Chapter Text
They found the little girl further in, curled up beside a small, crystal-clear lake surrounded by the glowing flowers. The bulbs pulsed softly, casting pink light that reflected off the water in shimmering patterns. The walls were steep and tall, and it was clear she got trapped in because of her small size.
Jayce approached cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her small figure huddled in the corner.
“Kid?”
She stirred, blinking groggily before sitting up. When she saw Jayce, her face lit up, and she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Thank the stars,” Heimerdinger murmured, patting her back as she dangled awkwardly from Jayce. “You had us worried, my dear.”
Isha made some inarticulate sounds, while gesturing to the cave walls, then down to the flowers, as if trying to explain.
“Incredible…” Heimerdinger frowned, approaching the flowers. I’ve been reading about these… the locals call them Krymtvra… it could mean something akin to "Pulse of the World" The root “Krym” could signify hidden or deep, while “tvi” denotes energy or vitality, and “ra” represents flow or pulse!”
Heimerdinger extended a small hand to caress a flower that seemed to vibrate slightly. Jayce stared blankly, it was like being back at one of Heimerdinger’s lectures. And he wasn’t really in the mood for one.
“They absorb the energy lingering in the air, before it becomes dangerous to the rest of the flora.”
“So, they counteract the appearance of Wild Runes?”
Jayce stood up, lifting the little girl from the ground in his arms in the process. Heimerdinger turned around, eyes glinting with wariness.
“Indeed. It seems nature here has a way to heal itself. One more reason to leave it alone, don’t you say?”
Jayce examined the bulbs closely, his mind racing.
Isha tugged at the back of Jayce’s coat, pointing to the walls of the cave. Her small size made it clear she couldn’t have climbed back out alone.
Jayce sighed, looking at her fondly. “All right, let’s get you out of here first, shall we?”
Heimerdinger nodded firmly.
“Tampering with these flowers could have unintended consequences…”
Jayce reluctantly agreed, and they began the careful trek back to the lab.
—
“You scared us, you know,” Jayce said, his voice soft but stern. Back at the airship, he had administered first aid to the girl, bandaging her scrapes and checking for injuries. He never had younger siblings and wasn’t sure how to behave with this little kid who somehow wormed her way into his life. “You need to take better care of yourself…”
She didn’t respond, but as Jayce worked, she reached into her satchel and pulled out something small and glowing.
Jayce’s breath caught. It was one of the flower bulbs, pulsing faintly with pink energy.
She held it up, then pointed to Viktor’s still form. She looked at Jayce expectantly, her wide eyes filled with determination.
“You… want me to use this?” Jayce asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Isha nodded, placing the bulb in his hand. It vibrated slightly, making his skin numb at the point of contact. Jayce stared at it, mesmerized.
For the first time in months, he felt a spark of hope.
—
Viktor had accepted his death.
In the moments after the acceleration rune’s power enveloped him and Jayce, Viktor had made peace with the idea. He’d floated in a strange, cosmic void, his consciousness barely tethered to reality. The memories of their final battle played in endless loops, a cruel reminder of everything that had brought him to this moment.
On top of the Hexgate tower, standing amidst the chaos of battle, he had been so sure—so utterly certain of his purpose. Evolution had been his gift to Runeterra, a way to transcend weakness, to bring perfection to a flawed and suffering world.
Then came the silhouette of the young man— one that Viktor didn’t recognize. He had thrown something, an impossible second wild rune, its energy shattering Viktor’s body and unraveling his carefully constructed evolution. It had broken him in every way possible, forcing him to see the truth of what he had become.
The truth Jayce had always meant to show him.
A doomed timeline.
A lifeless world, cold and silent.
Viktor had seen it through Jayce’s eyes: the barren landscapes, the crumbling cities, the empty skies.
He had won in that future, but at what cost? There had been no one left to save, no one to share his vision.
Just him.
Alone.
Forever.
How did the other him in the world put it? Endless fields of dreamless solitude.
That single vision had been enough to pierce through the arrogance that had consumed him. He had been wrong.
He had been wrong.
The acceleration rune had been Jayce’s gift, one last attempt to save him. Its power had ripped through both of them, pulling their astral forms apart, destroying the hivemind and then tangling them together in a strange, incomprehensible dance.
Viktor had thought the energy would consume them both, that it was the end for them as individuals and creators.
He was ready to die.
Instead, he floated.
Time had no meaning in the void he drifted through. His consciousness flickered like a dying flame, barely coherent. Somewhere, faint and distant, he could feel the strings that connected him to Jayce. They pulsed weakly, fraying at the edges, but they held.
Until they didn’t.
The connection grew fainter with each passing moment. Viktor didn’t know if it was Jayce who was fading, or if it was himself. It didn’t matter. He had no strength left to reach out, no will to resist the darkness closing in around him.
Then, suddenly, there was light.
Warm, pink, pale light. It seeped into the void, chasing away the cold and the dark. Viktor felt it wrap around him, not with force, but with gentle insistence. It pulled at the fragmented pieces of his astral form, binding them together with threads of energy.
The light was alive—pulsing, vibrant, and… forgiving. It felt nothing like the cold, mechanical power of the Hexcore. This was organic, fluid, chaotic in a way that was both terrifying and beautiful.
Runes appeared, swirling around him in intricate patterns, etching themselves into his form. They felt different from the Hexcore’s sharp fractals—softer, more natural. With every passing moment, he felt his consciousness strengthening, his connection to his physical body reestablishing itself.
He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t fight it.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Viktor allowed himself to hope.
—
The world came back to him in fragments.
The first thing he noticed was the sound—faint, rhythmic, mechanical. A device strapped to his chest hummed softly, its center glowing with an unfamiliar pinkish energy source.
The second thing he noticed was his body. It was heavy, unresponsive in places.
Previously, he had manipulated this body he crafted for himself like he moved every other puppet subjugated to his will. He wasn’t really in it, as much as it was just another tool for interacting with the physical world.
Now, though, he felt bound, constricted, his soul tangled in the mass of magic and steel, the connection to the astral plane severed.
He shifted his hand, and it creaked faintly, the joints stiff but functional. His head felt strange—light, yet weighed down. Slowly, he reached up and touched his face—or what remained of it. His mask, his visage, shattered in the battle atop the Hexgate tower, was still broken, its sharp edges jagged under his fingers.
He was alive. Somehow, against all odds, he was alive.
Viktor sat up slowly, his movements rough and spasmodic. He didn’t recognize the space around him but it was certainly a laboratory. It was makeshift and cluttered, but unmistakable. Machines buzzed faintly, and tools lay scattered across the workbench.
And there, slumped in a chair beside him, was Jayce.
Viktor stared at him for a long moment. Jayce’s face was pale and drawn, his features lined with exhaustion. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
A flood of emotions surged through Viktor—gratitude, anger, sorrow, relief. He remembered the last time he had woken in Jayce’s lab, after the council bombing. He had been half-dead then, too, fused with the Hexcore as a desperate attempt to save his life. And now, here he was again, strapped to another device, his fate once more in Jayce’s hands.
Viktor stood carefully, his movements unsteady. He glanced down at the glowing device on his chest, then back at Jayce. He didn’t know what Jayce had done to bring him back this time, but it didn’t matter.
Without a word, Viktor turned and walked toward a ladder that looked like the only exit. His steps were slow, deliberate, but each one was feeling a little smoother and easier than before. The world outside beckoned.
—
Jayce woke with a start, his heart pounding before his eyes even opened. The faint hum of the lab’s generator reached his ears, but something was wrong. The usual tension in the air felt… off. He sat up quickly, his gaze darting to the table where Viktor’s body should had been.
It was empty.
“No!” Panic surged through him. Jayce stood so fast he nearly tripped over his chair, his eyes scanning the lab for any sign of Viktor. The device he had built, the one powered by the strange flower bulb, was gone too. Tools lay scattered on the workbench, untouched since last night.
“Viktor!?” he called, his voice tight with fear. He shoved open the hatch to the airship deck, stepping out into the cool morning air.
And there he was.
Viktor stood still in the field outside, his imposing silhouette stark against the golden light of dawn. He was tall, his frame imposing like it had been during the final battle at the Hexgate. But now, there was something different—something fragile in the way he carried himself, as though a single breeze might topple him.
Jayce’s breath caught as he approached carefully, his boots crunching softly against the grass. He didn’t want to startle Viktor, didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
When Viktor finally spoke, his voice sent a shiver through Jayce.
“𝕁𝕒𝕪𝕔𝕖.”
The tone was distorted by metallic undertones, but unlike at the Hexgate, it carried an echo of the man Viktor had been before his transformation. It was gentler now, less sharp than the cold, commanding voice that had filled the air during their last battle.
Jayce’s heart skipped a beat, fingers flexing around the handle of a hammer he didn’t have with him.
“Viktor…”
Viktor turned slightly, his face—if it could still be called that—partially obscured by the shattered remnants of his mask. Jayce’s chest tightened as he saw what lay beneath. There were no golden eyes, no human features. Only the cold, shimmering colors of the Arcane, fractals of energy that pulsed faintly in response to his movements, and the remnants of his old face like an insect’s discarded skin, or a funerary mask.
“Are you…” Jayce began hesitantly, his voice cracking slightly, “I need to know. Are you… still you?”
Viktor tilted his head, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.
“I have always been 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, Jayce.”
The answer, so simple yet profound, left Jayce momentarily speechless. Viktor turned back to the valley, his gaze—or what Jayce imagined as his gaze—sweeping over the shimmering fields and the sparkling river below. Jayce struggled to decipher Viktor’s emotions, having to rely on the subtle shifts in his posture and the undertones of his voice.
“...but I was blinded. By fear. By arrogance. Thank you for showing me the truth. I… do not desire to return to humanity, but you’ve shown me its value.”
"I’m glad," Jayce let out a shaky breath, relief flooding him as he let himself fall on the grass, "I’m really, really glad…"
Viktor remained silent for a moment, his statuesque frame still against the golden light. “Jayce, let me make something clear before any further misunderstanding. I will not stop pursuing my objective,” he said finally, turning towards him.
Jayce froze, feeling a pit in his stomach. “...what?”
“𝔼𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 is still the future, Jayce.” He loomed over Jayce, the slender silhouette of an otherworldly creature. “But… I see now that it cannot be imposed. Like peace, it must be a 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖. To 𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕖 the will of others was my greatest mistake.”
“Oh…” Relief crashed over him, making his muscles feel weak. “Right.”
Viktor inclined his head, almost as if in acknowledgment. “It was not an easy realization. But the vision you showed me left no room for denial.”
“I guess.” Jayce hesitated, then asked, “What happened to your followers? The people who were connected to you during the final battle? Those… dolls…”
Viktor’s posture stiffened slightly.
“Their souls were tethered to mine when the anomaly was released. But when the link was severed…” He paused, his tone laced with uncertainty. “I do not know where they are now. Or if they are anywhere at all.”
The weight of that statement hung heavily between them. Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say.
“Jayce, you 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜. For a second time. Without my consent.”
“I—I had to. I couldn’t just let you—”
“I know,” Viktor interrupted, his voice tinged with both anger and resignation. “And yet, I cannot deny the anger I feel. 𝕄𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖, Jayce. Or it should be. If choices are so important to you… you shouldn’t have taken mine.”
"I"m sorry," Jayce’s shoulders slumped, guilt washing over him. "I just… I couldn’t lose you.”
Viktor turned toward him, his broken mask catching the light.
“I understand… I am, after all, grateful.”
Jayce blinked, surprised. “Grateful? I thought—”
“Oddly, this anger and gratitude don’t seem to be mutually exclusive,” Viktor replied simply.
“Then maybe you’re still human after all. Contradictions are what make us human, aren’t they?” Jayce chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“Perhaps…” Viktor said, the faintest trace of wryness in his voice. Finally, slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the ground, mirroring Jayce’s position, before tilting his head downward to examine the device strapped to his chest.
The soft hum of the pinkish power source resonated in the quiet air. Tendrils of light arched from Viktor’s fingertips to the device, pulsing as though testing its energy.
“𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤…” Viktor began, his voice curious, “Did you do this, Jayce?”
Jayce exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of,” he admitted. “I mean, it was my design, but… not entirely my idea. I tried everything—dozens of prototypes, experiments. None of it worked.” He paused, looking at Viktor with a mix of guilt and pride. “Then this… friend… she gave me the flower bulb you see there. It… absorbs Wild Runes and— she— she found it in a cave, and, well… here you are.”
Viktor’s fingers brushed the device again, the tendrils of light deepening in color. “A flower bulb, infused with the Arcane,” he mused, his tone thoughtful. “𝕆𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕪, 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔. And yet, somehow… 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤. It feels…” he paused, almost as if looking for the right word, “...warm.”
Jayce watched with a mixture of wonder and apprehension as Viktor’s body seemed to respond to the device. The metal parts began to shift and ripple, the harness sinking into his chest as though becoming a part of him.
“What are you doing?” Jayce asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice laced with both fascination and concern.
“I am… integrating it,” Viktor replied calmly as the process continued. “The device is crude, but its components 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪. Its power source is… unique. Remarkable.”
The harness’s metal edges softened, reshaping themselves to fill the gaps in Viktor’s broken form. Pieces of his fractured headplate reassembled, smoothing out jagged edges and restoring symmetry. The flower bulb at the device’s core pulsed brightly once, then sank into Viktor’s chest, its light dispersing into the fractal patterns beneath his skin.
Jayce couldn’t help but marvel at the sight, though a knot of worry twisted in his stomach.
“Viktor… is that safe?”
“I am still here, Jayce. Do not worry.”
Jayce nodded slowly, though the sight of Viktor’s seamless transformation left him uneasy. There was no denying that his partner was less human than he had ever been—a strange amalgamation of flesh, machine, and Arcane energy.
When the process was complete, Viktor flexed his fingers, the faint hum of his reconstructed body resonating in the air. He turned back to Jayce, his gaze—or what Jayce imagined as his gaze—steady.
“Jayce, did you mean what you told me?” Viktor said quietly, “Are we still partners?”
Jayce froze, the weight of the question hanging heavily between them.
“I—” He faltered, his mind flashing back to their last confrontation on the Hexgate tower, to the short poignant moments they shared before disappearing.
“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “Are we? I did mean it, Viktor. I wanted you back. I’ve always wanted you back. But I… I need to know if I can still trust you. If we can still trust each other.”
Viktor tilted his head slightly and shifted his weight, a gesture so reminiscent of his human mannerisms that Jayce’s heart ached.
“Trust is not so easily restored, Jayce,” he said slowly. “But…” He paused, his voice softening. “In the doomed timeline you showed me, the other… me said something. That you were the only one who could ever show me the way. I see the truth in his words.”
Jayce blinked, stunned. “You… believe that?”
“Yes,” Viktor said simply. “If you meant what you said, if you truly want your partner back… then I will welcome you as my partner. My conscience. My guide. You will make sure I do not go astray again in my pursuit.”
Jayce felt his throat tighten, the weight of everything they had been through and the role Viktor just bestowed upon him threatening to overwhelm him. He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering near Viktor’s shoulder before slumping to his side.
“I will,” Jayce said, his voice raw with emotion. “I want that. I want us back.”
Viktor inclined his head, a faint hum of energy pulsing through his frame.
“You know,” he said softly, “I’m still very annoyed at you. But I’m glad you’re here.”
Jayce laughed quietly, his voice trembling. “Contradictions, right?”
“ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤,” Viktor echoed, his tone tinged with faint amusement.
They stayed like that for a moment longer, the dawn breaking over the valley, casting them both in light.
For the first time in a long time, there was hope.