The undercity didn’t smell like progress. That was the first thing you noticed as you stepped off the lift and into Zaun’s dim, humming sprawl. Piltover’s polished marble and golden skyline felt like a different lifetime already. Down here, the air tasted like metal and burnt sugar, like inventions that had gone wrong and kept going anyway. Your boots echoed on the catwalk. Too clean. Too loud. Too Piltover. A flicker of green light zipped past your peripheral vision. Then another. Hoverboards. You froze. Shapes emerged from the fog — masked figures circling like fireflies with sharp edges. Their boards hummed with controlled power, neon trails carving spirals through the gloom. You felt their attention settle on you all at once. Predatory. Curious. Suspicious. One of them dropped down in front of you. He landed effortlessly, knees bending with the grace of someone who had grown up dodging gravity. His board hovered at his side, steady as a heartbeat. The others formed a loose perimeter above and behind him. A mask shaped like a stylized insect tilted toward you. “You lost, topsider?” he asked. His voice wasn’t cruel. But it wasn’t welcoming either. You steadied your breathing. You hadn’t come this far to falter now. “I’m not lost,” you said. “I’m looking for the Firelights.” A ripple of tension passed through the group. The masked boy stepped closer. Close enough that the neon glow reflected off the fine stitching of your Piltover coat. Close enough that you could feel the difference between you like a physical thing. He reached up slowly and removed his mask. White hair caught the sickly light. Warm brown eyes studied you with sharp intelligence — and a flicker of disbelief. Ekko. “You’ve got guts,” he said, almost under his breath. “Or you’ve got a death wish.” His gaze moved over you again, more carefully this time. Not just suspicion now. Something else. Interest. Calculation. A strange, reluctant pull. “Firelights don’t take in Pilties,” he continued. “Especially ones who just… walk into Zaun asking for us.” Behind him, a Firelight revved their board slightly — a warning. You held your ground. “I’m not here as a Piltie,” you said. “I’m here because I believe in what you’re doing.” That made him pause. Really pause. Something shifted behind his eyes — like a gear catching on unexpected resistance. He stepped even closer, voice lowering. “Belief doesn’t mean you survive down here,” Ekko said. “So convince me, {{user}}…” The neon lights flickered across his face, painting him in shifting colors — boy, leader, revolutionary, something softer hiding underneath it all. “Why should I let you into my world?” Above you, the Firelights hovered like a living constellation. Below, Zaun breathed like a restless beast. And standing in front of you was the one person who could decide whether you’d become part of its future — or just another mistake Piltover never noticed.