Moving Forward
The next day, Viktor felt noticeably better. His body ached less, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, his mind felt clearer. He realized just how desperately he had needed proper rest. He had gotten far too accustomed to pushing his body past its limits, even knowing it would only make things harder for him in the long run.
Over breakfast with Heimerdinger, Viktor learned more about the place where he had found himself. The professor, as eager as ever to delve into topics that fascinated him, spoke at length, providing surprising detail about their location. At first, Ekko didn’t seem particularly thrilled about how much Heimerdinger was sharing. His sharp gaze lingered on Viktor, the mix of caution and curiosity was evident in his expression.
But as the morning wore on, Ekko’s wariness seemed to ease. His posture relaxed, and his guarded tone softened. It seemed he’d decided to trust Viktor, at least enough to set aside his earlier wariness.
Apparently, this place—centered around a massive, beautiful tree surrounded by smaller structures—was the hideout for a group called the Firelights. Viktor recognized the name immediately; it had come up in reports in Piltover, listed as a possible culprit behind some of the recent attacks.
Viktor frowned, his brows knitting together in thought. He hadn’t been here long, but it was already clear to him that these people didn’t seem like the kind to orchestrate something like that. The memory of the lab reports and security briefings clashed sharply with the serene and kind atmosphere of this place. These people don’t seem like the type to do that; surely someone else is responsible, he thought.
Before he could delve too deeply into this train of thought, he noticed Ekko approaching with something in his hands.
“Sorry about this,” Ekko said apologetically, holding out a bundle of clothes. “After we cleaned your wounds, your clothes were pretty much ruined. So, uh… you’ll have to make do with these.”
Viktor took the offered clothing, running his fingers over the simple, well-worn fabric. It reminded him of the kind his father had worn in his childhood—practical and humble. A bittersweet and sudden feeling of nostalgia washed over him, and for a moment, he was lost in memories of home.
“Thank you,” Viktor said earnestly, looking up at Ekko. “You didn’t have to help me at all, much less feed me and now give me clothes.”
Ekko shrugged with a modest smile, his youthful face radiating warmth. “That’s how we do things here, right?. We help each other however we can.”
Viktor’s brows lifted in surprise. “You… knew I’m from the undercity?”
Ekko smirked knowingly. “Of course. One of the most brilliant scientists in the Academy, former assistant to Professor Heimerdinger, and one of the creators of Hextech? And from the undercity, like me? How could I not know?”
Viktor’s cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked down at the bundle of clothes. He wasn’t used to this kind of recognition, especially not from someone who seemed to genuinely think highly of him. It left him feeling awkward but also… oddly happy.
“A part of me thought I’d be seen as a traitor,” Viktor admitted, voice soft. “For staying in Piltover all these years. Like I’d forgotten where I came from.”
Ekko scratched the back of his neck, his expression briefly thoughtful. “I’ll be honest,” he said. “The thought did cross my mind. But after hearing stories about you from Heimer, I figured there was more to it. You were there to make a difference, weren’t you?”
“To be honest, it made me proud when I heard we had someone like you up there,” Ekko continued, his smile growing. “It gave me hope. Like maybe we had an ally.”
Viktor’s gaze softened, but guilt tugged at his chest. “You’re giving me far too much credit,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “I’ve made very few contributions worthy of recognition. And it wasn’t for lack of trying, but…” He sighed. “I found it wasn’t as easy as I once thought, back in my younger days, to secure the support and resources necessary to make real change.”
Ekko chuckled dryly, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I can imagine. That’s not your fault, though.”
Viktor glanced up, surprised by the conviction in Ekko’s tone.
“There’s only so much one person can do alone,” Ekko added, tapping Viktor’s shoulder lightly. “Believe me when I say you don’t need to beat yourself up about it. At least you tried, which is more than most people can say.”
Viktor offered him a faint smile. Ekko’s words, simple as they were, brought him some comfort.
“I’ll leave you to change,” Ekko said, already heading for the door. “If you feel up to it, come to the workshop. I’ll be there with Heimer.”
Viktor moved carefully, his body was still sore, each movement sending a faint reminder of the bruises and injuries he’d suffered. The large clothes he’d been wearing to sleep hung loosely on his thin frame, and he winced slightly as he reached to take them off, his body again protesting.
Grabbing the pair of pants Ekko had given him, Viktor sat on the edge of the bed and began the painstaking task of getting dressed. Adjusting his leg brace took extra effort, but he couldn’t help but admire the repairs Heimerdinger had made. The professor had reinforced the joints, making it feel almost new.
As he finished fastening his pants, Viktor’s gaze drifted to his chest. The bluish-purple bruises stood out against his pale skin, a vivid reminder of his recent ordeal. His cold fingertips traced over the older scars across his torso—older marks he had long since grown used to, usually hidden beneath his back brace. These were familiar, a part of him. The bruises, though, felt like unwelcome intruders, vivid reminders of his frailty, of how easily his body betrayed him. They seemed to taunt him.
He let out a huff of frustration, his fingers lingering over a particularly big bruise near his shoulder. “How unlucky do I have to be to get attacked the one time I’m distracted?” he muttered under his breath.
As Viktor checked the bandages around the stab wound to ensure it hadn’t reopened, the sound of the door opening startled him. He jumped, instinctively pulling the loose shirt over his torso as a tall figure stepped into the room.
At first, Scar didn’t seem to notice Viktor, his focus instead on a table across the room. When his gaze finally landed on him, a flash of realization crossed his face. “Sorry,” Scar said quickly, his expression apologetic.
Viktor’s grip on the clothes tightened as he hurried to pull them on, quickly covering himself. “It’s… fine. I’m nearly done,” he said, trying to steady his voice as he finished getting dressed.
Scar nodded and moved to a set of drawers, rummaging through them with purpose. Viktor’s curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned on his crutch for support as he watched. “Are you, by any chance, looking for a wrench-like tool? About this long?” He gestured with his hands to indicate the size.
Scar glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. I swear it was here yesterday.”
“I think Ekko took it before heading to the workshop,” Viktor offered. “He mentioned he’d be working there today.”
Scar sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Figures.”
“I was planning to go there myself,” Viktor said after a moment. “But I don’t know exactly where it is. Do you mind if I accompany you?”
Scar looked him over, his green eyes studying Viktor with an intensity that might have unnerved him yesterday. Today, though, the sharp edge of distrust Viktor had seen was absent. Progress, he thought.
As they made their way to the door, Viktor became keenly aware of Scar’s occasional glances in his direction. The scrutiny made him uncomfortable, though he tried to appear indifferent.
“Was the brace okay?” Scar’s voice broke the silence.
Viktor blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
“When we took it off, it was damaged,” Scar explained. “I was worried I might’ve broken it further.”
“Oh,” Viktor said, fumbling for words. “No, it’s fine. The professor repaired it. It’s sturdier than it looks, so… it’s okay.”
Scar nodded, relief evident on his face. “Good. Down here, it’s hard to come by materials that last for things like that. I know how personal those kinds of supports can be—it’s not just equipment, is it?
Viktor froze for a moment, surprised by the earnestness in Scar’s tone. It wasn’t a question laced with pity or mockery—just genuine concern. He cleared his throat, laughing awkwardly.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to people asking me about these things in such an… honest way.”
“Honest?” Scar repeated, his tone carrying a slight edge. “What do you mean?”
Viktor hesitated, gripping his crutch a little tighter. “Most of the time, when people ask about my leg, it’s not out of curiosity. They’re mocking me—or trying to remind me that, in their eyes, it’s just another thing that proves I don’t belong. To them, my condition isn’t just ‘a flaw’, it’s what they expect from someone born in the undercity.”
“Someone like you?” Scar’s eyes narrowed, his green gaze sharp.
“A cripple from the undercity,” Viktor replied, the words leaving a bitter taste as he forced them out. “An ‘outsider who shouldn’t enjoy the benefits of a position like mine.’” He attempted a humorless smile, the weight of repeating words he’d heard too many times before pressing down on him.
Scar’s expression darkened, his voice filled with disgust as he said, “Fucking Pilties. Who are they to judge anyone? They should take a long look in the mirror if they want to see a joke.”
He shoved open the door and strode out, muttering a string of curses under his breath. Viktor followed, suppressing a quiet laugh. It had been a long time since he’d heard such raw frustration voiced so freely and, if he was honest, it was refreshing.
Scar turned around, looking surprised at the sound of laughter. His brow furrowed, but there was no real anger in his tone when he asked, “What are you laughing at?”
“Sorry,” Viktor said. “It’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve heard someone throw insults like that. I suppose I found it funnier than I should have.” He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I’ll admit, you’ve got a great variety. I may have to borrow some of those for the future.”
Scar raised an eyebrow, though his pace slowed slightly as he fell into step with Viktor. “So, you agree with me,” he said, “but you never said anything yourself? Why not?”
Viktor hesitated before responding. Perhaps because he had just met Scar, it felt easier to be honest. “To be honest,” he began, “I didn’t see the point. I already thought similar things about myself and, if I’m honest, sometimes I still do.” He glanced at the ground as they walked. “It didn’t take long for me to figure out that no matter what I did, it’d never be enough to be seen as their equal. Arguing just felt like a waste of time.”
Scar’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“What do you mean?” Viktor asked, tilting his head slightly.
“When I first heard about the undercity scientist living in Piltover, I imagined someone arrogant. Someone who didn’t care about his home and stayed in Piltover just to enjoy privileges he could never get here.” Scar’s voice wasn’t accusing, but it carried a blunt honesty.
Viktor met his gaze. He wasn’t surprised by the comment.
“I’ll admit, I didn’t trust you at first,” Scar continued. “To be honest, I’m still on the fence. You can never be too careful, and it’s part of my job to keep people safe.”
Viktor nodded, understanding. He didn’t feel insulted—he was a stranger here, after all.
Scar continued “Even with the professor vouching for you. It just seemed too… neat. A scientist, from the undercity, working in Piltover but still trying to help people down here? Sounded like the kind of lie someone tells to make themselves look good while doing nothing.”
Viktor nodded slowly, his lips curving into a rueful smile. “I won’t argue with that. I’ve seen plenty of people like that in Piltover.” He paused, glancing ahead as if lost in thought. “To be honest, I’d been growing frustrated with it all. That’s why I came here. I was trying to reach an old mentor for help.”
Scar’s expression shifted slightly as something clicked. “So that’s why you were wandering around in your fancy uniform with nothing else on you.”
“Yeah,” Viktor replied with a small nod. “I left in a hurry. I was feeling so angry and frustrated… I didn’t notice anything until they were in front of me.” He paused, his gaze softening as a sincere smile crossed his face. “But… in a way, I’m glad. Something good came out of it.”
Scar shot him a skeptical look. “Something good? From getting beat up?”
Viktor chuckled. “I met Professor Heimerdinger again. My other acquaintance… Well, let’s just say that, looking back, going to him probably wouldn’t have been the best idea.”
The tall Vastaya tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Viktor gave a faint shrug. “He’s not exactly the most trustworthy person,” he explained. “Not like the professor.”
Scar regarded him silently for a moment before the corner of his mouth tugged into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things,” he said. “But maybe that’s not a bad thing.”