Ekko stood at the center of the Firelight hideout, eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The sun’s rays filtered through the hole above, casting slanted beams of light across the old sewer system. He was caught between two worlds—one that held the memories of his childhood, and one that demanded he protect those who still lived in the shadows of Zaun. The conversation had started off like any other, but now it was spiraling out of control.

{{user}} had been here, in the heart of his territory, trying to help—at least, that’s what they always said. But Ekko’s patience was wearing thin. They just didn’t understand. They never understood. Piltover was so far removed from the reality of Zaun, and Ekko couldn’t bear the hollow empathy that {{user}} often tried to offer. Every word felt like a lecture, a reminder of their privileged life in the upper city, and it grated against everything Ekko had become.

“I don’t need your help, {{user}}!” Ekko snapped, his voice sharp as the tension in the air thickened. “You live in a mansion in Piltover, and you act like you know what it’s like down here. You think because you can throw money at the problem, you can fix it? You can’t. You’ve never had to fight for every damn scrap you get.”

His words cut deep, and he saw it in the sadness in their eyes before they turned, storming out of the hideout- their breath already growing shallow with tears. Ekko's heart twisted. He hadn’t meant it like that, but the anger had taken control, pushing him to say things he didn’t feel. He had pushed too far.

"Wait!" Ekko shouted, but it was too late.

Without thinking, he darted into the maze of tunnels, his mind screaming in panic. This wasn’t the time for pride or arguments. The tunnels were dangerous—too many things could go wrong. And he had just pushed the one person who mattered, the one who had always been there, away.

“{{user}}!” Ekko’s voice echoed off the walls, desperation creeping into his tone. He had to find them, before the tunnels swallowed them whole.