Chapter 13 – When the World Feels Real
Steven's mornings had started changing.
What once were solitary jogs through Piltover's winding upper tiers now came with the sound of another pair of footsteps beside him. Lighter, more rhythmic, sometimes slightly out of breath Sera had begun joining him.
It started as a joke. "What, are you trying to get a six-pack to match your brain?" she'd teased when she caught him stretching on the dormitory steps one morning.
He had laughed and waved her off. But the next morning, she was waiting there too. Hoodie, tied-back hair, and that defiant spark in her eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, smirking. "Someone's got to make sure you don't collapse mid-sprint."
Truthfully, Steven was glad for the company. The city's beauty felt richer with her by his side the sharp golden rooftops glowing under sunrise, the distant hum of hex-powered rail lines, the early market chatter rising from the lower tiers. But it was more than just companionship.
It felt real.
Sometimes they jogged in silence, sometimes they talked about projects, professors, or ridiculous ideas for fantasy-tech gear. Occasionally, she'd nudge him mid-run and dare him to race to the next plaza fountain. She always lost. He always pretended it was close.
One morning, they stopped beneath a stone arch overlooking the shimmer of the Pilt River. Their breath fogged in the crisp air, skin slick with sweat, hearts still racing. Sera leaned back against the railing and watched the city below, her eyes distant.
"This place," she said quietly, "feels bigger when we're not locked inside a workshop."
Steven nodded. "It's like everything breathes out here."
She looked at him. "I'm glad you asked me to come."
"I didn't," he said with a grin.
"You thought about asking."
He laughed. "Fair enough."
There was a pause. Then her voice dropped, softer. "You've changed, you know."
He tilted his head. "How so?"
"You're less scared. Or maybe… less lost."
That stopped him. Because it was true. For months, he'd lived with a quiet, gnawing fear that he wasn't meant to be here. That without magic or powers or some kind of prophecy, he was just a shadow in someone else's story.
But things were different now. His projects were taking shape. His body was stronger. And Sera, Sera was here, walking beside him, sharing pieces of her life and allowing him to share his.
"I think," he said slowly, "for the first time, I don't feel like an outsider pretending to belong."
She smiled. "Took you long enough."
They walked back through the upper promenade, slower now. Somewhere along the way, their hands brushed. Hers didn't pull away.
Later that evening, they skipped their usual workshop session. Instead, they found a quiet bench in the glow garden courtyard a spot usually reserved for lovers or late-night readers.
Sera brought two hot teas. Steven brought a schematic sketchbook, though he didn't open it.
"You know," he said, watching her tuck her knees up on the bench, "I used to think this world was fiction. Something that could be measured, analyzed, controlled."
"It's not?"
"No. It's… alive." He looked at her. "You're not a side character. You never were."
She blinked. Her cheeks turned a little pink. "Well, I was starting to get worried."
He chuckled, then leaned in slightly. "You're the most real thing I have."
They didn't kiss that night.
But her head rested on his shoulder.
And Steven realized that in a world of inventions and impossible dreams, this — this warmth, this quiet was something he never could have built.
It had to be felt.
It had to be lived