10

A week had passed since the failed uprising, and security—or rather, surveillance—in the Undercity had grown tighter. Those from the Undercity who had managed to escape poverty and settle in Piltover now faced more persecution than ever.

Life in the Undercity had grown even more arduous. Checkpoints were set up at every major intersection, and Enforcers patrolled relentlessly. They arrested anyone with even the slightest connection to the uprising, innocent or not, and handed out brutal punishments on the spot.

Beatings, arbitrary detentions, and public displays of brutality became everyday sights—designed to instill fear and crush any lingering thoughts of rebellion.

Homes were raided without warning, families torn apart, and those who dared speak out often vanished without a trace.

All the while, Art remained oblivious to the worsening situation. With his school closed as a precaution following the uprising, he'd been home for the past week, experimenting with his new magic.

Or maybe he wasn't truly unaware—maybe he just had an idea of the aftermath and chose not to think about it. Some might call it selfish to ignore the chaos outside, but what could he do about it? Did people expect him to throw on a batsuit and become a vigilante?

'Nah, fuck that. I'd rather stay home and watch paint dry than get myself involved again.'

Besides, Art was being monitored like a prisoner, though he only had himself to blame.

His parents were worried sick after he slept for more than a day after the uprising—or at least, that's what they thought. What they didn't know was that their magic-obsessed son had actually woken up at dawn to practice, only to collapse from exhaustion again.

He could focus all his attention on his new magic, which he certainly didn't mind. It helped distract him from the uprising and allowed him to better understand the strengths and weaknesses of his abilities.

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 Creation Magic

Strengths: 

Versatility: Able to conjure various simple forms such as rectangular planes, cylinders, globes, domes, cones, etc. 

Size Control: Objects can grow or shrink as desired, with small objects controllable at high speeds and larger ones slower and more mana-consuming.

Customizable Characteristics: Can imbue objects with specific traits like sharpness or elasticity.

Multiple Conjurations: Capable of summoning up to two objects simultaneously, requiring divided focus.

Durability: Objects' durability increases with mana expenditure; darker colors indicate higher durability (e.g., blue is the hardest, transparent the weakest).

Weaknesses:

Concentration Dependent: Objects cease to exist once concentration is broken.

High Mana Consumption: Spells require significant mana expenditure.

Limited Range: The farther an object is from the caster, the harder it is to sustain and the more mana it consumes.

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What Art needed now was practical application. He couldn't afford to close his eyes every time he used Creation Magic or rely on a miracle in a dire situation. That's why he began visualizing more intricate designs—believing this approach would help him with simpler applications of his magic.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed and arms outstretched as if meditating, he kept his breathing steady and his mind clear of distractions. He pictured a sword in his mind, willing the magic to flow from his body through his hands.

Gradually, something began to materialize.

After several attempts, Art finally managed to create something beyond the rudimentary level of a child's toy—a blue katana, sleek and lethal, with a blade perfect for both cutting and thrusting.

Although materializing the katana had been slow, it was a promising start. He felt confident that, just like with Body Enhancement Magic, he'd get better with more practice.

Satisfied, he reached out to the floating katana, grasping the handle to examine the blade. His eyes traced the ornate tsuba, and his fingers gently ran along the groove. He gave it a few cautious swings, careful not to damage anything—getting on his mother's bad side was the last thing he needed, especially today, when he had something important to ask.

With nothing to do but eat, practice magic, sleep, and repeat, the past week had given him plenty of time to think. He realised that to make the best use of both Body Enhancement Magic and Creation Magic, which had limited range, he needed to learn how to fight up close—whether with his fists or with weapons conjured by his magic.

Though as important as that was, what really wanted was to teach him how to survive. He wanted to learn how to be more aware of his surroundings, how to be tougher and how to avoid potential threats. 

Art already had a plan for finding a mentor. Thanks to its central location on the continent, Piltover was still the world's trading hub even without Hextech. With its constant influx of foreigners, he was confident that with the right amount of cash, he could find and persuade a skilled mercenary to teach him.

But there was one problem with this plan. "Will my parents allow it?"

They were the ones with the money—not him. Maybe that would change someday if he could replicate some of the tech from his old world using Hextech or whatever. But for now, he was just a broke kid obsessed with magic. All those ideas swirling in his head would have to stay there, at least until Hextech became a reality or he managed to invent it himself—though, honestly, that sounded like way too much trouble.

Art knew he wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Mature? Smart? Not really—he was just a cheater, relying on memories from his previous life to stay a step ahead of the other kids his age. He wasn't the natural gifted genius his parents thought him to be.

It was far easier to focus on one thing and master that first before getting ahead of himself.

...Later that day, as his family gathered around the dinner table, Art found himself nervously glancing between Zalie and Lilah. He hesitated, his words teetering on the edge of silence.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. "Dad, Mom..." He paused again, the words catching in his throat as both of them turned their full attention to him, waiting.

"I want to learn how to fight." Art finally managed to say.

The room fell silent for a few seconds until Zalie put his cutlery down with a clink and fixed Art with a direct gaze. "Is this because last week?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Art responded quickly, seeing no reason to lie.

"I understand you're scared because of what happened, but it won't happen again. The council has met and is taking steps to ensure that another uprising doesn't occur."

"Dad, I don't think more oppression is the solution to the problem."

Zalie and Lilah looked surprised. 

"Huh?"

"Where did you—"

"I have ears, you know?" Art interrupted.

Zalie sighed, his expression turning somber as he pondered his son's words. "There's not much we can do, son," he finally replied. "Your mom and I, while wealthy, don't have much influence."

Sensing their hesitation, Art decided it was time to pull out all the stops. He cleared his throat, put on his most convincing puppy eyes and added, "After what I saw during the uprising—I, I just want the strength to protect you guys."

At that, Lilah and Zalie's eyes moistened as if an arrow had pierced their hearts...