Arcane: Thicker Than Blood

Cipher, still in shock from his encounter with Silco, left the munitions factory and went home alone.

His home was a bar located inside the Lanes district of Zaun. The streets grew narrower here, buildings leaning against each other like tired old men.

On the way, he thought about Zaun's future. His ideas were far less radical than Silco's. War wasn't just about weapons—it was about survival. And right now, they could barely survive peace.

He would not recklessly disrupt the ecological balance of Piltover and Zaun, nor would he allow the situation to escalate into all-out war. Avoiding the escalation of armed struggles into full-scale conflicts was his priority.

The reason was harsh.

Firstly, in terms of military power, Zaun was at an absolute disadvantage. Among Piltover's council members was Professor Heimerdinger, a figure standing at the pinnacle of science.

This noble, extraordinary yordle wasn't incapable of producing weapons—he simply chose not to. If Silco were in charge, he might taste some fleeting success in armed struggles but would likely lose control of the war machine, pushing Zaun into an all-out war with Piltover.

By then, Zaun might have the dubious "honor" of witnessing the awe-inspiring sight of Heimerdinger crafting a Hextech mechanical T-Rex by hand.

Secondly, Zaun lacked a sound economic system. More than 40% of Zaunites eked out a living in Piltover's docks, factories, and construction sites—industries reliant on intensive labor.

If war broke out, what would happen to these Zaunites working in Piltover? Zaun simply didn't have enough jobs to accommodate them. The streets would flood with desperate, hungry people.

Moreover, basic necessities like food were entirely reliant on imports, and the docks were under Piltover's control. Each shipment of grain was another chain binding them to the Upper City.

Zaun had zero war potential. None!

Silco was oversimplifying things. War wasn't the answer—not yet, and not like this.

Cipher had long been pondering how to establish a robust industrial economic system.

In this world, long-distance communication was rare and prohibitively expensive, often reliant on magic. However, he had long since acquired advanced wireless communication technology from the Apex world.

No faction could resist the allure of communication equipment. Once Zaun began production, these devices could be sold at high prices to any country or region, enough to propel Zaun into prosperity.

But he was acutely aware that without sufficient power to protect it, nothing could be retained. Oil breeds mold, and the wealthy nobles of Piltover would sniff out the tempting scent of money and come running.

Those nobles didn't play nice. They'd strip Zaun bare if given half a chance.

That was why he was researching weapons and developing military power—to arm himself first.

Otherwise, all his efforts would only lead to an even better life for those nobles.

The successful development of explosive rounds was just the beginning. Once the factories were operational and mass production complete, Zaun's cannons would be assembled, giving them the capability to protect their communication technology.

As for Silco's Shimmer, Cipher had never considered that mindless drug as part of Zaun's military strength. It was a crutch, not a solution.

Still, he has a point. It's time to unify Zaun and put pressure on Piltover to fight for our rights.

We can't let them strangle our access to raw materials anymore.

He narrowed his eyes. He needed to visit Piltover soon to garner support from key figures.

For instance, Viktor, a Zaunite by birth, who had always dreamed of advancing technology to benefit Zaun.

Unfortunately, his efforts and achievements had never truly reached Zaun; they were all reaped by the nobles.

Additionally, Cipher wanted to try to win the support of Heimerdinger. The yordle inventor's reputation for fairness was well-known throughout both cities.

This Piltover councilor was a pure scientist, uninterested in wealth or power. He loved peace and maintained goodwill toward humanity. He was highly likely to support the establishment of a sound industrial economy in Zaun.

As long as Heimerdinger agreed, Cipher was confident that no one in Piltover—not even their wealthiest councilor, Mel Medarda—could stop Zaun's rise.

Lost in thought, time flew by.

He had just sketched out a rough blueprint for unifying Zaun when he arrived at The Last Drop. The familiar scent of spilled beer and wood smoke reached his nose.

But as he opened the bar door, he found the place was like a powder keg ready to explode.

A large group of fierce-looking thugs stood up, glaring menacingly at the bar.

"They've been here twenty minutes, boss," a gang member whispered as Cipher passed. "Vander's just... taking it."

"And how many are ready to snap?" Cipher asked quietly, surveying the room.

"All of us."

Through the gaps in the crowd, he spotted three enforcers from Piltover at the bar. One of them was arguing with Vander, in an extremely rude and arrogant manner. The disdain was written all over their faces—they didn't take the bar's gang seriously at all.

"You call this an establishment?" The lead enforcer sneered, running a finger through the dust on the bar. "More like a rat's nest."

"Say your piece and leave," Vander replied calmly. "We don't want trouble."

"Trouble? You ARE the trouble!"

Piltover enforcers came to Zaun for one purpose only: to arrest people.

Who?

Of course, it was Cipher's four poor younger siblings!

All they had done was accidentally blow up one of Jayce's buildings while trying to make some money in Piltover. Was that really worth such a grandiose response?

"Move aside! Let me through!"

He squeezed through the crowd. The gang members looked furious, ready to start a fight.

But as soon as they saw him, their expressions softened into smiles, and they quickly stepped aside to make way. Some nodded respectfully as he passed.

He approached the bar, set down the rich chocolate he'd brought for his siblings, and overheard the enforcer insulting Vander.

"You're nothing but scum, rotting away in this forsaken hole that the world has abandoned!"

The enforcer wasn't satisfied after yelling. He pulled out his baton and smashed a glass on the bar. Shards scattered across the worn wood.

He then turned around, pointing the baton at the others in the bar and shouted angrily, "All your worthless lives will end in my hands sooner or la—"

Before the enforcer could finish his sentence, Cipher drove a knee into his stomach, driving upward into the enforcer's solar plexus. The enforcer crumpled, face twisted in shock as he lay vomiting bile, unable to speak another word.

In one swift motion, Cipher knocked out the other two enforcers with clean, decisive slaps. His movements were sharp, efficient, and effortless. Before the first enforcer's knees hit the floor, Cipher was already moving, his hands finding their targets.

Everything happened so quickly that everyone in the bar, including Vander, was left stunned, unable to react for a few seconds.

Then, cheers erupted like a breaking dam from the gang members in the bar, washing away years of pent-up frustration and fear in a single moment of triumph.

"Awesome! So damn awesome! I didn't even feel this good when I was crushing enemies!"

"Well done! Kill those filthy scums!"

"These damned Pilties dare to strut around in the dark alleys? They deserve to be beaten so hard that their mothers won't recognize them!"

"Holy crap, Cipher is this strong? This is insane—he's even more skilled than Boss Vander!"

The Lanes had been suffering under the enforcers' relentless raids and searches these past days, with half the shops sealed shut.

Many people had been severely bullied, and they'd been bottling up their anger for too long.

The bruises were still fresh.

If not for Vander's reputation and authority keeping the peace, they would have already launched violent attacks on Piltover.

But now, with enforcers bullying them at their very doorsteps, Vander was acting as meek as a pair of underpants, tolerating every insult without a single word of protest.

Such weakness had deeply disappointed many, causing a serious loss of respect for him. Some core members had even left the dark alleys to follow others.

Cipher raised a hand, signaling that he had something to say. The bar instantly fell silent, every eye fixed on him.

He walked up to the bar and studied his father closely.

Vander was a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a thick beard. His temples were streaked with gray, his body was strong, but his expression was one of fatigue and weariness.

His position as the leader of the Lanes wasn't inherited—it was earned through brute force and bloodshed.

But his fighting spirit had been extinguished on the Day of Ashes, ground down by the cruel reality of life. Continuing to lead would only bring more harm to him.

Ignoring the complex emotions in Vander's eyes, Cipher spoke without hesitation, "Dad, you're getting old. Leave the Lanes and Zaun to me. It's time for you to enjoy a peaceful retirement."

The once noisy bar suddenly plunged into a deathly silence. The gang members didn't even dare to breathe loudly, afraid of missing this thrilling scene of father-son drama!

"A month away, and the first thing you say when you come back is this?" Vander's voice was tired but firm. "This position will be yours eventually. What's the rush?"

He poured Cipher a glass of juice, clearly not understanding what was going on. He thought Cipher was joking—after all, the boy was only 15 years old.

But as he stared at the glass of juice Vander poured, he suddenly felt a headache coming on.

In Zaun, Cipher was already a well-known figure. Even the dangerous Silco treated him with respect.

Yet the moment he returned home, his father still wouldn't let him drink alcohol.

This only solidified his resolve. Vander was a good father, but he was not a good leader.

If Vander stayed in charge, Cipher might one day find himself fishing his corpse out of a gutter.

So, without saying another word, he made up his mind. He would bear the burden.