The Academy Lab was thick with a silence so heavy it felt tangible. The air itself seemed to hum, charged with the residual energy of dozens of failed experiments and the flickering blue light of the Hextech equipment. Jayce stood before the workbench, his shadow cast long and jagged against the stone walls by the pulsating glow of the refined gemstone. Beside him, Viktor watched with a clinical, almost breathless intensity, his hand gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were white.
Professor Heimerdinger's voice cracked the silence. The small yordle took a cautious step forward, his large ears twitching with genuine concern. "The volatility of such a concentrated essence... we don't know the threshold. If the structural integrity fails, the consequences would be catastrophic."
Jayce didn't look back. His eyes were fixed on the shimmering blue orb, a masterpiece of art and artifice. "It won't fail, Professor. We've stabilized the frequency."
Before the yordle could utter another protest, Jayce swung. He took a heavy smithing hammer and, with a grunt of effort, slammed it down directly onto the refined hextech gemstone.
Kyle, standing a few paces back, felt his heart lurch into his throat. He instinctively braced himself, half-expecting a white-hot explosion to vaporize them all. Even Heimerdinger winced, ducking his head behind his fluffy paws.
The impact rang out—a sharp, metallic clang—but there was no explosion. Instead, the gemstone flared with a brilliance that rivaled the midday sun, casting a blinding sapphire light that danced across the ceiling. Then, just as quickly, the light receded, settling into a steady, rhythmic pulse like a beating heart.
The stone remained whole, uncracked and defiant. Heimerdinger let out a long, shaky breath, his chest heaving. "By the Great Spirit... you nearly gave an old man a heart attack."
Jayce let out a triumphant laugh, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "You see? It's not just contained; it's harnessed. With this stabilizer, we can refine the volatile raw stones into something permanent. Something safe."
Kyle stepped forward, squinting at the glowing orb. "It's incredible. It looks like... well, like a gem, but better. A 'Hexgem,' maybe?"
Jayce turned the word over in his mind, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Hexgems. I like that, Kyle. It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it, Viktor?"
Viktor nodded, his eyes never leaving the stone. "Indeed. It distinguishes the tool from the raw element. Yes... Hexgems."
Heimerdinger sighed, though this time it was a sound of weary resignation rather than terror. He looked at the two young men with a mixture of pride and profound dread. "It is a monumental achievement, truly. You have done what many thought impossible."
"Then you'll support us?" Viktor asked, his voice hopeful. "We want to share this at tonight's exhibition. To show Piltover that the future has arrived."
Jayce leaned in. "Think of what this means, Professor. Clean energy, automated transport, tools that can lift the burden from every worker in the city."
Heimerdinger looked at them for a long time. He reached out to pat the head of his small poro, who had been hiding behind his leg. "You are brilliant, both of you. But brilliance often blinds us to the shadows we cast. I have seen civilizations rise on the wings of such wonders, only to fall because they could not control the fire they started." He looked up at them, his eyes old and wise. "I wish you luck tonight. But I pray you are as careful with your words as you were with your hammer."
With a final, polite nod to Kyle, the Professor turned and shuffled out of the lab, his poro trailing faithfully behind him.
Kyle walked over to Jayce, placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "He's just worried, Jayce. That's his job. But your job is to change the world. Follow your heart tonight."
Jayce looked at the door Heimerdinger had just exited. "He has reasons to be afraid, Kyle. I know that. The power we're playing with... it's immense."
"He has every right to be afraid," Kyle agreed softly, looking at the Hexgem. "But darkness is only scary because we can't see what's in it. Your job as scientists—as explorers—is to bring the light. Will Hextech be used for weapons one day? Probably. Someone will always try to turn a tool into a blade. But that doesn't mean you stop building. You just have to be the ones who define what it's for."
Jayce looked at Kyle, surprised by the maturity in his voice. "For a sixteen-year-old, you're remarkably philosophical."
Kyle shrugged with a grin. "I have a lot of free time. Anyway, I'll see you at the city center. Don't trip on the stage."
—-----
The afternoon sun hung low over Piltover, bathing the white stone of the Academy in a warm, golden hue. The streets were packed; Progress Day was the lifeblood of the city, a carnival of ingenuity where clockwork toys danced in the windows and the air smelled of ozone and fried pastries.
Right outside the main gates, Cassandra Kiramman was the center of a small whirlwind of activity. Dressed in her finest Council robes, she moved with a grace that commanded respect, herding a group of visiting dignitaries and wealthy merchants. She was speaking of the "Golden Boy" of Piltover, her voice brimming with pride.
"And of course, out protégé, Jayce Talis, will be delivering the keynote," she was saying when Kyle stepped into the clearing.
"Did someone mention the Kiramman charm?" Kyle called out with a dramatic flair. He strode forward, arms outstretched, and wrapped his mother in a brief, enthusiastic hug.
Cassandra laughed, swatting him away gently even as she smiled. "Kyle, please. We have guests. Try to behave like a young gentleman for at least one afternoon."
"I'm always a gentleman, Mother. It's the rest of the world that's unrefined," Kyle joked. He turned to the small crowd, offering a charming wave. "Happy Progress Day, everyone! Make sure you see the clockwork display in the North Plaza; I hear the gears are synchronized to the Academy bells this year."
As the crowd dispersed toward the festivities, Kyle's eyes drifted toward the perimeter of the courtyard. There, leaning against a stone pillar near the gate, was a young woman in the stiff, dark blue uniform of the Enforcers. Her blue hair was tied back in a practical, sharp ponytail. She looked miserable, staring at the ground as if trying to blink herself into another dimension.
A mischievous glint entered Kyle's eyes. He began to creep toward her, soft-footed and silent, intending to jump out and startle her. He was inches away when, without even looking up, the girl reached out, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it behind his back in one fluid motion.
"Ow! Ow, ow! Damn it! Cait, let go!" Kyle winced, his face scrunched in pain.
Caitlyn Kiramman let out a soft huff, releasing him and turning with a small, knowing smirk. "You're getting slower, little brother. I heard your boots clicking on the cobblestone from ten paces away."
"I was being stealthy!" Kyle protested, rubbing his wrist. "You're just paranoid. Occupational hazard of being an Enforcer?"
Caitlyn's smile faded slightly as she glanced over at their mother, who was now deep in conversation with another Councilor. "I'm barely an Enforcer, Kyle. I'm a glorified guard dog for a party I'm not even invited to."
Kyle's expression softened. He knew how hard she had been working to prove herself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crinkled paper bag. "I thought you might need a pick-me-up. I tracked down those blueberry sweets from the merchant in the lower district. The ones you like."
Caitlyn's eyes widened. She looked around to make sure no other officers were watching, then snatched the bag. "No you didn't."
"Yes I did. Pure sugar and artificial flavoring. Your favorite weakness."
She popped one into her mouth, her shoulders visibly relaxing as the sweetness hit. "I take back half the mean things I said about you this morning."
"I'll take it. So," Kyle leaned back against the pillar beside her, "how did the investigation at the airshipping docks go? I heard there was some... excitement."
Caitlyn groaned, rubbing the back of her head. "It was a disaster. I found the clues, Kyle. Found the residue of the explosives, knew how the whole scene played out, even found a grunt who could talk. But Marcus..." She spat the name like it was poison. "He arrived, told me I was interfering with the investigation, and had me escorted out. Now, because I 'disobeyed a direct order' to stay at my post, he's put me on graveyard duty tonight."
"Graveyard duty? On Progress Night?" Kyle sighed. "That's cold, even for Marcus. He's just threatened because you're a better investigator than he is."
"It doesn't matter if I'm better if I'm stuck guarding a warehouse while the rest of the city celebrates," she muttered, looking toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to dip. "Go on, Kyle. Get ready for the Gala. Mother will be furious if you're late."
"Good luck tonight, Cait. Try not to arrest any stray cats," Kyle teased, giving her a quick hug.
"Go away," she said, though there was a hint of a smile as she reached for another blueberry candy.
—---------
Evening descended like a velvet curtain, and the Piltover Archives were transformed. The Grand Hall was a sea of shimmering silks, gold-trimmed waistcoats, and the soft clinking of champagne flutes. This was the Gala—the heart of Piltover's elite.
Mel Medarda stood on the balcony overlooking the ballroom, a vision in gold and white. As a member of the Council and a scion of the Noxian House Medarda, she moved through the room as a queen surveying her court. She held a glass of dark wine, her eyes scanning the crowd with a predator's precision.
"He's late," a woman beside her remarked.
"The 'Golden Boy' understands the value of an entrance," Mel replied, her voice smooth and melodic. "Jayce Talis has a flair for the dramatic, whether he intends to or not. He interests me. He's a man who wants to change the world but doesn't yet realize how much the world will want to change him."
Just then, the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall opened. Jayce stepped in, looking slightly out of place in his formal attire, his eyes darting around the room with nervous energy. The room went silent for a heartbeat—the collective gaze of the city's power players falling upon him.
Jayce spotted Mel and, with a hurried apology to a group of merchants, made a beeline for her. He looked like a man possessed by a secret he couldn't wait to tell.
—----------
The climax of the night arrived on a large outdoor stage in the city center. The lights were dimmed, replaced by the soft, warm glow of gas-lamps and the occasional spark of a clockwork display. The stage was set, and the front row was a "who's who" of Piltover.
Kyle sat between his mother and his father. Cassandra looked radiant, her posture perfect, while Tobias offered Kyle a wink and a whispered joke about how tight his collar was. A few seats down, Mel Medarda watched the stage with focused intent. Even Heimerdinger had arrived, sitting on a specially raised chair so he could see over the podium.
The show began with a fanfare—a series of synchronized lights and mechanical displays that drew "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd. Then, Jayce stepped onto the stage.
He looked different than he had in the lab. The nervousness was still there, but it was buried under a layer of genuine passion. He began his speech with a few humorous anecdotes about his early failures, drawing easy laughter from the nobles. He was winning them over.
As he moved toward the reveal, Jayce paused. He looked out at the audience. He saw Heimerdinger's worried face. He saw Cassandra snd Mel's calculating gaze. And then, his eyes found Kyle. The boy gave him a small, encouraging nod.
Jayce took a deep breath. "For decades, we have looked at the arcane with fear. We have seen it as a storm to be weathered. But tonight, we show you that the storm can be harnessed."
He signaled to the side of the stage. Viktor, moving with careful deliberation, wheeled out a large, ornate device. It was the Hexcore, and at its center sat the refined Hexgem.
"What you see here is the future," Jayce's voice rang out, clear and strong. "A refined gemstone—a 'Hexgem,' as a brilliant friend of mine calls it. It is stable. It is controllable. And it is the key to a Piltover where no dream is too big and no burden is too heavy."
As he activated the device, the room was filled with a soft, melodious hum. The blue light didn't flare this time; it flowed, pulsing through the brass tubes of the machine like lifeblood. The crowd gasps. For a moment, there was a stunned silence, and then, like a breaking dam, the applause began.
The elites were on their feet. The merchants were already whispering about trade routes and manufacturing. Cassandra was beaming. Kyle was on his feet too, letting out a sharp whistle of approval, only to get a nudge in the ribs from his mother.
"Truly remarkable," Tobias whispered, clapping loudly.
In the midst of the thunderous ovation, Kyle felt a sharp, stinging sensation on the back of his neck, just above his collar. He swatted at it instinctively, thinking it was a stray spark or a bit of confetti.
He looked down at his hand. There, crawling across his palm, was a spider. It was tiny, but its markings were unlike anything he had ever seen.
Before he could react, the spider skittered toward his wrist and bit down hard.
"Gah!" Kyle yelped, the sound lost in the roar of the crowd. A jolt of white-hot pain shot up his arm, followed by a strange, tingling numbness that felt like a thousand needles. He shook his hand violently, flinging the tiny creature into the shadows beneath the seats.
"Kyle? Is everything alright?" Cassandra asked, leaning in, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Fine, Mother," Kyle lied, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. "Just... the excitement. I think I need a moment. The heat in here is a bit much."
"Of course, son. Don't be long, Jayce will want to see us after."
Kyle excused himself, stumbling slightly as he made his way through the standing crowd. His vision was beginning to blur at the edges, the bright lights of the stage stretching into long, jagged streaks of neon.
He reached the bathroom and leaned heavily against the cold marble of the sink. He splashed cold water on his face, but it felt like fire against his skin. He looked in the mirror; his pupils were blown wide, and the veins in his neck were pulsing with a faint, rhythmic pink light.
He felt a wave of nausea so intense he barely made it to a stall. He collapsed to his knees, his stomach churning as he retched. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, the rhythm faster and faster until it was a single, continuous vibration.
The sounds of the crowd outside—the music, the laughter, the applause—faded into a dull, underwater drone. Kyle tried to stand, but his legs felt like lead. He reached for the door handle, but his fingers wouldn't move.
The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back and darkness took him was the faint, glowing outline of a web-like pattern tracing its way up his arm, burning pink beneath his skin.