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The next day, the sky was overcast.
The atmosphere over the twin cities, Piltover and Zaun, felt heavy and oppressive, blanketing the bustling region in a dreary gloom.
The sea breeze blew harshly across the estuary they shared, whipping up turbulent waves that crashed against each other in a chaotic rhythm.
Even in such grim weather, hundreds of merchant ships continued to come and go, undeterred.
Among the myriad vessels, a pair of ships stood out—a smaller merchant ship docked beside a grand pleasure boat, its hull adorned with the unmistakable crest of the Medarda family.
"I didn't expect to see two esteemed Piltover Councilors here," Silco remarked from within the cabin of the merchant ship.
He sat languidly, unaffected by the violent swaying of the vessel, his sharp eyes fixed on the man and woman who had just entered.
The man was Jayce Talis, a towering figure armed with his iconic hextech hammer, his expression serious and resolute.
Beside him stood Mel Medarda, poised and graceful, exuding a sense of authority.
Jayce tightened his grip on his hammer, his voice firm as he stepped forward.
"Silco, we know about the incident in Zaun yesterday. We understand your motives."
"And yet, here you are," Silco replied, his tone sharp and laced with subtle mockery.
"Shouldn't you be preoccupied with Stillwater Prison?"
"Violence isn't the solution," Jayce countered, his posture unwavering.
"The problems between our twin cities cannot be resolved this way."
Jayce loomed over Silco, his imposing frame casting a shadow, but his steely exterior masked an inner tension.
Silco, however, remained unflinching. He leaned back, his voice calm yet cutting.
"If you're so keen on finding solutions, you might want to consult your 'old friend' about the state of the Twin Cities. I have only one demand."
"You know we can't just let Jinx go," Jayce snapped, anger rising in his voice.
"She must answer for what she's done."
"Then we have nothing more to discuss," Silco replied, unperturbed by Jayce's growing frustration.
The tension between the two men thickened, threatening to escalate further, but Mel interjected with a measured tone, her voice cutting through the brewing conflict.
"Enough, gentlemen. We're here to find a resolution. Let's take a step back."
She turned her gaze to Silco, her expression soft yet firm.
"You know we've already announced the date of her execution. These constant disruptions put pressure on us, and we're expected to appease the public."
"That's your problem, not mine," Silco retorted, his tone cold and dismissive.
"If you fail to satisfy me, I can guarantee they'll be even more dissatisfied."
Mel held her composure, unshaken by his sharp words. She continued, her tone more deliberate.
"Piltover's defense systems have been significantly upgraded. It's not so easy to breach them now. You've burned your bridge with Viktor, and Zaun doesn't have the resources to spend on another war. If you're seeking a way back to Zaun, perhaps we can help."
Her proposition made Silco pause, his calculating mind processing her words. Sensing a shift, Mel allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
After a long silence, Silco spoke.
"I have a suggestion."
Jayce and Mel exchanged a glance before pulling out chairs to sit across from Silco.
For the next half-hour, the cabin was filled with quiet yet intense discussion.
When they finally left, boarding their pleasure boat, both Jayce and Mel seemed content with the outcome.
Silco, however, remained behind, alone in the small merchant ship. He gazed out toward Zaun, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
For a long time, he didn't move, his expression unreadable.
The stage was set. The show was about to begin.
----
The basement of the Noxian embassy.
Orianna sat serenely, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture as poised as a noblewoman.
Her gaze lingered on her reflection in the mirror, her mechanical eyes gleaming with a gentle light. She smiled—a sweet, wistful expression, as though trying to etch this moment into her memory.
"Do you still remember your dream, Orianna?"
Seraphine's voice broke the silence. Her vibrant pink hair framed a face filled with concern as she watched the Lady of Clockwork.
Orianna looked at Seraphine with an unusually tender smile, gently placing a hand on her chest.
"Seraphine," she began softly, her mechanical voice carrying a hint of warmth,
"I, too, dream of traveling across Runeterra with you and Mr. Ryan. To walk through the golden sands of Shurima, visit the Immortal Bastion of Noxus, feel the frozen winds of the Freljord, and listen to the symphony of nature in Ionia. There is so much I still wish to do."
Hearing Orianna's heartfelt words, Seraphine struggled to hold back tears.
She forced a smile, her voice trembling with determination.
"Sister Orianna, you will succeed. After today, I still want to hear your soul sing its passionate songs!"
Stepping aside, Seraphine composed herself and watched quietly as Orianna and Ryan made their preparations.
Today was the day of Orianna's mechanical ascension ceremony.
Her transformation into a fully realized Champion was almost certain to succeed. However, whether her soul could retain all of its emotions—this was something even Ryan, with his immense knowledge, could not guarantee.
It was widely understood that as a soul becomes increasingly detached from its body, it loses fragments of its emotions.
Even the most powerful undead retain only their strongest obsessions, their emotions dulled or fractured.
In response to this, Orianna had devised an unprecedented concept:
To use flesh and blood as a mold, forging a machine body to house her soul.
"The body of a living being is a profound mystery," Ryan said as he inspected the soulless lamp in his hand. Its green, flickering flame seemed to reach into the very essence of those who looked at it.
"We know so little about it. Orianna, are you ready?"
Orianna rose gracefully, bowing slightly in Ryan's direction.
Her expression was serene, her voice unwavering.
"Without a pioneer to take the first step, we can never know if the path leads to light. Every step I take from now on will be into the unknown—a journey that keeps me ever curious, ever alive."
Her mechanical smile gleamed as though all preparations were complete.
"I wish you success," Ryan said simply.
With that, a powerful surge of magic erupted from Ryan's body.
Blue runes shimmered into existence, weaving intricate patterns in the air.
The magic illuminated the chamber, its brilliance reaching beyond the walls and encapsulating the embassy in a radiant blue field.
Outside, squads of Noxian soldiers poured from the embassy, clad in battle armor. With weapons in hand, they secured every corner, standing as silent sentinels against any threat.
"Orianna," Ryan said, his tone solemn, "you have chosen the most painful and exacting path to transformation. I can only offer you the finest materials at my disposal."
He extended his hand, and a large mass of shimmering silver metal materialized in his palm.
"This is mithril steel—known as Demacian steel or rune steel. It is almost impervious to magic, though it can be shaped and engraved with runes."
With deft movements, Ryan traced runes in the air.
The glowing symbols flowed into the mithril steel, imbuing it with an intricate, magical resonance.
As the runes settled, Ryan released the metal, allowing it to disintegrate into smaller pieces that floated toward Orianna.
Ssssk!Click!
Each piece of mithril steel sank into Orianna's body. Though her smile faltered for a moment, she quickly shook her head at Ryan, reassuring him that she felt no pain.
More mithril steel followed, each fragment meticulously shaped by Ryan's runes before fusing seamlessly into Orianna. As the process continued, Ryan introduced additional materials—rare metals and components—engraving them with runes before integrating them into her evolving form.
The entire ceremony was Orianna's design, born of her brilliance and determination. Ryan's role was limited to the casting and magical engraving, ensuring every piece met her exacting standards.
Building on Viktor's groundbreaking research, Orianna had devised a solution that many would deem madness. She envisioned a transformation that went beyond any known evolution:
Her soul would act as the cornerstone. Her flesh and blood would serve as a temporary mold. A Hextech heart and mechanical lungs would provide energy, while her body became the crucible in which all these components fused.
Throughout the process, Orianna's will guided every detail. With extraordinary precision, she directed the materials to integrate with her frame—every millimeter, every cell shaped according to her imagination.
What emerged would not simply be a machine nor a being of flesh and blood. It would be the realization of Orianna's vision:
A true Clockwork demon, where soul, body, and machine fused into perfect harmony.