Chapter 1: Awakening
The first thing Steven Liam felt was pain.
Not the kind that screams from an open wound or the sharp agony of something broken. It was deeper, dull, disorienting, like his body was waking up after being frozen and shattered at the same time. His chest ached with each breath, his fingers numb and uncoordinated.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the dim amber light.
Stone walls. Brass fixtures. The steady hiss of steam rising from unseen vents. Pipes lined the corners of the ceiling, and a mechanical valve ticked softly somewhere nearby. The room was unfamiliar, industrial, and vaguely Victorian in design. It looked like something pulled out of a video game or an animated show.
He sat up slowly, groaning at the stiffness in his limbs.
That was when the window caught his eye.
It framed a view of elegant towers and narrow bridges suspended above glimmering canals. Lanterns lit the skyline in shades of gold and blue, while airships glided soundlessly between rooftops. The city was beautiful, advanced, strange.
And familiar.
No. It couldn't be.
He rushed to the window, heart hammering in his chest.
Piltover.
...
...
He recognized the skyline. The architecture. The glow of hextech in the streetlamps and vehicles. He'd seen it before in Arcane. Not just once. He'd binged the show on Earth, obsessed over it, analyzed the lore, followed fan theories. It had been fiction. A brilliant, heartbreaking work of art.
And now it surrounded him.
"This can't be real," he whispered.
But it felt real.
The cold against his skin. The scent of oil and ozone in the air. The dull throb in his head. His reflection in the glass young, sharp-featured, pale. Not the face he remembered. Not the same tired man who used to scroll Reddit in his apartment, wondering if life had passed him by.
He stumbled back from the window and scanned the room in a daze. There was a small desk, a battered wardrobe, and a cracked mirror hanging above a wash basin. His legs moved on instinct, and when he looked into the mirror, the truth became unavoidable.
He was someone else.
Or rather, he was still Steven Liam. That name was written on a worn identification card on the desk. But this body wasn't his. He looked sixteen, maybe seventeen at most. His hair was black, unkempt, his jaw still soft with youth. And his eyes violet, unnaturally bright stared back at him with fear and disbelief.
"Reincarnation?" he muttered. "I... died?"
He tried to remember. A vague blur. An impact. Darkness. Maybe a car crash? Maybe something worse. He couldn't grasp the details. But everything before this moment felt so distant now, like a fading dream.
I died. And woke up here.
A folder lay open on the desk. Inside: student records. Class assignments. Engineering blueprints and basic diagrams of hextech circuitry. Notes scribbled in a handwriting he knew wasn't his but also was.
He flipped the pages carefully, his heart sinking as he read.
Name: Steven LiamStatus: Orphan – Raised under the Academy Welfare ProgramApprentice Inventor, Tier One
...
...
An orphan. An apprentice. No family. No allies. No powers.
Just a name. Just a life built from nothing.
His stomach twisted. The excitement of waking in a fantasy world, the surreal wonder of seeing Piltover with his own eyes it all began to collapse under the weight of dread.
This wasn't a game.
He wasn't a chosen hero. He wasn't Vi or Jayce or Jinx. He had no Shimmer coursing through his blood. No hexcore whispering ancient secrets. Just a scared kid with memories of a TV show and no idea what the rules were now.
The world of Arcane wasn't safe. It was a powder keg. One that would eventually explode.
Steven sank onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.
How am I supposed to survive this?
What am I even supposed to do?
...
...
A knock startled him.
He tensed.
"Steven?" a girl's voice called from behind the door. "It's Elsie. You alright? You missed your lab shift."
He took a deep breath, wiping the panic from his face. "I yeah. Sorry. I'm coming."
His voice sounded thin and unfamiliar.
He grabbed a coat from the hook by the door. It was fitted perfectly for his frame. This was his life now. This body. This world.
I don't know why I'm here, he thought, stepping into the hallway, but if I'm going to survive… I need to learn fast.
The halls of the Academy dormitory were a blend of stone craftsmanship and gleaming metal, warm lamplight guiding the way. Elsie was waiting curly hair pulled into a tight bun, her sleeves rolled up and eyes filled with a mix of concern and annoyance.
"Sleep in again?" she asked, half-smiling.
He nodded mutely.
She didn't press. "Come on. Kenson's probably already marking us absent."
Steven followed, legs heavy, head spinning.
He didn't know what came next. He didn't know what the future held.
But he did know what this world would become if nothing changed.
And for now, that terrifying knowledge and the burning fear of being powerless in the middle of it was all he had.