Arcane: Begging for Help in a Parallel Universe!

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When the Hextech revolver fired, there was no noise or loud bang—only ripples emanating from the barrel, like a gentle breeze ruffling the surface of a lake.

As the ripples spread, teardrop-shaped bullets struck their targets.

A thug holding a rusted cleaver had a gaping hole silently blown through his chest. The bullet then fragmented, scattering like dandelion seeds in the wind, spreading through the crowd.

In the blink of an eye, everyone fell like wheat under a scythe, collapsing silently into pools of blood.

The heavy scent of blood instantly filled the air, agitating the frenzied sharks in the waterways, some even leaping out of the water.

The rats in the shadows grew bold, rushing out to feast on the corpses right in front of Link.

Link lowered his gun and pulled a suitcase from his gear.

Though it looked like an ordinary suitcase, its silver-gray surface was covered in honeycomb-like patterns, each cell sealed and filled with faint yellow lights that flickered behind semi-transparent panels.

With his left hand, Link pressed down on the suitcase's handle, causing it to shrink slightly. All the cells opened, and a swarm of drone-like devices resembling wasps flew out, circling around him.

Link twisted the handle, causing a crystal screen to flip out.

The screen was made up of hexagonal tiles, each displaying a live feed of Link standing in place.

"Connection stable. Audio and video transmission normal," Link muttered to himself as he holstered his Hextech revolver. He then reached into a hole in the drone hive large enough for an adult arm. When he pulled his hand back out, it was now wearing a glove.

While his palm was covered, his forearm was adorned with small crystal indicators. Each time Link flicked a finger, a different light would illuminate.

Compared to his previous life, where he could control multiple drones with a single terminal, Link now had to resort to a more primitive method.

He used the drone hive as a base station, linking it to the "queen controller" on his right hand. This allowed the queen controller to precisely manage all the drones through the base station.

Of course, there was a quicker way.

Link could simply blow a breath of magic onto the drones, imbuing them with life.

But this version of the drone hive was just the prototype. Once he developed the fourth generation, he planned to hand over this first-generation model to his family for their use.

So, he needed to ensure the operating system was ready for future users.

As Link's fingers danced, his eyes remained fixed on the crystal screen. Each hexagonal tile displayed the view from a different drone.

With a flick of his fingers, Link divided the drones into three groups: one for aerial surveillance, one for scouting the surrounding streets and alleys, and one for infiltrating nearby buildings and securing high ground.

In an instant, the screen split into sixty different feeds.

Link had to simultaneously process the information from all sixty drones while precisely controlling each one.

As soon as the drones spread out, Link's eyebrows raised.

In corners where ordinary people wouldn't notice, gang members were watching him.

"Of course, none of these guys can sit still," Link sighed, shaking his head. He began recording, saving the footage from the drones into the hive's internal storage for later use.

"Eliminate."

Link clenched his fist, and the crystal screen instantly turned red. The drones' indicators shifted from a soft yellow to a dangerous red.

Then, each drone fired pencil-thin beams of light, systematically taking out every gang member visible on the screen.

"Control system stable. Hive signal connection normal. Drone combat capability test complete."

As Link muttered to himself, the drones continued to search for any remaining threats.

Suddenly, the drones hovering above Link turned their attention to the river behind him.

The frenzied sharks that had been in the water had vanished without a trace. A burly man with a soaked beard and a oil-paper-wrapped package climbed silently out of the water.

As water dripped from his body, he approached Link, unwrapping the package to reveal an absurdly large double-barreled shotgun.

The shotgun's barrels were wide enough to fit a child's fist, and the steel gleamed coldly in the sunlight. The wooden stock promised a comfortable grip and smooth firing experience, while the quick-reload magazine design made it a favorite among its users.

"Relax, buddy—"

The bearded man aimed the shotgun at Link, pulling out a fresh oil-paper package and lighting a cigar with a match.

Link glanced at him, his eyebrows rising slightly.

It seemed the gang leaders weren't completely incompetent. They had managed to convince this man to join their assassination attempt.

Malcolm Graves, alias: The Outlaw.

A man who loved cigars, heavy firepower, and Twisted Fate.

Graves puffed on his cigar, the barrel of his shotgun tilting upward as he gave Link a seemingly harmless smile. But with his menacing expression, it was hard to take his gesture as genuine.

"Take off that thing on your right hand. I'm not messing around," Graves said, the tip of his cigar glowing brighter as he spoke. "Otherwise, this beauty in my hands will give you a kiss so hot, you'll learn what it means to be struck by destiny!"

Link glanced at Graves' prized shotgun—Destiny—and smirked. "Don't embarrass yourself by showing off this piece of junk, alright?"

"Poor design, no matter how big the caliber, can't hide its fatal flaws—reload speed and gunpowder efficiency."

"Only the most arrogant, self-deluded brute would use such a weapon and treat it like a treasure."

Graves' expression darkened, his teeth clenching around the cigar as he took a deep drag.

You could insult him, his background, his crimes, even his friend Twisted Fate.

You could call Twisted Fate a son of a bitch, and he wouldn't care.

But you couldn't insult his weapon, his Destiny!

It was his pride and joy!

"Take that back," Graves growled, leveling the shotgun at Link.

Exhaling a cloud of indigo smoke, he spoke in a low, dangerous tone:

"Kid, I suggest you take it back."

Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 140 on my patreon go take a look and remember if you reach 160 stones of power I will publish the next chapter.