Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route-Chapter 152: Me, a Lunatic? Yeah—That’s What Everyone Says

Chapter 152: Chapter 152: Me, a Lunatic? Yeah—That’s What Everyone Says

Sett took the wraps his mother had made and headed toward the workshop.

The workshop owner’s wife loved his mom’s wraps. If Sett didn’t bring them, she’d come over and demand them herself. As far as Sett was concerned, that woman had absolutely no shame.

Walking along the path, Sett brooded about why his mother insisted he study in Piltover. He couldn’t understand it. If he got into Piltover Academy, would his life with his mother really get better?

Would studying make people stop hurting him?

Sett didn’t think so. The people who hurt you did it because you were weak—and more importantly, because you were different.

He had animal ears. Not like his mother, who had a tail and claws—her Vastaya traits were much more obvious. But just Sett’s big pink ears were enough to make him a target for kids his age.

Your ears are disgusting. Your mom is ugly.

You’re a freak. Your dad didn’t want you.

The damage from a child’s words wasn’t weaker than a blade through flesh—sometimes it cut even deeper.

When he was little, his father was still around. As a pit fighter, the man blocked those rumors for Sett and his mother. With his father’s brute strength and violent reputation, all the nasty whispers stayed outside their door.

But once his father vanished and left, those people came back.

And Sett learned one thing:

A fist was the best weapon for making rude people learn manners.

But his mother wouldn’t let him fight. She’d even forced him to swear he’d never step into the arena like his father—never enter that world.

That made Sett miserable. On one hand, he loved his mother. After his father left, Sett understood how much she’d sacrificed for this home. He understood how hard she worked.

But on the other hand, Sett wanted to chase his father’s shadow.

Not because he loved that man.

He wanted to find him, beat him flat, spit in his face, and demand to know why he’d abandoned them and disappeared.

Because of him, his mother had been driven out by her people. Once she’d been with a human, she was no longer allowed to stay in the tribe.

And she didn’t care—because by then, Sett had already been born.

For Sett, she was willing to leave her people behind, endure human contempt, and force herself into a human village.

She wove cloth day after day. The clothes she made were treated like filthy rags by those people—but she never got angry. She’d just smile apologetically and make them again.

Sett’s cloth always had to be cheaper than everyone else’s, and even then the villagers still didn’t like buying it. Other weavers would come looking for trouble, too.

Sometimes Sett wanted to punch their faces in.

But he knew if he did, his mother would only be sadder.

He wrestled with those thoughts the whole way—until his chubby ears twitched in his dark pink hair. Sett stopped, alert, eyes scanning both sides of the road.

The workshop sat at the edge of the village. Out here there was only that one household, so it was quiet and empty.

Bondweave Village didn’t have many people to begin with. On this narrow path, Sett should’ve been the only one.

But he still stopped.

His hearing—sharper than any normal kid’s—caught breathing.

"Come out," Sett sighed. Carefully, he shoved the wraps inside his clothes and called out toward the trees ahead. "I can already hear you."

Rustle—rustle—rustle.

Trunks trembled. Leaves shook. Three or five kids dropped down from branches, and a few more stepped out from behind the trees on either side.

"Do the smart thing, you animal freak," the leader sneered. He was a little over five feet tall—slightly taller than Sett—with black hair and long limbs, staring at Sett with open contempt.

Sett looked at him. "Link. I already apologized. You already beat me up. Can we just let that go?"

At that, anger and a flicker of fear flashed through Link’s eyes. Then he shouted, loud enough to prove something to himself, "In your dreams!"

"You think you’re tough? You think you can fight back?!" Link yelled.

That "thing" Sett was talking about was Link’s humiliation.

Back then, three of them had jumped Sett together—and Sett had snapped and beat them down. Afterward, their mothers dragged them to Sett’s house to demand justice. Link hadn’t wanted that. He thought his problems should be handled by his own hands.

But his mom was terrifying.

In the end, Sett’s mother apologized publicly on Sett’s behalf and paid them with several lengths of cloth—enough to equal half a month of income for Sett’s family.

By any measure, Link had "won."

Sett lost face in public. Sett’s mother lost face. Sett’s family paid compensation.

But Link still didn’t feel satisfied.

Because that wasn’t what he wanted.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted Sett to bow to him completely. He wanted Sett to be afraid of him.

And Link targeted Sett so hard because that animal freak never fit in.

An outsider, and still arrogant.

Link had even tried to "accept" Sett once. He’d invited Sett to play with them, offered to let Sett be his underling.

Sett had refused—flatly, without giving him any dignity.

That was when the grudge started.

"Fine," Sett said, seeing there was no talking his way out. He lowered his head, squatted down, then lay on his side on the ground.

He closed his eyes and said, "Go ahead."

"You think I’ll let you off just because you do that?" Link ground out through his teeth. There it was again—always this.

What Link hated most was Sett’s calm, self-assured, "I’m above you" attitude.

"Get him!" Link waved his hand.

The kids rushed in and started punching and kicking Sett in a circle.

Sett did his best to protect his face, tucking his chin to his chest and wrapping both arms over his head.

He couldn’t let Mom find out he’d been beaten outside. If she knew, she’d cry again.

Seriously... sometimes Sett couldn’t understand his mother at all. She wouldn’t let him fight back, but every time he got hurt she’d look devastated and blame herself.

At first, Sett had been furious and confused. He couldn’t understand what she wanted.

You’re the one who won’t let me fight.

And you’re the one who cries when I get beaten.

But later, Sett stopped caring about that contradiction. Anger became calm. Confusion became acceptance.

He only knew one thing:

He couldn’t make Mom cry.

She was already exhausted.

And she truly loved him.

As long as that was true, it was enough.

Getting beat up didn’t matter. Their punches and kicks weren’t that strong. It would hurt all afternoon, he’d sleep one night, and the next day he’d be fine again—alive and kicking.

"Damn it, this freak’s tough!"

"Kick his head!"

"Where’s the stick? Get a stick!"

They hit harder and harder, but Sett didn’t make a sound.

That only made them nastier. If Sett had screamed, they would’ve stopped, satisfied, and left.

But the quieter he was, the more humiliated they felt—like Sett was looking down on them.

Sett hugged his head. Of course it hurt. He was already getting angry.

Without him realizing it, his eyes started to glow with a faint gold under his lids.

But Sett clenched his teeth and forced it down.

Don’t get mad. Don’t get mad.

Think about Mom. Sett—you can’t cause more trouble for her.

She’d endured so many dirty looks and cruel words because of him, so he could endure this too.

He told himself that over and over, sharp canine teeth grinding together, until his lips split and bled.

Then a voice chimed in—light, teasing.

"Wow. You can really take it. Logan said you’re a wolverine, but that’s wrong. You’re a turtle."

The kids froze.

Sett opened his eyes. Dusty and filthy, sprawled beneath a mess of feet, he looked through the gaps between their legs and saw who’d spoken.

A girl with beautiful long blue hair, down to her shoulders, smooth and loose. Pale skin. Delicate features. A cute, pretty face flushed with healthy color.

She wore local Ionian clothing—a blue-and-white robe—but it was covered in pink graffiti and little cat paw prints painted in blue.

Her long white legs gleamed softly. Crossed neatly, they gave a glimpse of denim beneath.

On her feet were sleek black boots, bouncing lightly as she sat on a rock, chewing on a piece of fruit.

"Why’d you stop?" she called out, loud. "Keep hitting him."

She took a big bite—chomp, chomp—shifted position, and sat cross-legged on the rock.

One hand hooked around her foot, the other held the fruit. She slouched forward and swayed as she stared at the kids, like she was watching something entertaining.

"Why’d we stop?" one kid muttered near Link. "That’s the workshop owner’s wife... My mom said don’t mess with her. Our pots and tools all depend on her repairs."

"My dad said the same. They’re the only blacksmiths in the village."

"What do we do, Boss Link?"

Link gritted his teeth, looked at Sett, lifted his foot, and stomped hard on Sett’s head—hard enough that fur tore from one of Sett’s ears. Link yelled, "Hit him! She told us to!"

"I told you to?" The blue-haired girl blinked, then nodded with a bright smile. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I did. That’s right."

She kept eating, watching Sett get beaten like she was enjoying a snack.

"Hey!" Sett shouted, voice cracking with indignation. He glared at her and yelled, "You eat my mom’s wraps all the time, and you’re just going to stand there and watch me get beaten?"

"Do you even have a conscience?!"

The girl blinked again, then spread her hands with a grin. "A conscience? I don’t have one~"

The fruit—down to half—dropped from her fingers onto the ground. She shifted again, now lying back on the rock. One hand picked at her ear, the other propped up her cheek as she blew on her pinky like she’d just done something important.

"And because your mom feeds me, I’m supposed to fight for you?"

"Don’t be stupid, kid."

"If you’re waiting for someone else to save you, then you’ll be on your knees waiting your whole life. Logan said it: if someone can’t grow the will to resist, then no one can help them."

"A turtle is a turtle. You’ll never flip your life over."

Her tone was pure disdain.

"You think I can’t beat them?!" Sett snarled through the beating, anger vibrating in his chest.

"Then hit back," she said, eyes brightening with excitement.

The provocation snapped something.

Sett’s rage surged past his restraint. A faint golden glow shimmered through his hair. He raised his fist and swung at a kid beside him—

And stopped right before impact.

The kid froze—then swung back and punched Sett hard.

"So lame," the girl said, sticking out her pink tongue in disgust.

She sat up and shouted at Sett, "Sett, I’ll tell you a secret."

"Your mom is wrong. You shouldn’t listen to her, understand? Because sometimes weakness and kindness don’t earn respect. A world where kindness is always repaid with kindness only exists in fairy tales. You want respect? Then show your muscles."

"Power works. Intelligence works. Money works. In the end it’s all just so dumbasses can talk to you calmly. You have the strength to fight back, but you’re tying yourself up. What, are you really going to be a turtle? Like your mom?"

"Shut up!" Sett exploded.

You could insult him all you wanted. But his mother was off-limits.

"You want me to shut up? Wow!"

"I’m teaching you the life philosophy I distilled with my own brain, and this is how you treat me? You’re rude! You’ve got no class—motherfcker, you are fcking annoying!"

She suddenly started cursing as she walked toward Sett, like that one "shut up" had truly offended her.

As she approached, she picked out a stone from the ground. Then she shoved through the kids and placed the rock into Link’s hands with a serious face.

"Hit him with it."

"Ma’am—" Link’s body twitched. He stared at the stone, voice shaking. "We just wanted to teach him a lesson."

He swore to everything holy—he only wanted to beat Sett up.

He never wanted to kill Sett.

At the end of the day, Link was just a kid.

But the girl shoved the stone into his hands anyway, glaring like he was hopeless.

"When I was your age, I could kill people. And now I tell you to hit one guy and you’re scared?"

"Hit him. He talked back to me."

Link’s lips trembled.

He wanted to ask: Sett talked back to you—what does that have to do with me?

And besides, Sett didn’t even insult you. He just told you to shut up.

But when he met her bright blue eyes, he swallowed every word.

Because this woman was a lunatic.

Everyone in the village knew it.

When the couple first arrived, some men in the village couldn’t help making a few flirty comments—nothing too extreme. Ionia’s culture was still pretty simple, even if the Noxians had changed things.

So it was just the usual: You’re pretty. You’re adorable.

And what happened?

Her husband didn’t even have time to react.

She pulled out a pistol and fired, scaring the flirty man silent—then beat him until his teeth were knocked out.

After that, the village loved and feared the couple in equal measure. Loved their craftsmanship. Feared the workshop owner’s wife, because she did things normal people couldn’t understand.

"Hit him," she said suddenly, blowing a strand of blue hair off her forehead.

She was so cute that, at a glance, she didn’t look much older than Link and the others.

But the things she said were terrifying.

"Time’s almost up. Decide."

"I..." Link saw her narrow her eyes, that smile curling at her mouth. He clenched his jaw, grabbed the stone with both hands, and hurled it at Sett.

Sett froze.

As the stone flew toward his head, his first thought wasn’t how much it would hurt.

It was whether it would leave a scar.

But just as it was about to smash into him, a gunshot cracked.

Bang!

A bullet that flashed with blue light punched through the stone, shattering it into fragments that rained down at Sett’s side.

Sett and the kids all stared at the girl.

She held a sleek pistol in her right hand, lips puckered as she blew on the smoking barrel. Seeing everyone looking at her, she grinned brightly.

"Hee. I was kidding. You really threw it?"

Link: "..."

"Since you’re so obedient," she said cheerfully, "let’s play another game."

"Escape Party—how about it?"

She raised her pistol toward the kids, licked her lips, narrowed one eye, and mimed aiming.

All the kids went rigid.

They’d never seen anything like this.

"The game is simple. You run for ten seconds. I shoot. Let’s see if I can hit you."

"Come on. I’m starting at ten."

"1!"

"Huh? You’re not running?"

Bang!

The bullet zipped past Link’s cheek.

The boy who’d been screaming and stomping on Sett a moment ago let out a shriek like a little kid, then turned and scrambled away, half crawling, half sprinting.

"2!" the girl called.

The rest of the kids panicked and scattered, screaming as they ran.

They’d been a pack a second ago. Now they split apart, each child sprinting with everything they had, terrified they’d be the one the blue-haired lunatic chose.

Sett just sat there, staring.

He looked up from the dirt and watched sunlight spill across the workshop owner’s wife—her hair, her profile.

She smiled like a flower in bloom, pistol raised, bouncing on her toes as she waved at their fleeing backs and shouted, "Bye-bye!"

"This party is AWESOME!"

She sounded delighted.

"Lunatic... lunatic!" Sett said, fear crawling up his spine as he stared at her. "Aren’t you scared you’ll actually hit them?!"

"Hm?" She tilted her head. "My aim is amazing. Except for Vi the Enforcer, nobody shoots better than me. There’s no way I hit them."

She hiked up her robe, revealing denim shorts and a tempting strip of slim waist, then tucked the pistol behind her. Squatting down, she looked Sett in the eyes.

"I thought you’d fight back. This is so annoying."

"Why didn’t you fight back?"

"Logan said you had your reasons, but I really don’t get it. You can beat them, but you won’t. Why? Because of your mom’s stupid rules?"

"You’d be better off listening to me instead of her."

"You—"

"Call me Jinx," she cut in, cheerful and demanding. "And say thank you. I helped you."

Sett actually laughed from frustration. He pointed at Jinx’s face and shouted, "You’re seriously insane!"

Jinx blinked, then broke into a grin and nodded. "Insane?"

"Yep, yep. Everyone says that about me~"

"But there’s one thing they don’t get." Her smile turned smug. "I’m an insane person who gets spoiled~"

"Now hand over the wraps."

Jinx held out her hand and beckoned.

"If you don’t give me the wraps, I won’t let you go to my house."

"Logan likes you a lot, but I hate you, got it?" she said, straight-up threatening.

Sett reached into his clothes, pulled out the wrap bundle he’d protected, and slapped it into her hand while snapping back, "Like I care about going to your house!"

Jinx tore open the cloth bag and took a big bite out of one wrap.

So good. Love it.

Chewing happily, she looked at Sett and said with a grin, "Then don’t go?"

"..."

"No." Sett scowled. "You ate the wraps. I have to go."

"I’m not going to learn your weird stuff because I want to. I’m doing it to make my mom happy, understand?"

"It’s for my mom!" Sett insisted.

"Mm-hmm. Whatever." Jinx shrugged.

"I don’t think a turtle can learn anything from me anyway. You’re too dumb."

"Your mom wants you to go to college?" Jinx cackled. "Ha! With that turtle personality, you’ll get bullied by college students!"

Jinx laughed and started walking into the woods.

Sett hesitated for two seconds, then clenched his teeth and jogged after her.

Fine.

He had to stay at the workshop all afternoon before going home anyway. If he went back too early, his mom would question him nonstop, worried he hadn’t gone.

And besides—sure, the workshop owner’s wife was terrifying and annoying...

But the workshop owner himself was kind. Gentle.

Sett didn’t like Jinx.

But he liked the man named Logan.

Logan always smiled warmly, like he belonged to Ionia’s nature itself. He smelled clean and fresh—pleasant in a way that made people instinctively like him.

So, for Mr. Logan...

He’d go.

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