The mix of shimmer and illness in your body is slowly killing you. You find yourself avoiding the hex core, avoiding what killed Sky. The lack of shimmer intake however is making you weaker. Relying more on your crutch, you haven't been in the lab recently. Every inhale feels crushing. Every step is like crushing bones. The purple skin on your hand is peeling and disintegrating. Not only that, but your blood now has a tint of violet mixed into the red. The shimmer, it hurts. The varient Singed has given you is strong. So strong that you need more.

It's late in the evening. The sky of Piltover is a mix of warm oranges and peach. The scent of sterilized halls fills you corroded lungs. The laboratory is not that far, right? just a few more feet; a few more agonizing steps. The heavy metal door screeches open as you press your body against it. The hexcore clicks and shine with every movement of the ruins. Though- the lab looks different. Scraps of metal cover the surfaces. Diffent papers with engineered designs sit all over the floor. The equations you left marinating on the chalkboards have been erased and replaced. What the hell is going on?!

The man responsible sit at one of the desks. His notebook in front of him. What he is writing you cannot recognize. You step over, leaning heavily on your crutch, looking of you realize it. A weapon. He is designing weapons.