𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 | 𝐃𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝐋𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝐀𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕤

1. Attack

Another exchange.

The wood beneath my boots creaked as I shifted my weight, arms crossed, waiting for the merchant to finish scratching out his name on Silco's damned piece of paper.
A useless formality, if you asked me, like Piltover's smiles and their endless red tape.

The breeze tugged at my jacket, carrying with it the sharp tang of saltwater.
I sighed, glancing at Sevika. She stood like a statue, arms folded and jaw tight, her good hand gripping her belt.
Her patience, as always, seemed infinite.
Mine wasn't.

The merchant, a balding jittery man with spectacles perched too far down his nose, muttered something about how "everything appears to be in order".
His quill scratched on the parchment like nails on a chalkboard, making me shiver.
Sevika grunted her usual half-response, more interested in the shimmer crates behind him than his pathetic attempts at courtesy.

I let my gaze drift.
Piltover always felt like a different world.
The sunlight here was almost blinding, a golden haze spilling over the docks and glittering over the water. The air felt lighter, cleaner.
Every breath I took was almost... sweet.
Not like the thick, acrid clouds of Zaun.
I hate to admit it, but it was a nice change.
The city looked in the distance, its ivory towers piercing the sky.
From here, Piltover looked like it belonged in a storybook— pristine, untouchable.
I knew better.

Every sparkling window hid a shadow, and every cobblestone street ran over the veins of Zaun, bleeding it dry.
A seagull screeched overhead, snapping me out of my thoughts. I squinted at the horizon, the sun warming my face.
It felt strange, like something I didn't deserve.
Back home, it was always dark— with the glow of street lamps, the hum of machinery, the flicker of neon signs.
Here, everything felt too... open.
Exposed.

"You paying attention, Shark?" Sevika's gravelly voice cut through my reverie.
I blinked, my focus snapping back to her.
She was staring at me now, one brow arched.
"Yeah," I said, though I wasn't. "Just... taking in the sights."
Sevika snorted, her lips curving into the closest thing she ever gave to a smile.
"Don't get used to it."

The merchant handed her the signed paper, his hand trembling slightly.
"T- thank you for your business," he stammered.
Sevika didn't even look at him as she pocketed the document.
"Unload'em. Now."

I watched as the dockworkers scrambled to obey, their faces pale and nervous.
Piltover's sun might shine brighter, but the shadows cast by people like Sevika— and by extension, Silco— were long and inescapable.
Still, as I leaned back against a post and let the warmth of the sun soak into my skin, I couldn't help but feel like I was stealing something.
Surely, not a feeling I wasn't accustomed with, but it was like I was taking a small piece of what they had up here.
A moment, a breath, before diving back into the depths.

That moment stretched too long though, too quiet.
Dockworkers shuffled around the shimmer crates, but even their movements felt sluggish, as thought the air had thickened with something more than the weight of the deal.
I caught the faintest hissing sound, sharp and deliberate.
I turned my head, just enough to glance at Sevika. She'd heard it too.
Her posture shifting, her stance widening slightly, hand hovering near her belt.

Then it hit.

A loud pop cracked through the air, and something metallic clattered against the deck.
A strange, acrid smell filled the space.
Smoke hissed and curled, blooming outward in thick, choking clouds.
"Shit," I hissed, coughing as the gas burned my throat. I threw my arm over my mouth, squinting against the sting in my eyes.
Funny enough, the air had gone from sweet to sour in an instant, so dense it clang to my skin.