Three years had wrought remarkable changes across Piltover. Steam trolleys rattled more frequently, new mechanical lifts graced every steep hill, and faint hints of impending progress—like half-constructed wind towers—could be spotted in the distance. Yet, no transformation was more striking than the one Orion himself had undergone.
He stood now in an Academy workshop, almost unrecognizable from the reserved twelve-year-old who had arrived so long ago. At fifteen, he had grown taller and leaner, his dark-blue hair tied in a short ponytail. The mechanical arm at his side was sleeker than ever, its metal plating glossy and refined. Even more notable was the gleam in his right eye socket, where a half-finished prosthetic eye offered limited but steadily improving vision.
Curved wires extended from this ocular device toward a small receptor affixed behind his temple. Though it wasn't a perfect replica of organic sight, Orion had painstakingly refined it to capture basic light and depth—an achievement that still amazed his peers.
He rotated his arm at the elbow, listening for the subtle clicks of gears beneath the metal casing. The new joints needed a bit more lubrication. Satisfied for the moment, he stepped away from the workbench, turning to face an old friend.
Caitlyn Kiramman leaned against a nearby pillar, arms folded. She, too, had grown. Though still sporting that ever-curious gaze, she now carried herself with the quiet confidence of a Piltover teen used to the city's politics and the Academy's hustle. She wore a casual outfit: sturdy boots, fitted pants, and a light jacket—a reflection of her budding interest in enforcer work.
"You're obsessed," she teased, nodding at his prosthetic arm. "You've been adjusting that elbow joint all morning."
Orion smirked. "Better than leaving it squeaking. Anyway, you're the one who's been practicing your aim at the range every free hour you get. Who's really obsessed?"
Caitlyn rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then joined him at the workbench. "Touché. But hey, we all have our passions. Mine just happens to involve rifles and marksmanship."
Together, they inspected the compact wind generator model Orion had been improving—an advanced version of his earlier design, complete with a sophisticated regulator to handle sudden gusts. The concept now included a collapsible set of blades, making it easier to transport and deploy in various corners of the city.
"I spoke to Mother and Father," Caitlyn said. "They're intrigued by the notion of constructing actual wind-tower prototypes in a few underutilized spots around Piltover."
A sparkle lit Orion's eye—his good one. "Are you serious? I've been dreaming of scaling this up for years. The Academy's partial to steam, but I think wind power could complement it."
"Well, nothing's set in stone yet," Caitlyn clarified, but she couldn't hide a small grin. "Still, the Kiramman name can carry weight if we push the right levers."
"Push away," Orion joked. "I'm all for it."
Cracking the Energon Code
One floor up, in a private lab space that Professor Elania had granted him, Orion kept meticulous notes on his continued experimentation with Energon. Tubes of faintly glowing liquid sat carefully in rack holders, each labeled with a different iteration of the formula. Over the past three years, he had made significant progress in stabilizing it.
While it still required careful handling, Orion had demonstrated that with the right chemical balance—and a hint of mechanical modulation—the substance could provide clean, potent energy. Not enough to power the entire city (yet), but enough to run complex machinery for extended periods without the pollution or volatility of older fuel sources.
He tapped a small control panel, activating a demonstration. A coil whirred to life, fueled by a miniature Energon cell. The overhead lamp flickered on, shining steady and bright.
Caitlyn entered quietly, taking in the sight with a smile of admiration. "No matter how many times I see you do that, it still feels like magic."
"Not magic," Orion corrected gently, "just science we haven't fully explained yet."
She stuck out her tongue at his academic response, and they both laughed. In that lighthearted moment, Orion found his attention lingering on her expressive eyes, noticing how they brightened whenever she got excited about his work.
For a second, he felt a subtle, confusing warmth. He and Caitlyn had grown close—too close for either to label comfortably. Their childhood friendship had evolved into something more layered. Neither had quite found the words to name it, but they both sensed a new tension in unguarded moments—a flutter of breath, a lingering glance.
Oblivious or polite, neither pressed the issue. But the feeling was there, as constant as the city's background hum.
Mentors and Milestones
In the main halls, professors would often stop Orion to check on his progress. Heimerdinger, as dean, still showed a keen interest in Orion's mechanical eye. Though the device remained rudimentary, the fact that it provided partial vision at all was a breakthrough.
"How does it feel today?" the Yordle inquired during one such encounter, tilting his head to inspect the ocular shell.
Orion raised his brows. "A bit clearer, actually. I can see outlines and basic colors, but the resolution still needs work."
Heimerdinger nodded thoughtfully. "Splendid progress, my boy. I still recommend collaborating with one of our biology specialists. The interplay between nerves and machinery is delicate."
"I've been meaning to," Orion admitted. "It's just… there's so much to do, between classes and my other projects."
Heimerdinger placed a reassuring paw on Orion's shoulder. "One step at a time, dear lad. You've already come far beyond most of your peers. Don't lose sight of your personal well-being."
With a grateful nod, Orion promised to schedule a consultation soon. If he wanted the mechanical eye to someday function like a real one, he'd need all the expertise he could gather.
A Glimpse of Tomorrow
Late one evening, Orion and Caitlyn found themselves perched atop a balcony overlooking Piltover. The Academy spires loomed behind them, while the city's vibrant lights stretched out in a mosaic below. The two had sneaked away after finishing their respective duties—Orion completing lab work, Caitlyn finishing some advanced marksmanship theory.
"I never get tired of this view," Caitlyn murmured. The distant hum of factories and the faint chime of clocktowers drifted on the breeze.
Orion set down a small device—a portable wind generator rigged to power a dim lantern—on the balcony's edge. "Ever think we can truly change this city?" he asked quietly. "Sometimes I'm overflowing with ideas—wind towers, Energon, prosthetic breakthroughs—yet I wonder if people will fully embrace them."
Caitlyn glanced at him, her gaze softened by the warm glow of the lantern. "I think people will, eventually. But progress is slow. Piltover clings to tradition. Still, someone has to spearhead new paths."
He sighed, but a hopeful smile tugged at his lips. "I guess that's us, then."
Silence settled, but it wasn't awkward—more a comfortable space of unspoken understanding. Orion found himself noticing the curve of Caitlyn's smile, the way her eyes flickered with hidden laughter.
Maybe it was the hush of night, or the intimacy of their shared dreams, but he felt a strange flutter in his chest. Their relationship had deepened in subtle ways. She was one of the few people who could banter with him about gear ratios in one moment and confide her hopes for the future in the next. And she never flinched at his mechanical arm or artificial eye—never treated him as less than whole.
"How's the arm?" Caitlyn asked, breaking the quiet. Her tone held genuine concern.
He shifted the prosthetic. "Better than ever. I installed new load-bearing struts, so it doesn't strain my shoulder as much. The Academy labs helped me refine the construction."
A grin tugged at her lips. "And the eye?"
He tapped the metal lens gently. "Still a work in progress. But with each upgrade, I see a little clearer. You might have trouble sneaking up on me soon," he teased, though a part of him worried that perfecting it might take years.
Caitlyn chuckled. "We'll see about that."
Whispers of Competition
The next morning, Orion arrived at the Academy's main hall to find the students abuzz. A new city-wide contest had been announced: the Piltover Innovation Showcase, an event celebrating the most groundbreaking inventions from the Academy and beyond. The top entries would receive funding and exposure to Piltover's influential patrons.
"Orion!" Riven, now a graduate of the second-year program, jogged up. "Have you heard? You should enter the competition with your Energon research. It could be huge."
Orion hesitated, excitement and anxiety mingling in his gut. "That'd be… a leap. Energon still isn't fully stable, and I'm nowhere near mass production."
"But you've got months to prepare," Riven encouraged. "Take the shot."
Others chimed in, offering support or voicing their own projects. The entire Academy seemed electrified by the prospect of this contest. Orion made a mental note to ask Caitlyn what she thought—should he push to finalize a demonstration model in time?
An Evolving Friendship
Later, Caitlyn found him in the library, hunched over a table covered in mechanical diagrams. She slid into the seat beside him, pointing at an invitation flyer for the showcase.
"You're entering, right?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
He glanced up from his blueprint. "I was thinking about it. But it's a massive commitment."
She tapped her finger on the page, where a set of notes on Energon's short-term stability were scribbled. "You've done the research. You've run experiments. Even if you can't mass-produce it yet, showcasing the potential could help attract the right backers. Or the right mentors to solve those last few kinks."
Chewing his lip, Orion nodded slowly. "Yeah… maybe you're right."
Caitlyn studied his face for a moment, the corners of her mouth lifting. "What?" he asked, noticing her smile.
She shrugged. "Just thinking how far we've come. And how sometimes you still second-guess yourself. Maybe you should trust that mind of yours a bit more."
His cheeks warmed, and he gave a self-conscious grin. "Thanks," he mumbled.
Their eyes met, lingering, but just as the moment stretched thin, a nearby student sneezed. The spell broke, and Caitlyn cleared her throat, rummaging through some of Orion's notes to shift focus. Yet the new warmth between them stayed, an undercurrent neither was quite sure how to address.
Taking Charge of Tomorrow
Back home, Grant and Clara listened with a mix of pride and concern as Orion described the Piltover Innovation Showcase. They knew how single-minded their son could become when chasing a goal. Even so, they wholeheartedly encouraged him.
Grant said, "If it'll help push your research forward, I say go for it, son. You've got a rare opportunity."
Clara agreed, though she added a motherly warning. "Just remember to balance your health. Don't lock yourself in the workshop for days without rest."
Orion smiled, heart warmed by their unwavering support. "I won't, Mom. I promise."
Later that night, after returning to his small bedroom, he gazed at the pinned blueprint of the mechanical eye. His improvements had been substantial over the years, but the device remained incomplete. There was always another calibration to tweak, another theoretical puzzle to solve.
He thought about Caitlyn's words—how he should trust himself more. The same applied to all his inventions, from the mechanical arm he now wore like a natural extension of his body to the budding Energon concept that might reshape Piltover's energy landscape. If the city was on the brink of adopting wind power in a more significant way, perhaps Energon could follow.
Gathering a few fresh sheets of parchment, Orion began sketching new schematics. He had only a few months before the Innovation Showcase—enough time to craft a stable demonstration model, or at least something that would illustrate Energon's capabilities without risking an explosion.
Despite his lingering doubts, he felt the thrill of possibility surge again, propelled by the faith of friends, mentors, and family. And maybe, just maybe, the affection he sensed growing between him and Caitlyn gave him one more reason to strive for greatness.
"This is it," he whispered to himself, the flickering lamp casting dancing shadows on his notes. "A chance to show Piltover—and everyone—what a boy with one arm, one mechanical eye, and one big dream can do."
With that, he dove into his work, heart alight with determination. The future beckoned, and Orion was ready to seize it, gear by gear, spark by spark.