Half a month had passed since the upheaval that had shocked the entire Undercity.
As unbelievable as it sounded, and as wild as the rumors had become, the weight of witnesses and physical evidence had slowly turned it into accepted fact.
Renni's gang, which had ruled the eastern factory district for more than ten years, really had been wiped out by a single young man.
Some said he was a monster who couldn't feel pain. Others said he swung a giant cast-iron axe like it weighed nothing at all.
Whatever version people told, the Undercity had gradually accepted one thing:
this time, the Hound of the Lanes was truly young.
"Long time no see, Huck."
Van polished a glass behind the bar and greeted the scrawny man who had just stepped into the tavern.
"It's really you, Van? Thank God! I thought the Lanes were really... really finished!"
Huck had entered looking timid and nervous, but the moment he saw Van standing behind the counter, he visibly relaxed.
Over the past half month, the Lanes—once on the verge of splintering apart after the disaster—had slowly started coming back to life.
Of course, plenty of younger men with ambition had used the chaos as a chance to join more energetic, more promising outfits, like Silco's.
But a large share of the others, especially the ones who wanted stability, had drifted back to the Lanes.
Because even if Van was only the tavern owner in name, his recent reputation was enough that ordinary troublemakers did not dare stir up trouble in Lanes territory. In the middle of all the unrest, this district had become the only patch of peace left in the Undercity.
And Van welcomed anyone who came back.
Young or old, sick or broken, it made no difference to him.
Compared to how bleak it had been just half a month ago, the Last Drop was already much livelier now.
"Who else would it be?"
Van smiled and poured Huck a beer.
The two of them went back a while, and he knew Huck could never handle the stronger stuff.
"Where the hell have you been lately? I thought some punk had cracked your head open and dumped you in a drain somewhere."
"Haha... no. But I was scared of exactly that, so I hid. Right up until I heard the Lanes had a master again..."
"No, no, no. Right now I'm only the master of the Last Drop. Strictly speaking, the Lanes still don't answer to me."
"Then who else would they answer to? Nobody dares cross Torvan now!"
Van only laughed and did not deny it.
The massive axe, nearly two meters long, stood propped beside the bar. The bloodstains on it still would not wash clean, and in the dim light they gave off a faint, dark red sheen.
His own intimidation was part of it, naturally.
But more important was Silco's tacit approval. He seemed content to let Torvan slowly take Vander's place in the Lanes.
As long as Silco's reach stayed out of the district, Van had no reason to care about petty thieves and minor gangs.
"Oh, right, Huck. I need to ask you something."
Now that he had a free moment, Van took out his pipe, lit the tobacco, and drew in a deep breath.
By now, he had finally learned the old family trade.
"The stock here's running low. But I've got no idea where to buy more. Vander never taught me."
"Oh! That... I remember the suppliers Vander used to buy from... I..."
"That's perfect. How about I leave that to you?"
"Me?"
Van nodded and looked at him seriously.
"I trust you. You'll handle supply runs for the tavern. Once a month. How's that sound?"
"Well... I don't know if I'm really up to it. But... I'd like to help."
"That's great. Then—ah."
Out of the corner of his eye, Van spotted someone walking into the tavern.
Someone he very much did not want to see.
"Hey, Ekko. Help Huck out for a minute."
"Huh? Me?"
Ekko looked up from where he had been sorting bottles and pointed at himself blankly.
"But I'm not old enough to drink."
"Use orange juice instead."
Van said it casually, then turned back to Huck with an apologetic look.
"I've got to step away."
"Oh! Go ahead!"
Huck got the message and took his beer off with Ekko to find a table, while Van, pipe in mouth, turned toward the unwelcome guest.
"That look of yours almost kept me from recognizing you, Doctor."
"Mm... just a minor mishap in the lab."
Singed sat down across from him and looked at Van with one good eye, calm as ever.
He no longer had a single hair on his head. Most of his scalp had been badly burned. One eye looked completely dead, and even the area around his mouth was wrapped in bandages.
He looked nothing like the man Van remembered.
And the ruined eye in particular made Van's own brow throb in sympathy.
Was that just the fate of anyone who worked with Silco? Van himself had come dangerously close to losing an eye not long ago.
Even now, half his left eyebrow was gone.
"With that lovely face of yours... should I even bother pouring you a drink?"
"Mm... probably not."
Singed seemed entirely unfazed by the mockery in Van's voice. He just sat there, looking at him.
Van let out a sigh. "All right, then. Why are you here?"
"Ever since the last time we went our separate ways, I've regretted it, child."
"Really? I've been pretty grateful for it."
"I've never seen anyone with your mind. Not even back when I was at university in Piltover. You were my finest student."
"And I always saw you as my teacher."
Van exhaled a stream of smoke and shook his head.
"But with all due respect, your research never belonged to any proper path. We were never going to walk the same road."
"Mm. You're just as stubborn as ever. But if you watched someone you loved die right in front of you... would you still cling to your principles?"
Van's eyes hardened at once.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, planted both hands on the table, and looked down at Singed.
"What are you trying to do?"
"It's not what I'm trying to do."
Singed reached into the folds of his wide robe and pulled out a purple vial, placing it on the bar.
"Silco has already decided to restart large-scale Shimmer production. Before long, this stuff will flood the Undercity."
"What?"
Van picked up the glass vial full of purple liquid and stared at the bubbles inside, his expression tightening with disbelief.
"Shimmer is something I gradually worked out from one of your old designs. There's a piece of your work in it."
Then Singed pulled out a second bottle.
Inside this one was a lump of green, gelatinous slime. An old label was still stuck to the side.
[ZAC]
"This was your creation back then. I still don't fully understand it myself. But what I extracted from it helped me develop Shimmer."
"Then you're going to be disappointed. Honestly, that thing was an accident. I don't really understand it either."
"I believe in your talent," Singed said. "Just as I've always believed that one day, we would end up on the same path."
"I usually call that wishful thinking."
"Either way, I've put it in your hands. What you choose to do next... is up to you."
[End of chapter]