if he had just been drowning. His body was aching, weak, small—wait.

Wait.

Why were his hands so tiny?

Why was he lying in a filthy alley that smelled like piss and desperation?

And most importantly—why the fuck was there no computer screen in front of him?

His heart pounded as he pushed himself up, his mind racing. Everything around him was grimy, industrial, wrong. The buildings were tall, looming structures made of rusted metal and flickering neon lights, casting an eerie glow over the darkened streets. Strange pipes ran along the walls, spewing occasional bursts of greenish steam. In the distance, he could hear the faint hum of machinery, the low murmur of voices, and the unmistakable clink of glass bottles shattering against pavement.

Lukas swallowed hard.

He knew this place.

Even with his limited knowledge of Arcane and League of Legends, even though he had only half-paid attention to the show while scrolling his phone, there was no mistaking the oppressive, smog-choked streets of this city.

Zaun.

He had fucking reincarnated into Zaun.

His stomach dropped.

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me."

The universe, it seemed, had the cruelest sense of humor.