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Viktor had not set foot in Zaun for a long time. As the elevator descended, the familiar, pungent scent of the "Sump" hit his nostrils. It was a smell he had spent his life trying to forget, yet it triggered an involuntary wave of nostalgia.
"Cough, cough—"
Viktor quickly pulled on a gas mask. His lungs, already fragile from a lifetime of breathing the "Gray," nearly gave out from the sudden intake of concentrated industrial pollutants.
"Who is this guy?" Vi asked, eyeing Viktor with open suspicion.
"Viktor. He's a Zaunite too," Kael introduced casually.
"Huh?" Vi looked at Viktor's high-quality Piltovian fabric and his sickly, academic posture. To her, he looked like a noble who had spent too much time in a library and not enough time in a fight.
"I didn't expect you to have friends down here," Viktor remarked, looking at Kael with renewed respect. Unlike Jayce, whose subconscious elitism often leaked through in the way he spoke to Viktor, Kael seemed genuinely at home in the chaos of the Undercity.
"Who said I'm friends with this guy!" Vi barked, grabbing Viktor's collar. "If you're a 'consumption-ghost' about to kick the bucket, don't do it at my doorstep."
Viktor straightened his vest, unbothered. He knew this was just the Zaunite way of saying "hello."
The Hex-Crystal Shipment
Inside the Fuggen Bar (The Last Drop), the atmosphere was tense but stable. Powder immediately abandoned her workbench to cling to Kael, much to Vi's annoyance.
"You're quite popular," Viktor noted, a rare hint of envy in his voice. He had spent his life as an outsider in both cities; seeing Kael bridge the gap so easily was a marvel.
Vander placed a heavy, sealed metal box on the bar counter. "I got what you asked for. But these things... they almost cost my men their lives."
Inside were several raw Hextech crystals. Vander explained that the mining process had triggered a partial collapse in the lower levels. The crystals were volatile, reacting to the crude tools of the Zaunite miners.
"That's because your people were careless," Kael retorted. "I provided the technical specs. If you follow the containment protocols, they won't blow your arms off."
Vander sighed. "We have a bigger problem. A chemical plant in the middle level was just bombed. Silco's people."
The Shadow of Silco
Vander's expression darkened as he explained the situation. While he controlled the upper and middle levels of Zaun—The Lanes and the commercial districts—the lowest tier was a lawless abyss. There, Silco had gathered a following of radicals and extremists who saw Vander's "peace" as a betrayal.
By mining the Hex-crystals, Vander had stepped into territory Silco considered his own. The bombing was a declaration of war.
"Who's the kid?" Sevika asked, walking into the bar with a grim report of the damage. Vander dismissed her question, ordering her to keep a close watch on Silco's movements.
"My apologies, Nuo. I have to handle this," Vander said, grabbing his gauntlets. "If that chemical leak reaches the upper levels, Piltover will use it as an excuse to send the Enforcers down for a 'cleanup'."
"Need a hand?" Kael offered. Vander hesitated, then nodded.
Disaster Relief
The middle level of Zaun was a labyrinth of steel grates and glass walls, perpetually shrouded in green-tinted toxic smog. When the team arrived at the bombed factory, the air was thick with corrosive gas.
"The air purification system is dead," a worker reported frantically. "The exhaust fans were sabotaged."
The toxic cloud was spreading. Without the giant ventilation fans, the middle level would become a gas chamber. While Vi and the others distributed emergency gas masks and handled the panicking crowds, Kael and Viktor headed for the ventilation shaft.
"Come lend a hand, Viktor," Kael said, rolling up his sleeves as they faced a three-meter-high, jammed motor.
Viktor looked at the massive gears, then at Kael. He was the Academy instructor, yet the ten-year-old was giving orders like a lead engineer. He grumbled but moved into position.
Working in tandem, they used the Ark Rune Reactor to jumpstart the motor's coils. With a deafening whir, the massive blades began to spin, drawing the green fog upward and out of the city.
Vander watched the gas dissipate, his grip tightening on his pipe. He had tried to handle Silco with patience and diplomacy. But as he looked at the injured Zaunites and the broken factory, he knew that peace was no longer an option.
"Terrorists," Vander whispered, "must be met with overwhelming force."
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