Vi, who'd been watching the tavern situation through a crack in the basement door, found herself stunned by what she was witnessing. She'd actually seen a laser beam shoot from Marcus's eyes, instantly piercing the tavern's solid wall.
"I think we're going to be fine now..." Vi muttered to herself, unable to look away from the scene.
Hearing Vi's whispered comment, both Claggor and Mylo became intensely curious. They'd heard the sudden silence from above—shouldn't this be the rhythm of escalating conflict with Piltover enforcers? Why did it sound like the opposite?
"Let me see! What's happening up there?" Mylo said urgently, his curiosity overwhelming his caution.
He was desperate to witness whatever was occurring, but Vi was blocking the narrow viewing crack entirely. And he couldn't shout or make noise—after all, there were enforcers upstairs looking to arrest them.
He gently pushed at Vi, but she was so entranced by what she was watching that she lost her balance and tumbled sideways. Not waiting to help her up, Mylo immediately pressed his face to the crack and peered through.
Under the deterrent effect of Marcus's glowing eyes, Sheriff Grayson had frozen completely. She stood rigid, staring directly at Marcus with obvious wariness mixed with fear.
"Sir," Grayson said carefully, her voice measured and diplomatic, "please stay calm. Would you mind putting my colleague down?"
The younger enforcer struggling in mid-air had turned bright red, his face darkening from restricted blood flow. But no matter how frantically he thrashed, he couldn't break free from the invisible restraints holding him suspended.
This was the telekinetic power Marcus had absorbed from Queen of Blades Kerrigan—psionic empowerment that was devastatingly effective against ordinary humans. He could easily crush anyone present if he chose.
"You're not bad, Sheriff," Marcus observed, his tone almost conversational. "But your colleague here..."
His gaze shifted to the hanging enforcer with undisguised contempt.
"He pretends it's about stability in Piltover, about law and order. But really? He's just trying to establish enough merit to replace you. Building a reputation on the backs of undercity residents he considers subhuman. Pathetic. Even more ridiculous than Sebastian Shaw."
The comparison reminded Marcus of that particular mutant from another reality. Shaw could absorb and redirect any form of energy, but his stated ideals never matched his actual motivations. The man had wanted to be a king ruling over all mutants—he'd never actually cared whether mutant lives improved, only about his own power and status.
"Just garbage," Marcus concluded dismissively.
His eyes suddenly flashed with brilliant red light. The intensity made Grayson and every patron in the tavern scramble for cover, diving behind furniture and pressing against walls.
No one wanted to be accidentally vaporized while watching this confrontation. That would be a truly depressing way to die.
But the expected laser blast never came. Instead, after that flash of light, the struggling enforcer finally dropped from his aerial prison. Because he'd been thrashing so violently, he wasn't prepared for the sudden release—he crashed to the floor in an undignified heap.
"You—!" the young enforcer started to snarl, pushing himself up with wounded pride.
"I'll give you one chance," Marcus interrupted, his pleasant smile never wavering but somehow becoming more threatening. "Change what you were about to say into something I want to hear. Otherwise, I can't guarantee which body parts you'll still have when this conversation ends."
Despite speaking with that same friendly tone, everyone felt a chill run down their spines. The tavern's patrons took collective steps backward, desperately trying to avoid being anywhere near the arrogant enforcer who might get them all killed.
As the red glow in Marcus's eyes intensified, the young enforcer's anger transformed into survival instinct. He swallowed his pride and whatever insult he'd been about to deliver, instead stepping aside and glaring at the floor in sullen silence.
"Sheriff Grayson," Marcus said, returning his attention to the senior officer. "Go back and tell your council members not to come here looking for trouble. If they send more enforcers to the undercity, I'll personally visit Piltover to address the issue."
Hearing Marcus's words, Grayson had no choice but to nod helplessly. She understood this was a direct threat against Piltover's government, but she had absolutely no ability to resist. Her life—all their lives—currently rested in Marcus's hands.
"I'll relay your message," Grayson said carefully. "But I don't think the councilors will agree. More likely, they'll authorize a weapons-equipped raid to clear out the undercity entirely."
"Then let them try," Marcus replied with an amused smile. "I'd be interested to see how that works out for them."
Seeing that Marcus showed no fear whatsoever, Grayson could only nod again and begin retreating toward the exit, gesturing for her colleague to follow.
As they approached the Promenade leading back to Piltover, the younger enforcer muttered hatefully under his breath.
"Damn it... next time I see him, I'll definitely teach that arrogant bastard a lesson he won't forget!"
Before anyone could react, a red beam of light shot through the darkness, grazing the enforcer's thigh with surgical precision.
"AAHHH!" The young man—Max—screamed and collapsed to the ground, clutching his leg in agony.
"Max! Are you alright?" Grayson rushed to help him up, her hands immediately going to assess the injury.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
Max's thigh bore a wound as thick as a wrist where the heat vision had struck. The flesh was completely cauterized, burned so thoroughly that not a single drop of blood escaped. The injury looked more like it had been created by a branding iron than any weapon she recognized.
"I can hear you. I can see you." Marcus's voice carried on the wind, somehow reaching them clearly despite the distance. "If you dare say another word of threat, I'll aim for your head next time. That's not a warning—it's a promise."
Grayson's face went pale. At this distance, Marcus could target them at will. He could kill them before they even knew they were under attack. No wonder he'd been so confident threatening the entire council.
"I apologize, sir!" Grayson called out loudly, hoping her voice carried back. "We're leaving immediately! No further incidents!"
She helped Max to his feet—the younger man was smart enough to keep his mouth firmly shut now, clearly understanding that Marcus would absolutely follow through on his threat.
Together, they limped back toward Piltover as quickly as Max's injury allowed. Once they reached the upper city, Grayson sent Max straight to the medical ward for treatment, then headed directly to the council chambers to report.
The Last Drop – Moments After the Enforcers' Departure
The moment the enforcers left, Vi burst from the basement along with her friends. They all stared at Marcus with open curiosity and barely-concealed awe—this thin, unassuming person possessed such terrifying power?
"Thank you for helping us, uh..." Vander started gratefully, then paused awkwardly as he realized he'd never actually learned Marcus's name. They'd negotiated, made deals, but never completed basic introductions.
"Don't mention it—just a small favor," Marcus replied with a dismissive wave. "Oh, and you can call me Marcus from now on. Seemed like we skipped that part earlier."
His attention shifted to Vi and the other children. Everyone except Powder was present—she remained below, completely absorbed in playing with the mechanical hound Marcus had given her.
"Wow, that was so cool!" Mylo exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. "How did you make that guy float in the air? Is it the legendary magic? Can you teach me?"
His enthusiasm was infectious. It was a common characteristic among Twin Cities residents—people who'd lived here for years had heard about magic in distant rumors, but very few had actually witnessed it firsthand.
"That wasn't magic," Marcus corrected gently. "Just application of psionic energy—mental force given physical form."
He noted Mylo's disappointed expression and smiled. "As for the magic you're thinking of, it would look more like this."
Marcus's hands swept through the air with practiced gestures. Blue light traced complex geometric patterns, quickly forming into a fully-realized magical circle that rotated slowly before them.
The moment the circle manifested, the entire tavern fell silent again. Even Vander, who'd been wiping down the bar, looked up at Marcus with something approaching horror.
"You're... you're a mage?" Vander asked, his voice carrying that unmistakable edge of fear.
Compared to Mylo's innocent curiosity about magic, Vander—like most Twin Cities adults—harbored a deep, instinctive dread of magical power. Magic was undeniably powerful, yes, but Noxus's constant wars of conquest had transformed magic into a synonym for death and destruction in the public consciousness.
Only Demacia, with its unique petricite deposits that could suppress magic, had successfully resisted Noxus's magical onslaught for any length of time.
"A mage? If you want to call me that, I suppose I know some magic," Marcus acknowledged.
With a slight twist of his hand, the magical circle reversed direction and expanded, transforming into a portal crackling with blue energy. The gateway opened directly in the tavern, showing a view of somewhere else entirely.
At that moment, Marcus's enhanced hearing picked up Max's muttered threat about revenge. His smile turned predatory.
The portal's view shifted instantly, reorienting toward the enforcers' location. Marcus released a focused heat vision beam through the gateway, striking Max with precise aim.
The young enforcer's scream of pain echoed back through the portal, audible to everyone in the tavern.
"I can hear you. I can see you," Marcus called through the magical gateway. "Watch your mouth, or next time I won't miss your head."
Then he closed the portal with a casual gesture, the blue sparks dissipating into nothing.
Regarding magic, Marcus actually hadn't mastered extensive spellcasting. Most of what he knew came from white magic he'd copied from the Book of Vishanti during his exchanges with the Ancient One in another reality.
The Vishanti magic system wasn't particularly focused on direct offensive applications. Instead, it specialized in defensive barriers, sealing techniques, banishment rituals, and protective wards. Powerful, but not overtly destructive.
"Did you see that?!" Mylo grabbed Claggor's shoulder excitedly, shaking him. "That was real magic! Actual legendary magic!"
"I saw it," Claggor replied dryly, though his eyes were equally wide. "But what's it matter? Can you become a mage?"
The question deflated Mylo immediately. His excitement collapsed into sullen disappointment. "Well... no. Probably not."
Marcus chuckled but didn't elaborate. He had no intention of teaching Vishanti magic to Mylo or anyone else in this world. The Book of Vishanti's spells required borrowing power from dimensional entities—you couldn't cast purely from personal energy reserves.
If Mylo wanted to learn that kind of magic, he'd need to find a being willing to lend him power. Marcus could serve as that source, but what would happen when he eventually left this reality?
Mylo would be forced to find another power source compatible with his established connection. Unfortunately, Marcus's power drew from the Void—not the purple void surrounding Runeterra, but the primordial Void that was the root of all such corrupted spaces. That would corrupt anyone who tried to channel it without proper protection.
"Don't worry about magic," Marcus said, redirecting the conversation. "But I can teach you how to fight properly. Real combat technique, not just brawling."
That offer immediately captured both Mylo and Claggor's attention. Even if fighting skills weren't as flashy as magic, proper training would be infinitely better than their current strategy of flailing punches and hoping for the best.
With actual combat knowledge, they wouldn't have been cornered by those thugs on their recent adventure. They could have fought their way clear instead of losing their prize.
"Alright, kids, give Marcus some space," Vander interrupted, recognizing the signs of impending child-mob enthusiasm. "He's going to be staying in the Lanes for a while. You'll have plenty of time to ask questions and learn from him."
Then he paused, looking around with sudden concern. "Wait, where's Powder?"
"She's still in the basement," Claggor answered. "Last we saw, she was playing with that mechanical dog thing Marcus made."
Hearing Powder mentioned, Marcus turned to Vander with a serious expression. He gestured for the man to step aside for a private conversation.
Once they'd moved to a quieter corner, Marcus spoke quietly.
"You need to have Powder remove the small bombs she's carrying. Those things aren't stable—if they get jostled too hard, they'll detonate."
Vander's face went pale with horror. He hadn't known his youngest adopted daughter was carrying explosives around like toys. Though he didn't know exactly what these "small bombs" looked like, he'd worked with explosives extensively in his youth. Anything that qualified as a bomb could cause serious harm, regardless of size.
He immediately hurried down to the basement. When he returned, he was moving very carefully, cradling several blue crystal orbs like they might explode at any moment. Powder trailed behind him, looking guilty, with Marcus's mechanical hound following at her heels.
Seeing Vander's exaggerated caution, Marcus couldn't help but laugh.
"Ha! Actually, you don't need to be quite that careful."
As he spoke, the blue crystal orbs floated up from Vander's hands under Marcus's telekinetic control. They orbited slowly in the air before him, rotating like a miniature solar system.
These crystals were actually Jayce's incomplete work—prototype Hextech cores. Raw, unrefined, dangerous.
Marcus plucked one from the air, examining its surface. The craftsmanship was crude, like a gemstone that had been roughly cut with basic tools and no real understanding of the material's properties.
"These things contain enormous amounts of energy," Marcus explained, studying the crystal's internal structure. "Just one of these... would completely obliterate your tavern and probably take out half the surrounding block."
"So the explosion in Piltover was actually caused by this thing?" Vander asked, understanding dawning. He knew his children were troublemakers, but they'd never deliberately blow up someone's house. But if this crystal had detonated accidentally...
"More or less," Marcus confirmed. "Though this is a prototype—very unstable. A finished Hextech core would be much safer, with proper containment and control systems. Wouldn't be prone to random detonation like this."
To demonstrate, Marcus suddenly slammed the crystal hard against the wall.
Blue energy exploded outward from the impact point. Vander immediately grabbed Powder and ran for cover, expecting a devastating blast.
"Hahaha! Relax, I told you—it won't hurt anyone while I'm holding it," Marcus called out, laughing at Vander's panicked reaction.
Vander looked back cautiously. What he saw made his jaw drop.
The crystal had exploded, but the blast radius was impossibly contained. The energy expansion had grown from roughly thumb-sized to maybe fist-sized, then simply... stopped. Marcus held the detonation in an invisible sphere, completely suppressing its destructive potential.
"This... how is that possible?!" Vander breathed, unable to reconcile what he was seeing. Marcus was suppressing an explosive blast with one hand, as casually as catching a ball.
"Nothing's impossible," Marcus replied with an easy smile. "My power are far beyond what you're imagining. You'll get used to it."
Several Days Later – Piltover Council Chambers
After several days of arguing with council members to no avail, Sheriff Grayson could only watch with growing dread as fully-armed enforcers assembled for deployment to the undercity.
As the leader of Piltover's law enforcement, she'd been completely sidelined. The council had sent a different commander—someone who viewed undercity residents as vermin to be exterminated rather than citizens who'd fallen through the cracks.
Just like Max had predicted, the council didn't view undercity people as human at all. In their eyes, Zaun's residents were nothing but rats infesting the sewers beneath their golden city.
"I have to warn Vander," Grayson muttered to herself, already moving toward a side exit. "The cities absolutely cannot go to war—not like this!"
She and Vander had known each other for years, maintained a careful relationship built on mutual respect despite the official hostility between their positions. More importantly, she knew alternate routes to the undercity—paths that would let her arrive before the enforcer army began their massacre.
Because she was certain it would be a massacre. The council wasn't sending this force to make arrests or establish order. They were sending it to punish, to terrorize, to remind Zaun who held power.
And if that force encountered Marcus... Grayson genuinely didn't know which outcome terrified her more. Her colleagues getting slaughtered by a single impossibly powerful individual? Or Marcus responding with such overwhelming force that he sparked an actual war between the cities?
Either way, it would be catastrophic.
After taking various back routes and shortcuts that bypassed the official checkpoints, Grayson finally reached the Lanes. She moved as quickly as her legs would carry her, racing toward the Last Drop tavern.
Just as she approached the entrance, preparing to rush inside and warn Vander, a voice stopped her cold.
"GO BACK! GET OUT OF THE UNDERCITY!!!"
The words weren't shouted in anger. They were delivered calmly, almost conversationally. But they carried power that made Grayson's bones vibrate, made the air itself seem to thicken.
It was Marcus's voice, amplified and projected across the entire Lanes district.
And from the sound of it, he already knew exactly what was coming.
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