Caitlin ran into a winding path, a narrow alley in the middle of the high walls of the factory that few people walked. She crossed the crowded street, and several people she touched let out a cry of dissatisfaction. As she approached the Grand Canyon in the middle of Piltover, the streets narrowed, but she bet she knew more about the Piltover shortcut than Dwaki. After more than a dozen turns, she came to a winding cobblestone road along the canyon. Locals call it Drop Street because at the end of the street there are roaring Hex pressure conveyors that work until late at night. At this moment, the delivery plane is crouching in the shadows.

The iron frame cabin had not yet been opened, and the diamond-shaped iron fence was closed crosswise. Fifteen Zuans, all drunk, gathered around the ticket booth. The person Caitlin was looking for wasn't among them. She crouched sideways, leaning the barrel of her rifle against a slatted crate with the Myrdalda Group's logo on the board—undoubtedly stolen goods, but there was no time to unpack them.

Caitlin used her thumb to flip the rifle's main switch to the upright position. A soft note came from the breech, and she was ready to get into a firing stance. She pulled out the butt of her gun, pressed it tightly against her shoulder, pressed her cheek against the walnut lining, and looked through the crystal lens with one eye open.

She didn't have to wait long.

Dwaki skimmed the corners, the hem of his long coat fluttering behind him, his tall hat making his silhouette unique. He didn't seem to be in a hurry at all, apparently thinking that he had already shaken off his pursuers. Carrying a heavy copper-horned leather case were his metal-reinforced claws. Wei once mentioned that it was some kind of secret enhancement transformation he had received in Zu'an when he was younger.

Caitlin took aim at the ugly mechanical prosthetic and pulled the trigger. A scorching orange flame erupted from the muzzle of the gun, and Dwarki's hand exploded and disappeared in an instant. He screamed and fell to the ground, his hat falling from his head, and his suitcase falling to the ground. Dwaki looked up, his eyes filled with pain and horror. He saw Catelyn and tried to turn and run away, but Catelyn had expected it. She flicked the switch on the breech with her thumb and pulled the trigger again.

This time, the bullet hit Dwaki in the back and exploded to form a stun rope net. Dwaki flexed his back, stumbled and fell, and twitched on the ground. Caitlyn turned off the power on her rifle, put it back on her shoulder, and walked over to Dwarki on the ground. The effect of the electric shock rope net was waning, but he still couldn't get up for a while. Caitlyn bent down to pick up the suitcase he had dropped on the ground, then shook her head and smacked.

"What-what... What?" asked Dwaki, twitching.

"How did you know you were here?" asked Caitlyn.

Dwaki nodded, his movements stiff and funny.

"Nothing you stole before made sense, but if you put everything together, it looks like you're collecting all sorts of parts to make a version of the Vishla Hex vinyl musket."

She crouched down next to Dwaki, one hand on his stiff body.

"We all know it's too dangerous and it's not legal, right? No one in the city dares to touch that forbidden Hex, but the people elsewhere, maybe Noxus? They must be willing to spend money, I guess. The only people who could get that kind of thing out of town were the headless smugglers in Zaun. It's so late, and it's the only way to get to Zuan. As soon as I find out that you don't plan to spend the night in Phi City, all that's left to do is to get there one step ahead of you and wait for you. So let's have a good talk and tell me who your master is. ”

Dwaki didn't answer, and Caitlyn chuckled and grabbed him.

"The hat is good," she said.

Born and raised in the affluent district of Piltover, Ezreal was a curious child from an early age. His parents were both well-known archaeologists, so he had long been accustomed to his parents' long absences from home and fantasized about traveling with them. He loved to hear stories of bizarre adventures, and like his parents, he couldn't get used to the blank spaces left on the map.

His parents often entrusted him to the care of his uncle, Professor Lemmier. However, the professor did not like to discipline this unruly child, so he was given a number of extremely strict tutors to teach him advanced cartography, Hex machines, and the ancient history of Runeterra. But this kid has an innate talent for absorbing knowledge, and all this heavy schoolwork is a waste of time for him. He easily passed the exam with little to no revision. While making his uncle angry, it also gave him a lot of time to wander around the college campus. Ezreal's happiest thing is to avoid the control officers, fly over the wall, and go up to the house to remove the tiles. He even developed his lock-picking skills, sneaking into the teachers' offices and rearranging their belongings – simply because he thought it was fun.

Whenever Ezreal's parents returned to Piltover, his father would tell him about his sights and plans for their future expeditions, the most ambitious and secret, of which was the search for the lost tomb of the tyrant of Shurima, Naezuk. Legend has it that he was able to teleport location. Ezreal's father joked that if he figured out what magic Nazouk had, he would be able to go back to Piltover for dinner with his son every day, no matter where he went.

As the little boy grows older, his parents spend more and more time away from home. Until one time, they never came back. With tears in his eyes, Professor Lemire reluctantly admits that they may well have died in the desert.

But Ezreal couldn't accept it. His parents are always prepared. They must still be somewhere, alive......

The future explorer abandoned his struggling studies and decided to go it alone. He knew that the slightest chance of finding his parents would have to start with Nazouk's final resting place. He spent weeks secretly collecting spare parts at the university—illustrations of celestial bodies, translations of rune seals, manuals for Shurima's funeral rituals, and a pair of goggles. He left a note of farewell to his uncle, and then secretly boarded a cargo ship bound for Nashram.

Referring to his mother's detailed field notes, he followed a caravan heading south through Dasai. Over the next few months, he delved into the ruins of the caverns beneath the quicksands, savoring the unfettered freedom and confronting the unspeakable horrors that guarded the chamber. With each step forward, Ezreal imagined himself following in the footsteps of his parents, one step closer to solving the mystery of their disappearance.