Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route-Chapter 157: What Were You Just About to Do?

In the repair shop, Logan changed clothes, and when he came downstairs, he saw Jinx sitting inside the storefront.

Jinxie was building some kind of "toy." When she noticed Logan, she lifted her head, flashed him a grin, then immediately went back to tinkering with whatever she had in her hands.

Logan leaned in to take a look and realized it sort of resembled a flashlight.

"What are you making?" he asked.

Jinx lifted the "flashlight" and handed it to him, suddenly dead serious. "Logan, I've been realizing something lately. The ores and materials in Ionia are really special. I think I'm even better than Jayce now. Hextech runs on magic, right? Well, the power source for the flashlight I made is also magic!"

"Magic?" Logan eyed the flashlight suspiciously and reached for the button.

"Wait—don't press it at me!" Jinx shrieked, instantly recoiling so hard she practically folded into herself.

Logan froze, then turned it toward the floor and pressed the button.

A thin, green laser shot out—clean through the floor—leaving a thumb-thick hole punched straight down. Heat shimmered up from it like steam.

Logan: "???"

"What is that?" He stared at the smoking hole, then looked back at Jinx with his mouth twitching.

Seeing his shock, Jinx popped up proudly, hands on hips. "It's a magic flashlight!"

"Pretty great, right? I came up with it recently. I borrowed Jayce's Hextech design logic and used the magic energy inside the materials—condensed it into a single point, then fired it out. That way it can do what my little pistol does~" She beamed at Logan, practically bouncing.

"So you haven't been going to class because you've been messing with this thing?" Logan set the flashlight on the table.

How dangerous it was… honestly, it was hard to even rate.

On one hand, the thing fired a laser. The range still seemed questionable, and punching through wood didn't feel that insane—Piltover had laser tools as far back as ten years ago for cutting ore.

But those were industrial cutters—laser knives, laser pens—with extremely limited range. They were built for production, not warfare.

Jinx's "flashlight," though? Its laser clearly went farther, and it hit harder.

And the most ridiculous part was the shape. A flashlight was perfect camouflage. If you used this for an assassination, it'd be point-and-delete. In a crowded place, you could hide it up your sleeve, walk up close, press a button—then good luck figuring out who the killer was.

"How did you even make this?" Logan asked, genuinely curious. This wasn't Zaun—there weren't piles of scrap everywhere for her to scavenge.

Logan had always considered himself kind of slow back in Zaun, but after living there so long—surrounded by high-IQ tech freaks—he'd picked up some basics.

So he really wanted to know how Jinx had turned Ionian materials into a laser weapon.

"Magic," Jinx said, like she'd already explained it three times. "Ionian materials come with magic built in, like Hextech gemstones. The energy isn't that strong, and it's not as convenient as a gemstone, but I think that can be improved.

"Like, when we get back to Zaun and I have a lab, I can figure out a way to compress the energy. If I use conduction tools, I can copy the Hextech gemstone approach—carve runes into the material, guide the energy into a single medium, then do central processing on the… um… hey, Logan, are you even listening?"

"Uh… never mind. Don't explain it," Logan waved her off. "I don't understand."

He might as well accept his "idiot" brand and stop fighting it.

Because in Zaun, practically everyone could be a master crafter.

And Logan… really wasn't built like that.

Jinx pouted. "Tch. So dumb."

"Go teach your class already. Don't mess with my research." She put on a monocle, squatted on the chair like it was a perch, and started measuring a tree branch on the table with intense focus.

Logan chuckled, then stepped out of the repair shop.

He headed toward the center of the village.

At one in the afternoon, Logan started teaching. The kids had gone from refusing to show up to coming willingly—and the reason was simple: Logan was actually good at telling stories. He'd trained that skill on Isha and Jinx.

The grown-up told him stories.

The kid listened to him tell stories.

And from the very beginning, Logan's teaching philosophy had been the same: learning wasn't for grades—it was so they could go see the world outside.

If they became curious about the outside world, they'd want to learn.

At the same time, in Bondweave Village, a group of armed men with tiger tattoos appeared in the streets.

One of them was carrying two dripping cloth sacks.

"Who are you?" Babb was right there in the village center. Bondweave Village wasn't big, and it didn't interact much with outsiders. It was one of the rare places that hadn't been shattered by the Noxian–Ionian War. It was far from the Placidium, so the forest spirits hadn't been corrupted. Bondweave Village lived off the land, self-sufficient.

But the moment Babb saw these strangers walk in, something in his chest sank.

"Easy, sir. Don't be nervous—we're Ionian too." Gedun, among the Brotherhood, smiled at Babb. He was built like an ox, and the tiger tattoo on his thick arm was impossible to miss.

As Gedun lifted a hand, the Brotherhood members behind him also put on "friendly" smiles.

"Old man, we're the Navori resistance. We came to ask if you've seen any Noxians around here lately."

Babb blinked, hesitating. "Didn't the Noxians lose the war? Haven't they already left?"

"They lost, sure," Gedun said, "but plenty are still in Ionia. We're here specifically to clean them up."

Babb fell quiet for a few seconds, then said, "Is that really necessary? The Noxians who stayed behind… they're pitiful people too. They don't conflict with us now. Everyone just lives their own—"

"Old man. That's where you're wrong." Gedun's eyes narrowed, and he cut Babb off. His tone turned cold and ugly.

"They destroyed our homeland. They killed our families. And after losing, they still want to stay here and live? How can you forgive that? Have you thought about the dead at all? How can you be that selfish?"

"Kid," Babb sighed, answering calmly, "you don't understand. It's because I do think about the dead that I choose this."

"You're still young. You might not know this yet: hatred and anger only poison the land we live on. The dead are already dead. We have to let go of hate and bring Ionia back to normal—so their souls can rest. They'll begin a new life in the spirit realm."

"If we cling to hatred, they suffer too. Our rage will keep them from finding peace in the spirit realm. And if we refuse to let things settle, the Spirit Blossom Festival won't return—our one festival where we can speak with the dead."

"The dead need peace," Babb finished softly. "And we have to start living again. Isn't that right?"

"That's complete nonsense!" Gedun snapped.

He reached out and grabbed Babb by the collar.

Babb jolted in fear. Panic flickered across his wrinkled face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm realizing something," Gedun snarled. "Talking to stubborn old fossils like you is pointless. You're old, you hear me? You people sit there enjoying the spoils of victory, so you can just shut up and do what we say. Don't point fingers at me and act like some wise elder!"

He shoved Babb hard and flung him to the ground.

Villagers immediately protested—but one of the Brotherhood members tossed the dripping sacks forward.

At the same time, he roared, "If you don't want to die, then shut your mouths!"

The sacks rolled a few times, then two round objects tumbled out onto the dirt.

Two heads.

Noxian heads.

"Trophies" Gedun's squad planned to bring back as proof.

The village erupted into screams.

Sett's mother stepped out of a shop, eyes narrowed as she took in the scene.

Her hands clenched inside her sleeves—claws tightening—then slowly relaxed again.

"Stop screaming!" Gedun raised both hands and shouted. "Calm down! We're not here to hurt you! We're all Ionian—Brotherhood is here to protect you!"

He kept going, voice rising like a preacher's.

"The times have changed, and we have to change too! Noxus destroyed our peace! For the sake of our future, we must unite!"

"Any Ionian who stands with Noxus is a traitor!"

"Join the Brotherhood! Resist Noxus! Unify Ionia!"

Gedun launched into propaganda, but it was obvious Bondweave Village wasn't buying it.

Even Link's father—who'd been to the Noxian casino and thought he'd been beaten up by Noxians—wasn't buying it.

This wasn't about good versus evil. It was about how people saw the world, and what they chose.

Bondweave Village had been built up under Babb's guidance. The villagers trusted him, supported him, and agreed with peaceful coexistence.

That didn't mean they refused change—if they truly refused change, then Sett and his mother wouldn't be here, and the village wouldn't live next to Noxians.

Seeing the villagers simmering with anger, Gedun decided to grab a troublemaker and make an example.

Most Ionians didn't worship brute force. Even when beaten, they often didn't fight back. It was like some violence switch inside them had never been flipped—and that was exactly why the Brotherhood could keep press-ganging recruits.

But just as Gedun was about to speak again, a door on a distant treehouse opened.

A bunch of children crawled out, peeking curiously toward the commotion.

The moment Gedun saw them, delight flared in his eyes.

The Brotherhood members behind him looked the same.

Compared to dragging away an old man or a stubborn middle-aged adult, children were far better—minds still forming, easy to reshape.

They were the Brotherhood's future.

Gedun immediately took three men and marched straight toward the treehouse.

"No!" Link's father shouted, rushing forward to block them.

Other villagers crowded in too—they'd realized what these men intended.

They were going to take the children.

But the moment the Brotherhood drew blades, the villagers froze in fear.

Link's father moved too fast—and one Brotherhood member slammed the hilt of his weapon into the man's stomach.

He staggered back, gagging, then dropped to his knees, clutching his gut.

These Brotherhood soldiers had survived the brutal Noxian–Ionian War. Every single one of them was a hardened killer. Gedun himself had personally slaughtered fourteen Noxians.

The villagers watched in terror as Gedun, grinning like a predator, reached the treehouse.

A few parents stepped out of the crowd, trying to resist—but short crossbows snapped up and aimed at them. Their teeth chattered as they backed down.

Inside the crowd, hidden among the villagers, the spiky-haired girl flicked two kunai across her fingers. Her reddish-brown eyes narrowed, anger rising in her chest.

Her name was Akali.

She had once been part of the Kinkou Order.

But now, she was just a lone wolf.

She'd heard Kennen talk about the Brotherhood—how if they took control of Ionia, things wouldn't improve. They were blinded by rage, ruled by violence. If they succeeded, they'd drag Ionia into a new tyranny.

No better than the invasion.

Akali hadn't taken it seriously back then. After all, they were Ionians. How violent could they really be?

But now—watching them target children—Akali couldn't hold back anymore.

And suddenly she thought about her old companions in the Kinkou… and it hit her.

Maybe it wasn't only the forest spirits' frenzy that had cost her her legs.

Maybe it was these people too.

Because they fed the fury of the spirits.

Not far from Akali, Sett's mother was also hidden in the crowd—usually squinting, but now her eyes were open.

Razor claws slid out from her sleeves. Sharp fangs peeked past her lips.

As Gedun stepped toward the treehouse entrance, both women moved at the same time—

Then both froze.

Because with a dull, heavy grunt, a figure came flying out of the treehouse.

It soared dozens of yards, slammed into the ground, and rolled over and over before finally stopping.

It was Gedun.

His chest was caved in, like his ribs had been crushed to powder. His face had gone dark purple. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he lay unconscious.

And at the same time, a calm, cool voice rang out.

"It's class time. Strangers aren't allowed to walk into my classroom."

A young man stepped out onto the treehouse platform. He wore a white robe and held a ruler in his hand. His clean, gentle face carried a hint of irritation as he looked down at the Brotherhood.

As his words fell, the ruler snapped through the air—

And the three Brotherhood members who'd followed Gedun were suddenly launched away as well, flung like trash.

Akali's eyes went wide.

What—

She… she hadn't even seen when he struck.

How could a backwater place like this have someone like that?

And Sett's mother gaped in the crowd, stunned beyond belief.

Wasn't Mr. Logan just an ordinary outsider?

Wasn't he just a teacher?

How—how did he do that?

"Sett, take them back and do independent study. No coming out, no peeking—if you do, your homework doubles," Logan said as he walked down the steps, descending one step at a time toward the remaining dozen-plus Brotherhood members. He spoke without even looking back, addressing Sett's head sticking out from the treehouse doorway.

Sett looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

He'd been ready to protect everyone—he could fight, and he knew it.

But now he just stood there, brain blank.

The teacher he thought needed protecting had just sent four grown men flying.

How was that even possible?

Link and the other kids were just as confused, but the moment Logan spoke, they obediently retreated back into the classroom.

Sett shut the door, and the last thing he saw was Logan stepping into the center of the Brotherhood.

And he heard Logan's voice, cool and even:

"Alright. Now tell me—what were you just about to do to my students?"

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