Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route

Chapter 273 273: New Zaun!

With the blazing sun overhead, two figures moved through the clouds above Piltover.

One of them wore a plain, weathered long dress that fell all the way to her ankles. A small horn rose from her forehead, and her golden eyes were fixed on the waters below, watching the stretch of land that had appeared across the sea so abruptly, as if it had simply forced its way onto the ocean's surface.

Beside her floated another figure clad in armor, the overlapping skirt plates on it gleaming beneath the sunlight. But that figure looked hazy and unreal, almost like a spirit. Her golden hair was tied up behind her head, and on her back rested a heavy shield and a longsword, a cross-shaped shield and a knight's blade.

"Soraka, I think I finally understand why you've kept helping these mortals," Cecilia said as she stood beside Soraka. Right now, Cecilia was only a spirit, with no physical body, but for someone who possessed divine power and whose constellation still burned brightly in the celestial realm, appearing in Runeterra in spiritual form was hardly difficult.

Her situation was not the same as Soraka's. Both of them had descended and appeared in Runeterra, but Soraka had forced her way across the boundary, letting its power burn away her flesh so she could manifest here while enduring constant agony.

Cecilia did not suffer that same torment. She was not like Soraka, who even now was enduring the pain of being burned every moment. Honestly, Cecilia had no idea how Soraka managed to bear it.

Because that burning pain was not pain of the flesh at all, it was the pain of the soul being scorched, a maddening mix of itch and agony, like ten thousand ants gnawing at the heart. Cecilia knew she would never be able to endure it.

Otherwise, across all the years of Runeterra's history, Soraka would not have been the only successful case among those of the celestial host who tried to descend. The celestials might be arrogant, but Soraka was not unique among them.

There were others among the celestials who looked favorably on humanity, who had developed feelings for mortals, and there were also those with their own selfish motives. So why had they not descended?

Because they could not endure that pain. And for weaker celestials, it was not even a matter of enduring it. They would have been burned to death the moment they crossed over.

"If only the others could think the way you do," Soraka said softly.

She suddenly lifted a hand, her fingertips gliding across the newborn land on the sea below. Even she found it astonishing, because this was not land created through the power of Janna, the wind goddess. This was real land, land created by human hands.

"Cecilia, look. The people of Zaun and Piltover mastered nature with gears and alchemical science." Soraka's eyes shone, and her voice was full of wonder and praise. Starlight flickered around her horn, as if responding to the burning of her soul within. "When I first came to Runeterra, I was no different from the rest of them. I looked at this world with pride. I thought of myself as a savior descending to rescue it, blindly believing humanity needed my help and my power.

"But the longer I stayed in Runeterra, the more ashamed I became of those old thoughts. Do you know, Cecilia? Humanity has never needed to worship gods. They can become gods themselves. So divinity..."

Cecilia listened quietly. When Soraka paused, she turned to her curiously, only to see Soraka smiling at her. A divine calm rose on that beautiful, fair face as she said softly, "Shouldn't be a wall. It should be a bridge."

Cecilia did not understand at first, but then it clicked.

Soraka was telling her that living alongside humanity was not about making humans look up at them. It was about reaching out to humanity, building bridges, and finding resonance with them.

"All right, let's go back," Soraka said, withdrawing her gaze.

Cecilia let out a light laugh. "What, you're not going to stay and watch? The witch came here with a clear purpose, and she hasn't hidden it in the slightest. She's here to gather every force she can and fight the Watchers."

"You care so much about them. You're not planning to help?"

Soraka shook her head and looked up at the stars. "They don't need my help."

There was one thing Soraka did not say to Cecilia.

If they really needed help, Logan would come ask her.

And when that time came, she would never refuse.

At the western harbor of Piltover, after riding the Shrieker down, a group of national leaders and Twin Cities officials stepped down from Piltover and onto the sandy ground below.

At the very front, right in the middle, walked Logan. On one side of him was Jarvan III, and on the other was Irelia.

Silco was walking with Swain, while Lissandra had not chosen to follow the crowd at all. Then again, that was only natural. Given Lissandra's cold temperament, the fact that she had shown up here at all was already a sign of respect to Logan.

If you looked back over the last eight thousand years, the number of times Lissandra had personally appeared could be counted on one hand. Yet ever since meeting Logan, she had shown herself more often than she had in the previous eight thousand years combined.

"I was already wondering this when I saw it from the Hextech airship," Jarvan III said, stopping in place. He bent down, scooped up a handful of sand, and rubbed it between his fingers. Instead of the damp texture he had expected, the grains felt dry and clean. But according to a white-haired young man named Ekko, the ground here would eventually be paved over with asphalt, since sand was hardly practical for walking.

After all, new Zaun was not Shurima, and Zaunites were not remotely suited to living on land like Shurima's. Weren't the Twin Cities workers being sent out there already complaining about it? Walk a few steps and your boots were full of sand. It was absurdly inconvenient.

"So how exactly did you do this, Logan?"

"Science, magic, and a little bit of everyone pulling together," Logan replied after a moment's thought.

Jarvan III paused, then nodded. He looked out to both sides. The landmass rose far above sea level, and it stretched so far that neither end could be seen at a glance.

By the time they reached the destination, a beautiful little blue bird was already waiting there. The moment she saw Logan, Janna flew over and asked, "Ready to begin?"

"Any chance of accidents?" Logan asked, looking at her.

The little blue bird shook her head. Her beak parted, and her airy voice carried a trace of pride. "Don't worry. With Taliyah helping, and with all those tunnels the Void creatures dug underneath, the soil beneath Zaun is very loose now. This will be easy for me."

"Good. Then let's begin."

Behind Jarvan III, Garen watched the hovering Janna with an increasingly complicated expression. Just a year ago, he had still been raised on anti-magic teachings, and he had been endlessly troubled by the fact that his younger sister Lux possessed magic. Yet now, one year later, he was standing in a city of magic, the Twin Cities.

Not to mention that a magical being was literally flying in front of him. The presence coming off Janna left Garen struggling to breathe. He even found himself wondering whether petricite could hold a creature like that.

He had spent enough time learning about the Twin Cities by now, so he knew this little blue bird was the Twin Cities' god. He stared blankly at Janna until Tianna jabbed him in the waist with her sword hilt, snapping him back to his senses.

"Don't zone out," his aunt said near his ear.

Garen shook his head and refocused.

He had barely taken a step forward when another voice, bright with amusement, reached his ears.

"What's wrong, Windmill, first time seeing a god?"

The voice was lovely, and the laughter in it only made it more so. Garen did not even need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

"Don't talk to me."

"Oh? I get it on the battlefield, but why can't I talk to you here in the Twin Cities too?"

Katarina walked close behind Garen with her hands behind her back. Sea wind tossed her red hair across her cheeks as she stared at the back of his head with a bright, playful smile.

"Watch your place. There's nothing for the two of us to talk about," Garen said in a low, muffled voice.

That only amused Katarina more. She found that stiff, dead-serious side of Garen genuinely entertaining.

"Let me guess. With how uptight you Demacians are, and with you being the public face of the younger Crownguard generation, I bet you're still a virg, "

Katarina never got to finish.

Her body suddenly lurched forward, and as she was about to put out a hand to catch herself, she crashed straight into someone's chest.

Cold armor pressed against her face, and a strong scent, not actually unpleasant, filled her nose. That made Katarina unconsciously pull back her hand and let herself be held for a moment by the man who had caught her.

"What the hell is happening?!"

A panicked shout went up from the rear of the group. Garen had one arm around Katarina and had already drawn his massive greatsword with the other, scanning the surroundings like a hawk.

Then Logan's voice rang out.

"Everyone, don't panic."

"Look over there."

Suspended in midair, Logan pointed toward Zaun.

Garen followed his finger, only to see a towering phantom appear among the canyon fissures ahead. A woman in a white dress was there, swaying a staff in her hands.

The earth shuddered violently. Piltover, perched high above Zaun, naturally felt the tremors as well. Huge chunks of stone broke loose from the cliff walls, only to be caught by rising winds and carried out over the sea.

At Piltover's Promenade, the bridge linking Zaun and Piltover, Sheriff Marcus was shouting orders with a grim face.

"Move! Raise the bridge and sever its connection to the Promenade!"

"Don't just stand there like idiots! The machinery's too slow, get up there and help push it manually! Goddess Janna is already moving Zaun. Break the connection now!"

Under Marcus's command, a group of Enforcers wearing Hextech miner gauntlets and riding Hextech hoverboards shot toward the bridge, which was slowly lifting to disconnect itself from Zaun. They drove their gauntlets at full power, helping force the bridge apart faster.

And so everyone standing on the new land out at sea witnessed an impossible sight.

At the very top of Zaun, the Promenade, where it had long been fitted into Piltover, slowly began to rise.

For ages, Piltover had looked down on Zaun from above.

But now Zaun was rising.

First the Promenade, then the Entresol, and finally even the Sump, which had once sat level with everyone's line of sight, also began to lift into the air.

Garen's mouth fell open. He watched the enormous city tear itself free from the earth and rise skyward, while the woman hanging in the air above it let her hair whip wildly in the wind, her staff blazing beneath the noon sun.

"It's rising!"

"Zaun really is rising!"

Within the crowd, Councilor Marna of Zaun let out a startled cry.

Logan dropped back to the ground and came to a stop beside Jarvan III. When he turned his head, he found that the old emperor was standing there with his mouth hanging open too, staring blankly at the airborne city.

People all over Runeterra spoke of gods. Every land had its stories.

But Jarvan III had lived more than half a lifetime without ever seeing a true god. Even Janna, the wind deity publicly declared by the Twin Cities, had always seemed to him more like an exceptionally powerful magical being.

But now, Jarvan III's thoughts had changed.

Because this was a miracle.

What could convince a man more fully of the existence of gods than seeing a divine miracle with his own eyes?

Nothing.

And now, the rulers of every nation had just witnessed true divine power.

"All right, everyone, let's keep moving forward," Logan said, looking at the stunned, speechless crowd with the faintest upward curl at the corner of his mouth. "In a moment, Zaun is going to come down over there."

Yes, that was exactly the expression he wanted to see.

Logan and the Twin Cities had made compromises. They had added a seat system to the Federation and given away part of the hegemony that had once belonged to the Twin Cities alone.

But that did not mean the Twin Cities were actually afraid of any of them.

Letting Janna do this now was just as much the Twin Cities showing off their strength to the world.

Logan's voice finally brought everyone back to themselves. As they turned to look at Logan and the councilors of the Twin Cities, the expressions on their faces gradually became more complicated.

Everyone in the world knew that legends were just stories passed from person to person, and each storyteller added their own views, exaggerations, and embellishments.

Jarvan III had always thought the same way. He admitted Demacia was no match for the Twin Cities. After all, if the Twin Cities simply choked off the trade routes supplying Demacia, internal unrest would break out soon enough.

Once people had grown used to luxury, returning to hardship was nearly impossible. After experiencing Twin Cities technology, Demacia's nobles would absolutely refuse to go back to the old days.

But he had truly never imagined that Zaun's goddess, Janna, could do something like this.

Just look at it.

Zaun was roughly half the size of the Great City of Demacia. If this wind goddess could lift Zaun bodily into the sky, then could she not also lift half of the Great City of Demacia as well?

And the moment she let go, countless lives would be smashed to pieces along with it.

Of course, Jarvan III had no idea that there was more going on behind the scenes. It was not that Janna lacked the power to split mountains or tear seas apart. But lifting Zaun safely without harming its residents or wrecking its buildings, that would have been impossible without Taliyah and the Rek'Sais helping prepare the ground first.

Zaun flew over the heads of everyone present, and in the blink of an eye, it had reached the far distance ahead.

The white-haired wind goddess lowered her staff and floated there with her back to the crowd, her dress dancing wildly and revealing a pair of slim, pale feet.

Then she pressed both hands downward and slowly lowered Zaun into the exact place it had been designed to occupy.

Rebuild Zaun from scratch?

No thanks.

That had been the new Zaun plan back in version 1.0.

Version 2.0 of the plan was to airlift Zaun here whole.

The next moment, Zaun touched down.

As dust billowed into the air, a city gleaming with green life and flashing with glasslike colors appeared between the two continents.

And just like that, at the end of January in the Twin Cities year 991, new Zaun was born.

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