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“Come, visit me.”
Jayce grit his teeth at the invitation, hands clenching around his hammer. Once, he would have longed to hear Viktor's voice again, asking to see him again. But this? What would he find? This wasn't Viktor. Viktor was dead, in his place was some unfeeling machine destined to destroy the world. He'd seen it– the mage had enlightened him to the horrors that awaited him if Viktor was allowed to continue.
The images surged again, unrelenting and vivid. Fires consumed the streets of Piltover, their embers clawing at the sky as buildings crumbled under the weight of devastation. Faces he recognized, their features twisted in agony, reached out to him, only to vanish in plumes of smoke. His ears filled with an ear-splitting cacophony: cries of terror, the groan of collapsing metal, and—worst of all—a thousand incoherent voices screaming all at once. They overlapped, indistinguishable yet unbearably loud, drowning his thoughts and threatening to pull him under. Jayce staggered, bracing himself against a wall as the hammer in his hand felt impossibly heavy, like it bore the weight of the world’s ruin.
Focus .
The command felt hollow, swallowed by the noise. His breathing quickened, his pulse racing as the visions blurred the line between memory and hallucination. Was this what the mage had meant by knowing the cost ? It felt like madness, a punishment for every moment he had failed to act, every second of hesitation. He shook his head violently, as if the motion could dislodge the voices or the images seared into his mind.
I can't... I can't lose myself now .
Forcing himself upright, even as his legs trembled beneath him. He gripped his hammer tighter, its cold metal grounding him just enough to push the chaos to the edges of his mind. For now.
“And what?” He spat.
Salo – Viktor – tilted his head to one side, looking puzzled.
“You are angry.” There was a note of surprise in Viktor's gravelly voice. The first piece of emotion Jayce had heard since he started speaking out of Salo's mouth. “You've been hurt. You too, have been touched by the Arcane.”
The visions struck again, sharper this time, like shards of glass embedding themselves into his consciousness. Jayce saw Viktor’s face—or what was left of it—twisted into a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and cold steel, his lifeless eyes glowing with an eerie light as his mechanical frame towered over a broken Piltover. Around him, swarms of lifeless automatons marched in perfect, soulless unison, their footsteps a deafening drumbeat that echoed in his skull. The ground trembled beneath their weight, fissures snaking across the earth as rivers of molten energy poured from unseen sources, consuming everything in their path. Jayce stumbled backward, his chest tightening as if the heat of the visions could physically scorch him.
The screaming in his head rose to a fever pitch, each voice a dagger tearing at his sanity. Some sounded like they were pleading for salvation, others cursed him with venomous accusations—words he couldn’t understand but felt nonetheless. And amidst the chaos, he could hear Viktor’s voice, calm and emotionless, cutting through the cacophony like a razor.
“This is necessary. This is evolution."
Jayce clutched his temples, his hammer slipping from his grasp and striking the ground with a metallic clang. Was this real? Was it already happening, or was it still just a warning? The lines between future, past, and present blurred, leaving him gasping for clarity in a sea of confusion.
No!
His voice swallowed by the roar of destruction. His vision swam, the scenes fading for a moment only to return with more ferocity, leaving him reeling, desperate for an anchor.
Viktor looked down at his leg, and Salo’s face folded into a frown. It was unnerving how much of Viktor’s mannerisms bled through the connection, mirrored in Salo’s expression. That subtle tilt of the head, the twitch of lips trying to emulate a smirk—it was all wrong, like a crude puppet poorly imitating humanity.
“Your mind suffered. I can help,” Viktor said softly, the sincerity in his tone cutting like glass.
Jayce’s teeth clenched, his hands tightening around the handle of his hammer. “You would make it worse,” he bit out, his voice raw with barely contained fury.
“And you could make things better?” Salo’s head tilted, Viktor’s calm, measured tone bleeding through him. “What did Hextech ever do to actually help people? We wanted to change the world, Jayce. And instead—” His hollow eyes flicked to the hammer in Jayce’s hands, his gaze laced with quiet accusation. “You made weapons.”
Jayce flinched as if struck, the hammer’s weight suddenly unbearable. He wanted to snap back, to argue, but the words caught in his throat.
“I don’t wish to fight you, Jayce,” Viktor said, his gaze softening, but it only made him more unnerving. “Come and see me. I will respect your decision to remain… as you are. I only heal the willing.”
“Healing? Is that what you do now?” Jayce scoffed, though his voice trembled. “Taking away their wills, their freedom of choice, their individualism ?”
“You don’t trust me,” Viktor replied, that faint note of incredulity breaking through his otherwise measured tone.
“You’re not Viktor anymore,” Jayce spat, his words heavy with grief and rage. “You changed .”
“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” Viktor asked, and while his voice lacked malice, the weight of his words hit like a hammer. Salo’s eyes—dead, empty—bored into him, and Jayce felt the guilt bloom in his chest like a wound. He knew it was true. He knew .
He’d done this to Viktor. He’d fused him with the Hexcore, desperate to save him, and in doing so, he’d destroyed the man he loved. The Hexcore had corrupted him, twisted him into this... thing. A vision of steel and logic, stripped of the humanity that had once defined him.
“I would prefer to have this conversation face to face, Jayce,” Viktor murmured. “It is difficult to see you through the eyes of another. It is… unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant?” Jayce asked, his voice cracking. “What do you mean, unpleasant ?”
“Where I am, it is difficult to… see. Specific things.” Salo’s body shifted, his eyes gazing upward as though searching the air for something. “I can see… everything . But that means it is difficult to focus on the small things. The important things. And I wish to give you my full attention.”
Jayce shuddered at the implication, his stomach churning. This wasn’t Viktor. Viktor would never do this—never take someone’s body, someone’s autonomy, to deliver a message. This was something else. Something darker.
“We once meant a great deal to each other,” Viktor said softly, and despite himself, Jayce felt the words pierce through his defenses.
“That was before,” Jayce forced out, though his voice wavered. The lump in his throat swelled, making it hard to speak.
"Perhaps, for old times’ sake?” Viktor murmured, his voice a ghost of what it used to be. “For the sake of what we meant to each other. Come visit me. I miss you, Jayce.”
Jayce’s breath caught, and his grip on the hammer faltered. He tried to steel himself, tried to remind himself that this wasn’t Viktor, that it was never going to be Viktor again. But the way he said those words—it felt so real. I miss you, Jayce . How many nights had Jayce spent torturing himself with those very thoughts, wishing he could turn back time? How many sleepless hours had he spent blaming himself, imagining Viktor’s face, hearing his voice in his mind?
And now here it was, that voice, pulling at every raw nerve, every regret. He wanted to believe him, wanted to see him, even if it was just one more time. Even if it meant walking straight into hell.
“Fine,” he choked out, his voice breaking under the weight of his grief. “Fine, Viktor. You win.”
He straightened, gripping the hammer tightly as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“Where are you?”
The silence that followed felt suffocating, a void of uncertainty that wrapped around Jayce like a noose. He didn’t know if he was walking to his salvation or his doom, but it didn’t matter. He would go, because he had to. Because, in some cruel and twisted way, he still couldn’t let Viktor go. Not yet.
“Salo will show you. You will be most welcome.”
And so as Salo regained himself and began to walk out of the gate, Jayce found himself following.
“No weapons, please. The Herald insists.” The attendant at the gates of the commune said in way of greeting.
Jayce gripped his hammer tighter.
“All are welcome, but this is a place of peace. I must ask you to leave your weapon.” The attendant said again.
He was remarkably calm in the face of an angry, haggered Jayce welding a giant hammer. Salo had been eerily calm as well. It unnerved Jayce, the way these followers behaved.
He heaved his hammer off his shoulder, letting it slam to the ground. The attendant smiled.
“Welcome, Jayce.” He said, offering a hand for him to enter.
“How do you know my name?” Jayce asked, blinking.
“The Herald has been expecting you. He was very excited to hear you were coming.” The attendant replied.
Somehow, Jayce doubted that. Unless Viktor's new definition of excitement was different to Jayce's.
Jayce followed the man into the commune. His eyes darted left to right, taking in the people living here. They seemed happy, peaceful. All of them with glittering fingerprints on their faces from where Viktor had touched them. The tranquillity was unsettling in a way. He knew it was unlikely any of them would turn violent, but the uneasy serenity was strange.
“Charity, Jayce has come to see the Herald. Is he in?”
“The Herald is in the greenhouse.” A young woman standing at the entryway to a large dome answered the attendant's question, the two of them speaking in that same gentle, but off-putting way.
“Just down there.” The attendant gestured to the greenhouse. “You may find the Herald within.”
Jayce was eager to get away from the glittering people, though his stomach twisted at the thought of seeing Viktor. Or the Herald, whatever he was calling himself now.
Jayce made his way down to the greenhouse. He had to admit, Viktor had created a kind of paradise down here. It would have been an achievement if he didn't know where it was leading. If he hadn't seen where Piltover ends up because of this.
Maybe he could talk him out of it. He'd asked to see him after all. He'd said he'd missed him. Maybe violence didn't have to be the answer, maybe he could get through to him.
The greenhouse was beautiful. Trees and flowers bore glistening fruits that shimmered in the soft light filtering through the crystalline walls, and butterflies flitted lazily through the air, their wings catching the colors of the rainbow. A profound sense of peace washed over Jayce, the relentless onslaught in his mind quieting for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The stillness was almost enough to bring him to his knees.
And then he saw Viktor.
Jayce froze, his breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to tilt, the vibrant greenhouse fading to a mere backdrop for the figure standing before him. Viktor’s presence was magnetic, otherworldly. He was clad in flowing blue robes that shimmered faintly as he moved, their fabric adorned with delicate golden cogs and gears that gleamed like jewelry.
The blanket. The blanket he'd given him. He was still wearing it. Jayce felt sick.
His twisted, purple metal frame—the same one that had haunted Jayce’s memories—still jarred him, but it was eclipsed by the grace with which Viktor moved. Every step, every subtle motion spoke of precision and intention, a lingering echo of the man Jayce had once known.
He carried no limp now, yet a staff rested against a nearby tree, its intricate carvings catching the light. Perhaps it was habit, or maybe it was a symbol—of resilience, of transformation, of something Jayce couldn’t quite name. A foolish, desperate part of him dared to hope it was a reminder of him, of the man Viktor used to be.
Viktor’s hair had grown long, brushing his shoulders, the ends kissed with golden blond that seemed to glow in the soft light. His face was serene, lips curved in the faintest, most enigmatic of smiles. His gaze was steady yet distant, his golden eyes holding a warmth that felt almost tangible and yet utterly unreachable.
He was beautiful. More than beautiful—he was transcendent. A divine aura surrounded him, like light radiating softly from within, illuminating every corner of the greenhouse. The very air seemed to hum in his presence, as if the world itself bent to his will. He was ethereal, godly, something beyond comprehension. Jayce’s chest tightened, his breath stolen by the sheer majesty of him.
And yet, this wasn’t Viktor. Not his Viktor. His Viktor had been beautiful in a completely different way. He was messy and human, with gaunt cheeks and sharp features softened by the occasional smirk. Jayce could still see him in his mind’s eye: furrowed brows as he worked late into the night, the deep, rich timbre of his chuckle, the faint constellation of moles scattered across his face, and the familiar hunch of his spine as he leaned over his desk. His Viktor had been warm, solid, imperfectly perfect.
This Viktor was something else entirely. This Viktor was untouchable, radiant in a way that made Jayce’s heart ache with longing and sorrow. He missed his Viktor with every fiber of his being, even as he stood before this godlike figure wearing his face. And yet, as much as Jayce’s mind screamed at him to turn away, to reject this beautiful lie, he felt himself being drawn in, caught in the orbit of Viktor’s impossible, overwhelming presence.
Viktor was standing before a giant, hulking beast. It was grunting and groaning as Viktor held his hand to its forehead, light beaming from his eyes.
He let go of the creature, panting heavily and leaning against the tree. The beast laid down, but it was still as tall as Viktor.
“Ah, you are not attacking me anymore Vander. This is very good, we are making progress.” Viktor said, patting the creature's head. “I'm very proud of you, you're doing very well.”
His voice was soft, gentle. His lilting accent washes over Jayce's ears, untainted by the rumbling of the arcane. Jayce felt the air leave his lungs, he wanted to drop to his knees and weep.
“Let us see if you can eat for yourself now, yes? Vi will come by soon to see you, I'm sure you'll enjoy that.” Viktor went on, offering the beast a bowl of the fruits from the tree. “Excuse me a moment, I must dedicate my attention elsewhere. But I will return.”
When Viktor turned from the beast to face Jayce, it took everything in him not to cry.
“Hello, Jayce.” Viktor said softly. A gentle smile turned the corner of his pale lips. “It is good to see you.”
“Viktor…”
Viktor took a few steps towards him, and Jayce found himself backing away automatically. Viktor stilled, a tiny frown forming on his face. Jayce ached.
“You are afraid.” Viktor realised.
Was he imagining the sadness in Viktor's voice? It tore at him nonetheless.
“You never need to fear me, Jayce. I will not hurt you.” Viktor said. “I do not have the capacity.”
“I'm not afraid of you, Viktor.” Jayce said. I'm afraid that if you come too close, I'll give in. I'm afraid if you touch me, I'll let you. I can't fail. I won't fail you.
“I would prefer to walk side by side, but if you rather I keep my distance, I will.” Viktor said, keeping a wide berth between them as he began walking.
Jayce followed him with his eyes. He didn't quite know what to make of this new Viktor. He was dangerous, certainly, his aura was so detached from himself that it scared Jayce, he was so devoid of humanity. Yet he seemed to be respectful, respecting Jayce's space and his desire to remain unhealed.
“That brace is rudimentary,” Viktor commented, his gaze drifting to Jayce's leg, sharp as ever in its quiet observation. “It must be causing you pain.”
Jayce shifted uncomfortably, the pressure of Viktor’s eyes on him too much to bear. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “I don’t want your healing.”
“But I can ease your suffering,” Viktor replied softly, stepping closer. His voice held a strange cadence—gentle, coaxing, with a quiet authority that sent a shiver down Jayce’s spine. There was something almost magnetic in his tone, an unspoken compulsion that tugged at Jayce, urging him to give in. “If you would only allow me—”
“No!” Jayce snapped, stumbling back. He hadn’t realized how close Viktor had gotten until now, and it set his heart racing. “Don’t touch me!”
Viktor froze, his hand hovering mid-air before he slowly pulled it back. The movement was deliberate, but there was something else—something fleeting in Viktor’s expression, almost imperceptible. Pain. Hurt. Or at least, Jayce thought there was. His heart twisted, but he forced himself to stay firm.
“Why would you choose to be in pain?” Viktor asked, his voice steady, calm, but carrying the faintest trace of bewilderment.
“Because pain makes me human, Viktor,” Jayce said, the words bursting from him with raw emotion. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. “If I can still feel, still be me, it’s worth it. Even if it's bad.”
Viktor tilted his head, as if the words were a riddle he was trying to solve. His irises shimmered with a strange, multicolored light, swirling like liquid galaxies. Jayce tore his gaze away; those weren’t Viktor’s eyes, not the warm amber ones that used to light up with excitement over some new breakthrough. These were alien. Distant. Unknowable.
“Pain…” Viktor murmured, lowering his gaze to his hand. He flexed his metal fingers, the faint sound of whirring gears filling the silence. “Pain…makes us who we are. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Viktor,” Jayce shot back, his voice firm but trembling at the edges. “And the fact that you’ve lost sight of that shows just how far your humanity has fallen.”
Viktor’s gaze snapped back to Jayce, and for a moment, his serene expression faltered. The calm mask slipped, just barely, revealing something raw beneath it. Regret? Anger? Longing? Jayce couldn’t tell.
“I am no longer human, Jayce,” Viktor said at last, his tone detached, almost clinical. “You saw to that.”
Jayce’s stomach dropped at the words, the weight of the accusation hitting him like a blow. Viktor continued, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “What I am now… I am still unsure of.”
“You don’t even feel anything in there, do you?” Jayce asked, his voice rising, his frustration bubbling over. “You’ve turned yourself into this… this thing . Do you even feel anything at all?”
“Feel…” Viktor repeated, almost to himself. He turned his hand over, studying it as though seeing it for the first time. The faint hum of his metal frame filled the air. “I… remember feeling.” His voice was softer now, hesitant in a way Jayce hadn’t heard in years.
“That’s not the same,” Jayce said, his voice breaking slightly. “Remembering isn’t living . Feeling pain, Viktor, real pain—it’s what reminds us we’re alive. It’s what reminds us we’re human.”
Viktor fell silent, his gaze fixed on his hand. For a moment, Jayce thought he’d struck something—some buried part of the Viktor he’d known. But then Viktor straightened, his serene mask slipping back into place.
“I do not wish to hurt you, Jayce,” Viktor said finally, his voice calm again, even soothing. “But I do not believe we are speaking the same language anymore.”
“Maybe not,” Jayce muttered, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Viktor’s eyes softened, the swirling light within them dimming ever so slightly. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But if pain defines humanity, then perhaps humanity was never meant to last. Perhaps we are meant to evolve beyond it.”
Jayce’s fists tightened. “And lose everything that makes us us ?”
Viktor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at Jayce, truly looked at him, and for a moment, Jayce swore he saw something familiar in his expression. Sadness. Regret. Love. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that unnerving calm.
“I am offering you freedom from pain, Jayce,” Viktor said softly. “Not to erase you, but to make you whole. Do not let fear blind you to what I can give.”
Jayce’s throat tightened. The worst part was, he almost believed him.
They were interrupted by a cry.
“Herald! Herald, please, come quickly!”
The voice pierced the air, urgent and desperate, and Viktor’s head snapped up at the sound. Jayce’s heart skipped a beat as he turned toward the cry as well. They both rushed out of the greenhouse, the stillness of the peaceful sanctuary quickly giving way to a tension in the air. Viktor moved with an unsettling confidence, his frame taller and more imposing than Jayce had ever seen it before, each step purposeful and without hesitation. The transformation in him was undeniable, a presence that seemed to swallow the space around him. Jayce couldn’t help but feel a twinge of awe, but it was quickly eclipsed by the dread twisting in his gut.
“What happened?” Jayce’s voice wavered, his breath catching in his throat as they reached the scene.
In front of them stood a young woman, her face contorted with grief, cradling a small child in her arms. The boy’s body was a grotesque mass of burns and bruises, his legs hanging limply, useless. He was barely breathing, his chest rising and falling shallowly, and his skin was scorched and raw.
“Enforcers,” the woman gasped, her voice ragged with pain. “Set our street on fire! Please, can you save him? He’s barely breathing. My son…”
Jayce’s heart lurched painfully at the woman’s cry. The desperation in her voice tore at him, and he felt a sharp pang of helplessness. But Viktor—Viktor didn’t flinch. He moved forward with a calm that sent a chill through Jayce, his every motion as controlled and deliberate as always. Viktor knelt down beside the boy, his fingers brushing the child’s skin in a way that felt almost tender.
“It’s alright,” Viktor said, his voice low and soothing, yet carrying an undeniable power. “I can save him. Don’t be afraid.”
Jayce watched, transfixed, as Viktor placed his hand on the boy’s head. For a moment, nothing happened. But then—light. Brilliant, golden light poured from Viktor’s palm, suffusing the air around them. The boy’s body began to tremble as a soft hum filled the air, and Jayce’s breath caught in his chest. The burns on the boy’s skin seemed to melt away, the skin healing before his eyes, golden threads of energy wrapping around the child’s legs like a cocoon. The boy’s face was framed by shifting crystals, a delicate network of shimmering, translucent stones that pulsed with light.
The boy’s shallow breaths became deeper, more rhythmic. His hands twitched, and then his eyelids fluttered open. Viktor’s power flowed through the child’s broken body, mending what was shattered. The boy stirred, his limbs trembling as if waking from a long, painful dream. But as the light faded, Jayce’s stomach twisted in horror.
Viktor stepped back, his hand falling from the child’s head. The golden glow that had surrounded the boy dimmed and vanished, leaving behind a boy who looked better but not whole. The light was gone, but the emptiness remained. Jayce’s gaze locked onto the boy’s eyes as they opened, wide and empty, staring blankly into the world.
The mother’s wail of joy pierced the silence. “Thank you, oh thank you!” she cried, her voice cracking with relief. She pulled her son into her arms, hugging him tightly, laughing through her tears. “You’ve saved him! My son is alive!”
But Jayce’s hands were trembling, his breath shallow as he continued to stare at the boy’s blank, lifeless eyes. There was no recognition in them. No soul . The child was awake, alive—but not truly there . Jayce felt a cold, sickening unease coil around his heart. This wasn’t healing—it was something else entirely.
As the golden light faded from the boy's body, Viktor swayed slightly, a faint tremor running through his form. Jayce’s eyes snapped to him, heart lurching in his chest. The air around them felt heavier, charged with the cost of the magic Viktor had just wielded. Viktor’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Jayce saw him falter—his legs giving way beneath him.
Without thinking, Jayce lunged forward, catching Viktor by the shoulder just as he collapsed, his strength faltering. Viktor’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his body uncharacteristically limp in Jayce’s arms. His face was pale, his eyes flickering with an unreadable mix of exhaustion and something darker. The sight of Viktor, so fragile and human in that moment, sent a rush of emotion through Jayce—fear, desperation, and a deep, aching need to protect him.
“Viktor!” Jayce whispered, his grip tightening instinctively, as if the touch could anchor them both in the midst of the turmoil.
“I am fine, Jayce.” Viktor said, and for a fleeting moment he sounded so much like himself – images of Viktor swaying and leaning over the railing, coughing up blood. “ Are you alright, Viktor?” “Eh, a headache. I need to get to the lab.” Watching him hobble away on his crutch, his spine bent worse than normal – Jayce wanted to hold him tight and take him away from all this.
Viktor straightened, and his calm demeanour returned as if it never left.
“You and your son are welcome here,” Viktor said, rising to his feet, his tone soft and almost gentle. “You’re safe here.”
The woman’s face brightened in relief, and she stretched up to take Viktor’s hand, her smile radiant. “Thank you, Herald,” she whispered, as if speaking to a god.
But Viktor looked down at her, and for a moment, there was something otherworldly in his gaze. He looked confused, as though the gesture of gratitude was something beyond his understanding. It was a fleeting look, barely noticeable, but it was enough to make Jayce’s heart twist. Viktor’s eyes were distant, as though something deep inside him—something once human —had been lost in the process.
Without a word, Viktor stepped back, and the mother, still holding her son in her arms, turned to leave. She was already being greeted by the others, who welcomed her and her son into a nearby tent, a place of shelter. But Jayce stayed rooted to the spot, his feet heavy, his mind spinning.
The boy was alive —but at what cost? What had Viktor truly done? What was the price of his “healing”?
Jayce wanted to scream, to ask, to demand answers, but Viktor was already walking away, his figure blending into the background of the tent city. Jayce couldn’t help but feel that he was walking further and further away from the man he once knew. And yet… there was still something pulling him toward him. Something that told him, deep down, he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
He followed. Like a lamb to slaughter, perhaps?
Viktor sighed. “We see more and more by the day. What has been unleashed up there is getting worse.”
"Doing this is killing you, isn't it? It weakens you every time you do it."
Viktor's eyes flickered to him, but quickly looked away. "I have a mission. I will not let death stop me."
“And the chaos will fuel your little army.” Jayce muttered.
“Army? Is that what you think I'm building? You see me perform a miracle, and you see it as a sin.”
“You took that boy's humanity away, Viktor!”
Viktor paused, tilting his head, that soft, almost ethereal air of curiosity returning.
“Do you know the child’s name, Jayce?” he asked, his voice devoid of mockery but heavy with purpose.
Jayce hesitated, thrown off by the question. “What does it matter?”
“Everything matters,” Viktor murmured, his voice etched with tenderness that didn’t match the cold metal sound. “To restore the flesh is simple. But I must know the heart I am to heal. Every life has a name, a story, a pain.”
His words hit Jayce with a weight he hadn’t expected. He looked away, jaw tightening.
“You’re romanticizing what you’re doing. You’re taking away what makes them themselves Viktor.”
“Am I?” Viktor turned those strange, swirling eyes to him again. “You see empty shells because you do not look closely. Are they not laughing, working, living? What do you see here, Jayce, if not life?”
Jayce gestured to the commune, his frustration bubbling over. “I see puppets! I see... followers who don’t even realize they’ve been stripped of the ability to say no. ”
“And yet they chose to come to me,” Viktor countered, a quiet conviction underlining his words. “I did not force them into this place. They came broken, Jayce, desperate, and I gave them wholeness. I gave them peace.”
“At what cost?” Jayce demanded, stepping closer, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “This... this peace you’re so proud of—it’s not real! They can’t suffer, but they can’t love, either. Not like they should. Not like—”
His throat tightened, his words faltering. He clenched his fists, furious at himself for breaking, for letting the grief spill through the cracks. Viktor’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something there—something that made Jayce’s breath catch.
“Not like we did?” Viktor asked, his voice impossibly gentle, the question hanging in the air like a knife poised to strike.
Jayce froze, the words piercing him deeper than he thought possible. His chest felt hollow, as though Viktor had reached inside and pulled something vital from him. Somehow, hearing their love acknowledged in this way—finally, after everything—made it ten times worse. The wound that never truly healed tore open anew, raw and agonizing.
“You cling to that pain,” Viktor continued, his voice calm but relentless, each word cutting deeper. “That affection we shared—it was beautiful, yes. But also fleeting. Fragile. What I offer is everlasting. A world without loss, without grief. Without the agony you feel now.”
Jayce’s heart clenched, a flood of anguish crashing over him. “It wasn’t meant to be everlasting!” he choked out, his voice rising. “That’s what made it human! The fact that it could break, that we could break. I loved you as you were, all the more because I knew you wouldn’t be with me forever. That fragility, that impermanence—it’s what made every second with you so precious. It’s what made it real .”
Viktor tilted his head, his luminous eyes studying Jayce with an unnerving calm. “And yet, it is also what made you weak,” he said quietly. “It is what made you desperate. You couldn’t bear to lose me, so you chose to save me, not for my sake but for your own. Out of selfishness, you revived me. Your love was selfish .”
Jayce staggered back as though struck, his breath catching in his throat. The words hit him like a physical blow, reverberating in his chest.
“You think I don’t know that?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You think I don’t carry that guilt every second of every day? I know I was selfish, Viktor. I know I ruined you. I ruined us .”
Viktor’s head dipped slightly, almost as though in acknowledgment, but his expression remained frustratingly placid.
“Your guilt is unnecessary,” he said, his tone soft, yet Jayce could feel the finality in it. “What I have become, what I have created—it is beyond the pain of loss. Beyond the fragility of human love. You mourn a past that could never have lasted, and in doing so, you blind yourself to the beauty of what is eternal.”
Jayce’s vision blurred with tears, his hands trembling at his sides. “I don’t want eternal,” he said, his voice cracking. “I want you . I want the Viktor who cared, who laughed, who—who loved life despite in being painful and hard. Who loved discovery and took pride in his work. And I know he’s gone. I know I killed him the day I made the choice to save you. But don’t stand there and tell me that what’s left is better. Don’t you dare .”
For a moment, Viktor’s serene mask seemed to falter. There was something there, a flicker of emotion so faint it could have been imagined—pain, perhaps, or regret. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the unyielding calm that had become his essence.
“Jayce,” Viktor said softly, almost tenderly, “you cannot bring back what is gone. But you can let go of your pain. I can help you. I can free you.”
Jayce shook his head violently, backing away.
“No,” he whispered. “No, you can’t. Because you don’t understand, Viktor. Pain isn’t something to be erased. It’s what makes us human. It’s what makes me human. And if you can’t see that... then you really are gone.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Viktor stood there, unmoving, a figure of impossible beauty and unimaginable tragedy. And for the first time, Jayce truly understood just how vast the chasm between them had grown.
“Do you truly believe it was worth it, Jayce? That fragility is preferable to strength? To certainty?”
“Yes,” Jayce said firmly, meeting Viktor’s gaze. “Because without that fragility, nothing means anything. Without the risk of loss, of failure, what’s the point?”
The silence between them was heavy, Viktor studying him with an intensity that made Jayce’s skin crawl.
“I see,” Viktor finally said, his voice soft, almost mournful. “You would rather live in chaos than accept perfection. You would rather suffer than find peace.”
“Because peace isn’t peace if it’s forced,” Jayce said.
Viktor’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air shifted—subtle, but undeniable. “Then we are at an impasse.”
Jayce swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He knew where this was headed, and it tore at him. “Viktor... don’t do this. Please.”
Viktor turned away, his robes catching the light like rippling water. “You came to me, Jayce. I hoped you would understand. I hoped you might... join me.” He looked back over his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, Jayce thought he saw regret in those alien eyes. “But if you cannot, then you leave me no choice.”
Jayce’s fingers twitched at his side, aching for the hammer he’d left behind. His heart screamed at him to stop this, to find another way, but his mind knew better.
“I’ll stop you,” Jayce said, his voice breaking, but the resolve behind it held firm. He could feel his heart fracturing with every word, but there was no other choice. “No matter what it takes.”
Viktor nodded slowly, his expression a mask of unreadable calm. “Do what you must, then. As will I.”
The words struck Jayce harder than any physical blow could have. The finality in Viktor’s voice was unbearable, like the slam of a door he’d never be able to open again. The air between them felt alive, crackling with all the things they couldn’t say, with all the pain and love and loss that weighed on their shoulders.
As Viktor turned and began to walk away, the sight of him—so composed, so unreachable—was more than Jayce could bear. The world seemed to collapse inward, the weight of what he was about to lose crushing him completely.
“Did you ever love me?” Jayce whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His voice was raw, hoarse, trembling. A last, desperate effort, perhaps. A plea to the Viktor he used to know, the man he still couldn’t stop loving.
Viktor froze mid-step, growing still. For a moment, Jayce thought he wouldn’t answer, thought he would simply keep walking and leave him in silence. But then—
“Yes.”
The single, soft, barely audible answer knocked the wind out of Jayce. It was like the ground beneath him had been ripped away. He staggered under the weight of it, the truth he’d been longing to hear and dreading all at once.
“Then please,” Jayce begged, his voice breaking completely now. He stepped forward, reaching out to the man he had loved, the man he still loved. “For the love you had for me— for any love you still have —don’t make me do this. Don’t do this to us, Vik.”
The nickname slipped out unbidden, a relic of a time before everything had gone so horribly wrong. It hung in the air between them, fragile and aching, like an echo of a forgotten life. Jayce stepped in front of Viktor, blocking his path, desperate now—not to stop him, but to reach him.
“Jayce,” Viktor said at last, his voice different, softer—softer in a way that made Jayce’s chest constrict. He sounded more like himself, like the man Jayce had fallen for, the man he had fought alongside, dreamed alongside, loved alongside.
For a moment, it was as though time rewound, as though the Viktor standing before him wasn’t a godlike being clad in cold metal and otherworldly power, but the scientist who had shared coffee with him in the early mornings, who had laughed with him over late-night experiments, who had kissed him like he was something to be cherished.
“Stop,” Jayce whispered, tears threatening to spill over now. His hand hovered just inches away from Viktor’s, aching to close the distance. “Please, just stop. You don’t have to do this, Viktor. You don’t have to lose yourself like this. Let me save you this time.”
But Viktor only shook his head, his expression unreadable once more. “There is nothing to save, Jayce. I am not gone, I merely evolved.”
The words shattered what little hope Jayce had been clinging to, his hand dropping uselessly to his side. Viktor stepped around him, his presence fading like a dream slipping through Jayce’s fingers. And as Viktor walked away again, the distance between them growing ever wider, Jayce stood rooted in place, watching the love of his life slip further and further out of reach.
He felt the loss like a physical wound, an ache in his chest that threatened to consume him.
Viktor raised his hand, fingers tracing Jayce's cheek with more tenderness than belonged in the cold metal appendages.
Jayce’s heart pounded in his chest, the pounding of his own pulse drowning out everything else. He couldn’t stand it anymore, this distance, this impossible gap between them. It was suffocating, the silence hanging like a thread ready to snap.
“Viktor…” Jayce’s voice cracked, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
He didn’t care about the words anymore, didn’t care about the logic or the future. He only cared about him. .
“Please,” he continued, taking a step toward him. “Please, Viktor, come back . I know you can hear me. I know you remember—what we had, what we could still have.”
Viktor didn’t respond immediately, a subtle stillness in his frame that betrayed nothing. Jayce’s breath hitched. Was this it? Was Viktor so far gone that even his voice couldn’t reach him anymore?
The seconds dragged on, and Jayce felt the weight of the years they’d spent apart, the mistakes, the regrets, all of it pressing down on him. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this. Not with them standing on opposite sides of an unbridgeable chasm.
“I never stopped loving you, Viktor. I never will,” Jayce whispered, each word weighted with everything he’d kept buried. “You have to understand. I need you. This—this doesn’t have to be the way. We can fix this together.”
Viktor’s head tilted slightly, and when his eyes met Jayce’s, there was a moment of something. Something flickered in those glowing depths—maybe recognition, maybe regret, maybe even hope—but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
“I cannot return to what I was, Jayce,” Viktor said softly, his voice calm and gentle, though Jayce could see the underlying sorrow in it. “I cannot undo what the Hexcore has done. I no longer know how to be... that man.”
Jayce’s chest ached, the truth of those words cutting deeper than he’d expected. But he couldn’t let go. Not now, not when there was still something left to fight for. He took another step forward, closer now, his breath shaky.
“I don’t care what you’ve become,” Jayce said, his voice trembling with emotion. “I just want you. The Viktor I know, the Viktor I love —I want him back. No matter what you’ve become, I can still see you in there. I know you’re still in there, somewhere.”
Viktor’s eyes softened for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jayce’s heart lurch.
Jayce reached out then, slowly, carefully, as if touching him might break something irreparably. Viktor didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched Jayce’s hand approach, and when their fingers brushed, it felt like an electric shock.
And then, without thinking, Jayce moved in. He cupped Viktor’s face, fingers trembling against his cold, metallic skin. For a moment, he hesitated, searching Viktor’s face for any sign that he’d reciprocate, that he’d feel the same burning need to close the distance. Viktor’s eyes flickered with something, but it was impossible to say what it was.
Then, unable to wait any longer, Jayce kissed him.
It was gentle at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. Viktor didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into it either. Jayce could feel the coldness, the distance between them, but he couldn’t stop. His hands slid to Viktor’s neck, feeling the steady hum of the metal beneath his skin, as if to reassure himself that this was real, that Viktor was still here , despite everything.
The kiss deepened. Viktor’s lips were still, unmoving, but Jayce couldn’t help himself. He kissed him harder, desperate, trying to pour all the love, the longing, the pain of all the years they’d lost into that one moment. This was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he could never have.
And when Viktor finally responded—only a little, barely—Jayce felt his heart surge with hope. This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.
But as quickly as it had come, the feeling faded. Viktor’s lips parted, his breath cool against Jayce’s skin. He pulled back just slightly, his eyes distant again.
“Viktor?”
“I am sorry, Jayce.” Viktor’s voice was gentle, melancholy. Like he was speaking from a dream.
Jayce’s chest tightened, and he pulled away, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. The coldness in Viktor’s eyes was back, the distance more than just physical now.
“I need you, Viktor. You’re the only one who can—”
“You need to do what you came here to do.” Viktor sounded so cold again – not lacking in feeling, but detached from acceptance.
Jayce’s throat tightened, tears burning at the edges of his eyes. “No. No, Viktor... I can’t...”
“You must,” Viktor said quietly, the sadness in his voice cutting through the coldness. “You came here to kill me, did you not?”
Jayce stumbled back, his heart breaking as the weight of Viktor’s words crushed him. He looked at Viktor, at the man he once knew, and felt his world come apart all over again.
“No...” Jayce whispered, voice breaking. “No, Viktor, I can’t.”
Viktor’s gaze softened just slightly. Only emptiness was reflected in those eyes, only the haunting remnants of someone who had lost everything.
Then, suddenly, the colours swirled and faded in his irises. And warm gold returned. The same delightful amber that had shone so brightly that first night they'd met.
Viktor. His Viktor.
“You have to kill me, Jayce.”
Jayce’s heart stopped, the words sinking in with a sharp sting.
He looked at Viktor, unable to fully grasp what was happening. Viktor, the man he’d once called partner, the one who had shared so many dreams with him… now reduced to this.
His body was frail, shaking under the weight of something too heavy to bear. His once bright eyes, so full of ambition and life, were dimming, clouds gathering over them.
“Vik?” Jayce’s voice cracked, betraying the desperation that clawed at him.
“You promised me, Jayce.” Viktor's voice was thick with sorrow, each word weighed down by years of pain. "You must keep your promise."
There was a pause, an eternity in the silence between them. Jayce’s hands trembled, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t bring himself to look away from Viktor, whose eyes were pleading—begging for release, for mercy.
Viktor’s face softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. It was a smile Jayce had seen a hundred times, but it no longer felt familiar. It was too fragile, too full of regret.
And then, with the barest hint of a sad, almost defeated smile, Viktor said, his voice barely a whisper, “Please. Save me.”
The colours returned to his eyes, shimmering over his pupils like the cosmos—so beautiful, yet fleeting, like the last remnants of something lost. And Viktor turned, walking away as if leaving everything behind. Jayce stayed frozen in place, as if the weight of what had just been said was enough to shatter him.
Jayce took a deep, shuddering breath. I won't fail you, Viktor. I made a promise. I won't fail.
He went to retrieve his hammer.