With trembling steps you managed to make your way back to the entrance of the big hall and hid in one of the shadows.

From the place you stood, you had a good view down on the stage.

A row of contestants were lined up in front of tables, working and their faces sharpened with focus.

You could hear everything they said.

Your ears were ringing with voices and breaths.

Sharp pain stabbed your brain.

Your eyes were all watery. They trembled.

Cold sweat covered your back and ran down your throat to seep into your clothes.

Everything was sticky and yet you were cold as if a layer of ice grew on your skin.

The effects of the liquid were both mesmerising and terrifying.

It wasn't worth it, that's what you knew now. But it was too late to complain about the damage that you had done yourself.

This had been a choice of yours and you were to suffer the consequences.

Rattling breaths escaped your lips.

Again, the feeling of running blood crawled over your skin.

Out of reflex you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. But all that showed as you looked at it was old, crusty marks.

Again, this warm feeling irritated your senses.

Everything felt so sharp, so present under the influence of the liquid. It was as if your body was one thousand times more awake.

Everything washed over you all at once.

It was so overwhelming it made you feel physically sick.

Even though your senses were playing tricks on you, you could have sworn that the feeling of running blood was real.

Yet it was hard to tell where it was. Your entire body felt bathed and sticky.

Muscles tensed and flinched.

With every single sound, be it oh so small, your nerves reacted and your eyelids trembled.

It felt like you were fighting the battle of your life. And the enemy was your own system.

As the feeling of flowing blood irritated you once again, you couldn't help but throw your head back to shake the unpleasant sensation off.

A few drops of red fell to the floor and shattered into even more pieces.

Ringing filled your head.

Your ears were bleeding.

Frozen in confusion yet realisation, you remained motionless, your gaze glued to the dots of blood.

It felt so surreal to see life escape your every pore.

This was it.

The beginning of the end started to move closer.

There was no use rushing things no more.

You had already lost this race by making a decision.

A fatal one.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a deep breath of air that tasted of smoke and fire and shut out all the noise.

Silence lay over your brain.

The flow of your own blood tingled in the back of your head.

The beating of your heart was as uneven and sick as you had expected it to sound.

Only a single more thing was to be heard.

Viktor.

As soon as his voice, so soft yet entangled in his own thought process, reached your ears a smile lit up your face.

"You need to put this together.", Viktor mumbled to himself while audible excitement held his words hostage. "And then put this on it. Don't burn yourself. Your love will worry. You don't want (Y/N) to worry."

A chuckle made his narrow chest tremble.

Whenever your name crossed his lips he seemed to utterly enlightened.

As if you were the source of his happiness, the fuel that kept his engine running.

The sound of regret and sorrow escaped your mouth.
With your eyes lowered, you pulled your head in and tried to escape the pain that came with the knowledge that soon you would tear that one thing he loves from his hands.

It pained you to know that he depended on something so utterly rotten and corrupted as yourself.

And yet.

You wanted to be greedy and bathe in the fact that this man, a saint born from the disgusting flesh of the Undercity, loved you and only you.

How loyal he was.

One day it would be his end.

And your fault.

"Forgive me, my little genius.", you whispered, a soft smile on your lips, so full of pride. "I've been foolish. You've always been the smarter one of us."

A thin veil of tears and salt blurred your vision.

Your eyes sharpened.

All of a sudden you managed to spot Viktor, crystal clear, with all his flaws and imperfections.

Beads of sweat decorated his pale face while goggles protected those amber puppy eyes of his.

Every single of his beauty marks seemed like a perfectly placed grain of onyx.

As he raised his head in a hasty movement, his hair danced like liquid chocolate.

At the sight your breath started to shiver.

His hands moved as quick and smooth as the water of a mountain river.

It was like a dance of his body, guided by a mind so much sharper and quicker than you could ever aspire to be.

You took a step out of the shadows, hopeful to catch a glance at his perfect features.

The warm light that flooded the room touched your (S/C) skin and made the skin crack.

Veins of shimmering purple appeared.

Hot tears ran down your cheeks. But even though the world drowned in pain you could do nothing but smile at how perfect this man was.

So flawlessly perfect.

With a satisfied smile, Viktor took a step back from his creation, a sphere made of shiny metal and glass, and took off the goggles to catch a glimpse at his own work.

A hint of doubt crossed his eyes.

At the edge of your seat, you grabbed the railing and leaned closer towards the stage, closer to Viktor.

Then, all at once, the lights went out and a dark curtain fell.

Heimerdinger appeared.

And with him that one thing that could keep you from getting murdered by a Zaunite crime lord.

The poro.