Arcane: Bond Beyond Death (R18)-Chapter 44: Episode 43: Bael

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Jayce's voice cracked as he spoke, weak but firm. "We'll let you go... but you never come back. Never bring this havoc to our city again."

Mel's eyes widened, disbelief twisting her face into anger. "Jayce, are you out of your mind? We can't let them—"

Jayce raised a trembling hand, cutting her off. He pointed toward Bael, or rather, to the crude yet deadly Type Nuke in his proximity. The unstable glow of the hexcrystals pulsating through the liquid chamber made everyone uneasy.

"We don't have a choice," Jayce said, his voice heavy with defeat. "One wrong move, and it's over—for all of us."

Mel gritted her teeth, fury boiling beneath her composed exterior. But she knew he was right. Her hands balled into fists, but she remained silent.

The air grew heavier as Viktor entered, his cane tapping softly on the floor. His breathing was labored, his body frail, but his mind was sharp.

Behind him, Heimerdinger stepped forward, his small form tense. His usually warm, wise expression was replaced with concern and shock. He peered at the device Bael had assembled with wide eyes.

"What... what have you done?" Heimerdinger's voice was barely above a whisper, laced with dread.

Bael said nothing. He only tightened his grip on the machine. The threat was clear—one wrong move, and Piltover would become nothing but ash.

"I'm sorry doc... but your negligence of Zaun was the reason for all this..." Bael seemingly apologized, letting go of the Type Nuke.

Bael moved towards Jayce, his sharp voice pronounced, "Deal."

Jinx's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "What?! Deal?! We have the upper hand here! We could take all these fuckers out right now!" Her voice was sharp, wild, the adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

Bael didn't look at her. His gaze stayed fixed on the weapon in his hand, his jaw tight. "I'm not risking your life... or Vi's." His tone was low but resolute. "We're talking about a Type Nuke... Even I can't control the detonation. It's all or nothing... We get out of here safe and sound, that's what matters." Bael said.

Jinx gritted her teeth but didn't argue further. She trusted him—even when she hated it.

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Before another word could be said, the door burst open once more. Caitlyn Kiramman rushed inside, her uniform slightly disheveled, her hand instinctively resting near her sidearm. Her sharp eyes scanned the room in seconds, locking onto Vi.

And then—something snapped.

It was like the world around her dulled for a brief second. The tension, the danger, the nuke—it all blurred. Her gaze was fixed on Vi. She didn't know her. Had never met her. But something deep, instinctive, almost primal, stirred within her chest.

Vi, catching the stare, froze for a moment. She noticed the way Caitlyn's breath hitched, the way her fingers twitched.

But this wasn't the time.

Bael raised his hand, holding the nuke like a death sentence over everyone's head.

Mel shot a glance at Caitlyn, silently telling her to hold herself together. Caitlyn tore her eyes away from Vi, nodding stiffly, though her heart was pounding in a way she couldn't explain.

Bael's grip tightened around Jayce's hand as their palms met—but then everything froze.

The room, the enforcers, Jinx, Vi—time itself seemed to shatter like glass.

Bael's eyes widened as he was yanked from reality, his consciousness spiraling into a suffocating void. A place beyond comprehension. Darkness stretched endlessly, but in its heart... something was wrong.

"....What... the fuck... is that..." Bael's voice trembled, his gaze locking onto it.

The Anomaly.

It pulsed—a distortion in space, a crack in existence itself. A twisted mass of swirling void and bleeding light, warping everything around it. His instincts screamed at him to look away, but he couldn't. It was like the universe itself was holding his head in place, forcing him to witness it.

And then—it emerged.

A shadow stepped forth from the heart of the Anomaly, its form flickering between shapes—inhuman, formless, yet eerily familiar.

The figure loomed over Bael, eyes burning like dying stars, voice echoing from beyond reality.

"You've been chosen."

Bael's breath hitched. He knew this presence.

Memories resurfaced—buried deep, hidden from even himself. Flashes of pain. Fire. Screams. And that voice... always watching, always waiting.

This was no ordinary specter.

Bael whispered through gritted teeth. "You... I remember you... You said the same thing a month ago... In the factory..."

The shadow leaned closer, its presence wrapping around him like chains.

"And I remember you... Bael."

The void quaked. Reality strained. And then—Bael was back.

Bael stumbled back, his chest heaving as he grasped at his arm—his biological arm. Smooth skin, no metal, no scars from Shimmer injections. His body felt... frail. Normal. The power that coursed through his veins was gone.

What the fuck...

He looked down—tailored Piltover attire, clean and proper. He almost didn't recognize himself.

"B-Bael, what's wrong?"

His head snapped up. Jinx—no, a new Jinx—stood before him. Same face, but softer, her eyes wide with concern, not madness. Her hair was neatly braided, not wild. There were no scars, no soot, no bloodstains, no tattoo's—just a gentle girl who looked like she had never held a gun in her life.

His throat tightened. "J-Jinx...?"

Her face twisted in confusion. "Huh...? Who's Jinx? It's me, Bael! Powder! Did you hit your head or something?"

Bael's heart pounded louder. He stepped back again, his instincts screaming. This was wrong. This was so wrong.

Powder's voice softened, but worry crept in. "It's not a good time for jokes! The job interview isn't gonna work itself."

Bael froze.

"Job interview...?" Bael mumbled under his breath.

His mind reeled, trying to process the reality he had stumbled into. This wasn't his world. This wasn't his Jinx.

This was another life. Another Bael. A version of him that had never been scarred by Zaun's underbelly. And she... she was never broken.

Powder was still whole. Still innocent. And apparently... his girlfriend.

"Bael... listen to me," her voice lowered, steady, but firm. "If we want this—our future together—if we want to get married, start a life, you have to prove yourself to Vander. You know how he is... He's always watching, making sure I'm with someone who's... worth it."

Bael's heart twisted. Vander. Alive? Here?

Powder's gaze softened again, but the seriousness didn't leave. "Getting that job is the first step. You show him you can stand on your own two feet, that you can take care of me—of us—he'll see you're not just another kid from the Lanes. He'll respect you."

She smiled faintly, trying to lift the weight in the air. "And you know me... I'm not gonna settle for some loser. Hehe~."

She nudged his arm playfully, but there was a tremor beneath it—a shared understanding. This was their future. Their shot.

Bael stared into her eyes, the dreamlike warmth of this world colliding with the brutal reality he had come from. His fists clenched.

For Powder—for this Powder—he'd prove his worth a thousand times over.

"Bael... you know I love you," she began, her voice low, almost trembling, "but... I won't be left behind." Her gaze flickered, like she was wrestling with the words. "Vi's out there making a name for herself. Claggor's moving up. Even Mylo's got his place. But me? I'm still just... Powder."

Her jaw tightened. "I need this. We need this. If we're gonna get married, we have to do it like Rockstars."

The vulnerability in her voice cut deeper than any knife. This was the girl who had always watched others climb, always feared being left in their shadow.

Bael's heart pounded. This Powder—untainted by scars and madness—still carried her fears. Different, but familiar.

He nodded, his hand covering hers.

"I'll get that job," he promised.

Her lips twitched into a smile, but that spark of envy still lingered in her eyes.

Bael stepped into the interview room, his pulse quickening the moment his eyes landed on them—Viktor and Jayce.

They sat across a sleek metal table, sharply dressed, their eyes sharp, assessing. Yet, they weren't the broken men he had seen before. Here, they radiated confidence, power—builders of progress, untouched by tragedy.

Bael's muscles tensed instinctively, his mind flicking back to his reality—violence, blood, survival. He was on guard. Jayce caught the subtle shift in his stance, and his lips curled into a faint, approving smirk. He liked it.

Viktor leaned forward, his cane resting beside him, eyes glinting with curiosity. "We appreciate punctuality," he said, voice calm but firm.

Jayce crossed his arms. "We value skill more."

They introduced themselves formally, professional yet precise. No pleasantries beyond what was necessary. Then, Jayce slid a small collection of tools and materials across the table.

"The test is simple," he said. "Build something. Anything. One hour."

Viktor glanced at the clock. "Starting... now."

A sharp click echoed as the timer began.

Bael took a breath, his confusion still bubbling beneath the surface—What is this place? Why am I here?—but he shoved it aside. Instinct took over.

Survival, in this world or the other, meant proving his worth.

He grabbed the tools. His fingers danced over the metal, gears, and wires. His heart raced, but his hands were steady. He had no idea what he was making, but he knew one thing:

Failure wasn't an option.