When he came to, the bridge was burning.

The air was filled with red smoke, so thick that one could call it gaseous blood and the child would have believed so without hesitation.

Around the boy were people of two separate groups, the first dressed in blue military uniforms and hellish masks while the other were a misfit of various punk-like styles.

The hell masks were winning, with the sounds and screams of the punks echoing until loud blasts of fired bullets shut them up.

Along with burning rubble and spent bullet casings, the ground was littered with corpses of both Piltover Enforcers and Zaunite trenchers.

Different in lifestyles and culture.

Equal in violent death.

Through all this, a single child walked through the destruction, clutching his bleeding head as he cried. It was such an absolute hell that even a child as small as him could understand it.

The boy himself was different from the two groups. Neither Piltovan nor Zaunite, he had simply been an Ionian tourist who had wanted to visit the Thriving Coastal City with his parents, only to be caught unawares by the protest which had soon grown into an ugly massacre.

Truly, he was nothing more... than collateral damage.

His parents were even less unfortunate, their cooling bodies having been left behind at their urging, using their last breaths to order their child to escape and live.

And then Death, hiding behind a gas mask, appeared out of the bloody smoke.

The Enforcer just stared at him, most likely confused at the child's appearance as he was dressed in neither Piltover leathers nor Zaunite threads. His uniform, once pristine, was now covered with blood and dirt as the Enforcer fingered his rifle uncertainly.

The tension broke when the boy stepped back and took a shuddering fearful breath, aquamarine streams of electricity sparking around him defensively.

Despite the mask hiding all of the Enforcer's expressions, there was no mistaking the disgust and vitriol in his voice as he apparently got over his hesitation of shooting a child and cocked the lever of his rifle, setting it against his shoulder to aim the barrel straight at the boy. "Filthy mage."

Two gunshots simultaneously thundered through the air.

Blood splattered at where the boy had been a split second ago, now three meters to the left as his ears rang and his heart pounded furiously.

Blood splattered at where the boy had been a split second ago, the Enforcer's body collapsing like a puppet with cut strings as his rifle fell from his hands to clatter on the ground.

The man behind the Enforcer was a Zaunite in simple clothes, his brown hair and pudgy face sweaty as he glared hatefully at the man he'd just killed.

"Fucking Piltovan scum! Just when I thought you all couldn't sink any lower!" The man spat as he approached the boy. "Hey, you okay, boy?"

"...I'm fine." The boy's voice came out weak and hoarse, even as the electricity around him dispersed.

"Okay, okay, then." The man breathed in deeply, only to start coughing and prompt the boy to awkwardly pat his large back. "Th-Thanks for that. Were you alone when this all went to hell? Where are you parents, kid?"

"I'm alone now." The boy didn't elaborate further and was thankful when the man didn't make him do so.

"We... We can't stay here, then." The man prompted as he carried the boy into his arms. "We need to get back to the undercity before the rest of those bastards cross the bridge."

"I-I'm not from there." The boy licked his lips. "I'm Ionian."

"Well, that explains the little lightshow then." The man commented as he turned about and started to walk, leaving the boy to watch behind him. "Land of talking trees and all that."

With the bloody smoke starting to clear, the boy could see the dozens of bodies much clearer than before. Enforcers were inspecting them, kicking them over like sacks of flour to make sure there were no survivors. A few gunshots ensured that there weren't.

For a minute, the boy saw an Enforcer raise his rifle at them only to be dissuaded by another Enforcer grabbing his shoulder and firmly shaking their head.

A few other survivors had the same idea of retreating, most of them having the same, defeated look, unbelieving of everything that had just happened. The boy himself saw his savior exchange a solemn nod with a bloodied muscular man who had two more children in his own hands.

"Hey, um, what's your name?" The man finally asked as the hellscape that would soon be known as the Bleeding Bridge finally left the boy's line of sight. "Sorry for not asking earlier. You said earlier that you're alone and I can't introduce Ekko to his new big brother without even knowing his name. I'm Benzo, by the way."

The boy blinked as he considered answering. "Shirou."

Opening Theme: Bones - www. youtube. com. watch?v=DYed5whEf4g

~Gimme, gimme, gimme some time to think~

A blast of toxic smoke blew by, revealing neon graffiti art of Shirou, Ekko, Vi and Powder in their young ages against a wall.

~I'm in the bathroom, looking at me~

Another blast of smoke revealed teenage versions of Vander, Silco and Benzo roaring in solidarity against Piltover Enforcers during a protest before a sudden shift showed adult Vander and Benzo with their children while Silco stood alone.

~Face in the mirror is all I need (ooh)~

A third blast of smoke revealed Vander and Silco charging at each other, the former with his gauntlets worn while the latter had a knife, the both of them appearing demonic with burning smoke escaping their mouths.

~Wait until the reaper takes my life~

~Never gonna get me out alive~

~I will live a thousand million lives (ooh)~

A flock of birds flew away, flying past a painting of a young Artoria and Caitlyn chatting amicably, while Jayce and Viktor followed them as they both read intensely from the same book.

~My patience is waning~

~Is this entertaining?~

Morgana and Mel smiled as they shook each other's hand in a painting, both having puppet strings over the rest of the Council.

~Our patience is waning~

~Is this entertaining?~

Heimerdinger stood short in a painting, Jayce and Viktor at nervous attention behind him.

~I-I-I got this feeling, yeah, you know~

Now as sculptures, younger Shirou and Artoria held blades against each others' throats, before suddenly defending the other's back as grown ups.

~Where I'm losing all control~

Grown up Caitlyn shoots her rifle while Jayce charged ahead with a sparking hammer.

~'Cause there's magic in my bones!~

Grown up Ekko held up a stopwatch, riding a hoverboard while he left afterimages.

~I-I-I got this feeling in my soul~

Grown up Powder (Jinx) and Vi stood back to back, the former shooting a gatling gun while the later sported a pair of gauntlets superior to Vander's.

~Go ahead and throw your stones~

Grown up Artoria held up her sword, the weapon ablaze as something draconic hovered behind her.

Grown up Shirou had a pair of blades in both hands, an unseen woman floating behind him as wind blew about protectively.

Together, they charged ahead.

~'Cause there's magic in my bones!~

"There's A Whole World Out There."

"Match over! The round goes to Shirou of Zaun!" The referee declared after Shirou had defeated his opponent.

This was met with varying indignant boos and reluctant cheers from the crowds. After all, this was a weapons tournament in which skill was the only thing that kept taking you up the brackets.

But even so, Shirou could still feel the glares digging into him. Despite his Ionian heritage, Shirou had gladly declared himself as Zaunite, uncaring of the looks of suspicion that had been pointed at both him and Ekko.

What are Zaunite trash like you doing in our city?

What gives a scummy rat like you the idea that you can be as good as us?

The Enforcers at least weren't as bad. Since they were in the clean atmosphere of Piltover, none of them had their rebreather masks, looking more like normal people instead of the monsters Shirou had gotten nightmares about in his younger years. Instead of disgust or suspicion, almost every Enforcer looked at Shirou and Ekko like they were a wild monkey which had somehow found it's way into civilization.

Offensive, but not malicious.

"That was great, Shirou." Ekko greeted him enthusiastically. "You made it to the finals! I can't wait to see Benzo's face when you bring home the trophy! Vi's going to be so jealous!"

"Speaking of which, why aren't they here?" Shirou asked as he leaned back against the wall. "At least Powder and Claggor wanted to come cheer me on with you."

"Oh, uh, Vi got a sudden job today and had to go with everyone." Ekko answered after he took the offered snack that Shirou just bought him. "Even Powder went for it, too."

"Must have been a really lucrative one if Vi took Powder along instead letting her join us." Shirou mused. 'It's probably here in Piltover.'

"Contestant Shirou, head to the arena at once for the final match." An official commanded as he approached them, giving Ekko a quick disgusted glance at the sight of the boy licking his fingers clean.

"Time to go." Shirou stepped away from the wall. "Wish me luck."

"Okay!" Ekko called after him.

Shirou nodded as he waved back and prepped his weapon.

The contestants for the Annual Weapon Meister Tournament were all required to use wooden replicas of their preferred weapons in order to avoid serious injuries or accidents. When Shirou had showed up with a wooden katana, he'd gotten a lot of flak from his opponents who had expected him to use either a club or his fists.

Not that he was bad with either of the above, but Shirou had been trained a little in swordsmanship by his birth father before that... unfortunate day.

Add in years of constant fighting against enemies of all sorts in Zaun and Shirou had considerably trained himself into being Benzo's sort of bouncer for their pawn shop, just like Violet was for Vander. Sort of.

"Ladies... gentlemen... and Zaunite..." Shirou smiled and gave the announcer a middle finger for that. "We have finally reached the finals of the 9th Annual Weapon Meister Tournament!"

The announcer gestured at Shirou. "In this corner, we have Shirou of Zaun, wielding a replica of an Ionian katana, which is so unlike what is expected of a brute of Zaun!"

There were loud boos and roars, the few cheers only being from those who had placed bets against Shirou's opponent. Shirou himself only gave a quick glance at where he could hear Ekko's own cheers.

The announcer gestured at Shirou's opponent. "And in this corner, we have Lady Artoria of House Pendragon, wielding the replica of a Demacian longsword! A noble weapon that befits her lineage!"

Shirou raised an eyebrow before looking at his opponent directly. "Why's he sucking up to you?"

His opponent, a beautiful girl shorter than him with golden hair tied back in a bun and piercing teal green eyes that held far more emotion than her stoic face conveyed, simply shrugged back without speaking.

"Are both participants ready?" The referee asked.

"Yes." Shirou nodded with his opponent doing the same.

"Then, begin!" The referee shouted, giving the signal to start.

Artoria moved first, approaching quickly with her sword raised-

*CLACK!*

The entire area resounded with the crack of wooden blades against each other, as Shirou went on the attack, forcing Artoria on the defensive as each strike was faster and more decisive than Shirou had seen any of her previous opponents use on her.

However, Artoria hadn't been a finalist for nothing.

Smoothly deflecting one of his blows, Artoria brought down her longsword to cleave into his shoulder.

With the instinct of a person who was raised in danger-wherever-you-go Zaun, Shirou rolled away from the strike that would've broken his collarbone.

Rolling a few meters away, Shirou surged back to his feet in excitement. On top of his opponent being strong and skilled, he noticed that Artoria hadn't wasted any precious breath in insulting him like his previous opponents had.

In fact, those marvelous green eyes were filled with excitement instead, completely trained on him as Artoria prepared for Shirou's next attack.

Shirou went on the offensive again, his wooden katana cracking hard against Artoria's guard.

Artoria didn't just take it all, giving back as much as she got whenever she had a chance to strike back. To Shirou's grim assessment, Artoria possessed almost as much physical strength as he would've had if he were to magically reinforce his body.

As he had promised Benzo to not use even the tiniest bit of magic anywhere in Piltover, Shirou had relied mostly on his skill and Zaun mindset, the latter consisting of 'always keep the offensive if you don't want to lose and die'.

So despite the building frustration, Shirou kept a tight lid on it, keeping his motions as smooth as possible.

"Hey, are you holding back on me?"

Shirou blinked as Artoria spoke to him for the first time ever, her smooth voice tickling his ears. Still didn't stop him from trying to attack again. "What are you talking about?"

"You're holding back!" Artoria accused as she blocked yet another strike, this time taking an opportunistic swipe at his neck. "If you want to win, you have to give it you all! Did you seriously come all this way with an attitude like that?"

"Goldilocks, I am a Zaunite participating in a Piltovan sporting event." Shirou rolled his eyes at her naivety. "If I fight you with my 'all', I'll be disqualified and arrested quicker than I can say my own name. As much as I'd like to go all out, it doesn't really say much for you guys that you're the first one giving me trouble despite me holding back against three other people earlier."

Artoria's eyes flashed with fury as she understood his words. "Do you think you can beat me like that?"

Shirou wasn't impressed. "Have you ever gotten into fights that would have ended in your death if you lost? Because I have, almost every day. Unless you're able to make me feel like I'm about to die if I lose, you're not going to get me to go all about. In fact, let me show you..."

Summoning up the rage he remembered feeling when one of Deckard's thugs had once commented about Powder being old enough to suck him off, Shirou then glared at Artoria.

The result was instant. Artoria instantly paled and shook, petrified on the spot as her eyes refused to look away from his while clutching her sword tight enough to make it creak. Behind her, the spectators that just happened to be in Shirou's line of sight buckled over as their lungs stopped working and made them pass out.

Taking advantage of her predicament, Shirou struck again, utilizing more of the Zaunite in him instead of the Ionian.

Impressively recovering quickly, Artoria defended herself desperately as swift and pragmatic slashes became swift and brutal cleaves, buckling under the bone breaking power each strike had.

A moment later, Artoria proved that there was steel in her underneath all the silk, smashing a fist into Shirou's unprotected cheek and forcing him back and off balance for a moment.

He immediately recovered, but that was enough time for her to step into the attack. The Zaunite in him relished the break in Artoria's 'noble' style as Shirou brought up his katana to block and lashed out with a kick.

On and on the fight continued, neither one of them able to land a hit as Artoria's attacks were still too slow to hit him and Shirou's attacks were too weak to penetrate her guard.

Then Shirou took a gamble... and threw his katana upwards, which had the effect of drawing his opponent's eyes upwards as well...

And left her open for the loud clap Shirou suddenly did just before her face.

The moment Artoria toppled back from the sound attack, Shirou's hand shot up and grabbed his now falling katana, swinging it down with finality.

So it was to his complete surprise that Artoria's free hand snapped forward and gripped onto his shirt, bringing him close for a brutal headbutt that had Shirou reeling backwards.

Staggering back, Shirou winced and clutched at his forehead, only to choke as he was suddenly body slammed, his katana pinned with one of Artoria's knees as she straddled him and slammed her longsword into the ground, two inches away from his throat.

"Congratulations." Artoria practically purred with a flushed face. "You lost and didn't die for it."

Even as the referee announced the match over and the crowd cheered louder than ever, Shirou ignored it all and tried to comprehend it.

He had lost.

He hadn't lost any fight... in years.

For a long moment, the two stayed in place, holding each other's gaze, before he smiled and laughed before relaxing completely. "It's my loss, then. I guess I wouldn't mind being conquered by a girl like you."

Artoria's face flushed as she practically leapt off Shirou, allowing him to get up. Gone was the strict 'warrior' persona, leaving behind the teenage girl that she truly was, stammering in the face of being teased.

"You're the most skilled swordsman I've ever seriously fought in my life." Shirou bowed his head to Artoria, causing a small hush over the crowd. Understandable, considering that no Zaunite worth their salt ever gave their respect to a Piltovan lightly.

"I say the same of you, Shirou." Showing true sportsmanship, Artoria bowed back as well. "You're the strongest Zaunite I've ever heard of."

"Not really." Shirou sheepishly replied. "There's still the Hound of the Underground-"

*BOOOM!*

Everyone's attention was suddenly caught at the sight of one of the penthouse buildings in the far distance exploding with blue lightning from within.

Within him, Shirou's magical power gave a soft hum of resonance.

"Let's fight again another time." Without waiting for a response, Shirou snatched up the silver medal from the official that had approached them and ran off, grabbing Ekko's hand on the way.

The sooner he evaded the imminent lockdown and got Ekko back home safe with Benzo, the better.

The blearing alarms that rang out soon only hastened his steps.

"Just what happened back there?" Ekko fretted as they exited one of the secret tunnels connecting Zaun and Piltover. "The whole uppercity's gone under lockdown. What about Powder and the others?! What if they didn't get out in time?!"

"Vi's got a good head on her shoulders." Shirou assured Ekko as they walked down the streets. "They'll be fine."

"Hey, Shirou." One of the few prostitutes lining the red light district called out to them as the brothers passed by. "That's one shiny medal you've got."

"Won it at topside." Shirou cheerily replied as he flicked at his medal. "You should've seen the faces the guy made when he wrapped it on my neck."

That prostitute wasn't the only one to notice the pure silver medal. Down in the Lanes, there were only two types of people who blatantly displayed valuable items on their person.

Idiots or Monsters.

The fact that not a single person went beyond greedy glares at Shirou's prize was tangible proof of which category he belonged to.

"Guys!" Ekko shot forward, causing Shirou to notice Vi and her crew, all with bruises. "What happened to you guys?"

"We got into a fight over our loot." Mylo shrugged before levelling a glare at Powder. "Still not sure if we won or lost."

Shirou raised an eyebrow at the obvious lack of an important detail. "What loot?"

"Exactly." Mylo stressed, promptly Claggor to smack the back of his head. "Hey!"

"We ran into trouble today after we finished the job. 'tell you more back home." Vi whispered as she fell into pace with him, the rest of them trailing behind. She then raised an eyebrow at the medal on Shirou's chest. "Second place?"

"What can I say?" Shirou sheepishly rubbed his forehead. "First place went to a Piltovan who didn't consider herself too good to fight dirty."

"Huh." Vi scoffed. "The way I see it, the topsiders are always fighting dirty."

"Maybe so, but hey..." Shirou smiled down. "At least it doesn't sound like it was that or incompetence that caused whatever made you lose your loot. I'm just glad you guys got out before the lockdown trapped you in. Whatever caused that building to blow up was crazy!"

Vi winced.

"...Vi." Shirou trailed off. "What happened to that building?"

"I didn't do anything!" Powder piped up within earshot.

"..." Shirou just turned to stare at the little girl while Vi palmed her face.

"Damnit, Powder."

He showed little reaction when the boy was brought in and shoved into the chair, only raising an eyebrow at the many new bruises he was sporting. Even as Deckard was forced into the seat, he was clearly desperate to find a way to escape, looking at the thugs surrounding him, then at the hairless cat that just rubbed against his leg, then even at him and Singed as the two kept busy with their work.

"You were only supposed to follow them and not interfere." Silco's voice could've been stolen right from the Void as the boy shook in his seat after hearing it. "Did I give you any other order that would've conflicted with that, Deckard?"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry." Deckard choked out, straining to breathe due to the club pressed up against his throat. "Th-They just c-caught us by surprise-"

"And now questions are being thrown my way." Silco finished as he checked his eyedrop medicine. "About you... and that isn't a risk I'm willing to take."

Deckard floundered as the club was pressed harder against his neck, barely managing to speak out the next words. "The kids...! It was their fault...! The explosion... in the uppercity...!"

The man wearing a doctor's lab coat raised his head in curiosity. He had heard about that rumor an hour ago. To think that there really was a Zaunite who had gone and bombed a building deep in the academy district. "It seems that there're some quite brave children out there."

"And competent if they escaped both Piltover and Deckard." Singed finished as he gently shook the vial in his hand, watching the violet liquid within turn fiery orange.

Silco himself seemed just as interested. "That was them?"

"Y-Yeah!" Deckard desperately grasped at the clear interest Silco had shown. "The topsiders are up in arms looking for 'em!"

"Vander's in trouble..." Silco mused with some amusement as he stood up and approached Deckard out of the shadows, his orange-on-black eye glinting ominously. "Smartest thing you've said tonight, boy. Now I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

Silco addressed his minions now. "Get him a meal and keep him off the streets."

He raised an eyebrow as Deckard was dragged away before turning to Silco. "And how is the boy now important?"

"His importance depends on how far you two have come with Shimmer." Silco replied.

Singed raised a large vial of the glowing orange liquid. "It's almost ready. Also, this new variant that my friend and I have created seems deserving of a new name. We're calling it Infernal."

"Such an implicative name." Silco turned to look at them. "I would like a demonstration."

While Singed went and grabbed the cat, his partner's hand glowed with arcane power as he approached a glass cage and caused the purple liquid in the rat's drink container to vanish and be replaced by the new orange serum.

"Feeding time." Singed hummed as he dropped the cat into the glass cage with the rat... and promptly locked it securely.

"And the side effects?" Silco asked as he approached to observe.

"Subject won't die, but there is an addictive factor despite the pain." The scientist tapped the glass, causing the asleep rat to wake up and notice the too close predator. Squeaking in clear panic, the rat scurried straight to it's drink container, showing how often they'd done this and how the rat instantly knew it's greatest chance of survival.

"You should be forewarned, though." The alchemist spoke up just as the rat had drunk enough and had started to shake in place. "We chose the name 'Infernal' for a reason."

The first to come was the smoke, as copious amounts of black smoke burst from the rat's orifices as it was seemingly burned alive from within. Then came the flames, burning the rat's flesh and fur into charcoal and ash as it somehow didn't die.

Throughout all this, the approaching cat which had stopped inching forward the moment the rat started to shake was now howling in terror, scratching it's claws against the glass ineffectually.

All three of the observers flinched back when the flaming rat launched itself at the cat hard enough to break the glass and pulverize the cat's side, starting a painful death for the feline as it began to be cremated alive.

"Well, that was unexpected." The alchemist commented as he pulled off his glasses to wipe them clean.

"What part did you not expect?" Singed raised a curious eyebrow.

"The part where it suddenly gained a taste for cat flesh." He answered as they all watched the flaming rat vigorously eat through the cat's innards. "Then again, rats are always eating whenever they don't have to deal with predators."

"Indeed." Singed nodded along thoughtfully. "The feeding could be a way for it's simple mind to vent off the expected rise in aggression."

Conceding that point, the alchemist turned to Silco. "Do you have a subject in mind for human trials?"

Silco looked at the flaming rat before casting a glance at the chair where Deckard had been about to die in five minutes ago. "Indeed, Dr. Mundo. Deckard just volunteered."

Hours later, Shirou laid out on the roof.

Benzo's home was one of the relatively few that was high enough so that they could see the sky without obstacle, even with the ever present lights from the City of Progress.

But Shirou's turbulent mind wasn't focused on that. Turning around to put Piltover behind his back, Shirou instead looked out to the far horizon.

Beyond both Zaun and Piltover.

Overhead, the clouds parted and revealed a full moon. The silvery moonshine highlighted the hills and river, making it like an extremely life-like and beautiful painting.

"Um, Shirou?" Ekko had climbed up after him, nervously toeing the roof. "Are... Are you mad at me?"

Shirou patted the side next to him and held Ekko close when he sat down. "You just wanted to help. You've got less blame on your shoulders than Vi does. She's the one who made the decision to follow on your tipoff."

Ekko drew his legs in closer. "But the Enforcers are going to be tearing through Zaun soon."

"That's how the topsiders are, Ekko." Shirou grimaced. "They use us as they see fit, never caring about the cries unless it's one of their own. Granted, we pretty much do the same. But in the end, it's like Benzo always told us. 'To live as a Zaunite-'"

"'-is to take everything you can and give nothing back'." Ekko giggled as he finished. "I wonder how that guy's freaking out over his place getting blown up."

"Well, that is not our problem." Shirou ruffled Ekko's hair before raising up his spare hand. "Hey, check this out."

Waving his hand through the air, aquamarine electricity trailed after it until a perfect replica of his wooden katana was in his hand. Dropping it down, he did again and manifested Artoria's wooden longsword. Then a toy gun. Then an Enforcer's rifle. Then his delivery bike.

"H-How?" Ekko gingerly rapped his knuckles against the objects. "I thought you could only shoot lightning or make your body stronger! We gotta show Benzo!"

"No. Not yet." Shirou waved his hand, making the constructs disappear. "Not only do they not last long, I just found out about this recently. So until I get better at this..."

At that moment, a large airship flew past above them as it departed from Piltover. Shirou looked at it, memorizing as much detail as he could as if he were making an image copy of it in his mind like how Benzo taught them about how archeologists would trace the hieroglyphs in Shuriman ruins.

''Trace'? Sounds catchy.' Shirou thought to himself. "Until I can Trace even something as massive and complex as that... let's make this our little secret. Okay, Ekko?"

At Ekko's accepting nod, Shirou got up to cast Piltover an uncaring glance. "Vi wants to be respected and a life where she doesn't have to scrape for leftovers in order to feed herself and Powder. While I think similarly, she's going about it the wrong way."

Ekko tilted his head in confusion. "Then, how's the right way?"

"I just told you that I was going to Trace an airship, Ekko." Shirou smiled eagerly. "When you have something like that whenever you want, what's stopping us from just leaving Zaun altogether? There's a whole world out there."

KingVessel: Let's explore this.