Arcane: Sovereign Of The Broken City

Chapter 15 – The Triple Assault

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POV: Caitlyn

—Inside the Lanes—

The Lanes were unlike anything Caitlyn had ever seen—her first time in Zaun, and already she felt the weight of centuries of neglect pressing down on every wall and alley. The rot was less than the horror stories, the toxic fog absent, but the pain? It lingered.

She had studied Zaun from afar—maps, surveillance logs, enforcer debriefings—but nothing compared to standing on its edge. The air was denser, not with pollution, but with a kind of history that pressed into her skin. And she catalogued every detail.

Piltover enforcers were stationed in twos and threes on every main street, rifles slung low, armor glinting in the filtered light. Their presence was visible—but not effective. The people didn't seem grateful. They walked around the enforcers like ghosts.

We're not maintaining order, Caitlyn thought. We're just... present.

She passed an enforcer checkpoint near a collapsed skybridge. The officers looked bored, underinformed. No one checked her ID. No one asked questions.

The streets were cleaner than she expected, but not organized. Vendors clustered where infrastructure was crumbling, makeshift homes balanced on rooftops. And yet, despite the chaos, there was something underneath—something controlled. It was like someone had cleaned up just enough to keep the rot from spreading, but no more.

That someone was likely Ashryn Virelle.

And Caitlyn was now in her territory. The grey was gone, swept away by Ashryn's expanding presence, but the scars remained.

Children peeked out from behind cracked doors. Families moved in silence. The streets were cleaner than the Sumps, yes, but nowhere near Piltover's polished order or Virelle's startling efficiency. Here, the fear lingered—not of thugs or shimmer mutants, but of enforcers.

They're scared of us, Caitlyn realized.

She clenched her jaw and kept moving. This was recon, not diplomacy. She'd bring her findings to her mother later—proof that something needed to change. That Ashryn's rise meant more than just stolen sectors.

As she neared the border, she paused.

Why are there no patrols this close to the Virelle edge? It didn't sit right. Piltover had patrols every twenty meters.

Just as she crossed the border.

Her gaze drifted upward—and froze.

What she thought might be shadows shifted—eyes? No. Surveillance. Likely automated.

For a moment, she thought they were shadows, but then the light shifted and metallic shapes resolved themselves above her. Small, almost insectoid, suspended silently in midair.

Her fingers twitched toward her scope, but she stopped herself. Observation would alert them.

They didn't move, but they were watching. That much she could tell. Their positioning—triangular coverage, angled for maximum visual sweep. She remembered similar silhouettes from a briefing packet Jayce had dismissed months ago.

She had no name for them—machines, maybe? But they hovered with purpose. Piltover didn't use anything like this. She doubted even Jayce had field-tested anything so quiet, so hidden.

Caitlyn's jaw tightened. This close to the border, and not a single enforcer patrol.

Why? Because Virelle didn't need boots on the ground. Whatever system they were running, it worked without being seen.

They had eyes everywhere. Silent, adaptive, and invisible until too late

She stepped backward cautiously.

Click.

Cling mines exploded in bursts around her—no fire or shrapnel, just quick-snap adhesives that latched onto her boots and limbs, yanking her to the ground and locking her in place. Caitlyn dropped into a crouch, weapon drawn, but she never got the chance to fire.

By the time the dust cleared, she'd already processed five different escape routes—all invalid. One led into a dead end, another would pass directly under a collapsing gantry, and the others were blocked by her attackers' precise formation.

These weren't street thugs. Their spread was strategic. Predictive. And the Cling Mines? Virelle's design—she'd seen prototypes cross Jayce's desk six months ago.

They had tactical coordination. They had coverage. And they had her.

They weren't soldiers—at least not in the Piltover sense. They wore silver and blue armor, gear marked with Virelle's phoenix-winged insignia. Sleek gauntlets, retractable bracers, reinforced harnesses.

How? How did Zaunites get this advanced?

She has no choice but to surrender.

They didn't even raise their weapons. One of them stepped forward and clamped a device onto her wrists.

A handcuff? No—it hummed faintly, adaptive, synced. This was advanced. Beyond advanced.

I should've dug deeper... she cursed silently. All I found in the Lanes were lost people and empty streets. None of this tech. They don't even know what they're working with.

Her pride stung—not from capture, but from miscalculation. She had underestimated them. Not just the tech, but the doctrine. These weren't Zaun's old gangs. This was a structured force with discipline and foresight.

She filed every detail away.

I'm not done yet.

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POV: Caitlyn – Holding Cell, Virelle

The walls were steel, but the air felt clean. Structured. Caitlyn sat upright as the door opened, revealing another prisoner—Captain Grayson.

"Captain?"

Grayson gave her a grim nod. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"I came to rescue you."

"Appreciated. Bit late."

Before they could exchange more, the door hissed again.

Ashryn entered.

So this was her. The infamous Ashryn Virelle.

Her coat carried Virelle's insignia, but it was her eyes that stunned them—glowing blue, full of mirth and danger. She moved with the lightness of someone who shouldn't be in control—but clearly was.

She offered a bright grin. "Good morning! Welcome to Virelle. Don't worry, the food's better than the prisons you're used to."

Caitlyn blinked.

Grayson crossed her arms. "You're making a mistake."

Ashryn tilted her head. "Maybe. But I make mine with style."

Then she turned to her officers.

"Prep the strike teams. Cael, you're with me. We hit Stillwater. Let's make some noise."

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POV: Ashryn – En Route to Stillwater Hold

The terrain blurred past them. Ashryn stood aboard the lead transport, coat hanging loose from her shoulders, exo-bracers charged.

Vi grunted beside her. "Still think we should've just shot Silco."

Ashryn grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

Cael shook his head. "They're both there. Silco and Marcus. Our scouts confirm it."

"Perfect," Ashryn said, eyes twinkling. "Let's throw them a party."

As they approached, the gates of Stillwater cracked open. Silco stepped forward, Marcus behind him, face pale.

Ashryn motioned to the rear.

Caitlyn, cuffed but unharmed, was brought forth.

Marcus stiffened. "You—". Words caught in his throat. Sheriff Greyson getting captured is one thing. He don't have to protect her, she is his superior and her capture was her own fault for coming here. But Caitlyn is another matter entirely, even if she was the one at fault, he will have to take the blame for it.

"She's your Council's best," Ashryn said lightly. "Bit clumsy, though. Walked straight into one of our traps."

Seeing Marcus hesitation,Silco's smirk widened. "Then allow me to return the sentiment."

He didn't produce a hostage. He just leaned in slightly, voice like venom. "You remember our deal, Marcus. She's still with Finn. For now."

Marcus's blood drained from his face.

Ashryn's smile faded just a little. Marcus's daughter... still in the Sumps. With Finn. So that's the leverage.

Before Marcus could respond, her comms beeped.

"Go ahead," she said, switching it to speaker.

Lynne's voice came through, sharp and fast. "In the Sumps. Finn's here—he's been dosed. Full shimmer boost. Callum's engaging but it's a tough fight. Also—found a child. Young. Likely a hostage. Finn's using her as a shield more than a target."

"She from Zaun?"

"No. She's not in our registry. Well-fed, clean. She's someone."

Ashryn smile widened and silcos smile vanished as Ashryn looked at Marcus.

His face—hopeful. Apprehensive. Terrified.

She spoke softly but clearly. "Secure the child. Get her to Virelle. Priority one."

"Understood."

She ended the call.

Marcus breathed out. "You didn't have to—"

Ashryn held up a hand. "Don't mistake this for kindness. I'm making a statement."

Marcus blinked. "What?"

Silco chuckled. "She plays the long game, this one."

Ashryn winked at him. "Always."

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POV: Sevika – Assault on the Lanes

Explosions rang out across the Lanes as Sevika and Vander moved through the streets, boots slamming into cobbled metal and reinforced gravel. The air was thick with smoke and resolve.

Benzo and Ekko had rallied the locals. Guerrilla forces were springing up from sewer vents and alley shadows. Pipes, bats, homemade bombs—it was chaos, but controlled chaos.

"Push up!" Sevika roared. "Don't let them regroup!"

Piltover lines staggered. The enforcers—decent fighters, but unfamiliar with street warfare—fell one by one.

"Secure the elevators!" Vander bellowed from another alley. "Cut their escape!"

Sevika slammed her gauntlet into a wall support, bringing debris down on a fallback squad.

"Victory belongs to those who take it!" she roared.

Tonight, the Lanes would fall.

And Zaun would remember who reclaimed them.

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