Kapitel 4: Chapter 1.3 Welcome to Zaun
Zaun was almost always in a gloomy semi-darkness. Light fell only on the upper levels of the city, those closest to Piltover and its glittering, glittering skyscrapers. The lower you looked, the denser the darkness became. Thick, viscous, it hid the slums, as we know, they tried to wipe them off the face of the earth. Here, at the very bottom, the sun's rays were rare guests, giving way to the dim flame of lamps and the working glow of factories.
Sirion lost track of time. He could not tell what time of day it was in the courtyard. In this place, even day and night lost their meaning. There was not enough light, the sense of time became a useless luxury. Before his eyes hung the same sign, which through a mental link repeated the same message:
"System activated. Loading process - 12% ".
The system moved with excruciating slowness, as it had to struggle to exist in this world. Each percent took hours or more. Sirion felt his patience wear thin with each passing minute.
"Why is everything so slow?" he had asked himself this question more than once. But there was no answer. Silence, drops of water and the barely noticeable flickering of numbers that did not want to change in any way.
The only good news was that his head had finally stopped hurting. The pain that had been bothering him since he woke up had receded, leaving behind a strange feeling of emptiness. Sirion decided that this was most likely a consequence of the transference - the process had clearly hit his brain hard.
He did not know what had really happened to him. Had he been transferred entirely to this world, rejuvenating his body, or had he simply been thrown into the body of a boy who looked like him in his youth? At first glance, there were not many differences, except for the strange white color of his hair. But why white? - He mechanically ran his hand through his hair, as if that could provide an answer.
Sirion tried to connect everything he knew, but so far it was of no help. The same question was spinning in his head: "Who was this boy whose body I was now occupying? And what had happened to him for me to end up here?"
But the answers were clearly not going to come so quickly. Instead, the system loading line still hung before his eyes, which seemed to have become his only guide in this unknown reality.
Sirion winced and rubbed his itchy leg. This whole situation was starting to irritate him. The previous owner of this body, no matter how sorry he was, was clearly a native Zaunite, and one from the lowest strata of the city.
"How else to explain this appearance and clothing?" he thought, grimacing.
He was wearing a torn shirt, which, apparently, had once been white. However, time and unsanitary conditions had done their job - the fabric had turned into a dirty gray mass with stains that could not be washed off. The tattered khaki pants looked no better, their condition was quite consistent with the shirt. And the boots ... If you could still call them that. The shoes, apparently, had survived more than any normal person. The leather was cracked, the soles were almost worn out, and the laces were completely missing. And with all this, the boots somehow managed to squeeze Sirion's feet tightly, as if they were several sizes too small.
He jerked his foot in displeasure, feeling the skin under the boot itch even more. But he was frankly disgusted to take them off.
"What the hell? I'm already all dirty, my whole body is itching! I don't need to get my feet dirty in this horror." And the surrounding environment did not add to the desire to take off his shoes. All this garbage, damp mold on the walls and the disgusting smell made the desire to maintain at least some illusion of cleanliness almost instinctive.
- Now give me your junk, - a rough male voice was heard, somewhere down there on the street.
- Only over my dead body, bastard, do you know what it cost me to get this garbage?! - the second voice was younger in sound. - Rent collection doesn't start until tomorrow!
- Go to hell, you know perfectly well that you're behind on your rent, this is our neighborhood. Kindly pay or go to hell!
- Yeah, take it! - Ringing... It seemed like someone hit someone with something metal.
- Son of a bitch! - A scuffle and sounds of a fight began.
Sirion flinched, hearing loud voices coming from the street. Harsh words, shouts and the sound of metal hitting something hard cut through the viscous silence that filled the room. He approached the broken window carefully, trying not to make any noise, and looked out.
Below, between two leaning buildings, a real scene of what could be called Zaun's everyday life unfolded. Two men were locked in a fight. One was rough, massive, with close-cropped hair and dirty clothes that did not hide his muscle mass. The other was younger, thin, with a mad glint in his eyes and a face covered in a mixture of sweat and rage.
"Damn... Is this serious?" flashed through his mind. He automatically took a step back, away from the window. He did not need to look further to know that this was not a movie or a TV series. This was real life, where someone was about to get seriously injured or not make it out alive.
The sounds of fighting continued from below. The metallic clanking gave way to dull thuds, accompanied by curses and heavy breathing.
Welcome to Zaun...
A deafening roar was heard from below: metallic blows were replaced by screams, sounds of falling bodies and hoarse curses. The young guy, despite all his agility and desperate attempts to resist, quickly began to lose. The more massive opponent, apparently accustomed to such showdowns, used his strength and weight to quickly put his opponent in his place.
"I told you, pay up or get lost!" the man barked, pressing the guy against the dirty wall. His voice was filled with anger, and his breathing was heavy and ragged. In his hands he held something like a short metal pipe, clearly not the first time he had used it in such "negotiations".
The guy desperately tried to break free, but his strength was already leaving him. The last blow of the pipe landed right on his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. He fell to his knees, convulsively gasping for air.
- That's better, puppy, - the older one said rudely, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a dirty sleeve. - Next time, think about who you're arguing with. Now get lost before I change my mind!
The guy stood up silently, staggering, and cast an angry glance at his offender.
- You'll regret it... - he wheezed, barely keeping his balance.
- Regret it? - the man chuckled, demonstratively hitting his palm with the pipe. - You should be glad you got away alive. Get lost while you're still in one piece! - The young man didn't wait for a second invitation and, staggering, disappeared into one of the dark alleys. The man spat after him, then picked up some debris from the ground and, looking around, headed in the direction from which he came.
Sirion, watching what was happening, felt a chill of fear mixed with growing disgust.
"Damn it, this is everyday life for these people! Fists and brute force decide everything here. And I don't even know what to do if such a big guy stumbles upon me. How am I supposed to survive in this hell?" he thought, retreating from the window and sitting down on the floor, where the air, at least, did not give off such a thick bitterness of the street.
Sirion felt a cold sweat run down his back as his gaze met the eyes of the man. He froze for a moment, hoping it was just his imagination, but the man clearly noticed him.
"Hey, you there, boy! What are you looking at!?" he shouted, squinting threateningly. "Don't forget, you're overdue for rent too!" After these words, he waved his hand at his henchmen. They, without asking questions, rushed towards the building, clearly intending to carry out the order.
"Oh, shit…" flashed through Sirion's mind as he frantically tried to figure out what to do. He glanced around briefly, hoping to find something that could help: shelter, a weapon, or at least an escape route. But the small room he was in was as useless as it was destroyed.
"Fighting... I know a little, right? Boxing, karate... Hell, I barely made it to the yellow belt! I can't handle these gorillas." - his thoughts were spinning in panic. Sirion had attended martial arts classes all his childhood, but he had never been a particularly diligent student or an outstanding fighter. He would drop out after the first round of competitions, and he attended classes more at the insistence of his parents than out of his own desire.
"Idiot... Why did I even look out?!" - he bit his lip in frustration. Why did I watch a fight, and end up getting into trouble myself. Now, it seemed, there was no escaping the reckoning.
The footsteps became closer, their sound clearly audible through the rattling walls.
"Okay... There's no point in running away - they obviously know the building better. I need to at least think of something. Maybe pretend to be a harmless child? Or... or grab something heavy and fight back?" - his thoughts were racing as he frantically tried to figure out what to do. The room was empty, there was nothing at all. It seemed he was now sure that since they were coming to him to collect rent, the previous owner of the body lived here on a permanent basis, or used it as a place to sleep.
Sirion looked around the room again, trying to find anything that could serve as a weapon. His gaze fell on a piece of rusty rebar lying in the corner. It was thin and probably fragile, but better than nothing. He grabbed it with trembling hands and stood against the wall, trying to calm his breathing.
The footsteps were getting closer. The clatter of boots on the stairs echoed throughout the building.
"Focus, Sirion. This isn't a life-and-death fight, it's just... just a couple of Zaun hooligans that need scaring off. Maybe they'll be scared themselves if they see me ready to fight..."
Less than a minute later, the door to the room swung open. Two men stood in the doorway. One was tall, thin, with a predatory look and a crooked grin. The second one was short and stocky, clearly serving as the human wall in this pair.
"Heh, look at that kid, he decided to play the hero," the tall one looked at Sirion appraisingly. "You think this twig will save you?"
"Throw it, kid, and we won't hit you too hard," the second one added, clenching his fists with a crunch.
Sirion felt his hands holding the rebar almost tremble. But instead, he clenched his teeth and held it out in front of him, trying to look at least a little threatening.
"I don't know you," the voice sounded more confident than he expected. "And I don't owe you anything. So just leave, and there won't be any problems."
"Did you hit your head, I think?" the skinny one grinned, taking a step forward. "You came to our area yourself a month ago, you homeless kid." You cried all your money for us, saying you had no parents, nothing to eat. You asked to be given either a room or a job. Ah, although who am I telling this to?
Sirion didn't have time to answer - the stocky man suddenly rushed forward, trying to grab him by the collar. Sirion, driven by instinct, raised the rebar and struck. The blow landed on the opponent's shoulder, but was too weak to stop him. The man only growled and grabbed Sirion by the arm, tearing the rebar from his fingers.
"Boy, you just signed your own death warrant," he muttered through his teeth, raising his hand to strike.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein