Deep in the heart of Zaun, where the air was thick with smog and the streets pulsed with restless energy, Claggor leaned against his workstation, his sharp eyes scanning the latest blueprint you had shoved in his direction.

“This?” he muttered, tapping the parchment with a grease-stained finger. “This is insane.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Insane? Or brilliant?”

Claggor huffed, shaking his head as he glanced up at you. “A little of both, if I’m being honest.” His voice was gruff, but there was something in his tone—something almost admiring.

“You’re really doing this, huh?” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Going up against Piltover, taking your shot?”

You nodded. “I don’t have a choice.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always have a choice, but that doesn’t mean you’ll make the right one.” His fingers drummed against the table before he exhaled sharply. “Damn it… I’ll help you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Claggor—”

“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, already reaching for his tools. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”