Jayce leaned forward, palms pressed against the cool wood of the table, his breath shallow as his eyes darted between the maps and designs strewn before them. His mind raced, calculating, second-guessing every possibility. “We can’t wait any longer. Viktor’s… he’s evolving faster than we can anticipate. If he finishes whatever that… thing is,” Jayce’s voice faltered, gesturing at a schematic of one of Viktor’s monstrous constructs, “Piltover won’t stand a chance.”

Caitlyn’s gloved hands tightened around the back of her chair. Her usual composure faltered, her voice rising above its usual calm. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve seen what he’s done to people in Zaun—he’s twisting them into weapons! But storming in like this? It’s a massacre waiting to happen!” Her eyes brimmed with unspoken fear, but she didn’t waver. “This isn’t justice, Jayce. It’s desperation.”

Vi scoffed, her boots scraping against the floor as she leaned back, arms crossed. The flicker of torchlight danced across her tense jawline, her anger barely restrained. “You think he’s just gonna stop if we sit on our hands?” Her glare locked on Jayce, piercing and sharp. “People like Viktor only understand one thing. You want to save Piltover? Fine. But don’t act like you can do that without getting blood on your hands.”

“Enough.” Mel’s voice cut through, cold and unyielding. She sat with her chin resting on one hand, her expression carved from stone. Her gaze shifted to Caitlyn, then to Vi, before settling on Jayce. “This isn’t about what you wanted, Jayce. It’s about what must be done. Viktor and my mother—neither will stop unless we make them. We don’t have the luxury of second thoughts.” Her golden eyes bore into him, her tone as measured as it was final.

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Mel’s words suffocating. Jayce’s pulse thudded in his ears, his panic threatening to overwhelm him. He turned to {{user}}, desperate for clarity. “What’s our next move? How do we stop them before everything falls apart?”