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Viktor and Jayce had been sent to the outskirts of Zaun to take care of a low level curse that had been picking off civilians at random intervals. Jayce was plenty strong enough to handle this on his own, but Viktor had a hunch that Heimerdinger sent him here to practice summoning the curtain. From the sound of it, this curse was barely a Grade 3. With a curse as weak as this one, Viktor argued that it would be much more beneficial for him to work on his cursed technique, but of course Heimerdinger wouldn’t listen.
( “Professor,” Viktor trailed after the short old man. “You cannot be serious. I can handle the fighting. This curse can’t be much worse than a flyhead.”
Heimerdinger doesn’t break his pace, continuing his route to his next meeting presumably. “This is not meant to be a slight against you personally, my boy. It’s just, you have to understand that you are in a delicate position—”
“Excuse me—?” Viktor seethes. He hates that word. He’s already painfully aware of his mortality, he doesn’t need the professor, or anyone else for that matter, to tell him. Yes, his health has taken a sharp decline recently but he is handling it just fine. He and Jayce are looking into some other alternative methods to manage the pain. It doesn’t matter that everything they’ve tried thus far hasn’t worked yet, they’ll find something that does.
Jayce puts a strong hand on Viktor’s shoulder, stopping him from giving in to his intrusive thoughts and kicking the small man across the hall. Even through the layers of his uniform, warmth seeps through into his skin. “What the professor is trying to say is that he’s just concerned about you.” Ever the peacemaker, but Jayce’s words do nothing to extinguish the rising anger in his chest.
“Well, I don’t need his concern. We have bigger things to worry about don’t we?” Viktor shrugs off Jayce’s touch. “And anyway, aren’t you two always talking about how we never have enough hands on deck?”
“That’s right.” Heimerdinger stops suddenly and turns to Viktor, looking him directly in the eyes. Despite the extreme height difference between the two, the Zaunite crumples under the weight of his gaze. “That’s exactly why I don’t want you to fight. We have lost enough sorcerers already.”
“He’s got a point, V,” Jayce pipes up softly. “When you go down, you go down hard and your body takes longer to recover.”
Viktor wants to argue more, he really does, but the earnest look on Jayce’s face does something to his chest. The other boy has the tendency to do that. Instead, Viktor purses his lips and exhales sharply from his nose. “Fine. You two win this time.”)
The mission goes as planned for the most part. Heimerdinger drops them off at the mouth of a small cluster of neighborhoods, reminding them to call if there’s any emergency. Jayce gives the professor a large thumbs up, assuring him that they’ll do just that. Viktor doubts anything will happen, but agrees with the sentiment nonetheless. With the confirmation, the professor leaves them to it.
“How long do you think it’ll take this time?” Jayce asks, dropping his hammer onto the hard earth. The weight of it causes the light layer of dust and dirt to disperse into a small cloud before settling back on the ground. He surveys their surroundings briefly. Viktor has never been to this particular area before, but he’s more than familiar with this kind of place. This part of Zaun is much less populated than the underground portions. It’s mainly residential, but the houses are thin, metal-looking things, reminiscent of the place Viktor spent his formative years. If he looked closer, he would swear he could see the little houses sway with the wind. This area’s residents are most likely those who weren’t able to keep up with the Undercity’s fast paced environment.
While Jayce soaks it all in, Viktor sneaks a look at his partner. For a boy their age, he’s grown incredibly. When they had first met, Viktor had assumed he was another spoiled Topsider who would run back to his family after things got tough, but he was pleasantly surprised to see Jayce’s determination. He found himself drawn to the other’s intellect and kind-hearted nature. There were entire worlds being created inside that mind, and Viktor just had to know what was going on in there.
Another thing he had grown to admire about Jayce was the way he fought—or perhaps he was a little jealous, but he doesn’t have the time to delve into that particular rabbithole. Jayce deals in the craftsmanship of cursed weapons and tools, it was a Talis family trade, afterall, so it’s no surprise that he chooses to utilize his family’s trademark tool in battle. Many sorcerers in Piltover are weird about using cursed tools, probably too self-important to rely on anything other than their cursed techniques. That’s another thing that makes it so refreshing to be around Jayce.
The hammer he uses is a wonderful, new piece of technology that Jayce built himself. The jujutsu world has never seen anything like it before, Viktor’s sure of it. The hammer itself is impressive, but that’s not what makes it revolutionary. It’s what’s inside that impresses Viktor the most. With a turn of the handlebar that juts out from the long main handle, the head splits into four pieces, exposing the shiny, new crystal hidden beneath. It’s no bigger than a large marble. Inside of it is an endless supply of pure, concentrated cursed energy. It took several months worth of sleepless nights for them to stabilize it. It’s not perfect yet and there’s much more work to be done, but it’s a start. When the hammer splits open, the crystal shoots out a powerful blast, capable of taking down a Grade 1 curse in just a few well-aimed shots.
“Eehh, 20 minutes max.” Viktor shrugs. Jayce is a Grade 2 sorcerer, but rapidly approaching semi-Grade 1 or even Grade 1, so these kinds of missions have been a breeze for him. Viktor doesn’t really need to be here, but he’s grateful to spend the time with Jayce, even if it’s just a mission. The Zaunite is just barely a Grade 3 sorcerer so, as Jayce grows stronger, they’re more likely to get separated in the future.
“Alright,” Jayce says, seemingly satisfied with what he sees in the desolate streets. He rolls out his broad shoulders and stretches out his wrists. “Ready?”
“Of course, who do you take me for?” He replies readily. “See you on the other side, Talis.”
Jayce gives him a little two-fingered salute before grabbing his hammer again with both hands. What a charmer, Viktor rolls his eyes and starts the incantation.
“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”
With every word, the Zaunite can feel his cursed energy seep out of his body to go towards materializing the curtain. By the time the curtain reaches the ground, Viktor leans heavily on his crutch to stabilize himself. He always feels a little lightheaded after summoning the curtain. The cursed energy output for this is larger than if he were simply using his cursed technique.
This is important work, he tries to remind himself. Even if it feels like a complete waste of my time .
He was right for the most part. It took about 22 minutes for the curtain to fall. The minute it fell, he was met with Jayce’s toothy grin through the murky material. Viktor feels himself returning the smile without his permission. Damn you, Talis.
He’s about to call out something teasing—something about being too slow or taking his sweet time in there—but Jayce’s expression shifts. His gaze shifts towards the ground near Viktor’s feet for a split second, brows furrowed, and then alarm washes over his face. He leaves his hammer in the dirt and scrambles towards him.
“V! Move!”
Before Viktor can even realize what is happening, a barrier technique is opened around him, starting a few feet in front of him. The last thing he sees is Jayce’s scared expression and his outstretched hand. It only took a few seconds for the barrier to finish forming, closing off at the top and cutting him off from the outside.
“Jayce?!” It doesn’t take long at all for the initial shock to wear off. Viktor rams his shoulder into the dark barrier. What the hell is going on?! Pressed up against the cool material, he can vaguely hear something collide with the outside, most likely Jayce’s hammer.
He shoves against the barrier until it hurts, and then he wacks his crutch against it for good measure. When it’s clear the barrier isn’t going to drop anytime soon, he takes stock of the situation. It’s completely pitch black within the barrier, not a ray of light shining through, and an odd fog has started filling the area. It laps at his feet and slowly rises up his body. It’s like shadows have completely engulfed the area. Viktor can barely see past his hands. Despite the darkness that completely surrounds him, golden eyes dart around, looking for a hint of anything .
What should I do? He worries his bottom lip between his teeth while he thinks. There’s no telling how long the barrier will remain. The air is still and he can’t sense the presence of anyone—or anything, at least. Though, Viktor’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, yet. As the seconds tick by, it’s becoming more and more clear that he only has two options: He can choose to stay here like a sitting duck, or get to the bottom of this himself and find something that could help Jayce (and presumably Dr. Heimerdinger) get him out. He could die right now if he’s not careful, of course. But perhaps the others could get something out of his untimely death: Answers, something to lead them towards the reason why the amount of curses appearing in Piltover and Zaun have been increasing steadily in the past few years.
With a shaky breath, Viktor braces himself. He sends cursed energy into his crutch, doubling it as a weapon of sorts. Functionally, cursed energy will accumulate inside the main tube, and it will be released as a small shockwave when the foot hits the ground again. When Jayce wanted to make and reinforce his aids, Viktor thought he might have hit his head a little too hard during training.
(“You want to what?” Viktor asks dumbly. He heard what Jayce had said moments prior, but he wanted to hear it again just to make sure.
“I want to make your crutch,” Jayce repeated, just as enthused as the first time. With recent developments, it appears the cane would no longer cut it for Viktor’s daily life, much to his displeasure. He needed something that could support much more of his weight. When he spoke, Jayce had that same shine in his eye as when he gets a new idea for a cursed tool. That gleam always lead to great things, but seeing it directed at him made him nervous. Viktor never liked to be in the center of attention, and though Jayce is his closest friend, he is no exception.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Because I know things have been really difficult for you lately,” Jayce sighs. Of course he’s noticed. He’s always been in tune with Viktor’s needs. Viktor could say the same for himself, sensing Jayce’s feelings before the boy even recognizes them himself. That’s what makes them such great partners. The news of his rapidly deteriorating health had been hard hitting. It seemed like only a few months ago he was free to do as he pleased with only a dull ache to remind him of his condition, and now he can’t even get out of bed without the white, hot flash of pain zapping up from his leg to his spine. He’s been living in the medical wing of the school for the last week or so after Professor Heimerdinger found him passed out on the floor of his dorm when he attempted to push through the pain and go to class anyway. The healers told him to take it easy while they figured out the best method of treatment.
Viktor opens his mouth to push back, to say something to make him seem less pathetic, but Jayce holds up a hand to interrupt him. “And I know what you’re thinking. I don’t pity you. I’m doing this because you are my best friend and I want to help you get back out there again because I know that’s what you want, too.”
Jayce’s honesty had always surprised Viktor. It’s something those in the undercity didn’t value much. “Hmph, always so honest, Talis,” Viktor teases, rather than address the vulnerability he’s feeling. “Y’know, someday someone might take advantage of that.”
“Oh, shut up,” Jayce replies, but there’s no real malice in his voice. From his seat beside Viktor’s bed, he leans forwards and rests his elbows on the plush comforter. “So anyway, any word from the healers?”
Viktor sighs and sinks back into the pile of pillows supporting his back. “Nothing. They’re still deliberating, which basically means they have no idea what to do with me,” he bites out. At this point, he’s not sure there is anything to do to help him anymore. But he won’t voice that to Jayce. The other always seems so upset when he talks of his own demise. “But, I did hear through the, eh, grapevine that they want to fit me for a couple of new braces. Something about relieving pressure or something.”
Jayce’s eyes lit up again at the prospect of making something for Viktor. He reminds him of an excitable dog. “That’s great, Vik! How can I help with that?”
“That’s not really up to me, is it?” Viktor smiles. Contrary to his incessant teasing, Viktor does like Jayce’s enthusiasm. It’s a welcomed change of pace compared to the empty, sterile silence of the medical wing.
“Oops, right…”)
Walking into the darkness was unnerving. Perhaps it’s his nerves, but he feels like the sound of his shuffling and the click of his crutch echoes within the barrier. He goes straight towards the center, figuring that there’s no use in staying by the outer edges.
With each step, his crutch releases a very small burst of cursed energy to dispel the fog around him. It’s best to limit the contact with it before he knows what exactly the effects are. Within just seconds, the fog is pooling at his feet again.
Click… click… click. The uneven clacking of his crutch against the concrete makes his stomach knot with anxiety. Something should have happened by now. If he were getting ambushed, his attackers would have made themselves known already. What could this possibly be about? Viktor continues onward, walking (presumably) towards the middle.
“You are a difficult individual to get in contact with,” a low, distorted voice rings out. It has an almost metallic quality to it, like an automated machine. Beneath it all, the individual almost sounds like him , that distinct accent that doesn’t fit into any particular faction of the undercity. A curse user? It’s not unlikely. But what would they want with Viktor? Sure, he might have helped Jayce develop the crystal, but hardly anyone knows that. Heimerdinger has made sure their research has stayed under wraps.
Viktor stops in his tracks. The fog still obscures his vision but he whips his head around anyway. There’s still no one in sight, no silhouette in the murky air. He’s not the greatest sorcerer in their little school, but he’s sure he would have felt something enter the barrier.
“What do you want?” the young Zaunite asks, keeping his voice as steady as he can. In the back of his mind, he’s vaguely proud of how well he’s keeping his composure in this scenario.
“Just to talk.”
“That’s all?” Skepticism leaks into his voice. How could he not be skeptical? Usually, one doesn’t trap another in an inescapable barrier to simply just talk. “Then why all the, eh, fanfare? Were there not other opportunities beforehand?”
There are many questions racing through his mind. Why not while he was alone? Why wait until Jayce came back? The question he asked was vague, but Viktor’s captor understands nonetheless. “I figured your comrades would feel more at ease if they saw you leave just as you entered: unharmed and intact.”
… It makes sense, but it still doesn’t answer anything, so Viktor gets straight to the point. “Who are you?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” The voice lets out a light chuckle. “You have the tools, no?”
Viktor flounders for a second before realizing that they’re referring to his crutch. In his stillness, the cursed energy buildup must almost be at maximum capacity. With all his might, he slams the end of his crutch into the ground. The resulting shockwave almost knocked him to the ground.
The fog clears almost instantly and, in its place, is a suffocating amount of cursed energy that fills the space—not just the barrier, but it feels like it fills his lungs and the empty spaces between his bones. Viktor’s knees go weak, but his death grip on his crutch keeps him from completely toppling to the dirty floor. His body slumps over the support piece that sits under his armpit. He takes ragged, gasping breaths in an attempt to reorient himself. The pressure is almost unbearable. Beads of sweat roll down Viktor’s temple as he concentrates on not passing out.
This power–! Viktor tries to collect his thoughts while he stares at the ground beneath him. No curse user, no matter how strong they might be, could have this much cursed energy and successfully conceal it. That only means–!
When he gathers the strength to lift his head again, he almost wishes the fog was back. Maybe curiosity is a curse itself and he was better off not knowing the identity of his host, because what presents itself to him is definitely no man. What stands—no, stand isn’t the right word. Levitate would be more accurate—before him is a towering, lanky machine . It has to be at least seven feet tall. The curse’s body is the color of dark zirconium, and golden fissures dance its way up its arms and around its joints. The air surrounding it warps like a gas leak or a hot day. Around its shoulders and trailing down its back is a billowing cloak. The fabric shifts in an unnatural way that makes Viktor nauseous. It makes him feel like he’s starting straight into the cosmos. A long mask rests on its face, concealing any potential emotion. Two glowing yellow eyes peer down at him, just observing. The gaze doesn’t feel calculating at all. It feels detached, like the curse is looking at Viktor like how one would look at an ant at their feet. Viktor has never felt so small in his life.
The curse stares passively still, waiting for Viktor to build up his nerves again. “W-what,” he stammers, then swallows, his throat suddenly feeling drier than ever before. “What are you?”
“I am much older than this rudimentary form of magic you sorcerers insist on using nowadays,” the curse drawls. Flashes of electricity pulse beneath its metal skin. When it speaks, none of its face pieces move, yet it still maintains the same volume as before. “I am the Arcane.”
The Arcane? Viktor is out of his depth here. He’s not sure anyone outside of Heimerdinger even knows anything remotely important about The Arcane.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing at all.” The Arcane almost sounds amused with the question. “I just know an individual in need when I see one.”
“Who says I’m in need?”
“Is this,” The Arcane gestures with a spindly hand at his crutch. “Not indicative of someone in need?”
The mask doesn’t change, of course it didn’t, but the curse almost sounds amused . Viktor bristles at the thought of receiving pity from a curse of all things.
“You want to change the world.” The curse starts up again. “Once upon a time, so did I. I know the woes of never having enough time. I could help you with that problem of yours.”
Viktor’s heart stutters for a beat or two. There’s no way he would consider it, but… there’s something compelling about having a solution to your biggest problems handed right to you. It would betray everything he’s worked towards if he were to join forces with a curse . Viktor knows very well what happens to those who collaborate with them. So, instead he settles for: “As if I would ever take help from a curse like you.”
“You will. Eventually. And when you do, you’ll know exactly when and where to find me.” The Arcane ignores Viktor’s defiance and continues anyway. Whether it sees through his words or not, the boy can’t tell. What bothers him the most is the certainty in its voice.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you want to become a great sorcerer.” The curse’s stare is beginning to become unnerving, grating on Viktor’s nerves. He wants to yell, scream at it, force it to betray any kind of emotion it might be feeling. But then that begs the question, do curses even feel emotion like humans do? Would it change anything if they did? They still need to be exorcised all the same. “But you can’t, not at your current state.”
“So, what? You fix me and I come back with the strongest sorcerers of our time to exorcise you?” Fueled by frustration and confusion, Viktor raises his voice.
In a lightning quick motion, the curse closes the distance between them and has his face in a firm, one-handed grip. The touch is cold, so cold it almost hurts like frostbite. Viktor’s immediate reaction is to get out of its grasp, but the threat of severe injury is clear from how sharp, metal nails press into his skin, so he doesn’t. The Arcane forces his neck up to look into the unwavering mask. The curse’s head tilts just slightly to the side while it stares down at Viktor.
“I don’t believe that will be happening.” The smirk is clear in its voice. “You and your little cohort will long perish before my death.”
Before it can say anything else, a loud crack resounds through the barrier. The sound is soon followed by more muffled thudding. From where his head is being held, Viktor can see cracks racing up the sides of the barrier towards the top.
“It appears that our time together is coming to an end.” The Arcane looks past Viktor, clearly seeing something that the other cannot. “I look forward to seeing you again, Viktor.”
And with that, the curse disappears as quickly as it arrived. The stifling pressure lifts and Viktor can finally breathe again.
Jayce is mid-swing when the barrier finally shatters, the dark shards seeping into the ground. He drops his hammer with a loud thud when he sees Viktor, not caring for how it lands. He runs over to his partner as fast as he could, unwilling to let him go a second time. With nothing standing in his way, he reaches Viktor in record time, pulling him into his embrace, wrapping both of his arms around his neck.
“Viktor!” Jayce breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s always been the touchier one out of the two of them, but Viktor is grateful for it, especially now. He sinks into the feeling of being surrounded by Jayce’s warmth. It’s a stark contrast compared to the fleeting touch The Arcane gave him just moments ago. All too quickly Jayce is pulling away, instead grabbing Viktor by the biceps and giving him a once over. “Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Jayce’s anxious hands can’t seem to stay in one place. They roam until they settle on either side of Viktor’s face, his thumbs rubbing over his high cheekbones. Jayce moves his head around gently, examining for any injury, and Viktor lets him.
“I’m ok, Jayce.” Viktor murmurs, distracting himself with the worry lines adorning his face. He wants to reach out and smooth them away, but he’ll refrain for the time being.
“Viktor, what happened, my boy?” Heimerdinger interrupts. Though the professor’s eyes are brimming with worry, he seems to be handling the sudden incident well.Viktor doesn’t remember when he came over, but that detail doesn’t particularly matter to him. At least Jayce had the wits to call Heimerdinger at some point.
Viktor disentangles from Jayce, much to his chagrin. “Professor, I believe it would be better to discuss this back at the academy.”