Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route-Chapter 140: Undercurrents Stirring

"That’s it—I’m heading back, Lamb, Wolf. Thank you."

On the still, endless waters of Stillwater Lake, Logan looked at Kindred with genuine gratitude.

Wolf nodded with a grin and shouted, "Kid, next time you’d better bring me something good. Yeah, I’m one with Lamb, but Lamb likes books—I don’t!"

"Next time bring me some tasty humans. I wanna eat people! It’s been forever since I ate someone!"

Logan’s mouth twitched. "Absolutely not... Wolf, can’t you eat something else?"

Eat people?

Where am I supposed to find you people to eat?

And even if I could—say I grabbed Noxians and tossed them to Wolf—it might solve Zaun’s problems and satisfy Wolf’s little craving, but Logan couldn’t do that.

His bottom line wouldn’t allow it. Borrowing a god’s power to fight your enemies and kill them was one thing. Taking living people—beings no different from you—and handing them to a god as food was something else entirely.

It didn’t match his values.

It was like this: if you hear someone snapped in rage and killed, you might feel anger, pity, grim satisfaction, fear, maybe even understanding depending on why. But if you hear someone kills because they want to eat people... no matter what excuses they give, all you’ll feel is dread.

"He’s teasing you, Logan," Lamb said, smacking Wolf lightly. "We don’t eat people. When he says ’eat,’ he means hunting down souls that refuse to accept death—enjoying the thrill of the chase."

Wolf bristled. "That is eating people!"

Logan listened to them bicker, then laughed softly and finally let his breath out.

Yeah. Kindred, as part of the Kanmei faction, would never do something like "eating people."

Then Logan looked over at Ahri—and unlike with Kindred, he didn’t treat her with the same reverence.

He crouched beside Ahri, who was sprawled out napping on the water like she owned it, and poked her belly with a finger. The fur there was soft and pale, and her belly was warm and springy—way too fun to poke.

"What are you doing?!" Ahri snapped awake and glared at him.

She slapped his hand away with a paw, clearly annoyed.

Of course she was annoyed!

Logan was getting handsy again!

Fox-form was her real body, and Logan was poking her stomach!

But Logan, completely missing the point, just asked, "So what do you want next time?"

To Logan, fox-form Ahri was simply an adorable little animal. When you’re petting a cat, do you really avoid its belly on purpose?

Besides, Logan’s nerves around Ahri had long since faded—because their relationship wasn’t "benefactor and beneficiary" anymore. It felt more like... friends.

Ahri was mad about him touching somewhere private, but the moment she heard "next time," her mood flipped instantly.

She didn’t answer out loud. Instead, her voice slipped straight into Logan’s mind: "Be careful—don’t let Wolf find out you brought me all that good food. That’s all mine! I’m not sharing. Even if I eat alone, I still won’t have enough!"

"...Okay," Logan said.

Then she added aloud, almost shyly, "And next time... bring me more tasty stuff too, Logan."

"Deal," he said, nodding.

He was just about to leave Spirit Blossom.

This trip had been a big win.

Ahri’s affection went up. Kindred’s affection went up. And he’d gained Kindred’s Mark—an absurdly powerful ability.

Sure, most of what he had were passive abilities, but aside from Elemental Mastery, the other three were all mythic-tier.

In other words... abilities a demigod would have.

Spirit Blossom really was an incredible place.

But just as Logan rose to his feet, Lamb suddenly called out.

"Wait, Logan."

"Hm?" Logan looked back.

Lamb said, "Wolf and I have something we want to ask of you."

"Ohhh—Lamb, you want to find your memories again?" Ahri popped up at once, turning to Lamb.

Lamb nodded.

"I have to recover our memories," Lamb said quietly. "Why we appeared here. Why we became what we are. Why we are always together."

Wolf, too, lost his usual bounce. He stayed close to Lamb, listless, watching Logan.

"Find your memories... me?" Logan hesitated.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help. He was afraid he couldn’t.

If Ahri couldn’t do it, could he?

"Yes," Lamb said gently. "Don’t pressure yourself, Logan. I only want you to keep an eye out for anything that might help."

She faced him with calm warmth, hands held in front of her, chin slightly lifted. A sliver of her small, pale face showed beneath the mask as she spoke softly:

"Do your best. Whether you succeed or not, Wolf and I will still be grateful."

"...Alright. I understand." With Lamb saying it like that, Logan agreed.

[Kindred’s affection toward you +50]

[Special Character Kindred affection has surpassed 100. Friendship stage has reached Encounter. Special Character Panel unlocked.]

"Then I’ll be counting on you, Logan," Kindred said seriously.

Logan nodded. He exchanged a look with Ahri, then ended this descent.

——————

[Ending descent...

Calculating descent results—

Results:

Gained Special Character Ahri affection. Gained Special Character Kindred affection.

Exploration settlement in progress...

Exploration rewards obtained:

1: Soul Strength +0.6

2: Reached Encounter stage with Special Character Kindred; unlocked hidden info in this character panel.

3: Special Character [Spirit Blossom – Kindred] bestowed a special ability: [Kindred’s Mark]

4: Triggered affection reward: obtained 1 Swordmaster’s Soulstone.

Congratulations, Summoner.]

In the space, Logan looked at the soulstone in his hand.

[Soulstone (Bound)]

[Quality: Blue (Spirit)]

[Required Level: None]

[Description: A thousand years ago in Ionia, a young man sought vengeance for his family. Day after day, he practiced swordsmanship deep in the mountains, watching fallen leaves drift on the wind through spring and winter, summer and autumn. By observing the leaves, he grasped the wind technique. This soulstone contains the power of wind.]

Logan’s eyes lit up. He’d literally just been complaining that he had no active abilities—and now... was an active ability finally here?

He chose to use the soulstone.

[Using Soulstone]

[The Swordmaster’s Soulstone has released its power—]

[Gained the Undying One’s soul memories.]

[Extracted a skill from [Undying Swordmaster’s soul memories]: [Way of the Wind]]

[Congratulations, Summoner.]

"???"

Wait—what?

Way of the Wind?!

Isn’t that the technique Yasuo uses?

And why would it be Way of the Wind?!

After Elder Souma died, Yasuo was supposed to be the only Ionian who still possessed the Way of the Wind. And the reason Yasuo was hunted across Ionia as a fugitive was because everyone believed he’d killed Souma—because Souma died to the Way of the Wind!

And now Logan had the Way of the Wind?

Was the universe trying to make him take Yasuo’s blame?!

Logan’s expression turned strange.

But if he and Yasuo fought right now... who would win?

Logan remembered a cinematic where Yasuo cut a towering wall of wind dozens of meters high, blocking an endless storm of Noxian arrows, and his scalp went tight.

Then he thought it through.

If they truly fought, Logan should win. Yasuo’s swordsmanship was terrifying, but physically he was still only a bit stronger than a normal man—fast, but with low defense. If Yasuo didn’t have his blade, even Vander could probably tear him apart barehanded.

Still.

Getting saddled with someone else’s blame for no reason... was beyond frustrating.

Logan finally understood why Janna had screamed back then.

Because being forced into taking the fall really, really sucks.

Looks like when he eventually went to Ionia—before Yasuo and Riven settled their mess—Logan couldn’t use the Way of the Wind at all.

Otherwise, he’d absolutely end up "proving" Yasuo’s guilt again, and Yasuo would come looking for him the moment he caught wind of it.

And Logan wasn’t some battle-crazed maniac.

With that thought, Logan returned to the material realm.

He opened his eyes and looked at Singed, who was still staring at the stopwatch. Logan stretched and asked, "How long has it been?"

Hearing Logan’s voice, Singed shot to his feet, shaking with excitement. "Two minutes and thirteen seconds!"

"How did it go, Logan? Is there a way?"

Logan smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I found a way."

"But, Singed—let me check how to do it."

As he spoke, Logan looked toward the glass container on the bed, at Orianna’s cute, peaceful face.

Then Logan’s eyebrows lifted.

It really was different.

Unlike before, Orianna’s pale face now had a faint green glow at her brow.

"Can you open it?" Logan asked.

Singed didn’t hesitate. He reached for the container, disengaged the safety lock, and lifted the lid.

A sharp, chemical smell flooded the air. Logan reached out toward Orianna’s brow.

As the lid opened, the thick preservative liquid spilled onto the bed. Orianna lay calm and serene at the center, hands folded over her belly, wearing a beautiful princess dress.

"Don’t worry, Doctor. I already have a way," Logan added with a reassuring smile.

Singed nodded—then watched Logan press a fingertip to Orianna’s brow.

At the same time, a vision bloomed in Logan’s mind.

Stillwater Lake—peaceful and quiet—until a delicate, refined hoof stepped onto the surface. Ripples spread across the entire lake. Lamb stood above the water, while the wolf lurked beneath it.

In the boiling depths of Stillwater Lake, countless souls wailed and sang.

Logan understood how to guide a soul across.

He was Kindred’s emissary—the Spirit Blossom Kindred walking in the material world through him.

His fingertip rested lightly at Orianna’s brow, touching her soul.

"Orianna Reveck—by the name of death, I grant you a trial of the soul. Wake up, lost soul."

In his mind, Lamb extended a hand over the lake and spoke those words.

Some souls answered Lamb. Others howled and tried to flee—but Wolf lunged and clamped down on the ones that tried to escape.

"My name... is Kindred."

Logan whispered.

"Wmmm—"

A blinding white light appeared. Orianna’s body floated upward, and a green orb rose from her brow.

Singed pressed both hands over his chest, over his heart, staring so hard his eyes looked like they might crack.

Then he heard a voice.

"Father?"

Singed froze—and instantly lost control.

"Logan—was that Orianna? Was that her?!"

Logan was about to answer when the green orb vanished.

Orianna’s body dropped toward the bed. Logan moved instantly, catching her before she could slam into the container.

Holding Orianna in his arms, Logan looked at Singed and said, "We did it, Doctor."

"But... why isn’t she waking up?" Singed asked, frantic.

Logan smiled. "Her soul has gone to my friends. They’ll repair it—just like they repaired mine. When her soul is healed, Orianna will come back."

Singed went still, and Logan continued, "Doctor—everything you’ve done for Orianna is the reason she even has this chance. Without that, my friends couldn’t help either."

Wolf had said it: this was the last time.

Maybe it truly was, maybe not—but it was clear that repairing souls wasn’t difficult for the gods of Spirit Blossom. Returning a soul to a body was the hard part.

And when Wolf said that, Lamb had stayed silent.

Wolf could boast, lie, tease Logan—but Lamb didn’t.

Her silence meant Wolf was right.

"Then when will my daughter wake up?" Singed demanded, voice shaking.

"Soon, Doctor," Logan promised, smiling. "In a few months, I’ll bring Orianna’s body to Ionia. You’ll come with me. I swear I’ll give you back a living, laughing Orianna."

...

"Thank you," Singed whispered. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, hands covering his head, his voice trembling. "It really worked..."

"Logan—whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do it. As long as it doesn’t harm my daughter. Noxus is your enemy, isn’t it? I’ll make a chemtech concoction that brings their nation down. I’ll unleash a plague across Noxus, I—I’ll start right now—"

"Don’t, Doctor," Logan said, utterly exasperated. "I want your work to help Zaun. And besides, this was something I should do. We’re both from Zaun, aren’t we? Zaun rose because people here help each other."

Singed stared at him, then nodded. "Right. I’m Zaunite now."

Logan smiled.

At the docks of Bilgewater, a drunk pirate stumbled and fell into the sea. Panic sobered him instantly. He screamed for help toward the pier.

But the crowds on the docks moved as if they hadn’t seen him at all.

Confused. Furious. Then terrified—

Because in the water beneath him, he saw two eyes staring back.

Two eyes burning with dim, blue ghostflame—silent under the surface.

Then he saw an ancient wooden mask, carved and worn, marked with a strange purple barbed rune.

He went rigid, then terror detonated through him. His body shook as he tried to scream, but all that came out were bubbling gurgles.

He recognized the mask.

He recognized the symbol.

Death.

"Lamb... I just felt something strange," a voice murmured from the deep. "Like another reaper stole one of our followers. That shouldn’t happen. A soul belongs to the reaper it believes in. Our roles are clearly divided—we don’t interfere."

"My dear wolf, I felt it too," another voice replied.

The pirate’s last breath emptied from his lungs. His eyes rolled back.

"Perhaps, Wolf... we should go see."

"Whatever you say, Lamb."

In Noxus, Lenk County—a small town beneath the important city of Drekan.

Today, a fully armed cavalry squad arrived in Lenk County.

At the head of them was a Noxian nearly 1.9 meters tall, powerfully built, a massive greatsword strapped across his back.

"Welcome to Lenk County, Viscount Kiril," someone said.

"Spare me," Kiril replied coldly. "I didn’t come here for old times, Rettas."

Among the Noxians receiving the riders, a lean man with a goatee smiled. "Of course, Viscount Kiril. I’m not fond of small talk either."

"Come. Let’s discuss the profits you and I will take once Piltover is carved up."

Kiril sneered. "Forget it, Rettas. The high houses know. House Du Couteau has announced they won’t participate—but General Lincton has implied he wants a share."

"Lincton?" Rettas blurted, surprised. "Why would someone like him bother with a minor affair like this? It’s just Piltover."

"Minor?" Kiril snorted. "You think they’re idiots? It’s true they rarely leave the Immortal Bastion, but everyone knows how fast Piltover has grown these past years. Everyone except Darkwill—who knows nothing and only chases his immortality."

"In short, if we don’t appease Lincton, we may end up with nothing."

"I understand," Rettas said, nodding.

He’d never expected to swallow Piltover whole. Sharing was fine. More mouths at the table wasn’t unacceptable.

Because taking even one bite out of Piltover would be worth more than ten years of House Rettas’s income.

One bite. Ten years.

Noxus was poor—too poor.

Rettas’s eyes brightened as he thought of it. "Come, Viscount Kiril. Let’s talk strategy."

Seeing Rettas agree, Kiril’s face relaxed, his attitude turning friendlier. "Good. Let’s go."

While Logan knew nothing of it, somewhere in Runeterra, a powerful existence had begun to take an interest in Zaun.

And in Noxus, dark currents were stirring.

Some things were already one spark away from igniting.

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