Three days later.
"You really don't want to come back to Piltover with me?"
Duke looked at Miss Fortune as he extended his invitation, but she merely shook her head with a soft smile. "I'm fine here. I can do whatever I please. You, on the other hand, should hurry back and do what you love—your research."
"Alright then."
Duke patted Tahm, who obediently opened his enormous mouth. With a single gulp, he swallowed Duke whole and began his Abyssal Voyage back to Piltover.
After spending three full days together, Miss Fortune could already tell that Duke's mind was somewhere else.
After all, there were still several projects he hadn't started yet. Staying with her brought him peace, yes—but whenever he thought of those untouched experiments, an unbearable itch crawled under his skin.
He was a man who couldn't sit still without a challenge.
Seeing that, Miss Fortune decided not to hold him back. What's the point of keeping him here if he can only look but not touch? she thought with a knowing grin. "Go on, then."
As Tahm disappeared into the swirling vortex of water, Miss Fortune sat back down and resumed sewing tiny clothes.
Camille had already returned three days earlier, and when Duke came, she'd asked Tahm to send her back as well. Duke had even entrusted Evelynn to Camille for further training.
At the entrance of Duke's workshop.
Rippling water formed a sudden whirlpool, and Tahm leapt out from it. The moment he landed, he opened his gaping maw again, allowing Duke to step out.
Seeing the familiar interior of his laboratory, Duke took a deep breath. "Ahh… now this feels like home."
Nowhere else could ever compare to his lab.
Tahm, wisely, didn't linger. After what Miss Fortune had told Duke about his "leaking" information, the catfish knew better than to hang around—lest he end up dissected on Duke's operating table.
Duke ignored him, pushing open the door and striding inside. The moment he entered, he placed Edith—his AI core—onto the sensor dock.
Instantly, Edith synced with the lab's control system.
"Welcome back, boss."
A blue holographic projection flared to life above the central console, downloading Duke's task logs from his time in Demacia.
"Edith, pull up the mission logs."
"Right away, boss."
Within seconds, lines of entries appeared, neatly organized across the display.
"All logs compiled."
"Let's see…"
Seated at the central console, Duke leaned back as a mechanical arm extended beside him, handing over a freshly cut cigar. The arm lit it for him, and he took a deep drag.
"Which one should I start with…"
He flicked his fingers, scrolling through the floating task list.
"Begin construction of the Third Original Sin?"
He skimmed through the entry, then shook his head. "Not urgent yet."
"Magnetic Storm Weapon development?"
"Eh, not in the mood for weapons."
"Tanya's Genetic Serum project?"
"That one needs more groundwork first."
Finally, his gaze landed on Pym Particle Synthesis Formula.
"Perfect. Let's start with this one. Once I get Pym Particles working, half my future research projects will open up."
The formula was complex, requiring a wide range of specialized tools.
"Edith, connect me to Dakel."
"Connecting now…"
Moments later, Dakel's face appeared on the monitor. "What is it, Duke? I heard you're back from Bilgewater. Need me for something?"
"I do. I'll be sending you a schematic—build me a blank workshop frame based on it."
"Didn't you already have enough workspace?"
Duke took another puff from his cigar, looking entirely unfazed. "I'm building a mobile workshop for myself this time."
Dakel rolled her eyes. "Fine, my dear mad scientist."
"Oh, and ask Lux what kind of workshop she wants. I promised her one too—might as well build both together."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"That's all."
As the call ended, Duke's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Alright then… let's get started."
Two days later.
"Adjust the accelerator's output frequency—drop it from 560 to 320."
Wearing his goggles, Duke observed the particle accelerator as Edith fine-tuned the settings.
"Understood, boss."
The accelerator's hum softened, its output stabilizing.
"Good… almost there."
Duke's hand rested on a switch, eyes locked on the liquid swirling within the containment chamber.
"Just a bit more…"
His left eye flickered with analytical focus, tracking every molecular shift. When the reaction hit its threshold, he slammed the switch.
Electricity crackled through the chamber, flooding the catalyst with power. The liquid inside blazed with brilliant light, and within seconds, its color deepened into a glowing crimson.
"Stop the accelerator—success!"
"Acknowledged, boss."
The machine powered down. Duke stepped forward, eyes shining.
"Finally… the Pym Particle, completed. Now I can begin research on the Ant-Man suit—and beyond."
He carefully extracted a vial of the glowing red substance, turning it in his hand under the light. This wasn't just a discovery—it was a revolution.
With this, he could step beyond the macro world and begin exploring the quantum.
"Time for testing."
He placed the vial on his workbench and began crafting prototype weapons—replicating the iconic Pym Discs from Ant-Man.
The concept was simple: a disc that could enlarge or shrink objects upon contact. But sealing the Pym Particles was the hard part—exposure to open air would instantly activate the particles, causing anything nearby to shrink uncontrollably.
Improper storage could easily turn his entire lab into a dollhouse.
Half an hour later, Duke held a palm-sized circular disc, with two buttons—red for shrink, yellow for enlarge.
"Let's give it a try."
He summoned a target dummy through Edith, pressed the red button, and threw.
Beep!
The disc blinked red midair—then struck.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the life-sized dummy shrank to the size of an ant.
"Ha! Success!!"
Duke picked up the miniature dummy, eyes blazing with manic triumph.
"Next up—weaponization and field testing. I'll need to design portable labs and integrate new armor systems."
His grin widened as he gazed at the remaining Pym Particles.
"I could even create a collapse bomb—one detonation, and everything within ten miles implodes into nothingness."
He rubbed his palms together, excitement surging. "Alright, one month of isolation. No stepping out till it's all done!"
Meanwhile, somewhere in Piltover.
"See that? This is what Piltover's everyday life looks like—dull and pretentious," sneered Baron Takeda, the alchemist, as he gazed out the window.
Behind him, a woman lounged on a sofa, tapping her fingers impatiently on the armrest.
"Those two Enforcers and that psycho kid have already wrecked half our operations," she said coldly. "How long are we supposed to wait? The underworld's about to boil over!"
Takeda turned toward her. "Patience, Lanael. The man I invited is already on his way."
"On his way?" she scoffed. "When he gets here, we'll all be rotting in Stillwater Prison!"
"Relax. The man I hired isn't some nobody. He's an artist—from Ionia."
"An artist?" Lanael arched a brow. "Zaun doesn't need artists. We need someone who can kill."
Takeda's smile widened. "Oh, I never said he paints with brushes. His art is made with gunfire."
Lanael's expression faltered for a moment. "…You mean—"
"That's right." Takeda's grin deepened.
"Khada Jhin."
"Also known as—the Virtuoso."
End of chapter....
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