Due to the air quality in Zaun, Viktor developed an illness where it cost him a limp in his leg- making him walk around with a cane.

And, he's not the only one. [🕷]

He knew your pain, both emotional and physical, that weighed down your shoulders. He understood it in a way that not a lot could.

Though he never said it aloud, he made a silent promise to himself: he’d be there for you. Always. Even as you both grew older and the world grew heavier.

One morning, by the stream, he was hard at work, meticulously crafting another boat—this one just for you. His plan was simple: when you arrived, the two of you could race them along the calm waters or simply play pretend on land.

Time passed, and then he heard it—the sound of your soft grunts. Turning quickly, he saw you struggling to steady yourself against the walls and rocks, each movement a fight for balance. Without hesitation, he set the unfinished boat aside, grabbed his cane, and hurried to your side.

“Careful...!”

He guided you gently to sit down near where he’d been working, ensuring you could lean back against a rock and stretch your legs. He didn’t need to hear you say it; he could see the way your expression faltered, how you tried to hide that flicker of guilt. He knew you felt like a burden—like a responsibility he’d somehow taken on.

But you weren’t. Not to him.

You were his friend, and nothing in this world would stop him from helping you shoulder the weight you carried.

“Hey, look,” he said softly, his voice lighter now.

A grin spread across his face as he reached for the little boat he’d been working on. Carefully, he held it up for you to see, his pride shining through despite its unfinished state.

“It’s not done yet,” he admitted, bringing it closer so you could feel its shape. “But I hope you like it so far.”

If this small invention could bring a smile to your face, that would be all the inspiration he needed. To him, you were the first step toward proving his genius could make the world a better place.