Zaun was a bustling city of iron and glass, a sprawling undercity located beneath the gleaming towers of Piltover. Its air was thick with pollution and toxic runoff from the surface above, making it a dangerous place to live. Yet, somehow, Zaun thrived. Its people adapted, finding ways to survive and even prosper amidst the challenges.
The city was also a hub of commerce, particularly its infamous black markets. Merchants from across the world brought goods here—some legitimate, others... less so. You could find almost anything if you knew where to look. Duke even recalled that Teemo, the mischievous Yordle, often bought his infamous mushrooms in Zaun.
Today, Duke and Powder found themselves in the heart of the Boundary Market, a bustling maze of stalls and shops filled with wares from every corner of the world. The air buzzed with haggling voices, clinking coins, and the occasional shout from a merchant boasting about their rare finds.
Duke glanced around, his expression a mix of determination and wariness. He sighed, then nodded at Powder, who stood behind his wheelchair. Today, he was here for a specific reason: to buy the ingredients for the Sequence 9 potion of the Visionary Pathway.
Powder beamed and began pushing his wheelchair into the crowded streets. "What're we buying, big brother? Is it cool? Can I pick something too?"
Duke gave her a faint smile. "After I've gotten what I need, we'll look for something for you—and maybe for the others too."
Powder pouted, puffing out her cheeks. "Ugh, fine. But if I find something really shiny…"
As they moved through the streets, a small, unassuming shop caught their attention. Inside, an old man with a scarred face and a mechanical left arm was hunched over a counter. This was Orland "Cinder" Voss, a notorious dealer in all things unusual—or illegal. Whether it was spare parts, rare books, or even human organs, Orland was the man to see if you needed something unconventional.
The two entered, and Orland looked up, his deep voice gruff yet familiar. "Well, if it isn't Vander's kids. What brings you here? Looking for trouble, or just scraps?"
"We're here to buy something," Duke replied, his eyes scanning the shop. The shelves were packed with an assortment of items, from mechanical scraps to dusty tomes. In the corner, something caught his attention—a sword hidden among a pile of junk. His brow twitched as he recognized it.
It was a Doran's Blade.
Suppressing a smirk, Duke turned back to Orland and handed him a list of ingredients. The shopkeeper frowned as he read through it.
"A Fragment of Ionian Dreamglass, Spirit Blossom Essence, Feathers from a Dreamweaver Vastaya, Lunar Dew, Powdered Dreamroot," Orland muttered, squinting at the paper. He fixed Duke with a sharp look.
"What are you planning, boy?"
Duke met his gaze evenly. "Do you have it or not?"
Orland narrowed his eyes but didn't press further. After a moment, he let out a raspy chuckle.
"This is a tall order. These things are rare, especially the Dreamglass. All of it's from Ionia, and since the Noxus-Ionian War, getting goods from there has been... complicated. But lucky for you, I know how to get my hands on such things."
He leaned against the counter, his mechanical arm clicking faintly as he shifted his weight. "Except for the Dreamglass. That's a whole different beast. How much do you need?"
"I need 10 milliliters of Spirit Blossom Essence, 3 Feathers from a Dreamweaver Vastaya, 1 drop of Lunar Dew, and 5 grams of Powdered Dreamroot."
Orland raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot, boy." He chuckled again and waved a hand. "Wait here."
The old man disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Duke and Powder alone amidst the chaotic clutter.
Powder wandered around the cluttered shop, her gaze landing on a brass contraption sputtering faintly in the corner. Suddenly, she overheard what Duke was buying, and her curiosity was piqued.
"Hey, what's all that stuff for? Sounds... fancy. Magic-y. Explosive-y?"
She clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is it a secret? Can I help?"
Duke raised an eyebrow. "It's not explosive. And no, you can't help."
"Aww, come on, big bro! I'm good with stuff! Like—like those little things with gears!" She mimicked turning invisible gears in the air, then leaned closer to him. "What if you need, like, an extra hand or something?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "I've got it handled, Powder."
Seeing her crestfallen look, his tone softened. "But maybe you can help me carry some of it, yeah?"
Powder's expression lit up instantly. "Deal! You've got the muscles; I've got the brains!" She giggled and spun in place before crouching to inspect another shiny object on a shelf.
"Oooh, shiny..."
Duke watched her with a faint smile, his thoughts turning serious. He wasn't ready to tell anyone about the Beyonders yet. First, he needed to test the potion and confirm its effects. The idea of gaining divine-level powers just by drinking a potion was unheard of in this world. To introduce it, he would need a believable story and a careful plan.
Once the potion was proven, his goal was clear: to slowly change Zaun, starting with building a family of Beyonders.
Duke tapped the armrest of his wheelchair thoughtfully. 'What we lack the most is money.'
Despite Vander owning the bar, their family's finances were dire. Vander did his best to provide, but he was only one man. The bar barely covered their basic needs, and he was stretched thin trying to protect their community from Piltover's oppression and Zaun's criminal underworld. Food, medicine, and essential supplies were always scarce, and honest work in Zaun was nearly impossible to find.
But Duke, with his knowledge from Earth, saw countless business opportunities. A saying he once heard echoed in his mind:
Create a problem, and sell the solution.
Zaun was full of problems, and Duke intended to be the solution.
Before his thoughts could spiral further, Orland's voice broke through. "Here it is!"
The shopkeeper reappeared, carrying a small box. Setting it down on the counter, he gave Duke a sharp look. "So, how are we dealing? Barter or cash?"
Zaun's chaotic economy operated on two systems: official currency and bartering resources. Duke, having no resources to trade, chose the former.
"How much?"
Orland raised a single finger. "One thousand Silver Cogs, one hundred and fifty Bronze Washers."
Duke's lips twitched in frustration. That was steep—though fair, considering the rarity of the ingredients, especially since they came from Ionia. Still, it would leave him with only 500 Silver Cogs, and he hadn't even secured the Ionian Dreamglass yet.
"How about a discount?" Duke said, leaning forward slightly. "Let's say 700 Silver Cogs and 150 Bronze Washers. And I'll throw in a good word to Vander."
Orland's eyes narrowed, his mechanical arm whirring faintly as he tapped his fingers on the counter. Vander's name carried significant weight in Zaun; many merchants sought his protection or hoped to gain connections through him.
After a moment, Orland chuckled. "You know me too well, boy. Alright, 700 Cogs and 150 Washers. But don't forget to put in that good word."
Duke smiled faintly and handed over the money. "Pleasure doing business."
Before Duke and Powder left Orland's shop, Duke suddenly paused and turned. "Do you know where I can find Ionian Dreamglass?"
Orland raised a brow, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... you'll want to visit Old Yordle Rath. If anyone in Zaun has it, it's him. But fair warning—he's not the easiest person to deal with."
Duke nodded in gratitude. "Thanks for the tip."
Orland watched in silence as the two customers vanished into the bustling crowd of Zaun. Shaking his head, he turned to head back into his room. However, his gaze lingered on a corner of the room. Frowning, he thought, 'Did I miss something?'
A memory tugged at the edges of his mind, elusive and incomplete. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp what was missing.
"Zaun's air is making my memory worse," Orland muttered, shaking his head in frustration. He grabbed a mug of Zaun's classic bitter brew and took a sip, pushing the thought aside.
...
Twilight's Workshop – Old Yordle Rath's Shop
Powder pushed the shop door open, the rusty bell above jingling faintly. Twilight's Workshop was a chaotic blend of a tinker's haven and a detective's lair. Tools, gears, and strange glowing devices were scattered across every surface, while stacks of books and blueprints teetered precariously in the corners.
Behind the counter stood Rath, a diminutive but imposing figure. Like all Yordles, he had the classic short stature and fur-covered frame. His dusty gray fur was streaked with silver, and a pair of thick, grease-smudged goggles rested on his forehead.
Duke inclined his head respectfully. "Hello, Rath. We're here to buy something important."
The old Yordle turned from his cluttered workbench, his sharp eyes narrowing as he appraised the newcomers. His voice was a gruff growl, filled with irritation and intrigue. "Buy something? What do you think this is—a marketplace? If you want shiny baubles, head to Piltover. If you're here for real solutions, speak plainly."
Duke met Rath's piercing gaze without flinching. "I was told you might have Ionian Dreamglass. Is that true?"
Rath's bushy brows shot up at the mention of Dreamglass. He folded his arms, scrutinizing Duke. "Ionian Dreamglass, eh? Rare stuff, even for me. Hard to come by after the war. What's someone like you want with it?"
Duke hesitated for a fraction of a second. "It's personal. Do you have it or not?"
Rath smirked, his sharp teeth flashing. "Direct. I like that."
He pointed a clawed finger at Duke, his tone softening slightly. "You—you're familiar. Saved by one of us Yordles, weren't you? Dr. Snibbles, if I recall."
Duke nodded, his expression briefly flickering with gratitude. "Yes. I owe him my life.
Rath grunted approvingly. "Good. Gratitude's rare in this city. Most think we Yordles are just tinkerers for their amusement."
He waved them closer. "Come, let's see if I've got what you're looking for. But don't waste my time—Dreamglass isn't exactly lying around in every corner shop."
Powder's eyes widened as she wandered the workshop, marveling at the strange contraptions and glowing devices. "Ooooh, shiny!"
Duke sighed. "Powder, don't touch anything."
Rath chuckled softly as he rummaged through a nearby shelf. "You've got your hands full with that one."