Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The airship loomed in the clearing outside, a patchwork of metal panels and makeshift repairs that spoke to months of effort. The hull glinted faintly under the dim light of the sunrise, and the faint chirping of unfamiliar creatures echoed from the nearby forest.

Jayce led Viktor up the gangplank, his steps quick and uneven.

“Okay, so… this is going to sound crazy,” he laughed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But— uh— you remember the first Hexgate test vessel? The one we thought got pulverized in the experiment?”

“𝕐𝕖𝕤.” Viktor tilted his head, his voice carrying a faint metallic reverb that made Jayce flinch. “It disintegrated during the first transportation test… or so we assumed.”

“Right! Exactly!” Jayce said, snapping his fingers and forcing a grin as they stepped on the deck. “Turns out it didn’t disintegrate. It ended up here. And, uh… so did we! Somehow.”

The wooden planks creaked ominously under Viktor’s feet.

“So, uh, this place has been home for… well, longer than I’d like to admit.” Jayce tried his best not to stare while he descended into the hull. “The local Yordles—brilliant little guys, by the way—they helped me patch it up, even gave it a few upgrades. The living area’s kind of cramped, but it works.”

Viktor followed without a word, ducking slightly to pass through the hatch. His larger frame barely fit through the narrow doorway, his shoulders brushing against the edges. Jayce’s forced cheer faltered for a moment, his smile stiffening.

“And over here,” Jayce continued, gesturing with exaggerated enthusiasm, “is my lab! It’s, uh, not exactly Piltover Academy standards, but it works. Or… it did. Mostly. This is where I—.”

Viktor scanned the space, the glowing pits of his eyes lingering on the scattered notes, makeshift equipment, and faintly flickering Hexgem failures. His long fingers brushed the edge of a workbench, the faintest hint of curiosity visible in the tilt of his head. But his attention soon returned to Jayce, who was still rambling nervously.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get power running again. I had to rig this wind generator from—well, scrap. It’s surprisingly efficient! And the vents—” Jayce paused, his words catching in his throat as Viktor stepped closer, the soft hum of his body now audible.

“Jayce,” Viktor said quietly, making an effort to soften the reverb in his voice as much as he could. “You are scared of me.”

“What?” Jayce froze, the forced grin falling from his face. He waved his hands vaguely. “No! I’m not—I mean, it’s just a lot to take in, you know? Y—you just woke up! I’m just…processing!”

Viktor turned his head, his shoulders rising and then falling in an imitation of a sigh.

“You flinch when I speak. When I move. Don’t think I can’t see it.”

Jayce opened his mouth to protest, but denial died on his lips, replaced by a deep sigh. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just… hard. Seeing you like this. Hearing you like this. It’s all… different.”

Viktor extended a hand towards Jayce and froze when Jayce instinctively stepped back before he could realise his body had just moved on his own.

“I see.” Viktor straightened, his form towering slightly in the confined space as he leaned back. “What can I do to ease your discomfort?”

“I don’t know,” he said finally, frustration bleeding into his tone as his brow furrowed, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“I just… need time, I guess. To remember that under all that,” he gestured vaguely at Viktor’s body, “you’re still… you. My partner. My friend.”

The words hung heavy in the air, both of them acutely aware of the weight they carried.

“I understand.” Viktor’s tone softened, his posture relaxing a fraction.

“I’ll get there. I promise.” Jayce nodded, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the wall. “It’s just… gonna take a while.”

As Jayce kept talking, Viktor’s eyes—or whatever served as his gaze now—moved methodically over the room. The faint hum of his reconstructed body seemed to vibrate in sync with the machinery around him, full of energy despite the fact he’d just until recently been broken and half dead.

“This place is… 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕔𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕝,” Viktor said, his tone measured. “𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖, 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤.” He stepped closer to one of the more cobbled-together devices, running his fingers along its exposed wires. “The high Arcane saturation here likely complicates stability. Yet you managed to harness it. Remarkable.”

“Took a lot of failures, honestly.” Jayce chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, well, it wasn’t all me. Heimerdinger helped a bit, and, uh—I don’t actually know her name, but I have a little assistant… You’ll meet her soon enough. She—oh, speak of the devil.”

The sound of small footsteps on the deck echoed in the hull, followed by the sight of a familiar figure carrying a basket nearly her size down the ladder. The little girl appeared, her small frame lit by the sunlight streaming through the entrance. The moment she saw Viktor, the basket dropped to the ground, forgotten, as she rushed forward.

Viktor barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around his legs, clinging tightly.

“Ah,” Viktor said softly, his hand reaching down to caress the top of her head. “Isha… you brought him what he needed, didn’t you?”

Isha tilted her head back to look up at him, her wide eyes bright with emotion. Viktor’s voice softened.

“Thank you, little one.”

“Isha?” Jayce watched the interaction, his eyes widening.

The kid looked at Jayce and nodded eagerly.

“So you do know her,” he continued, looking at Viktor.

Viktor straightened slowly, his hand lingering on Isha’s head for a moment before letting it fall.

“She…came to the commune,” he said, his voice quieter now. “With Jinx and Vi. They 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡 for their father, whose form and mind were… 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕕.”

Jayce’s chest tightened. He knew where this was going but didn’t interrupt.

“I…did what I could. But in the end, I—” He stopped, his fingers twitching slightly. “𝕀 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕.”

Jayce glanced at Isha, who had let him go just to crouch to gather the basket she’d dropped, oblivious to the weight of Viktor’s words. It didn’t take a genius to infer what Viktor had left unsaid: that in the end, in the pursuit of perfection, he ended up making Vander just one of his many mindless soldiers.

Jayce could only begin to fathom the kind of guilt that clawed at Viktor now that he seemed to have returned to himself after the power fugue he was caught in. The sight of him pulling up Isha and letting her small arms wrap around his neck pulled at heartstrings and got Jayce to smile genuinely for the first time in days.

—

The first days after Viktor woke up had been awkward, to say the least. Jayce wasn’t used to sharing a living space with someone who didn’t need to eat, sleep, or even breathe. He’d wake up and climb on the deck in the middle of the night to find Viktor standing silently by the controls, his glowing eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were a statue.

Sometimes, he’d tinker with some device Jayce had left unfinished, or help doing some repairs to the airship, but he mostly stood still on the deck or a corner of the hull, staring at the view, apparently lost in thought.

Viktor told Jayce he’d regained his emotions and his thought process wasn’t influenced by the Hexcore anymore, but when he saw him like that Jayce couldn’t help but doubt. Still, he guessed, he needed time to reacclimate so he made a conscious effort not to bother and let him have his own time.

—

It didn’t come to a surprise that Viktor quickly rejected the clothes Jayce and the yordles had crafted for him. Jayce leaned against the edge of the narrow galley, watching Viktor with a mix of frustration and exasperation while he helped him sort through edible and rotten fruit.

“You know,” Jayce scoffed, trying to keep the tone light, but unable to mask his frustration. “You could at least wear something.”

Viktor didn’t even glance up.

“Why should I?” he asked evenly, his tone calm but faintly amused. “I no longer possess human anatomy in any meaningful sense. This body does not require modesty, Jayce. Nor warmth, nor protection from the elements. Clothing just limits my range of movements, and it snags way too easily.”

“It’s not about efficiency, Viktor. It’s about—about—” Jayce groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Decency?”

Viktor’s head finally tilted up.

“I find it amusing that you concern yourself with my decency when you were the first to hug me before giving me anything to wear when my body first changed.”

“That was a long time ago!” Jayce bristled, color flooding his cheeks. “And I was more concerned with trying to keep you alive!”

“And now I am alive,” Viktor replied smoothly, returning to his work. “And you are complaining about my wardrobe choices—or lack thereof.”

“Fine.” Jayce huffed, crossing his arms. “But you’re keeping the scarf.”

“The… scarf?”

Jayce stood up and rummaged through a large basket to grab a neatly folded length of red and blue fabric from the counter. It was a simple scarf, stitched together from the remnants of the tattered blanket Viktor had been wearing when he woke up.

“This,” Jayce said, holding it up, “Used to be the blanket I gave you before you left the lab. I thought you got rid of it, but you were still wearing it—like a cape—during the fight at the Hexgates.”

Viktor stilled, his gaze flickering briefly to the bolt of fabric.

“...you noticed that?”

“Of course, I noticed!” Jayce said, a smug smile creasing his lips. “For someone who claimed to have rejected all emotions, it was quite an affectionate gesture.”

For the first time since waking up, Viktor seemed at a loss for words.

“I suppose…” he finally spoke, hesitantly. “It was a reminder. Of what you tried to give me, even when I did not think I needed it.”

Jayce’s chest tightened, but he managed a small smile as he stepped closer and looped the scarf gently around Viktor’s neck. It was the first time since Viktor woke up that he reached out to initiate contact willingly.

“There. As a reminder, then.”

Viktor’s long fingers brushed the edge of the scarf, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you,” 

Art by DCartcorner

—

Warm sunlight filtered through the towering trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Jayce sat on a fallen log, leaning forward as he adjusted the brace on his left leg after the latest excursion in the woods. His face was drawn in a faint grimace as he turned the screws and tightened the straps. It was starting to rust and the long trek had loosened quite a few components.

The sound of careful footsteps on the soft earth caught his attention, and he glanced up to see Viktor approaching. Without a word, Viktor lowered himself to the ground beside Jayce, his movements fluid but deliberate. He tilted his head, his eyes studying the brace with quiet intensity.

“May I?” Viktor asked, gesturing toward Jayce’s leg.

Jayce hesitated for a moment before nodding, sitting back to give Viktor access. Viktor extended his metallic hands, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the device.

“This is…ingenious,” Viktor murmured, his tone thoughtful as he turned the brace over. “You crafted this yourself?”

“Yeah,” Jayce replied, his voice tinged with pride. “Broke my fibula and tibia falling down a crevice… didn’t really have help and they never set quite right…”

“I see… “ Viktor hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers tracing the joints of the brace. “Well, it can be improved.”

“Of course,” Jayce let out a dry laugh. “You couldn’t just stop at compliments.”

Viktor glanced at him, his expression unreadable but something familiar in his posture told Jayce he was amused.

“The weight distribution is uneven. It places unnecessary strain on your knee and hip, which may worsen the pain over time. And this joint—” he pointed to a hinge, “--is prone to wear. It will seize if not maintained carefully.”

Jayce sighed, leaning back against the log. “Figures you’d be able to find all the faults.”

“I speak from experience. A lifetime of experience.” Viktor said softly.

“Right…” Any other comment died in Jayce’s throat. He glanced down at Viktor’s right leg: the design of his body was asymmetrical and he could still see the faint design of his old brace incorporated in his flesh.

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken memories. Viktor’s gaze flicked to Jayce’s, and for a moment, the walls he so carefully kept around himself seemed to waver.

“We almost match,” Jayce said lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“Almost,” Viktor replied, his voice carrying a faint warmth. “Wrong leg.”

Jayce gave him a thin, brief smile before Viktor turned his attention back to the brace. With precise movements, he adjusted the straps and made a few careful modifications, his hands deft and precise. As he worked, he offered quiet advice, pointing out ways Jayce could improve the device.

Jayce watched him in silence, his heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and something deeper. Viktor’s focus was unwavering, his movements almost reverent as he worked.

“There,” Viktor said finally, sitting back to inspect his handiwork. “It should serve you better now.”

Jayce flexed his leg experimentally, surprised at how much smoother the motion felt. When he stood up, the pain he had been so used to was almost completely absent.

“Wow,” he exhaled, a grin breaking across his face. “You’re good at this.”

“I have had… ample practice.”

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence. Jayce had a feeling things were finally starting to go back to how they used to be.

Chapter Text

Jayce was no stranger to nightmares. Images of his past, his mistakes, the doomed world he was stuck in for seven months, the war against the Noxian army…they all blended together to craft horrible scenarios that made him feel powerless and trapped.

It was from such a nightmare that Jayce woke with a start in the middle the night, his head throbbing as he sat upright. The faint hum of the airship’s machinery greeted him like usual, grounding him back in reality. He rubbed his eyes, groaning as he tried to push the memories of the dream deep back into his subconscious.

Then he saw it.

Viktor sat at Jayce’s desk, his back to the bed, his tall frame illuminated by the glow of an oil lamp. Jayce’s heart skipped a beat for a moment as he took in the sight of his friend, almost identical to the one plaguing his nightmares.

The repairs to Viktor’s body, likely done overnight, were evident. His form was sleek and polished now, the shimmering golden details of his body catching the light. What had been damaged had been closed with smooth silver or brass-colored plaques.

But most strikingly was the addition of a new (or old, Jayce guessed) part of his anatomy. The Hexclaw—the multi-jointed, metallic appendage threatening in the dim light—now extended from his back like a third arm, its fractal designs and faint glow unmistakable. It moved with precise, deliberate motions, emitting short laser bursts aimed at Viktor’s right arm, lying still on the desk..

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice cracked slightly.

Viktor turned, surprised by the sudden interruption. The lights behind the holes in the mask glimmered faintly as he tilted his head.

“You’re awake.”

Jayce swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his mind racing. He couldn’t move his eyes from the… weapon on Viktor’s shoulders.

“What…are you doing?”

“I needed to make some manual repairs,” Viktor replied, gesturing to himself with his free hand while the Hexclaw continued its work. “It was overdue.”

"What do you need that for?" Jayce frowned, his gaze fixed on the Hexclaw. Sharp. Fast. Deadly. He could still feel the heat of its laser as it had passed close to his face, "There’s no danger here. No battles to fight.”

Viktor paused, then glanced at the Hexclaw with what might have been faint amusement. “It is part of my own body, and repairing it was better than leaving it broken,” he said simply. 

“Besides,” he added, his tone light, “there are advantages to having a third arm. It can be quite… handy.”

As if the joke had melted away all the tension, Jayce groaned, collapsing back onto the bed. 

“Great,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Glad to see your terrible sense of humor survived.”

Viktor turned back to his work, the faint hum of the Hexclaw’s laser filling the room.

Jayce tried to ignore the worst scenarios of his mind as he turned around and went back to sleep.

—

Viktor’s experiments with his body began not long after.

Jayce often found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, his mechanical limbs shifting subtly as he adjusted their shape and size. Sometimes he’d grow taller by a foot, his proportions elongating unnaturally, only to shrink back moments later with a faint grimace.

“I believe I can change it,” Viktor explained when he saw Jayce staring, seated at the console with his journal open. “The older version of me that you encountered—the one you met in the parallel world. He appeared… human.”

Jayce felt a lump in his throat at the memory. “Yeah. He did.”

“It stands to reason that I should be able to achieve the same,” Viktor continued, his fingers idly tracing the glowing veins on his arm as they warped and changed.

I could see you again. Jayce’s heart skipped a beat at the hopeful thought, although guilt clawed at his chest. “Are you… doing this for me?”

Viktor paused, his hand snapping back to its usual shape. “For you?”

“I… know how I reacted when I first saw you like this. If you’re trying to change back because you think it’ll make me more comfortable…I mean… if you’re trying to make yourself more… human again. You don’t have to. Not for me.”

“Only in part.” Viktor’s head tilted up, glowing eyes met Jayce’s, steady and unyielding, as he slowly opened and closed his hand. “Jayce, I hope you understand how much this form is… freeing. I am unburdened by pain, by weakness. It is… 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤.”

“You actually…” Jayce frowned, with a pang of sadness. “Feel more comfortable like this?”

“Jayce,” Viktor stared back, explaining calmly as if teaching a child. “For the first time in my life, I can move without pain. I can stand without struggle. I can run. It is a blessing I did not know was possible. But I—”

His voice softened, tinged with something that almost sounded like longing.

“I miss small pleasures—the taste of food, the warmth of sleep. And, more importantly…”

He went to touch his mask-like visage, his fingers stopping at the edge, towards the remnants of his old face.

“I miss the capacity to express emotion. To smile. To laugh. To weep. Sometimes I feel like I’m caged in a windowless prison and no matter how much I scream, I cannot reach the outside.”

“Viktor…” Jayce’s heart ached at the admission. “I didn’t know…”

“I chose this form to reject humanity,” Viktor continued. “But you have shown me there is beauty in imperfection. I wish to continue my 𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, not toward humanity, but toward a form that feels… like me…”

“Well…” Jayce smiled faintly, his chest tightening. “If anyone can do it, you can. Just… take your time, okay?”

—

The process was anything but linear. Just like when they were still working in their lab, there were setbacks and bad days and sometimes it looked like Viktor was about to abandon the project entirely.

Until one morning, Jayce awoke to find him standing before the small mirror in the hull, his reflection distorted by the curve of the glass.

Jayce approached cautiously, his breath catching as he saw the familiar contours of Viktor’s features. His sharp cheekbones, his thin lips, the faint bags under his eyes—so familiar, yet subtly different. The wiry frame of his body remained largely mechanical, but his facial features and the proportion of his body were unmistakably human—albeit with a faint metallic sheen. The Hexclaw was folded flatly against his back, almost reabsorbed in his flesh.

It looked like just another decoration on his body.

Viktor turned towards him, opal irises staring right at him as if expecting a verdict before their iridescent color settled on a familiar light golden brown.

“My God…” Without thinking, Jayce reached out, his fingertips brushing Viktor’s cheek. Though it looked like skin, it was cold and unyielding to the touch. “You did it.”

Viktor’s lips pulled awkwardly in a brief smile, albeit intentional and clumsy, as if he’d forgotten how to. His eyes briefly darted to Jayce’s hand on his cheek with a questioning look.

“Sorry!” Jayce immediately pulled back quickly, his face flushed. “I just… I missed your face.”

Viktor’s expression went blank again, though the movements were faint and hesitant.

“It is not yet perfect,” he admitted, looking back at the mirror. His lips didn’t move as he spoke, but just lightly parted. “It just… feels like 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕜…”

“It’s a start,” Jayce said, his smile returning. “And hey, at least now we can visit the neighbors without scaring the life out of them.”

Viktor looked back at him.

“Should I take that as an invitation?”

“Please put on some clothes first.” Jayce sighed.

—

The village came into view as the two of them emerged from the forest path. Viktor had begrudgingly worn a simple tunic of Jayce’s, adjusting the size to his body with belts and straps.

As they walked towards the village in silent, tense anticipation, Jayce noticed Viktor’s movements were slightly stilted, his steps hesitant despite his seemingly flawless form.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Mh…” Viktor nodded but looked down at his hands as he flexed his fingers around a phantom handle. “I no longer require a cane, yet I find myself… unaccustomed to walking long distances without it.”

“Old habits, huh?” Jayce smirked.

“Perhaps.” Viktor’s lips twitched in faint amusement. 

“Well,” Jayce said, gesturing vaguely, “I could make you a new one. As soon as I find the right materials.”

“I may take you up on that.” Viktor tilted his head, with a faint hum of amusement. “Though it would be purely aesthetic.” 

—

The houses, as Jayce had described, looked as if they had grown from the earth itself, their organic shapes blending seamlessly with the vibrant, magic-infused landscape. The faint hum of magic lingered in the air, a constant, unspoken presence.

The yordles were already gathering, their sharp eyes fixed on the newcomers. Jayce noticed how their gaze lingered on Viktor, their curiosity palpable. While they didn’t seem afraid, it was clear they could feel something, maybe even the Arcane power that emanated from him. Indeed, they didn’t scatter or hide as the two walked into the village. Instead, they drew closer, their wide eyes full of curiosity and wonder. They chattered amongst themselves in their melodic language, some pointing at Viktor while others approached cautiously.

Jayce tensed, expecting wariness—or even fear—from the villagers, but it never came.

“They’re not scared,” he muttered under his breath, relieved.

“Why would they be?” Viktor replied evenly. “They are far more attuned to the Arcane than you or I. They understand it as a part of life, not a threat.”

“But… you are…” 

Before Jayce could continue, face slipped into a frown, a familiar voice called out.

“Jayce? Is that you? What is— oh!”

Heimerdinger appeared from one of the larger houses, his bushy mustache twitching as he took in the sight before him. His eyes widened when they landed on Viktor, his ears pulling back slightly in shock. Isha stood beside him, her face breaking into the biggest grin when she saw the two of them.

“Viktor?” Heimerdinger’s voice was faint, almost disbelieving.

“It is good to see you again, Professor,” Viktor said, his tone calm.

“You’re… awake!” Heimerdinger stepped closer, his expression a mix of awe and wariness. “Fully awake. And… you look like yourself!”

“Well, mostly,” Viktor replied simply, glancing at Jayce. “Thanks to Jayce and Isha.”

The girl huffed proudly as if everything was her doing.

Heimerdinger hesitated, wringing his hands. “I— I must confess, I did not expect this. I even advised Jayce to let go.”

“I know,” Viktor said, inclining his head slightly. “You were not wrong to suggest it. I understand your concern.”

Jayce felt a shiver of unease. He knew? But Jayce had not yet told him anything of the sort.

The professor blinked, clearly caught off guard by Viktor’s lack of resentment. Slowly, his wary expression softened, replaced by cautious hope. “It seems there should be a reason to celebrate, then.”

Viktor’s lips twitched in a faint smile.

—

A large group of villagers soon gathered around a communal table, where everyone had gathered what was necessary to share a simple but hearty meal. Viktor sat with uncanny composure, his posture straight and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Jayce couldn’t help but watch as Viktor picked up a piece of sweet bread, examining it briefly before tearing it apart with deliberate precision and taking a bite.

“You can eat?” Jayce asked, his tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Yes.”

Jayce let out a small incredulous laugh.

“I thought you said—.”

Viktor put down the rest of the bread in a slow deliberate motion. A villager quickly snatched it to eat it by themself.

“I do not require sustenance in the traditional sense,” Viktor explained, his tone faintly amused. “Organic matter is burned and converted into energy, much like in an organic body. Though, apparently, taste seems to suffer.”

He said the last words with a deep frown that ripped a laugh from Jayce’s throat.

“Of course.” Jayce rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to turn dinner into an experiment.”

A few seats down the table, Heimerdinger stared with a deep fondness, wariness slowly melting away as the evening went on.

—

Later in the evening, the mood shifted when Isha, playing with some of the yordle children, fell and broke her wrist. The sound of her sharp cry drew everyone’s attention, and Jayce was at her side in an instant.

“Let me see,” he said gently, examining the injury. The wrist was swollen, her small hand trembling. “Ah, this looks broken. We need to set it and—”

Viktor stepped forward, kneeling beside her. Jayce tensed as he saw the way he was staring at the little girl’s injury.

“I could—”

“Viktor!”

Jayce immediately wished to bite his tongue. He hadn’t meant to sound so scared.

Viktor met his gaze, his tone firm but calm. His face was as blank as earlier but his eyes betrayed suppressed emotions.

“I… will not take her over as I did with others. I will only mend the broken parts. I… I want to show you that I can.”

From not far, Heimerdinger stared, at full attention and with no little amount of wariness. 

Jayce hesitated to step aside, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

Viktor’s attention went to Isha.

“May I?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his own.

Viktor extended his hand, tendrils of silver light unfurling from his fingertips. They wrapped around Isha’s wrist, their glow soft and warm. The fracture seemed to dissolve beneath the light, the swelling receding as the tendrils worked.

When Viktor pulled back, Isha’s wrist was whole again, though faint, metallic patterns remained etched into her skin like scars. Viktor passed a thumb over them with a slight grimace.

“I’m… sorry…”

Jayce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“She’s okay?”

“She is fine.” Viktor nodded. “Though there will be a mark.”

“Does it hurt?” Jayce asked her directly.

Isha shook her head, flexing her fingers experimentally before throwing her arms around Viktor’s neck. Viktor froze for a moment, then rested a hand lightly on her back.

Heimerdinger had watched the process with wide eyes, his mustache twitching in fascination.

“How fascinating!” He quickly approached the little girl, examining her arm. “You can change matter to your will! It’s not so different from an innate mage’s abilities. You’ve mastered an art most spend lifetimes learning.”

Viktor’s head tilted slightly, the words striking him harder than he let on. He stood silently, his frame unusually still.

“...mage?” He repeated quietly.

“It’s an apt definition for one with abilities such as yours,” Heimerdinger said, his tone thoughtful and not without wariness. “You wield the Arcane with precision and intent, shaping it to your will to change the physical world. It is… extraordinary.” 

“A mage…” Viktor looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as the tendrils of light faded. “I… had not considered myself in such terms,” he said quietly.

Jayce clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should. It suits you.”

Viktor didn’t reply, but there was a faint flicker of something—perhaps pride, perhaps hesitation—in his expression. As the evening wore on, Viktor remained quiet, his earlier ease replaced by introspection. Jayce sat beside him, unsure of what to say. For years, Viktor had defined himself as a scientist, a creator, a visionary. Jayce could imagine it wouldn’t be easy to shift his own image of himself so dramatically, even when his body had been changed rather substantially in the last few months. He wanted to be there for him, this time. They would figure it out, together.

But Jayce knew better than to push. For now, they would sit in silence, relishing in the peace.

Chapter Text

The dinner had become a lively affair. Yordles bustled around the communal table, their melodic voices rising in cheerful banter. Plates of food were passed around, and the villagers’ homemade liquor flowed freely, its sweet, potent aroma filling the air.

Jayce sat back, nursing his second—or was it third?—cup of the stuff, his gaze wandering to Viktor and Heimerdinger. The two stood a little apart from the crowd, their heads inclined toward one another in quiet conversation. It was odd yet heartwarming to see him standing straight without the aid of a cane or staff, oozing confidence. His skin seemed almost to glint in the soft glow of the lanterns, his posture was relaxed, almost contemplative. Heimerdinger, in contrast, gestured animatedly with his small hands, his ears twitching as he spoke.

Jayce couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he caught the somber nod the professor gave Viktor

It sent a pang through his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt, worry, or just the liquor settling in, but the sight made him drain the rest of his cup a little faster than he should have.

—

The walk back to the airship was a blur.

Jayce vaguely remembered standing up from the table, his legs unsteady beneath him. He recalled someone—a yordle, probably—laughing as he stumbled, and then there was Viktor, his steady presence unmistakable.

“Jayce, is everything— are you drunk?”   Viktor said, his voice calm but tinged with exasperation.

Jayce waved a hand dismissively, only to lose his balance. Viktor caught him effortlessly, his arm slipping under Jayce’s to steady him.

“Come,” Viktor said. “We are going back to the airship.”

“You’re so cold,” Jayce mumbled, words slurring slightly as he let his weight sag against Viktor's side, “Machines usually run hot, y’know? Would be awesome if you were, like… my personal heater.”

Viktor said nothing, only adjusted his grip to keep Jayce steady.

The path to the airship seemed endless and Jayce’s feet didn’t seem to want to collaborate by putting themselves in front of each other. Jayce rambled incessantly, his words tumbling out without filter.

“Look, when I came to the commune…” He began, his voice thick with emotion, “I was so… so lonely. And angry. And confused. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel.”

“Jayce,” Viktor said evenly, “You are drunk. Perhaps we should save this conversation for another time.”

“I was afraid that if I let you talk I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise. I regretted it, you know. Shooting you. I should’ve talked to you first. I should’ve listened. ”

No, you shouldn’t have. Viktor’s silence was pointed, but Jayce didn’t stop.

“I left you there to rot… I meant to come back, I did… but— but—”

“I don’t blame you for what you did, Jayce.” Viktor said quietly, not even sure it was enough for Jayce to hear him.

“You were always so damn smart,” Jayce muttered. “Too smart for me, honestly. And so beautiful…”

The sudden derail in topic made Viktor pause. He glanced at Jayce, who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes, his expression earnest despite the alcohol dulling his senses.

“You’re beautiful, Viktor,” Jayce repeated, his voice almost a whisper.

“Jayce…” Viktor said, his tone both gentle and firm, “You are drunk.”

—

By the time they reached the airship, Jayce was nearly dead weight, his head lolling against Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor maneuvered him inside with surprising ease, guiding him to the cot in the corner of the lab.

“Viktor,” Jayce blurted out suddenly, his voice cracking. “Please. I can’t… I can’t do this alone anymore. I don’t want to be alone.”

Viktor stiffened slightly, his grip on Jayce tightening for just a moment before his gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Jayce’s shoulder.

“I— I want to go home,” Jayce said, attempting to sit up. “I want to see my mom. Gods, I miss my mom.”

“Stay down,” Viktor instructed, gently pushing Jayce back onto the bed.

Jayce looked up at him, his eyes glassy but filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You won’t leave, right?”

Viktor hesitated, then nodded once.

“I will not leave.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Viktor said, his voice steady.

Jayce smiled faintly, his head falling back against the pillow. As his eyes drifted shut, he thought he saw a faint pink light pulsing faintly, its glow soft and soothing.

“Good,” Jayce murmured, his words slurring as sleep claimed him.

—

Jayce drifted in a strange, weightless sleep, his consciousness suspended in the familiar expanse of the astral space. The void stretched endlessly around him, illuminated by faint stars that shimmered and pulsed with life.

And there, far in the distance, stood Viktor.

His silhouette was unmistakable, though he seemed different—ethereal, almost divine. White, luminous hair floated freely in an unseen wind, glowing faintly as if capturing the light of the stars themselves. His form radiated with glimmering energy, patterns of light swirling around him like constellations.

Jayce tried to call out, but his voice didn’t carry. The distance between them felt insurmountable, yet he moved forward, reaching, desperate to close the gap.

“Viktor!” he shouted, though the sound was swallowed by the endless void.

Viktor didn’t turn. His back remained to Jayce, his head tilted slightly as though lost in thought. The patterns of light around him grew brighter as Jayce reached out, his fingertips almost brushing Viktor’s shoulder.

But before he could touch him, the light surged, blinding and all-consuming.

And Jayce woke up.

—

The days blurred into each other, filled with work and a renewed sense of purpose, something Jayce hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

Once again, he and Viktor were working side by side, the airship-turned-lab buzzing with their combined efforts. Their main ongoing project was a radar capable of recording Arcane resonance, mapping the land beyond the valley. Viktor’s intricate calculations and Jayce’s practical engineering skills merged seamlessly, rekindling the energy of their old days in the Piltover lab.

“This isn’t half bad,” Jayce admitted one day, inspecting a prototype they’d cobbled together from salvaged airship parts and scraps provided by the village artisans.

“High praise from you,” Viktor replied, his tone dry but carrying a faint note of humor.

“You missed my compliments, admit it.” Jayce laughed.

Viktor didn’t reply directly, but the faint upward quirk of his lips was enough.

In the following weeks, they began testing designs for a device that could split water into hydrogen and oxygen, with the goal of fueling the airship. While the process was slow and riddled with setbacks, the rhythm of brainstorming and problem-solving brought Jayce a quiet happiness.

One afternoon, as they wrapped up their work for the day, Jayce approached Viktor with a long, slender object wrapped in cloth.

“What’s this?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow as Jayce held it out to him.

“It’s for you. Open it.” Jayce grinned. 

Viktor carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a new cane. It was a work of art—crafted from sleek, dark wood and inlaid with subtle patterns of brass and gold that faintly mirrored the fractals on Viktor’s mechanical body. The handle was shaped for comfort, its metallic cap engraved with intricate designs similar to the ones on Viktor’s body.

“I know you don’t need it anymore,” Jayce said quickly, “But after what you said, I figured you might… you know, want one anyway. It just seemed right.”

Viktor ran his fingers over the handle, his expression softening.

“It is… exquisite,” He said quietly. “Did you make this?”

“I had some help from the village’s artisans!” Jayce beamed, his chest warming at the sight of Viktor’s rare smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

But then, as they fell into an easy silence, Jayce’s mouth ran ahead of his brain. “I kind of miss hearing you walk with a limp. I could hear you coming from a mile away.”

The smile vanished. Viktor’s body stiffened, and grip on the cane tightened.

“You miss it?” he repeated, his voice clipped.

He didn’t turn to look at Jayce.

“No, no—” Jayce faltered, realizing too late how his words had sounded. “I didn’t mean—”

“You miss me being a cripple?” Viktor’s voice was low, his tone controlled but tinged with anger.

“Viktor, I never saw it as a flaw.” Jayce held his ground defensively. “It was just… a part of you. Something that made you you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jayce, but you know it was not a part of me I could accept. It was not a ‘quirk’ or a simple imperfection to be admired or tolerated."

Viktor’s expression darkened, the Arcane glow beneath his skin pulsing faintly

"My leg, my sickness—they were not imperfections that would go away if I embraced them. They were conditions that would have killed me!”

“I know that, Viktor. I do. And I get it, more than you think.” Jayce’s eyes fell to his own leg brace, as his heart sank. “It’s not the same, I know, but—”

“It is not the same,” Viktor snapped, cutting him off. He stood up, facing Jayce with eyes that blazed with anger. “You have no idea what it is like to spend your life unable to stand up straight without screws surgically implanted in your spine! To drown in your own blood because your lungs betray you! To watch every dream slip away because your body refuses to cooperate!”

Jayce took a step back, the weight of Viktor’s words hitting him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself, realizing how flawed his argument had been.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Viktor turned away, his shoulders tense. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, finally, Viktor exhaled, the tension easing from his frame.

For a long minute they stood in tense silence, Viktor’s fingers gliding on the carved pattern of his new cane. He gripped the handle properly and tapped the ground with a solid thunk.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor finally sighed, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s ok…” Jayce felt like a weight had just melted off his shoulders. “I was kind of an ass.”

Viktor huffed with a tiny smile. “I understand where you’re coming from, I just… cannot agree with you.” He paused, frowning. “Uh. I didn’t realise I could still feel so… emotional.”

Jayce hesitated, then offered a small, tentative smile. “I’m not completely against it. You’re terrifying when you’re mad, though.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched. “You are a fool, Jayce.”

“Yeah,” Jayce said, laughing lightly. “I can be a real idiot sometimes.”

—

Things proceeded at a slow steady pace until a few weeks later, when Jayce returned from the village with Isha in tow, both laden with baskets filled with brand new custom-made clothes, tinkering tools, and food prepared by the villagers.

The sky was bright, the air crisp, and Isha skipped ahead, her energy seemingly inexhaustible.

Jayce’s gaze wandered toward the airship as they approached, and his steps slowed when he saw Viktor sitting in the shadow of its hull. He was hunched slightly, his cane resting beside him, but his focus was on the space in front of him.

Blue-white, glowing runes floated mid-air, shimmering faintly as Viktor moved his hand in intricate patterns. Jayce stopped, his breath catching. The runes shifted and re-formed, their lines and curves strikingly familiar. They reminded Jayce of the encounter he’d had with the other Viktor—the one who had saved his mother all those years ago.

For a moment, Jayce felt like a child again, staring at something incomprehensibly beautiful and magical. His heart ached with a strange mixture of nostalgia and awe.

Then Viktor’s eyes caught the light, and Jayce noticed something that made his blood run cold. They weren’t their usual golden hue but an iridescent opal, reflecting the runes as they danced around him.

Viktor looked up, catching Jayce staring. The runes faltered, fading into nothing as Viktor lowered his hands. His eyes returned to their golden shade.

“I’m… struggling,” Viktor admitted, grimacing, his voice calm but tinged with frustration. “Simple formulas take far longer than they should. Before, it was as if I could think with a thousand minds. Now…”

He rubbed his eyes in a familiar motion.

“I am alone.”

“You’re not alone, Viktor.” Jayce approached, setting the baskets down before kneeling beside him. “You’ve got me. And Isha.”

As if on cue, Isha ran forward, throwing her arms around Viktor in a sudden, exuberant hug. Viktor froze for a moment, unused to such displays of affection, before quickly hugging her back with a faint awkwardness.

Jayce smiled, the sight warming something in his chest. But as Viktor glanced at him, his expression flickered briefly to something more troubled. Jayce cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

“If you’re struggling with the runes, let me help. I’m not a mage or anything, but they’re formulas. I’m good with those. And, two minds are better than one, right?”

“I’m no mage either.” Viktor’s hands twitched faintly at the moniker. “And… I would appreciate the assistance.”

Jayce hesitated, then added, “Well, you kind of…”

“I am not a mage,” Viktor said sharply, his tone firm. “I am a scientist. First and foremost.”

“Fair enough.” Jayce nodded slowly, sensing the weight behind those words. “Let’s just call it… experimental magic, then.”

Viktor theatrically rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

It was not long after their discussion about magic that Viktor began leaving the airship more often, heading toward the village with increasing frequency. Jayce eventually saw him walking out of Heimerdinger’s house once but never pried too deeply.

At first, he dismissed the trips as harmless—Viktor and Heimerdinger had always shared a bond, even during their disagreements. But as the days passed, Jayce couldn’t help but feel unsettled. Viktor seemed more withdrawn, his responses to Jayce’s questions growing more clipped.

“What are you and Heimerdinger working on?” Jayce worked up the courage to ask one afternoon as Viktor returned.

“What?” Viktor seemed taken aback by the question.

Jayce nodded in the direction of the village, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’ve been going to his place pretty often lately, I was wondering what you were discussing.”

“Research,” Viktor replied vaguely, walking past him.

Jayce frowned, disappointed by the lackluster reply. “Research on what?”

Viktor didn’t stop.

“It is not important.”

The dismissiveness stung more than Jayce cared to admit. He tried not to let it bother him, but the fact that Viktor was hiding something from him was becoming harder to ignore.

—

It came to a head on a stormy evening.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, drumming against the airship as Jayce paced restlessly. Viktor had been gone all day, and with the storm growing worse, his absence weighed heavily on Jayce’s mind.

Finally, unable to stay put any longer, Jayce grabbed a coat and ventured into the rain. The path to the village was muddy and slick, the storm’s wind lashing at him as he trudged forward.

He spotted Viktor just as he reached the edge of the village, walking slowly up the path, his cane keeping him steady against the uneven ground. The rainwater slid off his skin in rivulets, sticking his hair to his face, but he seemed unbothered.

“Viktor!” Jayce called, his voice barely carrying over the storm.

Viktor looked up, pausing as Jayce approached. His eyes reflected the faint light of the village behind him, but his expression was unreadable.

“Where have you been?!” Jayce demanded, his frustration breaking through.

“I’ve been consulting with Heimerdinger, it’s nothing im—”

Jayce didn’t let him finish, stepping forward until he was standing mere inches from Viktor’s face.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding me?  Aren’t we supposed to be partners, Viktor?! Aren’t we supposed to rely on each other?”

He hesitated. 

“Have I done something wrong?”

Viktor’s gaze softened slightly, regret flickering across his face.

“Jayce, I—” He looked up, as if suddenly bothered by the downpour. “Hold on.”

He raised a hand, and a circular halo of runes appeared in front of his palm, glowing faintly as they shifted and re-formed. Within moments, a transparent barrier shimmered into existence above them, shielding them from the rain.

“Oh! You did it!” Jayce looked up, fury melting down with instant wonder. “That’s pretty useful…”

Viktor allowed the faintest trace of a smile.

“It is not as useful as it appears. It doesn’t move with me and only holds on if I keep focusing on it.” The brief levity faded quickly, replaced by a wistful expression. “Jayce, are you happy here?”

The question caught Jayce off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“This life.”

Lightning blinked in the distant sky, followed by a low rumble.

“The peace. The valley. The quiet. Does it… satisfy you?”

Jayce hesitated, searching for an answer.

“I… appreciate it,” he said slowly. “I’m not a fool. But… I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve this. When I think about what I’ve done for people so far… my legacy, it’s all war and destruction. I— I want to make up for it and I can’t do it from here.”

Viktor studied him a moment before nodding.

"I feel the same," He confessed, shoulders relaxing slightly, as if a weight had suddenly disappeared from his shoulders.

“I have been discussing a way to leave this dimension with Heimerdinger.” He turned his gaze toward the valley below, the storm raging in the distance. “This world is… unique, but it is not my home. Nor is it yours. If you are ready, I believe it is time we return to Runeterra.”

Jayce’s chest tightened.

“Home?” he echoed, his voice filled with equal parts longing and fear. “I— I want to go home, Viktor. But what about you? You’ll be in danger in Piltover. The council will arrest you—or worse.”

“I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions, Jayce.” Viktor’s voice was calm, resolute. “You and Isha deserve a way back. Besides… I am not convinced there is a force on Runeterra capable of keeping me 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕.”

Jayce stared at him, uncertain how to respond to that confession.

“You… struggle with my transformation. I see it in the way you look at me. You hope for something that cannot be—a return to the past. But that is a futile wish. I—”

There was a horrible organic crackling and rumbling sound as Viktor’s form shifted, a silvery sheen spreading through his body as it grew until it towered over Jayce. Viktor’s eyes closed as the metallic texture enveloped his face, before splitting it right in the middle with the formation of a familiar crowned mask.

Jayce’s breath caught, the sight as striking as it was unsettling .

“𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟.”

The rain kept falling, sliding off the invisible dome around them like a curtain.

“...I know,” Jayce admitted quietly. “It’s not like me to fear change, but I thought… foolishly… that we could go back to the way things were.”

“There is no going back. For either of us.” Viktor’s tone softened as he stepped forward. “But… we can move forward. Together.”

“Then let’s do that.” Jayce stepped closer, his voice steady. “Let’s move forward.”

Viktor hesitantly reached for him. Jayce fought every instinct in his body not to flinch back when Viktor wrapped his arms around him, pulling him towards himself.

Jayce embraced him without a second thought, fists closing on the fabric on his back. The rainshield flickered faintly above them as the storm raged on.

—

The following weeks passed in a blur of work as the season shifted toward summer. The air grew warmer, the sunlight brighter, casting golden hues over the valley. The airship project was finally taking shape.

Now that Viktor had finally shared his plans with him, Jayce worked tirelessly on the hydrogen generator, modifying and refining its design. Meanwhile, Viktor spent long hours in the engine room, tinkering with something he wouldn’t explain. When Jayce pressed him about it, Viktor would deflect with a faint smirk and a cryptic comment.

That smirk drove Jayce crazy—not with anger, but with an odd mixture of exasperation and fondness.

—

One afternoon, as Jayce was preparing materials for the radar, he noticed the notches on the wall they used to mark Isha’s growth. He stepped closer, running a hand over the lines, each one representing another month in this strange world.

The latest line was noticeably higher than the others. Isha had grown a lot in the past year. Her brown hair now reached past her shoulders, and though she still dyed a strand or two blue and braided it in Jinx’s memory, she was clearly coming into her own style: light cotton clothes dyed in bright greens and yellows, a pair of crafting goggles sitting on top of her head, and a lot of pockets and pouches she used to collect all sorts of things, from peculiar rocks to small trinkets.

Jayce stopped in his tracks as he glanced out the porthole and saw Isha sitting on the grass with Viktor.

Viktor was holding a small notebook, his fingers moving carefully as he pointed to letters written on its pages. Isha’s small hands clutched a pencil, her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to copy Viktor’s example on a notebook of her own.

Jayce climbed the ladder to the deck, leaning on the taffrail to watch them: Viktor guided her hand with surprising gentleness, he murmured soft words of encouragement, his voice steady and patient. Isha beamed when she got something right, her enthusiasm infectious.

The sight made Jayce’s heart ache in a way he didn’t fully understand. Over time, Isha had become more than just a curious child tagging along in their laboratory. She had grown into a promising young tinkerer, and flourished under their care. In some unspoken way, she had become like a daughter to them.

The thought made Jayce’s chest tighten. If that were true, then… what did that make him and Viktor?

“Partners,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Best friends, maybe. Together in every universe, apparently.”

But as the words left his lips, his gaze lingered on Viktor.

He had never thought about Viktor in this way before, but something had shifted. Viktor looked so at peace sitting in the sunlight, the pale skin of his face glowing like porcelain. The discoloration in his brown hair lightened the tips to a soft blonde, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

Jayce found himself staring. He noticed the way Viktor’s hair framed his face, the way the faint lines of his jaw softened when he smiled. His golden eyes flicked up to meet Jayce’s, and for a moment, Jayce forgot how to breathe.

“Is something on your mind, Jayce?” Viktor smiled faintly, his expression calm but warm.

Jayce felt his face burn. “Uh—no. Nothing!” he stammered, turning away so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet.

He fled back to the hull, his heart racing and his mind reeling. Had he ever… thought of Viktor that way?

—

Jayce paced back and forth in the lab, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself. He had never been attracted to men before—never even considered it. So why now? Why Viktor?

The thought terrified him. Not because it felt wrong—no, it didn’t feel wrong at all. But because it was… Viktor. They were finally rebuilding what they had lost. They were partners again, working together, sharing their minds, ideas, and vision for the future.

Would these feelings ruin everything?

Jayce leaned against a tree, staring out over the valley. The thought of jeopardizing what they’d built was unbearable. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the thoughts creeping into his mind. The warmth in Viktor’s smile, the softness of his voice, the way his presence filled the room with a quiet, steady strength—it all felt different now.

He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes.

“Get it together, Jayce,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t ruin this.”

—

The airship gleamed under the midday sun, a far cry from the overgrown wreck it had been when they first found it. Over the past year and a half, the hull had been meticulously repaired and reinforced, the once-faded paint now replaced with vibrant streaks of bright colors courtesy of Isha, who had insisted on decorating it herself. The blend of natural hues and Arcane markings gave it an almost ethereal quality, the runes Viktor had painstakingly carved into the surface glowing faintly, ready to activate.

Jayce stood at the base of the ramp, gazing up at the ship with a mixture of pride and apprehension. The sight of it in its restored splendor was exhilarating, but it also marked a turning point. If this test run succeeded, they’d be leaving soon—possibly for good.

Heimerdinger and a group of curious villagers bustled around the ship, loading it with water and supplies. Isha was already aboard, her face glowing with excitement as she peeked over the railing, waving eagerly at Jayce.

Nearby, Viktor stood near the engine housing, his chisel deftly inscribing the final runes. Jayce couldn’t help but notice how animated he seemed, his movements brisk and purposeful, his expression unusually bright.

“I haven’t seen him this excited since we broke into your lab to finish our first Hextech prototype,” Jayce remarked to Heimerdinger, who was supervising the operation.

“Oh, don’t remind me the sort of things you reckless boys would get into,” Heimerdinger’s ears twitched, his mustache bristling slightly. 

“We did change the world, though.”

“For better or worse,” Heimerdinger replied, though his tone lacked the usual sting of his disapproval.

“For better or worse,” Jayce echoed, slightly bittersweet.

As the last supplies were being loaded, Heimerdinger jumped off the barrel he was using as a vantage point, clasping his small hands in front of him.

“Well, this is it, isn’t it?” he said softly. “If the test run is successful, you’ll be leaving soon.”

Jayce nodded.

“It’s… goodbye, Professor. Isn’t it? You’re not coming, are you?”

“I am not,” Heimerdinger said with a sad smile. “This world suits me. I’ve never seen so many of my kind gathered in one place. It feels… like a decent place to enjoy my retirement.”

Jayce kneeled down slowly, trying not to get teary.

“Thank you for your guidance, Professor. It has been… invaluable. I just wish I listened to your advice sooner.”

Heimerdinger nodded with a fond smile, then gestured to Jayce to get closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper when Jayce kneeled down.

“A word of caution, Jayce…” He glanced briefly at the ship. “Viktor wields… a lot more power than he has shown, more than even he may understand. Be careful.”

“Viktor’s not dangerous, Professor!” Jayce frowned, defensive. “He’s—”

Heimerdinger raised a hand to stop him.

“I don’t doubt his intentions, that boy has a good heart. But… intentions can change. Tell me, Jayce, what do you think Viktor would become capable of if he lost… those he cares about?”

The question hit Jayce like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Heimerdinger’s gaze was steady.

“Take care, Jayce.”

Jayce’s stomach churned as he boarded the airship. The question lingered in his mind as he climbed the ramp, his nervousness heightened by the looming test.

—

Aboard the ship, Viktor stood at the helm, his posture straight but his fingers flexing slightly as if to channel his focus. He wore a tunic fashioned by the villagers, its flowing white fabric trimmed with silver patterns that caught the light when he moved. The outfit gave him an almost otherworldly presence, blending seamlessly with the world around them.

Jayce hesitated for a moment before stepping up beside him. His hand hovered near Viktor’s shoulder before he finally placed it there, steadying himself. Viktor glanced at him, his golden eyes betraying a flicker of nervous energy.

“Ready?”

“As much as one can be,”

Viktor’s lips curved into a faint smile. Jayce smiled back.

“Let’s do this.”

Viktor turned back to the helm, raising his hand. Tendrils of light unfurled from his fingers, wrapping around the runes carved into the hull. One by one, the runes began to glow, their energy spreading across the ship.

“Let’s…eh… crank it,” Viktor said, his tone dry but laced with amusement.

Jayce’s heart skipped a beat at the familiar joke, a memory of their first night working together.

As soon as they reached sufficient altitude, the first acceleration circle appeared in the air behind the ship, glowing brightly.

“First acceleration circle activated!” Jayce called, quickly swooping up Isha and securing her in her seat.

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his eyes half-lidded in concentration as the second circle formed, its runes flaring to life. The ship began to shake, the energy coursing through it pushing its structural limits.

“Second circle!” Jayce announced, strapping himself in.

The hull groaned under the strain, and Jayce could feel the vibrations in his bones. Viktor’s hand remained steady over the helm, his focus unwavering.

The third circle appeared, and suddenly, the air around them warped in a kaleidoscope of colors and Jayce’s stomach dropped, weightless. Jayce’s vision blurred as the ship accelerated violently, magic bending the space around them.

For a brief moment, everything went dark.

The next moment, Jayce found himself in the astral plane again, surrounded by swirling stars and vibrant magic auras. The sensation was overwhelming, a mixture of awe and disorientation.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.

Jayce’s eyes snapped open, and he groaned, his head pounding. His first thought was to maybe stay inside the hull during the next jump.

Staggering to his feet, he saw Isha already at the parapet, her small hands gripping the edge as she looked out over the horizon, as if the quick but intense journey hadn’t bothered her at all.

They had reached the coastline. The mountains they had come from were faint outlines in the distance, and the sea stretched endlessly before them.

Jayce exhaled, his chest swelling with a mix of pride and relief. “Next stop, home,” he said softly.

But when he turned to Viktor, he noticed something was off. Viktor’s posture was more rigid than usual, and his breathing—if it could be called that—seemed uneven.

“Viktor? Are you okay?”

“I am… not hurt,” Viktor said carefully. “Nor tired, exactly. But…” Suddenly, as if his legs gave way, he collapsed on the deck, knees hitting the floor with a jarring thunk.

“The journey seems… to have… affected me.”

Jayce stepped closer, grabbing Viktor’s hand without thinking. He was startled to find it warm, almost hot to the touch.

“You’re warm,” Jayce murmured, his brow furrowing.

“Huh.” Viktor gave him a faint smile. “Interesting. I— ah… I think I need to lie down.”

“First large-scale spell, huh?” Jayce managed a smile.

Viktor mumbled, “...not a spell,” before his eyes dimmed, and his body slumped slightly.

“Hey, hey, are you—” Jayce caught him, his heart pounding. 

“... ‘mfine,” Viktor murmured faintly before falling silent, his body entering a still state not too dissimilar from when Jayce had first woken up in the forest. Something told Jayce not to worry, though, that he would wake up soon.

Jayce exhaled shakily, arranging Viktor in a somewhat comfortable position against the helm, using a sack of grains as a makeshift pillow. Though he knew it didn’t really matter, he closed Viktor’s eyes. It made him too uneasy to see them dull and vacant. 

For a moment, his fingers lingered on Viktor’s face, tracing the faint warmth that was already fading. His hand brushed Viktor’s lips, still soft and human-like despite the rest of him.

Jayce’s breath caught, and he quickly pulled back, his face flushing.

“Get it together, Jayce,” he muttered to himself, pretending it had never happened.

—

If this could be called dreaming, Viktor found it strange.

He floated in a weightless void, his mind clear yet unmoored, adrift in memories that refused to fade. The astral plane, that strange, infinite expanse, loomed in his thoughts. He remembered the light, the stars, the swirling tendrils of power that surrounded him during his ascension. But most of all, he remembered her.

Miss Young.

Sky.

She had appeared when he first became one with the Hexcore, her face bright with wonder and shadowed with fear. At first, he thought it was his guilt manifesting, a projection of his conscience given form. But the more he interacted with her, the more she felt real—too real to dismiss.

When he attained the final step of his Evolution, she had vanished. No explanation, no farewell. She had simply disappeared, leaving him with questions that haunted him. Was it truly her soul, trapped and preserved by the Hexcore after her death? Or had she been a projection, a materialization of his own subconscious thoughts?

He didn’t know. He never would.

Viktor felt a pang of loss, sharper than he expected. Whatever she had been, he missed her deeply.

Chapter Text

When Viktor returned to awareness, he opened his eyes to find himself lying in the shade of the airship, its hull gleaming faintly in the warm sunlight.

The sound of laughter drew his attention. He sat up slowly, his movements slow and deliberate, and saw Jayce and Isha not far away. They were on the beach, their bare feet kicking up sand as they tossed a ball back and forth, their laughter carrying over the gentle sound of the waves.

For a moment, Viktor simply watched. The warmth of the sun and the salty tang of the sea air were unfamiliar sensations, but not unpleasant. He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to simply… exist. To find levity in a moment, as Jayce and Isha were doing now.

After a few minutes, he rose and approached them. His feet sank slightly into the soft sand, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. Jayce noticed him first, waving him over. Isha turned and ran toward him, holding the ball out triumphantly.

Viktor smiled faintly, resting a hand on her head in acknowledgment.

“How are you feeling?” Jayce asked him with a smile but a shade of worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine, much better actually,” Viktor was quick to reassure him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Isha tugged on Viktor’s arm and gestured toward the water, Jayce laughed.

“You want to swim?”

Isha nodded eagerly.

Jayce glanced at Viktor. “Well…?”

Viktor hesitated, then shrugged.

“I… cannot swim, Jayce.” He said simply.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s never too late to—” Jayce winced, realizing his mistake. “Right. Sorry. Didn’t think.”

“It’s ok,” Viktor sighed, his tone exasperated but light. “Even…before, I couldn’t really learn, so I don’t miss it.”

Jayce nodded, though his expression remained apologetic. “So, you mind if we…?”

“Go. Enjoy yourselves.” Viktor waved him off with a faint smile.

As Jayce and Isha splashed into the waves, Viktor watched, his gaze thoughtful. An idea began to form in his mind.

—

Not long after, Viktor slowly walked at the bottom of the shallows, Isha holding piggyback on his shoulders. A flexible tube extended from the surface to her mouth, allowing her to breathe while submerged, and her goggles prevented salt water from entering her eyes. Viktor’s metallic frame provided stability as they ventured further underwater, the salty water glimmering around them.

The clarity of the water astounded him. Rays of sunlight filtered through, creating golden patterns on the sandy floor. Schools of fish darted around them, their silvery bodies catching the light. Vibrant algae formations swayed gently in the current, their colors brighter and more varied than anything Viktor had seen on the surface.

Isha pointed excitedly at a small octopus weaving its way through a coral crevice, its skin shifting colors as it moved. Viktor followed her gaze, his usually analytical mind quieting as he took in the scene.

“Neither of us have seen water this clear before,” Viktor remarked, his voice soft and even, as though speaking to himself. 

Isha nodded, her wide eyes reflecting the wonder he felt but did not voice.

For a brief moment, the worries of their journey, the weight of their pasts, and the uncertainties of their future faded.

Art by penbattles.

—

When they emerged from the water, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the beach in hues of gold and orange. Jayce was crouched near a fire he had built, attempting to roast a couple of fish he’d caught.

“Dinner is served,” Jayce announced with a sheepish grin, holding up a slightly charred fish.

Isha clapped her hands, undeterred by the fish’s less-than-perfect appearance, simply happy that Jayce had cooked dinner apparently. Viktor approached, sitting down on a smooth rock near the fire.

As Jayce handed him a piece of fish, Viktor’s gaze lingered briefly. Jayce was shirtless, his tanned skin glistening faintly in the light of the fire. His form was lean but muscled, every movement a display of strength tempered by precision.

Viktor blinked, a strange thought flickering through his mind: He has always been a pleasant form.

It was an odd observation, one he dismissed almost immediately. Where had it come from?

Instead of dwelling on it, Viktor focused on the fish, carefully picking it apart with his hands.

“I… have never been more glad I don’t have taste buds,” he said dryly.

“Oh, ah ah…” Jayce rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m trying.”

Isha giggled, taking a bite of her own fish. She didn’t seem to mind its half-uncooked half-charred texture. Viktor’s gaze softened as he watched her, but his mind remained distracted, lingering on thoughts he couldn’t quite place—or didn’t want to.

—

The sky faded into a soft indigo as the sun dipped below the horizon, the fire crackling softly in the stillness of the beach. Isha dozed beside Jayce, her small frame leaning against his side as he traced lazy patterns in the sand with a stick. Viktor sat nearby, his expression calm, though his mind churned with thoughts he couldn’t quite silence.

“Can you do it?” Jayce’s voice broke the silence, startling Viktor, who turned toward him, confused.

“Do what?”

Jayce gestured vaguely to the airship behind them, the runes etched into its hull glowing faintly in the firelight.

“Take us home.”

For a moment, Viktor didn’t respond. He looked at the airship, its repaired frame a testament to their shared work and perseverance, and then back to Jayce.

“The theory is… incomplete,” he admitted carefully. “I have likely—almost certainly—determined the pattern of runes necessary to transport the ship and its passengers outside of this dimension. However…"

Viktor hesitated, his brow furrowing.

“However?” Jayce prompted.

“I cannot guarantee the destination.” Viktor’s voice grew softer. “We may not arrive in the correct universe, or the correct time. It is not even assured that the same time that has passed here has passed in our world.”

Jayce surprised him with a chuckle.

“That’s fine,” he sighed. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll keep trying. We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Viktor—Jayce had always been unwaveringly optimistic, trusting in both their partnership and Viktor’s intellect. But this trust now carried a weight that pressed against Viktor’s chest.

“Don’t,” Viktor said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Jayce’s head turned sharply, his expression puzzled.

“Don’t… what?”

“Trust me so completely,” Viktor replied, his voice almost a whisper.

Jayce tilted his head, confused, something flickering in his expression—worry? Fear? He didn’t respond, instead gently scooping Isha into his arms. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, before settling against his chest.

“I’ll take her to bed,” Jayce said, standing. “If you want, I can help you check your formulas one last time after that.”

“Go to sleep, Jayce.” Viktor shook his head. “I will manage.”

Jayce hesitated, then nodded and disappeared into the airship, leaving Viktor alone with his thoughts.

—

The fire crackled softly as Viktor stared into its depths. Jayce’s words lingered, gnawing at him. Is it safe for him to trust me?

His eyes drifted to the airship where Jayce had disappeared, his mind tracing back to that fateful battle. He remembered the way his hand had burned against Jayce’s skin, the tendrils of the Hexcore reaching out to assimilate his former partner’s mind. He had left glowing scars on Jayce’s forehead—his own fingerprints, a mark of his attempt to consume Jayce’s will.

His chest tightened painfully. Is that why he trusts me now?

The thought was terrifying. Had he been unconsciously manipulating Jayce all this time, bending his mind to follow him like one of the “followers” he had healed in the commune? He had never intended—

“Viktor.”

The voice startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to see Jayce sitting down beside him, his expression serious as he stared into the fire.

Viktor opened his mouth to speak, but Jayce beat him to it.

“I’m scared too,” he admitted quietly.

Viktor blinked, speechless, caught off guard.

“Right now, I have a lot to lose. Isha, this airship, you… Everything we’ve rebuilt. The thought of losing it…” He shook his head, trailing off.

Without warning, Jayce leaned down, resting his head on Viktor’s lap. The act was so unexpected that Viktor froze, unsure how to react.

Jayce closed his eyes, sighing softly.

“Just… let me stay like this for a moment.”

For a moment, Viktor hesitated. Then, slowly, he raised his hand and ran his fingers through Jayce’s hair. It was soft, lighter than it had been, from their time in the sun. The moment felt oddly fragile, as though it might shatter if either of them spoke. For a brief moment, the swirling chaos in Viktor’s mind quieted.

Then, his thumb brushed the scars on Jayce’s forehead.

Jayce flinched violently, slapping Viktor’s hand away as he scrambled backward with a hoarse shout. He scrambled back, falling to the ground as his hands flew to his head. His eyes were wide and filled with primal fear, his chest heaving as he stared at Viktor as though he were a threat.

Viktor’s chest ached, not from hurt but from relief. The fear in Jayce’s eyes, while painful to witness, reassured him in a way nothing else could.

Jayce was still fully himself.

“Jayce,” Viktor said softly, fighting his own emotions to keep his voice steady but firm. “Listen to me. I would never. Do you hear me? I would never. ”

Jayce’s breathing slowed, his hands lowering slightly as Viktor’s words sank in. His gaze softened, though a flicker of fear remained in the depths of his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the sand with a shaky sigh.

“I know,” he muttered. “I know. I’m sorry—”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Viktor replied gently.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Jayce moved closer, hesitantly leaning against Viktor’s side. Viktor didn’t move, allowing him to settle before draping an arm lightly over Jayce’s shoulder.

Despite everything, Jayce’s breathing evened out, and he drifted to sleep against Viktor’s frame. Viktor stared into the fire, his thoughts quieter now but no less complex.

It was undeniable that Jayce feared him, deep down. Perhaps he always would. But that fear wasn’t the only feeling Jayce had toward him. It wasn’t even the main one.

Viktor remained still, his gaze fixed on the fire. The fear and guilt still lingered, but they were accompanied by something else: a deep, unshakable determination to never give Jayce a reason to fear him again.