Arcane: Sea of ​​blood

The days in the hotel flowed slowly, like a thick, toxic fog enveloping the streets of Zaun. Abel lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the shimmer gradually leave his body. Each breath was filled with a strange calm, but with it came emptiness. He was used to solitude, but now it felt more oppressive than ever. Over the past week, he had only gotten out of bed twice to explore the city, adding new details to his mental map. The rest of the time he spent in a half-sleep, waiting for the chemicals to finally leave his system. The shimmer turned out to be a surprisingly persistent drug, and its effects were still lingering—mild dizziness, tingling in his fingertips, and strange dreams in which he saw himself from the outside, as if observing someone else's memories.

One day, when Abel had already begun to grow accustomed to the monotony of his days, there was a knock on his door. He didn't react immediately, but the knock repeated—persistent, yet without aggression. Abel slowly rose from the bed, feeling his body protest against the sudden movement. He walked to the door and opened it without asking who was there.

On the threshold stood two thugs. One was tall and broad-shouldered, his face covered in tattoos that Abel didn't immediately recognize—this was one of Silco's subordinates. The other was slightly shorter but no less imposing, with a cold gaze and a scar running across his left cheek. Both were wearing protective masks with filters, resembling the design of peacekeeper masks but without the upper part, leaving their eyes exposed. Their clothing was practical and functional, with numerous pockets and belts holding weapons and tools.

"We've come on behalf of Silco," said the tattooed one, his voice calm but with an edge of caution. "He wants to meet you."

Abel silently looked at them, assessing the situation. He noticed that, unlike members of other gangs, these two showed no fear. Their eyes were cold and calculating, as if they already knew who they were dealing with.

"And what can he offer me?" Abel finally asked, his voice quiet but laced with indifference.

"We're just messengers," replied the second one, his voice muffled by the mask. "But Silco said he has something you need. Resources, information… and something more."

Abel thought for a moment. He knew Silco wasn't one to make empty promises. But he also understood that any deal with him would come at a price. He studied them carefully, weighing every word. He didn't believe in coincidences. If Silco wanted to meet him, it meant he had some kind of interest. He remained silent, thinking.

Then his thoughts somehow returned to the heavy gas mask he had been wearing for so long, feeling it like an uncomfortable, suffocating burden. He could feel how his breath had partially corroded the inside of it.

"Take off the mask," Abel said in a detached tone, extending his hand.

The tattooed man hesitated, his hand involuntarily reaching for the mask, but he didn't rush to remove it. Abel felt irritation boiling inside him.

"This isn't a request or a question," he said, his voice quieter but now carrying a threat. "Take off the mask. Now."

The thug, for all his strength, wasn't used to such challenges. However, he had been warned more than once not to cause trouble with this kid, and his instincts told him that there was power hidden within him. He finally removed his mask and handed it to Abel. Abel took it, examined it carefully, and pulled it over his face. The mask fit perfectly, and he felt a slight relief—the bulky gas mask had become unbearable.

"Alright, let's go," Abel said, stepping into the hallway.

The journey turned out to be longer than he initially thought. Along the way, he couldn't help but recall the two smugglers he had used to get to this place.

After half an hour of walking, Abel became bored. Looking around lazily, he thought about how to entertain himself. Seeing the tattooed man looking at him nervously, Abel decided to tease him.

"Hey, tattooed guy," he said, pointing to the patterns on his face. "Is that a map of Zaun? Or are you just afraid of getting lost?"

The thug frowned but remained silent. The second one, with the scar, merely smirked.

"And you," Abel continued, turning to him, "with that scar, you could be the face of gang recruitment. 'Join us—and you'll look as cool as me!'"

The scarred man didn't respond, but his face darkened just like his companion's. Feeling the atmosphere in their group become more pleasant for him, Abel noticed a faint smile on his own face.

Finally reaching the outskirts of Zaun, they arrived at a place that turned out to be a seemingly abandoned factory. But inside, life was bustling. Sturdy-looking people were busy with their tasks: some forging swords, others butchering local wildlife, and some simply sitting by a fire, discussing the latest news. Abel saw that what united them all was the fire in their eyes—life, anger, and determination—unlike most residents of Zaun, who had long since resigned themselves to their fate.

Passing through the labyrinth of corridors in the abandoned factory, Abel and his escorts found themselves in a spacious room that clearly served as Silco's headquarters. The walls were covered with maps of Zaun and schematics, with red lines marking strategic points. In the center of the room stood a massive table cluttered with blueprints, weapons, and strange devices that Abel couldn't immediately identify. The air smelled of metal, oil, and something else—something chemical, sharp, reminiscent of shimmer but more... refined.

Silco stood by the table, his dark, piercing gaze fixed on Abel. He didn't look scared or hostile. On the contrary, there was something like... interest in his eyes. No, even more—admiration. Silco looked at Abel as if he saw not just a person, but something greater. As if Abel was what Silco himself aspired to but hadn't yet achieved.

"Leave us," Silco said, not taking his eyes off Abel. His voice was calm, but it carried an authority that brooked no argument.

The tattooed man and his scarred companion nodded silently and left, closing the heavy metal door behind them. The sound of it slamming echoed through the room, and for a moment, silence reigned. Abel stood opposite Silco, his body relaxed but his mind working at full capacity. He assessed the situation: exits, possible cover, objects that could be used if necessary. But Silco didn't seem threatening. On the contrary, his posture was open, and his hands rested freely on the table.

"Sit," Silco offered, pointing to a chair across from him. "If you want, of course."

Abel slowly walked to the table and sat down, never taking his eyes off Silco. His gaze was cold, but inside he felt a strange relief. This was the first time someone had tried to speak to him as an equal, without fear or attempts at manipulation.

"So, you already know who I am?" Abel asked, his voice quiet but tinged with weariness.

Silco smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. Rather, it was the smile of someone who knew more than they were letting on.

"I do," he replied. "You're the one who came out of nowhere. The one who survived where others perished. The one who... isn't like the rest."

Abel frowned. He hadn't expected such a vague answer. It sounded too much like the fortune-tellers from his previous life.

"And what do you want from me?" he asked, his voice sharper now.

Silco leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes still studying Abel.

"I'm offering you cooperation," he said. "No threats, no prejudice. Just a conversation between equals."

Abel felt something shift inside him. Equality. That was what he had been missing since arriving in this world. Everyone he had encountered either feared him or tried to use him. But Silco... Silco seemed to look at him as an equal. Or at least wanted Abel to think so. After all, his experience with Randal had taught him that the language of force, so familiar to this place, didn't work on him.

"And what are you offering?" Abel asked, his voice slightly more relaxed.

Silco smiled, and this time there was something genuine in his smile.

"I can help you control your powers," he said. "Unlock their true potential. And, of course, share information, resources that I'm sure you need right now. I see potential in you. You may not realize it, but people are watching you now, with fear. But with fear comes respect. They fear what we so desperately need right now. Power. You're like the living will of Zaun, emerging from nowhere," Silco finished, looking into Abel's glowing eyes, which stared back at him emotionlessly.

Abel thought for a moment. He felt two emotions battling inside him: the desire to cooperate, to move forward despite the past, and the all-consuming apathy fueled by the desire to return to where he had come from, just to escape the world around him. But something about Silco... something made him want to believe.

"And what do you want in return?" he asked, his voice more interested now.

Silco leaned forward, his mutated eye focusing on Abel.

"Your help," he said. "You're strong, Abel. Stronger than you realize. And I want you to use that strength to achieve our shared goals."

"Shared?" Abel asked skeptically.

Silco nodded.

"I want to change Zaun," he said. "You want to find a place you can call home."

For the first time in a long while, Abel was genuinely surprised. Was that what he wanted? Perhaps it was, but how did Silco know? In his confusion, he began drawing parallels between Silco and professional fortune-tellers. But no matter how much Abel thought about it, the idea of such a place seemed rather appealing.

"Why do you think that?" Abel finally asked.

Silco turned to Abel, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked out the panoramic window, where the murky, toxic waters of Zaun occasionally revealed the massive shadows of mutated fish. After a moment of silence, he replied.

"A child who receives no warmth from home will burn it to the ground just to feel it," he concluded, still gazing out the window.

Abel wanted to argue about his actual age, but he wisely decided to remain silent. Everything he had seen so far showed that Silco was someone he could work with, or at least try to, especially in the absence of alternatives. Vander? As he had said, he was ready to die for Zaun but not to fight for it—he wasn't the man Zaun or Abel needed. The other chem-barons? At the thought of them, Abel remembered the botanical garden he had created a few days ago.

"Alright," he finally said. "I agree. But if you try to betray me, I'll destroy you and everything you've built."

Silco smiled, tearing his gaze away from the depths of the water, his eyes gleaming.

"Welcome to the team, Abel."