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"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Urgot's rotary cannon roared at point-blank range, the muzzle flashes illuminating the dark underbelly of the Sump. The lead slammed into Chen's frame, but instead of the sound of shredding meat, the cavern echoed with the metallic ping of ricochets.
"UNBREAKABLE WILL!"
Chen's roar was primal. Two spectral rune-shields materialized around him, shimmering with ancient power. Under the protection of the Alistar ultimate, the bullets that should have turned his head into a pulp merely bounced off his skin as if he were made of reinforced battleship plating.
Chen stood his ground, a titan amidst the smoke. He gripped his axe with both hands and swung in a wide, violent arc.
"DECIMATE!"
The blade, glowing with the gold of ten stacked Conqueror stacks, bit deep into Urgot's iron-plated abdomen. A surge of green essence—the Triumph of the kill-drive—flowed back into Chen, knitting his wounds shut instantly.
Urgot's mechanical eyes whirred as he recalibrated his assessment of the man before him. He wasn't looking at a "fly" anymore; he was looking at a predator.
"Then take my final move!" Urgot bellowed, the furnace in his chest glowing white-hot. "Face the FEAR BEYOND DEATH!"
The iron plate on Urgot's stomach hissed open. With a thunderous crack, a chem-drill propelled by high-pressure explosives tore through the air, leaving a trail of emerald fire. Chen didn't dodge. He crossed his lamppost and axe in a desperate "X," taking the hit head-on. The force shoved him back ten yards, his boots carving furrows in the stone, but when the smoke cleared, Chen was still standing.
He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared at the Dreadnought. "Now... do I have the right to live?"
Urgot burst into a mechanical, rasping laughter. "Good! Hahaha! You certainly deserve to live!"
To Chen's shock, the silent, terrifying subordinates of the Dreadnought began to applaud. In this cult of strength, Chen had just earned the highest honor possible: he had survived the test.
"I promise you," Urgot rumbled, retracting his chains. "When the Topside marches, we march together."
When Chen returned to The Last Drop, the air was heavy with the scent of high-end Ionian black tea. He walked into the conference room to find Camille Ferros waiting. She sat with lethal elegance, her scissor-like leg blades swaying with a rhythmic snick-snick.
"You're here," she said, her voice like velvet-wrapped wire.
Chen didn't let her intimidate him. He poured a cup of the tea, taking a slow, deliberate sip. "Good tea. We don't see this in the Sump."
"I brought it myself," Camille replied, her eyes narrowing. "How are your preparations? Piltover is coming, Chen. And they aren't bringing tea."
Chen smiled thinly. "We aren't sitting idle. But tell me, Camille... how is your heart? Still a Hex-Core? Still keeping the memories of Hakim Nader at bay?"
The room went cold. With a silver blur, one of Camille's leg blades was pressed against Chen's throat. Her poise vanished, replaced by a jagged, ancient killing intent. "Few living people know that name. You weren't even born when he left. How?"
Chen didn't flinch, though his pulse was racing. He knew her story because he had read the lore of the world she lived in. He knew about her brother Stevan's betrayal, her heart's replacement, and the man she gave up for the family name.
"You know my secrets, I know yours," Chen said, gently pushing the blade aside with a finger. "But if you strike me here, the Wildfire Gang will ensure you never reach the elevator back to the surface."
Camille retracted her blade, her mask of indifference returning. "I won't kill you. You have value. You understand that the world isn't black or white—it's a delicate gray."
"You want to maintain the balance," Chen surmised.
"Exactly," Camille said. "The Feros Family thrives in the gap between the cities. If Piltover takes over Zaun completely, our gray-market interests vanish. We want to give you a little... help. To ensure a draw. To return to the way things were."
Chen stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "And then what? We return to the Zaun of old? Where children breathe chem-fumes and we beg for Piltover's table scraps? Where the 'balance' is just our necks under their boots?"
Camille's eyes flashed. "Are you rejecting the Feros Family for these... gutter rats?"
"Don't forget," Chen said, walking right up to her until their gazes locked. "I'm also one of those gutter rats."
He repeated the words Silco had once whispered to the Council: "Free trade, amnesty, self-governance. Piltover is Piltover. Zaun is Zaun."
Chen finally understood Silco. He realized that the "monster" of the Undercity was created by the "vampires" of the Topside. Whether it was Vander's diplomacy, Silco's brutality, or Chen's revolution—the root cause was the same: Piltover's suffocating grip.
"You think you've changed things," Camille sneered, her scissor legs clicking on the floor as she walked toward the door. "But you've just become a new Silco. And as long as the Feros Family exists, you will never truly win."
"We'll see," Chen called after her.
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