Arcane, Voice of Zaun

"You're too slow," a voice said as a slash came my way. I raised my own knife to block, the metals scraping against each other with a harsh ring that echoed through the training room.

I looked at my opponent, his red eyes staring intensely. They hadn't changed since the first day I met him—still predatory, still calculating. But now I could see something else in them too. Amusement.

"Come on, little mouse, I'm not even using any actual strength." Lloyd twirled the knife between his fingers, the green veins in the blade pulsing faintly, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat.

I gritted my teeth. Two years in the Atreides gang had changed me. I was no longer the scared, grieving boy who'd been dragged away from his mother's body. I had changed with the times and thankfully I had been able to do so without being thrown into the ventilation systems.

I lunged forward with my own knife. I was smaller, meaning shorter range, meaning I had to get in close. Close was dangerous with Lloyd, but distance was certain death.

I slashed vertically, only to be met with the swishing of air as Lloyd moved back, his white hair barely disturbed by the movement.

"Not bad, not bad at all, still not good enough though."

I didn't respond. Words wasted breath, and I needed every advantage I could get. I slashed forward again, but his knife met mine with a metallic clang. Over and over I kept slashing, trying to find an opening, a weakness, anything. I slashed vertically upwards—his knife met mine, but as I was about to move my knife once more—

SLAP

Lloyd's free hand met my face with enough force to make my ears ring.

"Hahaha, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself." He wasn't sorry. His laughter bubbled up from deep in his chest, genuine and cruel simultaneously.

I shook my head a bit, feeling the sting in my face, no matter how many times I got hit it still hurt, maybe it was his technique or something.

We continued to fight. I kept my speed, attacking in any manor I could think of. For a moment, I thought I might actually land a hit—

SLAP

"Hahaha." This time his palm caught me on the other cheek, perfectly balanced.

I pivoted, trying to use my size as an advantage, ducking under his arm and—

SLAP

"HAHAHA!"

The third slap knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling backward. My vision blurred, but I maintained my grip on the knife. Lloyd had taught me that much at least—never drop your weapon.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm gonna pee from laughing." Tears were gathering in the corners of his red eyes.

I wiped blood from my lip with the back of my hand. I hadn't even noticed it was split until now. The pain was there, but distant, like it belonged to someone else. I slashed once more, neverminding his comments.

Yet Lloyd simply let go of his knife and stopped my wrist mere inches from his throat, his fingers wrapping around my arm like a snake. The tip of my blade so close to stabbing through.

"That's enough for today," he said, his laughter subsiding. "You can put up a good fight against kids your age, but don't try to go against an adult. They'll just overpower you." As if to prove his point, his grip on my wrist tightened so much that my fingers reflexively let go of the knife. It clattered to the floor between us, the sound echoing off the concrete walls.

"I'll be leaving for a few days. I have some stuff to do," he continued, finally releasing my wrist. I resisted the urge to rub the circulation back into it. Showing weakness in front of Lloyd was never a good idea. "Until then, I allow you to go alone up to Entresol. Don't pick up more than you can handle, and remember—"

"Always run from a fight, never start it," I finished for him. He always said it, only fools start a fight and weak don't finish it.

"Good." He nodded, satisfied. His red eyes scanned my face, lingering on the marks his slaps had left. "The sole reason I'm letting you go is because both Cole and Jay advocated for you, so better not disappoint."

I nodded. Cole had become something of a silent guardian, and Jay my best friend. Their support was one of the few things that kept me going, if I was being honest.

"Where are you going?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"The mines," Lloyd said, picking up his knife and wiping it on his pants before sheathing it. "We got intel that they have an excess of chem materials—very expensive, very valuable. So it's important we get the drop on it. But you know how much of a maze that place is, so yeah, it'll probably take a few days to find the materials."

I knew the mines only by reputation—labyrinthine tunnels filled with toxic gasses and unstable walkways. No one went in there just because, even the miners themselves had a horrible mortality rate from cave ins according to stories.

"How many of you are going?"

"Two dozen. We can't leave the hideout unmanned, especially since I've been hearing... unsavory things." His expression darkened slightly.

"What kind of unsavory things?" I pressed, knowing I was pushing my luck.

"Things you don't need to know," he laughed, reaching out to pat my curly hair. His touch was gentler than usual, almost affectionate, which unsettled me more than the slaps had. "You're still just a rat, after all."

I swallowed the retort that rose to my lips.

"I'll be home in an hour or two," I said instead, sheathing my knife and hiding it under my clothes. Lloyd was already making his way back toward our hideout, his footsteps echoing in the empty training room.

He simply raised his hand without even looking back at me, a casual dismissal.

"Let's go then," I muttered before sprinting in the opposite direction once he was out of sight.

The Undercity spread out below me as I ran across rooftops and swung from pipes. I'd gotten used to navigating this vertical city quickly and in a fun way, most of it was taught by Jay, thank the Lamb for Jay. It was honestly pretty fun, plus, weirdly enough, the smog wasn't as concentrated whenever I ran high above the streets.

The metal under my feet creaked and groaned, but I'd learned which paths could hold my weight and which would send me plummeting to the streets below. I'd had a few pretty nasty falls of my own, but I did earn more pity money while begging, there's always an upside to everything.

It wasn't long before I made it to where I wanted to go.

Old Hungry.

The mechanized clock that served as the heart of the Sump loomed above me, its metal face grimacing down at the world below. I slipped through a maintenance hatch at its base, climbing inner workings that had been abandoned decades ago. Using pipes, stairs, and whatever else I could find, I made my way upward.

It was a slow climb, but I'd made it enough times now that my hands and feet knew where to find purchase in the darkness. The air grew thinner as I ascended, less laden with the toxins that permeated the lower levels of the Undercity. By the time I reached the top, my arms were tired and burning, but it would soon pass.

Broken and rusty gears were all that you could see in the heart of the clock. Massive cogs lay dormant, it was sad to see, how the mighty fall and all that. Dust layered in the thin beams of light that filtered through cracks in the structure.

However, there was something else—a small shrine of flowers nestled between two massive gears. A nightlight and a broken enforcer respirator lay amid the blossoms.

The flowers were some that I'd picked from the deepest fissures where sunlight occasionally penetrated from above, so I knew they could survive the smog, especially up here where there was much less. As for the nightlight one day I had got away from COle and had been able to get it.

A memento.

"Hi mom," I muttered, my fingers tracing the respirator. Lloyd had given it to me once I'd brought in 150 bronze coins. Why 150? No clue, but I was glad he'd done so. It was the only physical reminder I had of that day—the day everything changed.

I went to the broken glass of the clock face, opening up a small door that led to the hands of the clock outside. The mechanism had long since stopped working, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.

The wind tore through the opening, making my hair go wild. The cold bit at my cheeks, especially where Lloyd's slaps had left them tender, but I welcomed the sting. Pain meant I was still alive.

"I never get tired of the view," I said, staring at the entirety of the Undercity and Piltover beyond. Up here, I could see everything—the smokestacks belching toxins into the air, the faint glow of chemtech from the lower levels, the Bridge of Progress, the distant shimmer of Piltover's golden towers.

Two worlds, so close yet impossibly far apart. It was kind of sad to think about it.