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"Professor, there's no need for an experiment."
Heimerdinger's ears twitched in confusion. He was still holding the calibration tool for the magic crystal. "What do you mean? Science requires—"
Ekko wiped a smudge of glowing blue dust from his face, a weary but triumphant grin splitting his features. "I'm already back, Professor."
The small yordle stumbled back, his eyes widening. "You... you succeeded? You actually traversed the chronal rift?"
Ekko nodded, and for the next hour, he described a journey that defied physics. He spoke of the weightlessness of the time-stream, the fractured reflections of a thousand realities, and the gut-wrenching sensation of "pulling" himself back into the present. Heimerdinger listened in rapt silence, occasionally muttering about "causality loops" and "non-linear sequences."
"Why don't you try it, Professor?" Ekko asked, holding out the shard.
Heimerdinger looked at the swirling blue vortex in the center of the room and then at his own trembling hands. He shook his head. "No. My mind is too rooted in the centuries I have lived. I fear I would get lost in the past. But you... you have the spark. Let's build you something stable. A drive that won't leave your return to chance."
While Ekko conquered time, Chen entered the heart of darkness.
Urgot's territory was a grim testament to the philosophy of "Survival of the Fittest." There were no golden towers here, no shiny medals, and no ranks. The followers of the Dreadnought were survivors of the Sump who had been "baptized" in pain. They shared everything—food, scrap, and the shared burden of existence. It was a terrifyingly pure form of anarchy, held together by the iron will of a monster.
Chen walked through the camp alone. He saw men with tire-legs, women with blade-arms, and workers whose lungs had been replaced by clicking bellows. They watched him with predatory curiosity, but no one attacked.
A scout with wheels for feet sped up to the center of the camp, where a massive, six-legged shadow loomed over a pile of scrap. "Chen of the Wildfire Party is here to see you."
Urgot stopped his work. A hiss of green steam vented from his abdomen. "Let him in."
Chen stood before the Dreadnought. Up close, Urgot was a mountain of scarred flesh and industrial hardware. His right arm was a massive, multi-barreled rotary cannon that smelled of cordite and rot.
"The leader of the little Fireflies comes alone?" Urgot's voice was a tectonic grind. "Bold. Or foolish."
"I'm here because we have a common enemy," Chen said, keeping his voice level. "Piltover is arming. They're coming to 'reorganize' the Undercity. We need an alliance."
Urgot let out a sound that might have been a laugh. It sounded like a bag of bolts being shaken. "Piltover. The real dictators. They dump their trash on our heads and call it 'Progress.' They bleed us for gold and call it 'Trade.' They are the ultimate weaklings, hiding behind their walls."
"We agree on that," Chen replied. "Piltover is the vampire. But we have different ideas on how to kill it."
"Good!" Urgot roared, his crab-legs shifting and digging into the stone. "I accept your alliance. We will crush the Topside together."
Then, his eyes flared with a murderous, chemical light. He raised his machine-gun arm, the barrels beginning to spin.
"But only on the premise that you are worthy of survival!"
Purge (W) activated instantly.
A hail of lead shredded the air. Chen didn't panic. He planted his feet and spun his lamppost with blinding speed.
"COUNTER STRIKE!"
The iron shaft of the lamp became a blur, the "clink-clink-clink" of deflecting bullets sounding like a frantic metronome. Chen charged through the storm of lead, closing the distance. He swung his Noxian axe toward Urgot's stomach, aiming for the hinged plate.
Urgot roared, lifting one of his massive mechanical thighs to intercept the blow.
Echoing Flames (Passive) Proc.
The shotgun-barrel in Urgot's knee erupted in a blast of alchemical fire. A snake of green flame lashed out at Chen's chest. Chen reacted with a desperate roll, the heat singeing his clothes.
"Too slow!" Urgot hissed.
Chen triggered his Turbo Chemtank. A frost-shockwave pulsed outward, coating Urgot's mechanical legs in a layer of rime. The Dreadnought slowed, his massive weight working against him. Chen blurred behind him, slamming the streetlamp into the back of Urgot's scarred skull.
The blow sent Urgot into a daze. Chen didn't waste the opening. He swung the axe into a Vital mark on Urgot's back.
Grasp of the Undying Proc.
A scream of metal and meat echoed through the cavern. But Urgot's subordinates just watched, their eyes cold. In this camp, if their leader died, he simply wasn't strong enough to lead.
The pain seemed to fuel Urgot. His six legs locked into the ground and he lunged forward, his massive left hand—still human but swollen with Shimmer—seizing Chen by the waist.
Disdain (E) Proc.
Chen felt his ribs groan under the pressure. Urgot lifted him with terrifying ease and slammed him into the stone with a thunderous suplex. Before Chen could catch his breath, the cold, heavy barrels of the machine gun were pressed against his forehead.
"You will die very cleanly," Urgot growled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
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