Arcane: Broken Mechanism

Sirion walked through narrow corridors and staircases that led down, deeper into the bowels of Zaun. Metal structures gave way to crumbling stone walls, and the air grew thicker, saturated with the smell of damp and chemicals.

"Where else can I go lower," he thought, feeling the silence around him become more and more oppressive.

And then, unexpectedly for himself, he came out onto an open area. The level seemed to be immersed in eternal shadow due to the many platforms and pipes overhead. But here, in the distance, a patch of sky was visible through the fog and smoke. Even the sun broke through the layers of pollution, casting its dim rays on what must have been the shore.

Sirion froze, amazed by the sight. He had not expected to see anything like this in the lower levels. Directly before him was a beach, if it could even be called a beach. The sand was dark, almost black, interspersed with metallic debris. But it was the water that caught his attention most. It was a sickly green, with a bluish glow where the sun's rays touched its surface. Sirion instinctively inhaled, but immediately regretted it - the smell was acrid, vaguely reminiscent of a mix of rotten fish and chemical waste. He winced, pressing his hand to his nose.

"How do people even live here?"

Despite the obvious toxicity of the water, the shore seemed strangely alive. Several children sat at the edge, playing with sticks and stones, as if they didn't care about the poisonous nature around them. A little further, a group of adults in rags were trying to fish something out of the water, using nets and long metal hooks. Sirion frowned. This place seemed to embody the very essence of Zaun - beautiful in its ugly harshness, deadly but full of life.

"Still, this is a better view of the sun than the rest of the city," he thought.

He tore his gaze away from the strange landscape and continued on. The letter in his pocket seemed to grow heavier, reminding him of why he was here.

Sirion paused, looking out over the water. Piltover was silhouetted in the distance through the light mist and ripples on the surface. Tall towers like giant machines reached toward the sky, and factory chimneys belched thick clouds of smoke into the air. He squinted at the majestic but soulless sight. The contrast between the shiny mechanical beauty of Piltover and the poisoned reality of Zaun hit him harder than he expected.

The water beneath his feet, shimmering in poisonous shades of green and blue, was direct evidence of this division. In this sludge, it was impossible to distinguish where nature began and where the waste of industry ended.

Of course Piltover doesn't care, he thought, feeling a dull anger boiling in his chest. All they care about is their own comfort. And the people of Zaun are expendable, dirt underfoot, ready to be washed into the nearest ditch. Or into this... sea.

Images from the past world floated into his mind: documentaries about cities with skyscrapers that neighbored slums, and about people living among the garbage that their more privileged neighbors created. But here, everything was much worse. It had always been hard for him, as a good person in his own opinion, to watch the inequality in the world. How some people get everything from birth, and when they grow up, they start rubbing their feet against those who were simply unlucky in the world. It was unpleasant to watch how unfair the world was...

Zaun simply did not exist for the people of Piltover. Its dirt, its smells, its diseases - all of it was far beyond their glass windows and sterile streets. It all flowed here, into beaches like these, turning what could have been a source of life into a source of poisoning. Sirion sighed heavily, watching the children on the shore continue their games, not paying attention to all this horror. They grew up among this, and for them it became the norm.

He began to understand Vi a little with her teenage maximalism in the series, when she wanted to encourage Vander to start a new revolution to escape from the clutches of Piltover... But is cruelty a way out when it comes to politics? In a way, yes, sometimes cruelty helps. The same America would never have been able to gain independence from Britain if it had not taken up arms. But they were far from each other, an entire ocean separated them and there was practically no chance for a possible re-escalation of the conflict due to huge financial losses. At the same time, Zaun and Piltover are right next to each other. And using the example of the same medieval Europe, where all the countries were neighbors and who were always taking up arms, it was already becoming clear to him that even if Zaun separated from Piltover by military means, it would not last long.

"And these are the ones who call themselves the pinnacle of progress..." he muttered quietly, looking at the horizon. His gaze fell again on the letter lying in his pocket. He squeezed it tighter, as if it could somehow influence his thoughts. "Time to go. I have no time to think about the justice of this world."

Sirion turned away, leaving the beach and the toxic water behind, but the feeling of bitterness continued to haunt him.

Sirion continued along the shore, still feeling the sting of what he had seen. The level of pollution was so obvious that he found himself wondering how anyone could possibly live in such conditions. However, the people of Zaun had no choice. After walking a few hundred meters, he stopped at a massive wooden platform, barely visible against the rocks and outcrops that lined the shore. The structure looked old and battered, but still sturdy enough for its purpose.

"Smugglers," Sirion squinted, examining the platform. It was unlikely that ordinary Zaunians used this passage. Everything about it, from the reinforced metal beams to the chains holding the elevator, indicated a secret purpose. It was a back door for those who wanted to avoid unpleasant encounters with the Peacekeepers, and probably one of the few relatively safe routes into the city.

"It's a good thing I know where to look for such places," he thought, taking a step forward.

The boards creaked under his feet, stopping him for a moment. The water beneath the platform made small splashes, tinged with the same sickly green color. He glanced around, but there was no one nearby. Slowly, he approached the elevator platform, reinforced with massive cables. Next to it stood a simple control lever, covered in a layer of rust. The elevator was clearly not used much, but it looked functional.

"If only the intelligence of Zaunite engineers could be put to good use," he muttered under his breath, pulling the lever.

The mechanism hummed, creaking and cracking, as if waking from a long sleep. The platform began to rise slowly, revealing dark, narrow passages leading somewhere upward.

As the elevator slowly moved, Sirion looked around again. His gaze lingered on the metal beams, which bore numerous notches and marks. Perhaps these were signs of those who had used this elevator before.

"The path that those who do not wish to be seen walk. I wonder how many stories such places hide."

When the platform stopped, a new level of Zaun opened up before him. The dark corridors, lit by rare lamps, looked empty, but their emptiness was deceptive. People clearly lived here, only they preferred not to show themselves unnecessarily. Sirion took a step forward, checking the ground under his feet, and began to move on. The letter in his pocket reminded him of the importance of the task. Now was not the time to be distracted. He needed to focus.

Sirion stopped at the edge of the docks, carefully examining the area in front of him. A dock stretched out in front of him, strewn with wooden planks and surrounded by several massive warehouses. The buildings looked shabby, with signs sagging and windows boarded up. However, the activity around them indicated that this was not an abandoned place.

People were milling about on the pier, mostly young men dressed in leather vests and bandanas on their heads. Some were moving heavy boxes, others were lazily leaning against the walls, watching the proceedings with apparent indifference. Some were walking around with radios, apparently giving orders, and several were patrolling the perimeter, looking around carefully.

Sirion instinctively held his breath when his gaze fell on one of the guard groups. These people looked like they knew they were worth fearing.

But that wasn't what bothered him the most. This place... it was familiar. Too familiar. He frowned, running through the images from the show in his mind. The warehouses, the pier, the guards, the tense atmosphere… The puzzle began to fall into place in his head. This was Silko's base.

"Damn…" he breathed out quietly, realizing where his mission had taken him.

Scenes from Arcane began to appear before his eyes. Here, destinies were made, here, plans were made that changed the entire structure of Zaun. It was here, among these warehouses and people, that Silko had built his empire, becoming one of the key figures in history. Sirion felt a heaviness rise inside him. He knew that Silko was more than just a crime lord. This was a man with a vision, who could destroy anyone who stood in his way.

"So this is what Finn meant when he said I was walking into the beast's throat," he noted in his mind. He knew from the show that Silko was a real asshole, but damn, with some kind of plan to separate Zaun from Piltover without open war, and despite all the hatred he got from watching it, he was one of the best characters in it.

But there was no turning back now. The letter in his pocket reminded him of the mission. He had to see it through to the very end, even if he felt the fear creeping up on him with every step.

He took a deep breath, calming himself.

"Okay, Sirion. Just do the job. Act natural."

He straightened his clothes, put on a mask of confidence, and headed toward the warehouse complex, preparing to meet one of the most dangerous people in Zaun.

Sirion paused behind the rough wall of one of the buildings, quickly assessing the situation. The area was busy, and trying to force his way through would only draw unnecessary attention to himself. He needed to be quiet and unnoticeable. He waited for a moment, watching the patrols as they crossed paths. Their routes seemed chaotic at first, but after a few minutes of observation, Sirion began to notice patterns.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Just follow the plan."

As one of the patrols turned a corner, Sirion slipped out of his hiding place and ran along the wall of a nearby warehouse, trying to move as quietly as possible. The noise of the pier - shouts of guards, creaking boxes, and the clatter of footsteps - helped to mask the sounds of his own movements. He ducked behind a pile of wooden crates stacked against the wall and pressed himself against them, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Another guard passed a few meters away, slowly turning his head from side to side.

"We need to act faster."

As the guard moved on, Sirion raised his head to assess the next area. It was only a few meters from the crates to the next cover, a metal container. He waited for a group of porters to pass by, and then quickly covered the distance, hiding behind the container. His heart was beating faster than he would have liked. Looking up, he noticed a small staircase leading to the upper level of one of the warehouses. It could be a good option to get around the crowd below. Sirion began to move in its direction, trying not to make any sounds, but suddenly heard loud voices behind him.

"Hey! Was someone there?"

Sirion froze. One of the guards stopped, apparently noticing something out of the corner of his eye.

"Just don't panic. Fear is the mind killer," he repeated in his mind, slowly lowering himself behind the barrier. A group of two guards began to move towards him. For a second, he thought he had been spotted, but then another voice shouted from afar:

"Hey, you two! Check the loading, don't just mess around there!"

The guards reluctantly turned around and left, leaving Sirion unnoticed. He took advantage of the moment and ran to the stairs. Quickly climbing up, he found himself on a narrow metal platform that ran along the wall of the warehouse. From above, he could see almost the entire area, including a small passage leading to the central building.

Now the only task was to safely descend and reach the right door. On the platform, there was another staircase leading straight to the ground, next to which stood containers, creating an ideal hiding place. He went down, trying not to make unnecessary noise. Now he found himself in an area with minimal visibility from the guards. All that remained was to overcome the last section.

Sirion moved from one hiding place to another until he finally came to a massive door. It looked menacing, like everything else in this place. After making sure no one had noticed him, he raised his hand and knocked. Now all he had to do was wait for a response, and he hoped that whoever opened the door would be at least a little friendlier than the guards outside.