Bael stepped forward, cracking his knuckles as he approached the machine. Jayce flipped a few switches, and Viktor adjusted the dials, making sure everything was calibrated. The Hextech energy converter hummed to life, glowing with raw power.
"Alright," Bael said, rolling up his sleeve to expose the rune tattoos on his arm. "Let's give the professor a little demonstration."
He pressed his palm against the machine's surface, and instantly, the runes on his arm pulsed with energy, syncing with the converter. The power flow became visible—streams of glowing blue light weaving through the engraved circuits like veins pumping life into a body.
Bael focused, channeling the runic energy. Then, he lifted his other hand and pointed at a metal target across the room. In an instant, a rune formed in midair—just a flicker of light at first, then a fully realized sigil.
BOOM!
The rune detonated, sending a shockwave through the lab. The metal target was scorched, but intact, proving the energy had been precisely controlled.
Heimerdinger's eyes widened, his ears standing straight up. "Extraordinary! The efficiency, the synchronization! This level of control is unheard of!"
Jayce grinned. "Told you he was something else."
Viktor, however, was more analytical. "The energy drain on your body, Bael... How does it feel?"
Bael exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. "Like lifting weights, but with my soul. It takes a toll, but with the right runes, I could mitigate that."
Heimerdinger nodded, deeply impressed but still cautious. "This... This is dangerous innovation. But it is innovation nonetheless." He turned to Bael. "Tell me, young man, what do you plan to do with such power?"
Bael leaned against the table, casually examining the glowing runes inscribed on his arm. His lips curled into a sinister grin.
"You know," he mused, lightly running his fingers over one of the markings, "I could draw a rune so powerful, an entire district would vanish. No wreckage, no trace—just gone."
The room went still.
Heimerdinger stiffened, his fur standing on end. Jayce's face darkened, and Viktor's eyes narrowed in a mix of concern and curiosity.
Bael sensed their unease and chuckled darkly. "Relax," he added, though his grin never wavered. "I was just joking."
The tension in the air remained thick, no one daring to speak. Bael pushed himself off the table, his voice cool and nonchalant.
"But it does bring up an interesting thought. With runes, I could give power to those who've been ignored, cast aside. Zaun wouldn't need to crawl to Piltover anymore, begging for scraps. No, we could carve our own path." His eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction. "And if some blood has to be spilled along the way, so be it."
Jayce's grip tightened on the edge of the table, but his voice was steady as he spoke. "The power of runes... should be used to help, not harm."
Bael's gaze remained cold. "I never said it was about just helping." He turned to Heimerdinger, who was still silent, clearly weighing his words.
Heimerdinger's voice finally broke through the tension. "Power, Bael, always comes at a cost."
Bael smiled, the darkness never leaving his eyes. "Everything does."
With that, he turned away and continued adjusting the runes, leaving the three scientists to digest the weight of his words.
As night fell and the lab lights dimmed, Jayce and Viktor gathered their things, ready to leave for the evening. Heimerdinger had already departed, still unsettled by their earlier conversation.
"You coming, Bael?" Jayce asked, stretching his arms.
Bael gave a lazy wave without looking up. "Nah, I've got some final adjustments to make. I won't be long."
Jayce frowned but didn't push. "Just don't overwork yourself."
Viktor studied Bael for a moment before nodding. "Try not to burn down the lab."
They left. The heavy door clicked shut behind them, leaving Bael alone.
His expression immediately shifted. The calm, controlled mask he wore in their presence faded, replaced by raw excitement.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing freshly carved runes along his forearm—new ones, different from the explosive marks he'd created before. These were deeper, more intricate, pulsing faintly with an eerie glow.
Bael exhaled. "Alright… let's see what you can do."
He placed his palm against the cold metal table, channeling his energy into the runes. The lines ignited, shimmering like liquid fire beneath his skin.
Then—reality warped.
The air crackled, twisting in on itself. The space in front of him seemed to stretch, pulling at the edges of existence. A small rift tore open, its insides swirling like a fractured mirror.
Bael's heart pounded. He had done it.
Not just an explosion. Not just raw destruction.
Dimensional distortion.
He grinned, staring into the rift. If he could control this... escaping this world wouldn't just be a possibility.
It would be inevitable.
Bael exhaled, shaking out his arm as the last remnants of the effect faded. Two seconds. That was all he could manage before the runes burned out.
Not enough.
But not impossible.
He studied the inscriptions, fingers tracing the glowing patterns along his skin. The energy cost was immense, far greater than his explosive runes. This wasn't just bending force—this was bending reality. The Arcane fought back, resisting his control.
He needed more efficiency. More precision.
Grabbing his tools, he started modifying the runes again, altering their shapes, layering new symbols over the old. If he could stabilize the flow, distribute the power evenly instead of burning through it all at once…
Bael rolled his shoulders, preparing for another test.
He activated the runes.
The world slowed. The faint hum of Piltover's nightscape stretched into a low, distorted drone. The flickering lamps dimmed, their movements sluggish.
Bael lifted his hand—watched as even that action felt like pushing through water. The strain was there, pressing against his mind, his body screaming at the unnatural pause.
Then—snap.
Everything rushed back to normal, the sudden acceleration making his vision blur.
Three seconds.
Bael grinned, despite the burning sensation in his arm.
It was working.
Bael's body tensed, his instincts screaming at him. His eyes darted around the lab, searching every shadow, every flicker of light.
Nothing.
Yet, he felt it. A presence, lingering just beyond sight.
Then—movement.
A ripple in the air, the distortion of something not bound by the physical world. And from that distortion, it stepped forward. The same shadow that had dragged him into this world.
Bael clenched his fists, his runes flaring. Not this time.
"About time you reveal your identity, no?" He kept his voice steady, but his pulse pounded in his ears.
The shadow chuckled—a low, warped sound.
"Perhaps." It didn't move closer, yet its presence loomed. "But does it matter? You're already playing your part."
Bael's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"
A pause. Then, the shadow spoke with something almost like amusement.
"To see how far you'll go."
The entity finally stepped fully into the light.
A face—not monstrous, not alien. Familiar. Human. Yet impossibly ancient, as if time refused to erode it, only deepen the weight of its presence.
Bael's eyes narrowed. "Your face… it's familiar."
The figure tilted his head. "Of course it is."
In a blink, the being surged forward. A hand pressed firmly against Bael's forehead.
Bael tried to react, but the runes on his arm dimmed, flickering helplessly. His body froze—his mind didn't.
Then, agony.
A flood of memories, visions, truths, all slammed into his consciousness like waves crashing into rock. Realities layered over each other. Names. Faces. Lives. Worlds.
He saw himself—
—not just as Bael.
But as dozens of versions.
Warrior. Tyrant. God. Monster.
Every path, every world he had touched or shattered.
He screamed. Loud. Raw. It echoed through the lab.
And the shadow whispered, "You were never just a visitor. You were always meant to return."
Bael dropped to his knees.
His breath was shallow. Chest heaving. Eyes wide, trembling—tears pooling, falling silently down his cheeks.
He clutched his head, voice cracking.
"What... what am I?"
The shadow stood still, towering. Watching.
"You are everything they feared," it said calmly.
"Everything they tried to erase."
Bael looked up, broken and burning all at once.
"I don't want this... I didn't ask for this..."
"And yet," the entity replied, "you were made for it. This world... was just a lullaby. A dream to keep you asleep."
Bael's tears hit the floor, and the runes on his arm flared faintly—responding to his turmoil.
"...Powder," he whispered.
His fists clenched.
He wasn't ready to lose her.
Not again.
Not like this.
...
The next day, Bael was given a well served day off after accomplishing a week's task in three days, he was returning back home early l, still traumatized by his last encounter withe the shadow figure...
Bael leaned against the doorframe, drenched just enough for his hair to cling a little to his forehead. The warmth inside hit him like a wave.
There was Powder, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Isha tucked close to her side, a book open in her lap. She had her goggles pushed up, hair a little messy, a smudge of ink on her cheek—and she was glowing.
"Welcome back, my man!" she beamed. "You came back early today."
Isha looked up with that wide, fearless gaze and gave him a small wave. Powder held the book up proudly. "We're learning how things go boom. Educational stuff."
Bael chuckled faintly, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. "Sounds important."
"Very," Powder nodded, tapping the page. "Turns out this little rascal's got a knack for understanding explosive chain reactions."
Bael walked over and knelt down beside them, the exhaustion and heaviness of earlier fading in the warmth of this small moment.
"I missed this," he whispered, mostly to himself.
Powder leaned closer and whispered, "You look tired, babe. Want food? Or kisses? Or both?"
Bael smirked. "Kisses first. I can always eat later."
Powder grinned and leaned in, giving him a long, soft kiss before resting her head against his shoulder. Isha curled beside them, quiet as always, yet safe.
For a moment, Bael closed his eyes and let it all sink in.
This world may not be his.
But it sure as hell felt like home.
...
At night, Bael jolted awake, gasping—heart pounding against his chest. The dream still echoed in his skull. That voice. That thing.
The shadow.
The runes.
The words.
"The cycle ends when the sinner returns. When the god walks backwards through the fire."
He sat up, eyes wild, breath sharp. Then the truth returned to him like lightning.
"I need to return to Jinx," he muttered under his breath, stumbling out of bed and quickly getting dressed. Powder slept peacefully beside him, unaware. He hesitated, just for a moment, staring at her—then turned away. He had no choice.
Quietly, he crept out of the bedroom, boots barely making a sound on the floor. He didn't notice the small figure curled on the couch slowly lifting her head.
Isha had been half-asleep, but the moment she saw Bael leave in a rush, she silently sat up.
No words. No questions. Just a little girl grabbing her coat, slipping out behind him like a shadow.
As Bael vanished into the cold streets, Isha followed quietly, her footsteps careful and soundless, like she'd done this a thousand times before. Never too close. Never too far. Her eyes locked on him through the darkness.
And though she said nothing… her presence was unwavering.
Something was wrong.
And wherever Bael was going, she would be there.