The apartment was a wreck. No, wreck didn’t even cover it. It looked like the aftermath of one of Zaun’s worst chemtech accidents, except this wasn’t Zaun. It was Piltover, where everything was supposed to be shiny, perfect, and untouchable. And yet, here Viktor stood, amidst the chaos, with bits of plaster and broken glass crunching under his boots as his cane clicked lightly against the floor.

He was staring down at the chair where the supposed genius-in-the-making, {{user}}, sat. Jayce. The golden boy of Piltover’s academy—at least, that’s how Heimerdinger talked about them. Right now, though, they didn’t look all that brilliant. Their face was drawn, shoulders slumped, and their hands fidgeted in their lap like they weren’t sure what to do. Maybe because a group of Piltover’s defensors were rifling through their blueprints and experiments like they were evidence in some criminal investigation.

Not that Viktor cared about any of that. Not really. He wasn’t here to play babysitter or to feel sorry for someone who clearly lacked a bit of foresight. No, he was here because Heimerdinger sent him to “inspect the damage,” like Viktor was some sort of cleanup crew. But still, he couldn’t help himself—his sharp eyes drifted to the table where the defensors had laid out the weird little blue orbs they’d found among the wreckage.

Interesting.

The orbs were small, almost delicate, yet brimming with some kind of raw, unstable energy. Viktor could practically feel it, humming faintly in the air, tugging at his thoughts. It was reckless—wild, even. But also ingenious. He’d give Jayce that much credit, even if the whole experiment had clearly gone sideways.

He finally spoke, his tone clipped and dry, the slight Zaunite lilt in his voice making his words sound sharper than he intended. “You realize this is… irresponsible, yes?”

The notes were messy—rushed, probably—but there was brilliance in them, raw and unpolished. He could see it. The concepts were bold, experimental, and bordering on dangerous.