7 Welcome to the Playground

Three years later.

ORA ORA ORA!

Each punch of his was fast, loud and piercing as it was almost invisible to the naked eye. His footwork was swift, the punches that came at him couldn't touch a single hair on his head.

In a boxing gym, one could see a handsome young boy going at it on an automated sparring partner machine.

The machine was a hunk of metal connected to a mechanical metal beam attached to the ceiling. It had boxing paddings replacing body parts of a human, a metallic board for a face and two fists that could hit back. Its function was to provide the user with a partner to spar and more importantly, give a score at what level the user is at.

The boy was Art who was currently trying to beat his personal best score. His looks have changed as he got taller, gained muscle and lost the baby fat on his face. Well, this was expected, considering for the past three years Art has been quite active.

Zalie had gone as far as to use his connections and hired the best instructor he could find for his son.

Besides boxing, Art was also learning swordsmanship so that he would know how to fight against armed opponents as well.

He easily picked up what he was taught, after all, he was a teenager in a child's body which allowed him to pick things up faster than adults. He even made more progress in martial arts than he did with magic as he had someone teaching him.

All he needed was to grit his teeth and learn what his coach taught, which were skills that were developed through countless battles.

From Monday to Thursday before and after school, he would train with his coach in boxing during the day. The rest of the week would be spent on swordsmanship training. It was common to see him come home with an injury or two over these past three years.

With all this practice, Art was able to quickly master the skills his teacher taught. But with magic it was different... Mages were rare to begin with. He had to teach, form theories about magic and practice them all by himself. Even after all this time, he did not know what he was doing.

But, one thing for sure, he was getting stronger.

As for his private life, he would make some time and hang out with Ezreal once in a while. Taking breaks was also a part of his training as resting his fatigue mind and body did him wonders.

"Let's see what I got." Art said to himself as he finished his turn on the automated sparring machine. Out of breath, he placed his hands on his knees to rest before looking up at the scoreboard.

"4200, not bad."

Although Art had said that nonchalantly, the same could not be said for the surrounding crowd. They were shocked-- shocked speechless at what they had just witnessed.

His score was in the top three. It was just a few thousand away from being number one. It was shocking a kid 9 years of age could set such a score when the people who set the highest scores were already in their late teens.

However, no matter what they thought of him, Art decided to ignore them. Being born with a face like his, he was already used to such reactions like this ever since reincarnating into this world.

After catching his breath, he walked over to the side, grabbed the white towel hanging on the ropes and wiped the sweat on his forehead body. He put the towel around his neck, leaned against the ropes and took this time to take a break.

"Here have some water."

A black man in his late thirties walked up to Art with a bottle of water in his hands.

This man was Art's boxing coach and swordsmanship teacher. His name was Lambett, he was of Shuriman descent who was an ex-mercenary. It was because of old age and old injuries, he came to Piltover to retire and later met Zalie who was hiring an instructor for his son.

That was three years ago and now thanks to his teachings, Art was able to improve by leaps and bounds. "Thanks, coach," he said with a smile, grabbing the water bottle off his hands.

Thirsty, Art opened the lid and drank all the water in a matter of seconds. "So, how was I?"

"Good, but..." Lambert hesitated.

"What is it?" asked Art curiously as he put the lid back on the water bottle. "Come on coach, spit it out."

The black man let out a sigh. He brought out a brightly coloured poster from his pocket that said 'Fighters Wanted' and spoke up after a short while. "...I wanted to bring you somewhere to get some real experience, but I will probably get fired if I do."

"Fair enough, so, where were you going to bring me?" Art inquired as he started to stretch.

"To the Undercity," Lambert said nonchalantly.

"Wait, what?!" Art exclaimed and tried to snatch the poster out of his coach hand.

Lambert easily dodge to the side. "Don't even think about it," he said, putting the poster into his back pocket. "Alright, we're done for today, brat. Take a shower and go home."

Lambert turned around and walked away after saying this, not waiting for Art's reply.

Seeing him leave, Art smiled and began to look around to see if anyone was looking. Just like he had suspected, there were still eyes on him after the commotion he caused by beating his high score.

"Sorry about this."

Left with no choice, Art secretly used [Telekinesis Magic] to spill the cup of water that was in a female gym member's hand and onto her chest. Coincidentally, this female was the most beautiful woman in the gym. She had black hair, brown eyes and a voluptuous figure which made most men drool at the sight of her.

"Kyaa!" the beautiful woman screamed, drawing Lambert's and the surrounding crowd's attention to her or to be more specific, her chest which was so big that it had a gravitational pull equivalent to a black hole.

After secretly apologising to her, Art carefully took out the poster sticking out of Lambert's pocket and quickly left the scene, heading straight for home. As soon as he got there, he went to his room and took out the poster from his pocket, unfurling it to take a look.

FIGHTERS WANTED

LOCATION: The Lanes

PRIZE MONEY: 300 Silver Cogs

ENTREE FEE: 100 Bronze Washers

DATE: Monday JAN 4, 982 AN, 1 pm

The currency in Piltover and Zaun was Bronze Washers, Silver Cogs, Golden Hexes and Platinum Screws, all of which were measured using bolts. For example, a single Bronze Washer is 1 bolt. A Silver Cog is 100 Bronze Washers, so 100 bolts. A Golden Hex 100 Silver Cogs, so it's 10000 bolts. A Platinum Screw is 100 Golden Hexs, so it's 1000000 bolts.

A typical hard-working person could usually earn 5 to 10 silver cogs a day.

"Is that it?"

A few Golden Hexes were the normal annual income of a middle-class family, but for Art, it was something he could save within a few months from the weekly allowance his parents gave him.

The prize money was not enough to attract him, it was something else. It was the opportunity to have a real fight to test out his skills and to go to the Undercity, a lawless zone full of criminals or so what the Enforcers and the Council of Piltover tell its citizen. But as to whether or not the government were lying, he was going to find that out for himself soon enough...

....A few days later, Art finished his preparation. He told his parents he was going out to the park with Ezreal, his best and only friend outside of school. This was a half-lie considering he really did bring the blondy along but just not the place he told them.

The destination was the Undercity and of course with Ezreal's personality, he agreed without much thought and decided to tag along despite the danger.

It was dangerous to bring the blonde boy, but not because of the reason one would think.

It's almost been half a decade since they met and Art knows Ezreal like a book... One thing he knew for sure—whenever he was around, trouble isn't too far behind.

To this day, Art could still remember the time when Ezreal got into trouble with the law. The idiot had been curious and stolen one of the netballs the Enforcers would carry to restrain criminals. He had been left speechless as he watched him get scolded by the female Enforcer that day.

However, no matter how hesitant Art was to bring Ezreal, he needed his help. He had no idea where he was going and Ezreal had once bragged to him he had been to the Undercity, following his parents who were buying equipment for their next expedition and knew where he was going.

There was the danger of criminals, but Art was confident protecting Ezreal. After all, his martial arts wasn't the only thing that improved over these past three years.

The biggest weakness of his [Telekinesis Magic], concentration, was gone. He could activate it instantly and could protect himself and those around him with much more ease.

[Creation Magic] was about the same as he could create simple objects instantly and highly detailed objects within a few seconds.

Last of all was [Body Enhancement Magic] and the one with the biggest improvement, simply because all he needed was to improve his body by working out for it to improve.

Furthermore, by using the spell itself and without exerting himself needlessly like he had done in the uprising a few years ago, he could heal his fatigue body and allow him to develop his muscles faster. He didn't have to wait long for his body to repair the damaged muscle fibres and had more time to work out to improve.

As a result of this, he could use [Body Enhancement Magic] longer and the side effects of overworking his muscles were lessened...

...Art and Ezreal went south of Piltover, headed to the slums and wore the clothes prepared beforehand to make themselves look the part. They reluctantly covered their faces and hair with a little bit of mud and even thought of backstories just in case someone asks where they came from.

Art's story was that his parents had been killed by a mugger in an alleyway and after a series of unfortunate events, he had been forced to live a life of poverty.

Most would say he copied the origin story of a vigilante wearing a bat suit, and they were right. He had run out of ideas but it was certainly better than Ezreal's whose story had involved him being a prince of an ancient civilization who recently woke up from his 1000 year slumber.

Was it necessary to go through all this trouble? Well, yes.

The uprising three years ago had soured the relationship between the two cities even more. Most citizens of Piltover and the Undercity hated each other, and it was certain someone would cause trouble for Art and Ezreal if people were to find out their identity.

As they made their way towards the Undercity, Art could only hope Ezreal wouldn't run off his mouth and give away their identities to some random thug in the street and get themselves in a lot of trouble.

Time passed, and it was only when the sun was nearly at its highest the two arrived at the shortcut that the Lymere family had taken to go to the Undercity.

"Is this the right place?"

"I think so."

In front of Art and Ezreal, there stood an abandoned building. The walls stood firm, the window frames strong, glass triple glazed and whole. All in all, it looked like a movie set, a place waiting for life to come. The only give-away was the odour, well, that and the dust. It was musty and dry, but nothing opening the doors and windows couldn't solve.

"I can't believe we are doing this," said Ezreal excitedly. "What if our parents find out?"

"Don't be a pussy." Art replied nonchalantly.

"What's a pussy?" The blonde boy tilted his head in confusion.

"Nothing, come on let's go." Art chuckled lightly.

"Wait up!" Ezreal ran after Art who had already entered the house...

...The lanes were a sinister, green vertical sprawl of ramshackle buildings jutting out from either side of a narrow canyon. It was a grimy, neon-drenched metropolis filled with brothels, shady back alleys, merchants and thieves selling illicit goods.

Grey clouds of the valley blotted out the sun, casting a never-ending shadow upon the lanes. The air was hard to breathe and as topsider boys, Art and Ezreal found it unbearable. It made their throats itch as they held back their reaction to gag and pinch their noses.

However, this was not enough to deter the two. They were already here and it would be a waste to turn back now just because they couldn't handle the air.

They continued to walk around the Lanes looking for the fighting tournament venue, whilst trying to blend in with their surroundings or at least they tried to.

Like a newborn baby, Art was amazed at everything he saw. Even Ezreal who had been here before couldn't help but feel the same.

"Is that a Krug?!" Art inwardly shouted.

Not far from where he stood, he saw a cute rock-like creature with glowing blue eyes trapped in a metal cage. It was banging its head against the metal bars, trying to escape from its captivity.

"Wait, those are..." Art's attention was drawn away from the Krugs and onto a small creature that looked like a ball of white fur. "…Poros!"

Curious, Art walked towards the sketchy looking merchant as Ezreal followed. "How much?" he asked.

"…"

The merchant looked at Art and Ezreal, surprised at how handsome the two were. He thought he had some big fishes in his hand, but upon seeing their clothes and dirty faces, he made a shooing away hand gesture. "Go away," he said. "Don't come here if you don't have any money."

"Oh right," Art looked at his worn-out white shirt and tattered black pants.

Being rich in this life and his past, his habits made him forget the role he was playing. He was supposed to be playing a poor child from the Undercity, and with the way he was dressed, it was no wonder the merchant reacted like that.

Art was going to leave not wanting to blow his cover, but before he could do so, Ezreal stepped up and took out a pouch full of coins from his pocket. He waved it in front of the merchant and bragged. "We do have money. Look at this."

Art immediately reacted. "You fucking idiot!" he inwardly screamed before speaking up. "Hehe, just metal scraps inside this bag. Please don't mind him. He's a bit special."

Worried that the merchant may greed over Ezreal's money, Art did not wait for the merchant to reply. He did not want any trouble, so he grabbed him by the arm and made a dash for it.

The two ran as fast as they could with Ezreal lagging behind and no destination in mind. It was only a few minutes later, when Art felt safe, that he stopped running.

Ezreal was breathing heavily, while he didn't even break a single sweat.

Art let go of Ezreal's arm as he turned around and scolded the blonde-haired boy. "Bro, are you trying to get us killed?!"

Ezreal caught his breath, he scratched his head and replied. "Haha, sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Of course, you weren't, I should've known this would happen," Art sighed and facepalmed. "Try not to do it again."

"Okay! But you have to admit, that was fun."

"A little," Art reluctantly agreed with a sigh. "Anyway, do you know where we are?"

After saying that, they scanned their surroundings and finally realised they were lost. They found themselves in a dark and cold alleyway filled with green toxic puddles and garbage littering the ground. They were barely any people and the ones nearby ignored them, going about their day.

Ezreal shook his head and said. "I have no idea."

"I guess we'll have to go back. I still need to sign up..." Art paused mid-sentence as his ears perked up. "Wait, can you hear that?"

He heard a very familiar sound. It was a loud snapping sound-- the sound when a punch hits a boxing bag. The sound of mechanical parts moving could also be heard, its gears were turning to make a whining sound.

Ezreal listened in, "Yeah, I hear it."

This sound was familiar to him.

After learning that Art was taking martial arts lessons, and being his best friend and all, Ezreal naturally visited while he was training. He could tell the sound came from the same machine that he had seen Art used to spar with within the boxing gym.

The only difference was the sound that the machine created, it sounded as if it was old and was about to break.

"Let's check it out," suggested Art. "Who knows? Whoever is in there might know where we can find the tournament."

Walking towards where the sound was coming from, just a few metres away, an old building stood in front of the two boys. Its walls were thick with grime as weeds grew out of its crevices and the stained glass windows were so dirty, you could hardly see through them.

But that did not matter with the hole in the window that one could peek through.

"See who's inside," said Ezreal.

"Yeah wait." Closing one of his eyes, Art carefully leaned in and peeked through the hole in the stained glass. "No, I can only see the scoreboard" he replied, "...but damn, this person is good. Sheesh, 4500!"

"Let me see," Ezreal bumped Art's shoulder with his. He tried to push him aside, only to fail as he was much weaker.

Art was built different, but that wasn't the only reason. He started using [Body Enhancement Magic] and was practically immovable.

"Why. Are. You. So. Strong," Ezreal tried squeezing in again, using his whole body to push.

"Because I work out," said Art as he looked away for a moment and easily pushed Ezreal's face aside. "Anyway, just wait a sec."

"Fine, I'll just make another hole if you won't let me see," pouted Ezreal.

"No, you won't."

"Yeah, I will," Ezreal grabbed a rock from the ground. "Watch me."

"Wait, wait, wait, I was joking," Art hurriedly grabbed Ezreal's hands before he could smash the window. "Don't do it."

It was at that moment, a voice came behind Art and Ezreal. "What are you two idiots doing?"