The city of Zaun. To the elites of the sun-drenched Piltover above, it was a festering sore—a place of toxic smogs and "undesirables." But to those who lived within the fissures, it was a benchmark of survival and, increasingly, a hub for shimmer factories. All of this was thanks to the iron-fisted vision of Silco and the macabre genius of Singed. While the "Gray"—the thick, chemical fog—stifled the lungs of the weak, Silco had undeniably brought a brutal form of industrialization to the undercity.
Currently, Zaun operates under a chaotic yet surprisingly structural hierarchy. Silco was the undisputed "Big Man," the apex of the pyramid. Beneath him sat the Chem-Barons, a collection of ruthless opportunists who regulated their respective territories with blood and steam, yet always knew they had to answer to the top when the bell tolled.
Deep within one such Shimmer factory, tucked away in the Sump, an intruder breached the perimeter. It wasn't a saboteur or an Enforcer; it was a tiny, spindly spider seeking refuge from the acidic rain outside. Inside the facility, the air hummed with the mechanical churn of pistons and the low groan of workers—or whatever those poor, shimmering-eyed souls had become.
A single, viscous drop of purple Shimmer leaked from a hairline fracture in a vat, splattering onto the cold, metal floor. The spider paused, its many eyes reflecting the neon glow. Driven by a primal, mutated instinct, it tasted the liquid.
The reaction was instantaneous. The spider began to twitch violently, its abdomen pulsing with an iridescent violet light. As it scurried away, its carapace shifted, hardening and taking on exotic, colorful hues that defied the natural laws of its kind. Mutating with every scuttle, the creature began a long, vertical climb, leaving the toxic depths of Zaun behind as it sought the clean air of the topside: Piltover.
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High above the fissures, the sun cast its golden rays over the Bluewind Court, the crown jewel of Piltover's Northern District. This was the domain of the elite, specifically the Kiramman Clan—a name that carried enough weight to bend the city's bureaucracy.
Inside the Kiramman mansion, Kyle woke with the effortless grace of someone who didn't have to worry about where their next meal was coming from. After a light morning training session across the lavish gardens, he headed toward the kennels.
"Alright, you monsters, who's ready for breakfast?" Kyle called out.
A chorus of frantic barking erupted as his pack of Dobermans swarmed him. Kyle laughed, dodging wet tongues and heavy paws. "Damn it guys, take it easy! Down, Rex! People would think I haven't fed you in a month." He spent a good half-hour wrestling with the dogs, their sleek coats shining in the morning light. To anyone else, they were fearsome guards; to Kyle, they were the only ones in this city who didn't care about politics.
After returning inside, Kyle freshened up, scrubbed the dog scent off, and donned a set of tailored clothes that screamed 'Old Money' without being too gaudy. He checked his reflection, fixing a stray hair.
"Perfect. Even the Enforcers might mistake me for a law-abiding citizen today," he muttered to himself before heading to the dining hall.
The breakfast table was a sprawling expanse of fine china and silverware. His parents, Cassandra and Tobias, were already seated, nursing coffee and reading the morning's reports.
"Good morning, Mother. Father," Kyle said, taking his seat and immediately reaching for a croissant.
"Good morning, son," Tobias said with a warm smile. "Did the dogs leave any of you intact?"
"Barely. I think Rex is planning a coup," Kyle joked, slathering jam onto his bread. He glanced at the empty chair across from him. "Caitlyn's out early? Let me guess—Enforcer duties?"
Cassandra sighed, her posture impeccably straight. "It is Progress Day, Kyle. The city is in a state of controlled mania. Caitlyn felt her presence was required at the gates to ensure the 'rabble' doesn't get too enthusiastic."
Kyle hummed thoughtfully. "Can you blame them? Jayce and Viktor basically handed everyone the keys to the future. Hextech is all anyone talks about."
"Jayce is the golden boy of the hour," Cassandra conceded, though her tone suggested she was still weighing the long-term implications of his 'technological marvel.'
Kyle finished his meal quickly, his eyes darting toward the window. The sounds of the celebration were already drifting in—the distant cheers, the hum of clockwork, the faint smell of ozone.
"So," Kyle started, leaning forward. "Since it's a holiday and all... I was thinking of heading down to the plaza. See the exhibits. Maybe see if Jayce's ego has actually developed its own gravity yet."
Cassandra didn't even look up from her tea. "No."
"Mother, come on! It's the biggest Progress Day in a century!"
"It is a security nightmare, Kyle," she said firmly. "The streets are packed, the Council is on edge, and I will not have you wandering into a crowd of overexcited commoners and pickpockets."
Kyle looked at his father for support, but Tobias just gave a sympathetic 'you're on your own' shrug. It was time for the heavy artillery.
Kyle set his fork down and turned toward Cassandra. He slumped his shoulders slightly, tilted his head, and widened his eyes until they practically shimmered with unshed tears. It was the ultimate weapon: the Puppy Eyes.
The silence in the room became heavy. Seconds ticked by. Tobias hid a smile behind his coffee cup. Cassandra stared at her son, her resolve visibly crumbling like a dry biscuit.
"Don't... don't do that," she whispered.
Kyle didn't blink. He just let out a tiny, pathetic huff.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Cassandra threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine! But you take a direct route, you stay in the upper districts, and if you aren't back by sunset, I'm sending a battalion to drag you home by your ears."
Kyle's face instantly transformed into a beaming grin. He leapt up, rounding the table to give his mother a fierce hug. "You're the best, Mom! I promise, no trouble!"
He darted toward the door, then stopped, ran back, and gave his father a quick hug as well. "Thanks, Dad!"
"Stay safe, son!" Tobias called out as Kyle vanished into the hallway.
As the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the mansion, Cassandra rubbed her temples. "He's going to get into trouble, isn't he?"
Tobias chuckled. "It's Progress Day, Cassandra. A little trouble is tradition."
Meanwhile, outside, Kyle took a deep breath of the crisp Piltover air. He didn't know about the shimmering spider climbing the walls, or the brewing storm in the undercity. For now, he just wanted to see the wonders of Hextech—and maybe find out if Caitlyn was actually working or just hiding from her mother's guest list.