“What the fuck was that?”

  Vi looks on in disgust as the fleshly tendrils melt away from Viktor’s palm, revealing the patchwork, rotting skin where a hole burned in his glove.

  Heimerdinger stands on his toes, trying to see what the others are gawking at. It takes Viktor a few seconds to snap back to lucidity, the Hexclaw staring at him like a concerned friend. Its singular blue… no… orange eye greets his own. Looking him up and down, its claw-like prongs move in and out in satisfaction. Like a cat curling into a bed, the Hexclaw folds into its portable base without a single command. Its languid motion feels natural, like something Viktor should be used to seeing.

  The Hextech scientist attempts to ball his fist, but a much stronger grip forces it to stay open, “Viktor,” Ekko’s voice whispers, “We need to bring you to a hospital, come on. We don’t know what that tooth did to you.”

  Viktor’s feet stay planted. When Ekko gives a more forceful tug, his left foot slides, but his right is immobile, “Ekko, the tooth didn’t do this,” he takes a deep breath, giving out a final statement, “I’ve been this way since we met.”

  Every footstep stops. Vi and Scar look uncomfortably confused, but Heimerdigner and Ekko have a disturbing realization cross their minds.

  “So this is what you meant by ‘cured?’” Ekko asks, already aware of the answer. When a nod comes from Viktor, the Firelight just shakes his head.

  “My boy…” The professor mutters, shaking his head. Concern is flowing across every fur of Heimerdinger’s face.

  “It has come with some side effects, but I assure you, I am fine. I’m cured,

  I’m dedicated,” Viktor contemplates for a moment, then, he lies, “It holds no power over me, don’t worry.”

  Viktor has no idea if that is true. In fact, he strongly suspects the truth of the matter to be the opposite of his claim. Back in the lab, just the Solver’s words were able to lock his joints, freezing his nerves and muscles and making him into a half-flesh statue. It’s been weighing on him why exactly the Solver didn’t end him then. If it really had control over him, it could have thrown him out the window, stopped his heart, or any number of lethal methods, really.

  But it didn’t.

  Viktor could only construct two theories. The one he chooses to believe is that the Solver simply can’t do that: its power is to stop him, not to control every part of him. The other is far more concerning to the scientist; the second theory is that it wants him alive for some specific reason.

  A small part of him hopes it just didn’t think of it, but he knows that’s unlikely.

  “You’ve been the one pushing to hunt this monster: I don’t doubt you, Viktor,” Ekko kindly reassures him, patting his shoulder. Heimerdinger pats his knee with a similarly kind intention, his gentle touch soothing Viktor. The two fellow scientists beside him do much to loosen up the tense atmosphere. Upon Ekko’s show of support, both Vi and Scar turn away, continuing forward. Viktor could see their reservations painted like graffiti across their faces, presented flamboyantly, but suppressed and restrained out of respect for Ekko.

  When the group resumes down the dimly lit path, the silence is awkward, the walk becoming more uncomfortable than walking with a limp would be.

  “It seems I soured the mood…” Viktor chuckles dryly to Heimerdinger, the Professor’s orange and white face easily able to be made out even among the scarce light.

  “My boy, it must be a shock to those two. I haven’t met Vi before, but I guarantee Scar is a good fellow. A bit uptight, maybe, but it’s hard to blame him. They'll come around dear boy, I’m sure.”

  “Your optimism is enviable, Professor, but I hope you’re right.”

  It doesn’t take too long to reach their destination. Conversely, it takes Viktor a few seconds to realize upon stopping what the destination actually is. To the far side of the path—blended seamlessly into the stone walls as if sewed in—is a streak of red. Approaching the discolored section—Vi in the lead with raised gauntlets—Viktor fights the urge to gag.

  The smell of burning meat fills his nostrils, but not in the good way. Nothing about it reminds him of charcoal grills, or a nice restaurant. The smell is rancid, like a rotting, dead rat trapped in the basement of an abandoned home. The gentle hiss of steam rings in his ears and blows into his eyes; Not horrible, but thoroughly unpleasant. It irritates his senses, making him squint at the harsh flow rushing toward him and the others in the group.

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  Ekko moves everyone back, raises his mask, and silently goes in. Scar seems surprised, but quickly does the same, trailing behind his leader.

  Not even a minute later, a gloved hand emerges from the steam, beckoning the rest in.

  Viktor goes in before Heimerdinger but after Vi. He finds the fissure much narrower than he anticipated, having to squeeze in sideways and shimmy against the steam. The ‘backpack’ that houses the Hexclaw doesn’t stick out far, but it’s enough to make the gap much more difficult to traverse than it should have been.

  Viktor brings his arm to the size and presses his gloved palms against the wall. A shiver runs up his spine like a train, making every nerve shake like a rickety trestle. A squelch overcomes the now loud, harsh hiss of rushing steam. The sound makes him think of tripping in the mud as a kid. The sound the mud made was almost as gross as what he just heard.

  He uses only his fingertips to guide him, the close presence of Heimerdinger—who is still walking like normal—serving to help his anxiety. The tunnel narrows even more in the coming seconds, the Hexclaw’s housing scraping violently against the fleshly wall behind him. Viktor can feel the wall bleeding, spurting out crimson like a poorly butchered animal, staining his clothes and shoes.

  With the steam almost blinding, Viktor can’t help himself…

  He opens his mouth and digs his fingers into the wall ahead, letting droplets trickle in like a thirsty man in the rain. It isn’t much, but it calms him, satiates him temporarily. Perhaps it’s just the illusion of satisfaction, but he’ll take what he can get at this point. His diet may be picky, but he won’t be picky about his diet.

  He quickly shuts his mouth when an arm grabs his shoulder, yanking him sharply into an open area where Viktor can breathe clearly again.

  Ekko kindly dusts him off, but the motion does nothing to the blood soaked into the scientist’s clothes. Viktor takes it upon himself to wipe his face, clearing the blood off his lips.

  Heimerdinger emerges seconds later, walking out of the steam with an arm raised over his face. With everyone present, Ekko raises a light stick, the warm, fleshly walls, ceiling, and floor pulsing like the insides of a gigantic creature.

  Along the floor, Viktor gets to see how the steam begins. Along the ceiling, it flows like a river of mist, cloudy and flowing calmly before speeding up and rushing into the tunnel they came from. From the top, the steam drips, warm droplets of water occasionally plopping against his skin or plinking against the metal of the Hexclaw.

  “Is this cave alive?” Vi asks wondrously, using her gauntlet to poke the meaty insides with brutish intrigue.

  “Yes and no, it seems…” Viktor observes, rolling over a chunk of flesh in his hand, “There are blood vessels everywhere, but no nerves or receptors anywhere… and why? The blood is just looping, so it isn’t oxygenating anything…”

  Heimerdinger’s small finger draws a line across the arteries. His eyes widen, and he rapidly touches different parts of the chunk in quick succession. A quick gesture from the yordle to do the same, and so Viktor repeats the motion with his left hand. Even through the gloves, he can feel the difference in temperatures. The flow toward the entrance is hot while the flow deeper into the cave is cold. It hits Viktor right then what the purpose of the blood flow actually is.

  “Cooling!” Ekko slaps his mask, the voice distortion from said object making his realization sound much more like a threat than a ‘eureka.’

  Viktor’s mind wanders to himself. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say then that he doesn’t need to drink blood, he only needs a coolant.

  …

  Why does it use blood, though?

  Seems woefully inefficient…

  It’s not like blood is necessarily terrible coolant, but supplying it must be—oh… the Solver probably doesn’t have an issue obtaining blood. Since his problem is overheating, perhaps Viktor doesn’t need to use blood. Maybe a more humane—and cheap—alternative can be found.

  When Viktor tried eating a normal snack, he puked it up, so normal food is likely off the table. Water? Lots of steam is present in these caves. It’s probably not intentional from the Solver, since the steam seems to be coming from natural ice and water being released and then expunged from the caves. Maybe Viktor could use water though—it’s worth a try at least.

  Heimerdinger flicks the chunk away, averting his eyes to the darkened tunnel ahead of the group.

  “I say we turn back,” he says seriously, his eyes squinting at the impenetrable steam and shade, “We’ll have better chances if we report this fissure and bring enforcers.”

  Faced with the prospect of using a non-sanguine coolant, Viktor believes he has more time than he initially thought. Growing fangs and breaking mirrors is concerning but nothing necessarily illegal. The blood collection is his biggest hurdle to overcome.

  “I concur. I vote we leave and request professional support,” Viktor begins to turn around, facing toward the fissure they came from.

  A wall of steam blocks his view of the crack. The inverted river of gas was rushing into the exit, but it now strikes against stitched flesh, exploding outward in tendrils of fog before coalescing into gentle droplets and absorbed by the flesh.

  Vi immediately rushes forward, slamming her mining gauntlets against the stitched-closed exit. Blood explodes outward, covering her gloves and face. She keeps digging, prying where the stitches—if those rusted metal clips could be called that—close the gap.

  The walls clench, overcoming the combined strength of Vi and Hextech, closing shut with a fleshy snap. In just seconds, the stitches more than triple, growing rapidly like teeth from either side before digging into the other.

  “Shit…” Vi whispers.