MTLNOVEL Chapter 22: 6. The Clock Tower
Chapter 6: The Clock Tower
---
Zaun – The Undersump, Same Night
The city never really slept, it just blinked in and out of awareness like a sickly lantern. Ashryn darted through the dripping alleys, every step sending up splashes of foul water. Her breath was steady, not out of calm, but discipline. She'd spent a year bleeding in that pit. She could run forever if it meant staying free.
She slowed only once she reached a derelict rail bridge over the water canals—old tech, rusted out, forgotten. Beneath it lay a row of broken buildings no one had touched in decades. Her feet led her on instinct.
Then she saw it.
The broken silhouette of a clock tower, jagged and skeletal against the dark. It must've collapsed ages ago, its face shattered and long stopped. Still, its foundation stood tall, surrounded by scraps of forgotten industry and abandoned workshops. Ashryn approached slowly, cautious but drawn. There was something poetic about it. A tower frozen in time, much like herself.
She slipped inside through a cracked door, boots silent against old metal. Dust stirred. The walls were charred in places, but the main stairwell still held. A few careful climbs later, she emerged into a top-floor room open to the night, overlooking a fair chunk of Zaun.
Ashryn dropped her bag with a grunt. "Well. It ain't much... but it's home now."
She pulled off her coat and lay back on a rusted bench, staring at the rafters. Her body ached from days of running, hiding, planning. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Then her eyes narrowed.
Silco.
Vander.
The names echoed through her head like church bells. From the fractured memories of Arcane, she remembered what they'd become. Vander—Zaun's heart. Silco—Zaun's dagger.
She thought about joining one of them. It'd be the smart move, right? Shelter under Vander's ideals, or borrow Silco's ambition. But... no. Her gut twisted.
She knew too much. About what happened. About what was coming.
So she made a decision.
"First thing's first," she murmured. "See what those two are like now. Maybe they're not broken yet. Maybe there's still a chance."
She stared at her hands, calloused and scraped. Then curled them into fists.
"If not... I'll do what needs doing. Even if it means building my own damn kingdom."
---
Later That Night – The Clock Tower Interior
Ashryn had cleared out a corner of the old tower and was now seated cross-legged, a piece of metal tubing across her lap, sharpening a broken blade edge. Her thoughts ran faster than her hands.
Vander's probably still running with Benzo. Peacekeeper of the Lanes. If I remember right, he's still nursing guilt over Silco. Trying to keep the peace with the Enforcers like it's sustainable.
She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, peace with the guys who raided the undercity on a whim. Good luck with that."
She flipped the blade, kept sharpening.
Silco... He might still be gathering power. No Shimmer yet. But already starting to rot from the inside. I should see what kind of commune he's built. Can't be worse than the pits... but I've been wrong before. And if Viktor's still around...
Her eyes lit up slightly at the thought.
Viktor. The man who, in another life, walked between worlds.
She had plans. Sketches of converters, of pressure-based containment units that didn't need Hextech. She'd seen Tony Stark pull a miracle with scraps. Why couldn't she?
"I need an engineer. One who can keep up. Not just copy what I say, but improve it."
She leaned back and let out a long breath.
"So. A base. A plan. A team."
The wind howled through a broken pane, rustling her maps and diagrams.
---
Next Morning – Zaun Market Fringe
Ashryn scouted the streets with a faded hood pulled over her head. She wasn't ready to recruit yet. Not without leverage. Not without being able to protect them.
Which brought her to her next problem.
"I need gear," she muttered, crouching atop a vent stack, eyeing a smuggler's warehouse through a cracked lens monocle. "Firearms, explosives. Even some old Piltover tech, maybe."
She tapped her boot.
"Not gonna ask Silco. Not while I'm still unsure. And Vander wouldn't give a kid like me more than a pep talk and a warm drink."
Her eye caught a group of smugglers shifting crates. One of them bore a symbol she recognized—Strath's outfit.
"Now there's a familiar face," she muttered. "If he's still running ops this deep into the Docks, that means he's got product. Maybe Pilty-made."
She smiled.
"And if he gets raided... well, not my fault. Wrong place, wrong time."
---
Clock Tower – Late Afternoon
Back in her hideout, she spread out her stolen schematics and tool kit. Her fingers moved on muscle memory, tinkering with a busted trigger mechanism.
She paused for a moment, staring at the blueprint she'd copied from an old, busted converter.
"Earth ran cold fusion through superconductors," she whispered. "Zaun uses reactive gas and brute heat. But if we could bridge that gap—"
She shook her head. "Later. Once I find Viktor. Maybe he's still with Singed. If not... I'll have to lure him myself."
Ashryn stood, flexing sore shoulders.
The room was still quiet. But not empty.
She turned to the dusty window, staring out at the fractured skyline of Zaun. The city looked sick. Tired. But not dead.
"I'm not here to save anyone," she whispered. "But maybe... I can build something worth saving."
Then she grinned and walked to the center of the room.
She drew a crude symbol on the floor—an emblem she didn't name yet. Just an idea. A silhouette of the tower above, a circle of broken gear below. No wings. Not yet.
But it was a start.
"Now then," she muttered, stretching. "Time to rob a smuggler blind and test some fireworks."
Her voice echoed as she pulled her coat over her shoulders, boots clanging down the stairwell.
She had no crew.
No weapons.
No safety net.
But she had fire.
And that, she figured, was enough for now.