"Here's the thing you were looking for!" After rummaging through the clutter, Rath finally brought out a jagged shard of Dreamglass. He grunted, tossing it lightly in his hand as though testing its weight. "This stuff's rare—you can't find it just anywhere. Typical Ionian craftsmanship."
Duke's eyes locked on the Dreamglass, and relief washed over him. With this, he could gather the final ingredient and complete his potion. "How much for it?" he asked.
"300 Cogs!" Rath answered instantly.
Duke almost exclaimed at how cheap it was, but Rath raised a hand, cutting him off. "I've got a request."
"Oh…" Duke nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. He could already guess Rath's intentions, but he let him continue. "Alright, what is it? But keep in mind—I'll only agree if it's reasonable. If it's too risky, I'm out."
Rath chuckled, clicking his tongue. "Not for you, boy. This request is for Vander." He glanced at Duke's leg dismissively before tossing him the shard.
Duke caught it, his curiosity piqued. "What do you want Vander to do?"
Rath leaned in closer, his voice dropping. "A Chem-Baron's been breathing down my neck. I need Vander to put in a good word for me. Protection. You get it?"
Duke raised an eyebrow. He had expected Rath to ask for connections or favors, but this was a whole other level. "A Chem-Baron? You've pissed one of them off? That's bold—I'll give you that. But you realize even Vander's got his limits. He's already juggling enough with his own territory. Protection from a Chem-Baron? That's not a small ask."
Chem-Barons ruled the Undercity with iron fists—brutal crime lords with vast influence and the muscle to back it up. They were a loose alliance of landlords and criminals, each with a volatile personality. Provoke one, and you'd better be ready for the fallout.
Even Vander, famed as the Hound of the Underground, couldn't challenge a Chem-Baron without risking his position. His influence extended only as far as the Lanes and the community he protected.
"I'm not asking Vander to risk his whole damn empire," Rath snapped. "Just a little... influence. I need him to make sure I'm not a target. That's all. You can make it happen, can't you?"
Duke hesitated but decided it was worth it for the Dreamglass. "Alright, I'll pass along your message. But if Vander refuses, that's on him, not me."
Rath smirked and reached into his coat, pulling out a sealed envelope. He handed it to Duke. "Fair enough. Here—don't open it until you give it to him. He'll understand."
Duke frowned slightly, suspicion creeping in. This wasn't just about protection; Rath had other plans. Still, he nodded and pocketed the letter before leaving the workshop.
..
After buying everything he needed, Duke turned his attention to Powder's request, much to her delight. They spent some time at the market, Powder happily scavenging shiny metal scraps while Duke picked out gifts for the others. He bought new clothes and knuckles for Violet, a sturdy jacket for Mylo, and a tool belt for Claggor. For Vander, he picked up a new drinking cup.
As they strolled home, Duke made a quick stop at the Last Drop to deliver Rath's letter.
The bar was as lively as ever—raucous laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the unmistakable tang of alcohol filled the air. Duke's entrance didn't go unnoticed.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Hero of Two Princesses himself! A round for the man who does more than save his own skin!"
"And here I thought you were just the Shining Knight of Zaun. Turns out you've got more than just a sword, eh? Drinks on him!"
Duke rolled his eyes at the jests but didn't respond, went straight to the counter where Vander was cleaning glasses.
Sliding the envelope onto the counter, Duke said, "From Rath."
Vander's hands paused. His eyes narrowed as he studied the letter. "Rath…" he muttered, his voice tinged with wariness. "Always a bundle of trouble, that one. What does he want this time?"
"How about you? How'd you meet Rath? Did you two go out this time?" Vander asked, his tone light but curious.
"We just bought something from him," Duke replied, glancing at Powder, who was happily sipping juice beside him. Noticing his look, Powder grinned and pulled a cup out of her bag.
"I got this for you, Vander!" she chirped, holding it up proudly.
"And we grabbed stuff for Vi and the others too!" Powder rummaged through her bag, pulling out an assortment of shiny trinkets. "Look! Aren't they cool?"
Vander chuckled, patting her head. "Thanks, kiddo. You've got a good eye."
He went behind the bar and poured a drink for Duke—a juice, matching Powder's. Setting it down, Vander asked, "How're you holding up? Dr. Snibbles has been on my case lately. Worse than a mother hen, all that fussing."
"Ah, just ignore him. I'm getting better," Duke said with a crooked grin. "Might be walking circles around you soon."
Vander laughed, and the two settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation. They talked and joked like family, enjoying the rare peaceful evening in the Lanes. As they spoke, they kept an eye on Powder, who was happily playing with her new trinkets and giggling at the antics of the bar's patrons.
It was a moment of calm—warm, bright, and full of laughter. Eventually, Duke excused himself, ready to focus on his potion.
...
The gray Zaun sky dimmed as night fell, but the city buzzed on, as alive as ever. In his room, Duke sat before a large cauldron resting on his workbench. The scattered ingredients surrounded him—carefully labeled and meticulously arranged.
He took a deep breath and began. First, the primary ingredient, followed by the supplementary ones. His hands moved with precision, every motion deliberate. One mistake could mean failure—or worse.
After what felt like hours, it was done. Duke poured the thick, shimmering liquid into small glass bottles. Holding one in his hand, he let out a long sigh. Relief, excitement, and anxiety swirled within him.
This was the Beyonder Potion. Drinking it would change his life forever. He would finally step into a world of power, no longer relegated to the sidelines as a cripple. He could stand with his family—his family, who would shape the future of Zaun, Piltover, and beyond.
But fear lingered. Duke hesitated. He'd faced death twice already—once as a random student struck by a truck in his previous life, and again in this world, saving his sisters. Both times, he'd survived by sheer luck. But what scared him more than death was helplessness—the thought of being powerless to protect the people he loved.
His grip tightened on the bottle. He couldn't afford to hesitate. Hesitation bred weakness. Fear would only hold him back. He raised the potion to his lips.
The door creaked open.
"Hey," Violet called, stepping into the room. "Taking your medicine? Vander's made dinner."
Duke lowered the bottle and placed it on the table with a soft smile. "I'm fine."
Violet narrowed her eyes. "So, why aren't you drinking it?"
"I forgot to eat," Duke said smoothly. "The doctor said it works better on a full stomach."
Vi smirked and stepped behind his wheelchair. "Fine. Let's get you fed, then." She grabbed the handles and started pushing him out of the room.
As they moved, she mumbled under her breath, "Thanks..."
"What was that?" Duke asked, glancing back with a teasing grin. "Didn't catch that."
"Nothing!" Violet replied quickly, rubbing her nose as her cheeks reddened.
Duke chuckled softly, his spirits lifting. Even in the shadows of Zaun, moments like this made everything feel brighter.
Laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the savory aroma of food in the air. Mylo and Claggor's bickering added a layer of chaotic energy to the lively atmosphere. As Duke entered, Vander grinned and gestured toward the table. "Let's eat."
Everyone gathered around the table, the family settling into their usual spots. Powder and Violet sat beside Duke, and Powder, as always, took it upon herself to scoop food onto his plate. She treated him like a child, earning a soft chuckle from Duke, who let her fuss over him without protest.
The warmth of the moment filled the room, a bubble of happiness and belonging. Watching his family laugh and talk, Duke couldn't help but let his thoughts drift.
In his past life, he had been nothing more than an ordinary student—a loner. His parents had died in a car accident, leaving him to be raised by his grandmother. But even she had passed away not long after, leaving Duke utterly alone. He had been like a solitary stone on the side of a long, empty road, forgotten and adrift.
Now, he had a family again. A real family. One he would never let slip away.
"What are you thinking about?" Violet's voice cut through his thoughts. She was watching him closely, curiosity in her eyes.
Duke shook his head with a gentle smile. "Nothing," he replied, then added with a teasing tone, "By the way, the neighbors have been complaining lately, Violet. You should probably take care of that."
Everyone burst into laughter, the mood lightening even more.
As their voices and laughter filled the room, Duke allowed himself to hope. Hope that this family, this happiness, would last. That these shared moments of light and warmth would remain unbroken, like a flickering flame in the dark.
The laughter echoed on, the light seemed to shine a little brighter, and for a fleeting moment, the air itself felt fresher, alive with possibility. Duke clung to that hope, his heart full.
'This is what I've dreamed of for so long.'
.
.
AN: 😏