A Day Out Gone Wrong

Art knew he had come off a little bit weird to Ezreal the first time they met by mentioning his parents. He seemed like a fan, no, a stalker, and obviously, that was not his intention.

Thankfully, kids were forgetful by nature, and Art was able to get along with the blondy very well over these past few days. He learned a few things about the kid: the boy was quite smart for his age and unruly, which he expected from the Prodigal Explorer.

But that was all.

Ezreal was still a kid and knew nothing but the stories his parents told him of their journey across Runeterra. He was still far from the badass treasure hunter he read about in his biography on the game's website.

However, Art was not discouraged as he wanted to get close to the blonde-haired boy before he grew up. As someone who will travel the world and find powerful lost artifacts, there were several plans he needed Ezreal's help with. It was best to befriend him when he was young when kids were stupid and did not care who they were making friends with.

Manipulative, yes, but that was not his intention.

Art needed all the help he could get, especially living in this world where danger lurked at every corner. If he wanted to travel the world in the future, he needed to use all the resources he could get his hands on to protect himself, unless he wanted to be killed by a certain super simp trying to conquer the world to revive his queen.

Of course, that was still far into the future, and he was still a child. He needed more time to grow, and right now, he wanted to enjoy his childhood, keep training his magic and explore what Piltover has to offer.

And today, that was precisely what Art was doing.

On the expansive bridge that linked the north and south sides of Piltover, situated above the man-made river dividing the city, Art stood out. He had woken at the break of dawn, diligently practiced his magic through the morning, and ventured out in the afternoon.

After winning a "fair and square" game of paper football against Ezreal back in school, Art had secured a lunch treat from his friend. Now, he was walking the bustling streets, his eyes scanning the crowd with hawk-like precision. It didn't take him long to spot Ezreal's bright blonde hair, the young man standing amid the crowd with a nonchalant look on his face.

At the same time, Ezreal caught sight of him and waved energetically. "Hey, Art, over here!" he called out.

"Morning," Art said as he approached the blondie with a friendly smile.

"Good mor—," Ezreal began, but his words were interrupted by the audible rumble of his stomach.

Art raised an eyebrow. "Hungry already?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. I skipped breakfast this morning to save room in my stomach for later," Ezreal admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Art grinned, "Well, you're in luck. There's plenty of stall here that'll make skipping breakfast worthwhile. Ready to go?"

"Yep," Ezreal said, his eyes lighting up with anticipation. "Lead the way."

They crossed the bridge, immersing themselves in the scent and sight of various street foods. The lineup was a mix of the exotic and the familiar—the enticing aroma brought back memories of Art's old world. Corndogs, chips, and burgers beckoned from their display, though they went by different names here.

Glancing over at Art, Ezreal queried, "So, what are you in the mood for?"

Art perused the menu before finally pointing at one item. "I want to try this one."

"I'll have the same, then," Ezreal said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and taking out the necessary amount of money.

"Welcome!" The stall owner, a friendly middle-aged woman, greeted them with a warm smile.

Ezreal held up two fingers and said, "Two burgers, please," as he handed over his coins to the stall owner, who gladly accepted them.

"Just a moment, please," the stall owner responded. She took the ready-made burgers from the warming shelf, placed them in brown paper bags, and handed them over.

Art and Ezreal began eating as they wandered off to see what other stalls had to offer.

An hour later, both had finished their meals. Though they'd sampled only small portions from various stalls to maximize their culinary adventure, the food had quickly added up, leaving them quite full.

Normally, Ezreal wouldn't have had that much money to spend on food, given that he was just a kid with no job. However, coming from a wealthy family in an affluent Piltover neighborhood, he didn't have to worry about such things. The same was true for Art. The area they were in catered to lower-income residents, making the food far less expensive than in the wealthier districts.

Ezreal had planned on visiting a toy store next, but that idea was now off the table. Having overindulged, he found himself with a stomachache, his face turning pale as he clutched his abdomen. Despite Art's repeated warnings, Ezreal had chosen to ignore them, and now he was paying the price.

"You should head home," Art suggested, patting Ezreal's back in an attempt to comfort him. "Staying out might make it worse."

"I'm fine," Ezreal asserted, standing up as though he'd fully recovered. But just as he spoke, he leaned to the side of the street and began to vomit. "Bwahhh... I feel better now... bwahhh."

For most people, this would have been a clear sign to head home. But not for Ezreal. It took him throwing up five times before Art finally persuaded the stubborn boy to leave.

Now alone, Art stood amid the bustling crowd. He'd told Ezreal he was going home too, but as he surveyed the scene around him, he had second thoughts. "Should I go now or later?" He thought about it for a while, and he chose to stay in the end. He did not want to go home as it was rare for him to go out and no one was at home anyways.

Both of his parents were tailors for the wealthy people of Piltover, and the clothing they made usually took time to complete, leaving them barely anytime to spend time with him.

Of course, Art wasn't bothered by this. Mentally more mature, he understood why his parents needed to work. He wasn't a snobbish brat looking to cause trouble just to get their attention.

"Guess I'll go it alone," Art muttered to himself. But before he could take even a single step, a whistle-like sound from the sky captured his attention.

"Watch out!" someone in the crowd screamed, causing everyone to panic and hurriedly move out of the way.

Fortunately, the warning had been timely, preventing any injuries when the object hit the ground. A shallow crater now marred the center of the road, and curiosity had gotten the best of the gathering crowd.

Using his small stature to his advantage, Art wove through the throng of onlookers to get a clearer view. What he saw was an object shaped like a metallic cylinder narrowing to a cone. The realization struck him: anyone standing in its path would have been instantly reduced to a grisly pulp.

"What is it?"

The same question weighed on everyone's minds, including Art's. But before anyone could react, the object began to emit a sinister red glow; cracks splintered across its surface, and then—boom!

In that split second, Art's life flashed before his eyes. It was as though death itself had arrived at his doorstep. Operating on pure instinct, he backed away and threw his hands up defensively, as if bracing for a physical blow.

In that heartbeat of desperation, a shield of translucent blue energy materialized around the explosive, containing its devastating force and sparing not only his life but those of everyone in the immediate area.

"Woah, what was that!" Art felt a burst of excitement, his heart pounding fast.

It had been six years since he started learning magic. He no longer made any mistakes while using [Body Enhancement Magic], and the objects he could now levitate got bigger. But still, no matter how much he tried, all attempts of other forms of magic had failed... well, that was until now.

Despite his near-death experience, all he could think of was to rush home and experiment with this newfound magic. But now was not the time for that. The shrill whistles of incoming projectiles filled the air once more. Glancing skyward, his face paled; at least a dozen more bombs were plummeting directly toward him. "Someone is definitely messing with me today," he muttered.

Although Art desperately wanted to go home, he stood his ground, taking in the panicked faces around him. He had no hero complex, but he couldn't stomach the idea of letting those around him perish either.

Any rational individual with the ability to intervene would, and Art wasn't even certain he could escape the blast radius in time. 

Deciding swiftly, he raised his hands and halted the descending bombs in mid-air, draining half his mana pool due to the objects' mass. With a focused gesture, he caused the bombs to collide, igniting a massive explosion that darkened the sky as if turning day into night.

"Maybe I should've handled that differently, laid them down gently. But then again..." Art's thoughts raced. "...I'm no expert on explosives. They could've detonated. At least there weren't any airships in the vicinity."

Jolted back to the present by the blaring sounds echoing from megaphones atop nearby buildings, Art recognized the world's equivalent of police sirens. Enforcers would flood the streets any moment now. It was time to leave.

Using Body Enhancement Magic, Art boosted his strength manifold and propelled himself into the air. He then employed Telekinesis Magic to land safely on the roof of a nearby building. Swiftly moving from one rooftop to the next, he made his exit. Today's adventure had given him more than enough excitement; he had no desire to encounter the individuals responsible for the chaos, nor did he wish to tangle with the law.

Most importantly, Art was eager to get home and experiment with his new magic.

As swift as a charging cheetah, Art set a direct course for his house— or at least, that was the plan.

His magically enhanced body not only boosted his strength but also heightened his five senses, his healing ability, and his reflexes, among other things. As he moved, he heard the sound of crying. Turning his head toward the source, he spotted a young girl sobbing uncontrollably on a bench, all alone.

She had a slender figure and pink hair, her skin so fair it could rival the whiteness of snow. Her teary eyes sparkled like diamonds. Her clothes, though, were worn and aged, signaling that she came from a less privileged background.

The girl was lost, and Art couldn't bring himself to ignore her, especially given the conflict that had just erupted where he'd been. Leaving her alone would place her right in the middle of it.

"Why do kids have to be so reckless?" Art sighed before darting toward her.

Leaping from the building, he landed a short distance from the girl. Approaching her cautiously, so as not to appear threatening, he asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Yeah, I was walking with my mom, holding her hand..." the little girl sniffed. "...then, then- then I got lost."

"It's okay," Art smiled and patted the little girl's head. "How about I take you to your mom."

"Really," the little girl's eyes brightened. "but my parents told me not to go with strangers ."

"Do I look like a bad guy?" Art asked as he pretend to be sad. The inner corners of eyebrows were raised, his eyelids loose and the corner of his lips pulled down.

Seeing this, the little girl immediately shook her head.

"Okay then, I promise to help you look for your parents," Art said, going down on his knees and offered her a piggyback.

"Okay," the little girl said while wiping the tears off her eyes before hopping on his back.

"Put your arms around my neck," Art said and went back up to the rooftops to get a better view and find her parents.