#pre-transmutation

The lab felt cold once the others had left, the violet glow of the Hexcore casting long, jagged shadows against the chalkboards. Viktor leaned heavily against the console, his knuckles white around the handle of his cane. The hum of the machine was no longer a mechanical sound; it was a siren song, vibrating in the marrow of his brittle bones.

"You look like you're about to collapse," a soft voice said from the doorway.

Sky was there, her brow furrowed with that familiar, aching concern. She stepped into the light, her eyes darting to the Hexcore and then back to him.

Viktor didn't look at her. He couldn't. If he saw the kindness in her eyes, he might lose his nerve. "I need to work, Sky. I’m fine."

"You were in the infirmary two hours ago, Viktor. You aren't fine."

"I need coffee," he interrupted, his voice sharp, raspy. "Strong. As strong as you can make it. I cannot... I cannot think through this fog."

Sky hesitated, her hand hovering near the strap of her bag. She clearly wanted to argue, to drag him back to a bed, but the intensity in his gaze silenced her. "Alright," she whispered. "Don't move. I’ll be back in ten minutes."

He watched her go, the rhythmic tap of her shoes fading down the hall. The second the door clicked shut, the silence of the lab became predatory.

Viktor turned to the Hexcore. It can change matter. It can change me.

He didn't hesitate. He reached out, his hand trembling as he initiated the sequence. Shimmering, violet tendrils of energy lashed out from the core, coiling around his braced leg like hungry vines. He expected pain, but what he felt was a searing, transcendental heat. He gasped, his back arching as the arcane power bit into his withered muscles, knitting flesh and bone back together in a violent, magical rewrite of his own biology.

When the light faded, the heavy iron brace on his leg fell away with a clatter. Viktor stood, breathing hard. He tentatively put weight on his right foot. No pain. No weakness. He felt... whole.

The sound of the door latch clicking made him bolt upright. He scrambled to his chair, pulling his pant leg down to hide the transformation and leaning his cane against his side just as Sky entered with a steaming mug.

"Here," she said, walking toward him. "I put extra—"

"I changed my mind," Viktor said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. He didn't look at the coffee. He didn't look at her. "I need to be alone, Sky. Completely alone. Please... leave."

Sky froze, the mug shaking slightly in her hand. "Viktor? Did something happen? You look—"

"I said leave!" he snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk.

The hurt that flashed across her face was like a physical blow to his chest. She set the mug down on the edge of the table, her eyes shimmering behind her glasses. She didn't say another word; she simply turned and walked out, her head bowed.

Viktor watched her go, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I’m sorry," he whispered to the empty room. "But I have to know."

He grabbed his cane—not because he needed it, but as a prop—and made his way out of the Academy.

Once he reached the open promenade of the bridge, away from the prying eyes of the scholars, Viktor stopped. He looked at the cane in his hand. For years, it had been his third leg, his mark of shame, his constant companion.

He let it go.

It clattered onto the stone, and Viktor didn't look back. He took a step. Then another. He began to jog, his heart hammering against his ribs—not with the flutter of a dying man, but with the roar of a survivor.

He broke into a full sprint.

The wind tore at his hair and whistled in his ears. The world became a blur of gold and blue. He ran past the statues, past the sweeping arches of the city, his feet hitting the pavement with a strength he had never known. Tears blurred his vision, spilling over his cheeks as a sob of pure, unadulterated triumph broke from his throat.

He wasn't the shadow anymore. He wasn't the dying boy from the Lanes. Under the starlight of Piltover, Viktor was finally running.

Viktor slipped back into the lab, his chest heaving—not with the jagged, wet rattle of his illness, but with the glorious, clean burn of exertion. He felt electric, his blood singing with a vitality he hadn't known since he was a child playing in the soot of the Sump. The shadow of death that had followed him for months had been burned away by the violet light.

The laboratory was dim, save for the low, rhythmic pulse of the Hexcore. In the corner, Sky sat at her small workstation, her head bowed. She was silent, her shoulders slumped in a way that made a sharp pang of guilt pierce Viktor’s newfound euphoria.

He felt terrible. The way he had snapped at her—the only person who had stayed when the world turned dark—felt like a stain on his triumph. He sighed softly, walking toward her. He didn't pick up the cane. Instead, he leaned it against a nearby desk, the wood clattering loudly in the silence.

Sky looked up, her expression guarded and hurt, but as she watched him move, her eyes widened. She stood so abruptly that her chair scraped the stone, and her hand caught the ceramic mug she’d brought him. The coffee spilled across the table in a dark pool, but she didn't even notice.

"Your leg," she breathed, her voice a fragile thread of disbelief. "Viktor, you’re... you’re walking."

Viktor didn't answer with words. He reached down and pulled aside the heavy fabric of his cloak. In the violet glow, his leg was no longer flesh and bone. It was a masterpiece of shimmering, translucent purple crystal and shifting metallic plates, built directly from the essence of the Hexcore.

Sky drifted toward him as if in a trance. She knelt, her eyes sparkling with a raw, academic curiosity that quickly softened into something much more intimate. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she ran a single, warm fingertip across the humming surface of the hex-flesh.

The contact sent a jolt through Viktor that had nothing to do with magic. His core tightened with a sudden, sharp surge of desire—a physical reaction so potent it made his breath hitch. He wasn't just healed; he was alive, and for the first time, he was acutely aware of the woman kneeling before him.

She looked up at him over the rim of her glasses, her face glowing with wonder. "This is incredible," she whispered, her hands flying up to clutch at her dark curls in disbelief. "Viktor... you are incredible."

Before he could find his voice, she stood and pulled him down into a kiss. It was impulsive and warm, tasting of the lavender tea she always made. Viktor felt his face heat up, a deep blush creeping into his cheeks. He was the Great Academy Mind, the partner of the Man of Progress, and yet he was utterly embarrassed by the simple, profound affection of a girl who had seen him at his worst.

Sky pulled back, her eyes bright with a new fire. "The runes! The sequence Jayce showed you—it wasn't just gravity, it was organic stabilization!"

She ran to the chalkboard, the spilled coffee forgotten. Viktor stood back, watching her. He watched the way her hand flew across the slate, scribbling down the rune combinations with a speed that matched his own. He watched the way her curls bounced, the way the chalk dust coated her fingers, and the way her mind worked with a ferocity that rivaled any Council-appointed scholar.

For the first time, he wasn't looking at a lab assistant. He was looking at a partner. He saw the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes, and the sheer, unbridled beauty of a woman who loved the world as much as he did.

"Sky," he murmured, though she was too lost in her equations to hear him. He didn't need the Great Beyond anymore. He had everything he needed right here in the amber light.

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the lab, cutting through the haze of chalk dust and stale caffeine. Viktor hadn't left. He had slept for perhaps an hour, slumped over a ledger, but the fire in his veins wouldn't let him rest for long. His stomach groaned, a sharp reminder that he hadn't eaten since the previous day, but he ignored it. The breakthrough was a more potent fuel than any meal could ever be.

The evidence of his obsession was everywhere—countless empty ceramic cups, all brought by Sky throughout the night, littered every flat surface like a graveyard of porcelain.

"Is there any actual blood left in your system, or is it just pure espresso at this point?"

Viktor started, his pen skidding across the page. Jayce was standing in the doorway, looking far too rested and radiating that effortless Piltovan charm. He was smiling, leaning against the doorframe with an amused glint in his eyes as he surveyed the wreckage of coffee cups.

"It is a necessary stimulant, Jayce," Viktor rasped, though he couldn't help a small smile.

Jayce stepped closer, his expression shifting. He began to look at Viktor with an intensity that made the heat rise in Viktor’s cheeks. It was a look of profound admiration, the kind of gaze that made Viktor feel, for a moment, like he truly was the "Man of Progress" Jayce always claimed him to be.

"You look... different today, V," Jayce said softly. "Stronger."

Viktor took a breath. He knew he couldn't hide it forever. He slowly pushed himself up from his chair, but instead of reaching for the cane leaning against the desk, he stood straight, balancing perfectly on both feet. He pulled back the heavy fabric of his trouser leg, exposing the limb.

The violet light of the hex-flesh pulsed with a steady, hypnotic rhythm, the metallic plates shifting seamlessly as he flexed his calf.

Jayce’s face went entirely blank. The charismatic smile vanished, replaced by a shock so deep he looked like he’d been turned to stone. For a long minute, the only sound was the low hum of the Hexcore.

"Incredible," Jayce finally breathed, his voice a mere whisper. He moved forward as if drawn by a magnet, kneeling down with the same academic awe Sky had shown, though his touch was more hesitant. "Viktor... this is revolutionary. The medical applications—the people in the clinics, the injured workers... this could change everything."

Jayce looked up, his eyes shining with hope. "Can you replicate it? Can we do this for others?"

"Yes," Viktor said, his voice firm, though a shadow crossed his mind. "I am already calculating the parameters for a full-body integration."

He didn't mention the dark side of the miracle. He didn't tell Jayce that the second he stepped away from the Hexcore's immediate radius, a familiar, cold ache began to claw at his chest again. The illness wasn't gone; it was just being held at bay. It was as if he were a dying fire, and the Hexcore was the only fuel that could keep the embers glowing. He needed it. He needed more of it.

"We’ll start the schematics for the prototypes immediately," Jayce said, standing up and clapping Viktor on the shoulder. "We're going to save so many lives, Viktor."