Arcane: the Monster of Zaun

The days passed like a whirlwind, each one marked by training, testing, and discovery. For Derek, it was a strange, surreal time—like living in a body that was no longer his own. Every morning, he woke up feeling stronger, faster, more aware of everything around him. But there was always that edge, that dangerous sharpness, lurking just beneath the surface.

His senses were heightened in ways he couldn't comprehend. The faintest hum of machinery, the distant chatter of the undercity's inhabitants, even the subtle shift in someone's breathing—he could hear it all as if it were happening right next to him. It was overwhelming at first, like being submerged in a cacophony of sound and sensation.

But the moon... the moon was the worst.

At first, he barely noticed its pull—a faint tingle in the back of his mind whenever it rose in the night sky. But as the days wore on and the full moon loomed closer, the feeling grew stronger. Derek could feel it like a physical weight pressing down on him, a constant thrum of energy that made his skin itch and his blood sing.

He didn't tell the others how much it affected him. Not fully.

What am I becoming? The question lingered in his mind, haunting him with every passing day.

During their training sessions, his friends marveled at his newfound abilities. Vi was the first to test his strength, egging him on to lift heavier and heavier objects. Derek obliged, pushing himself further each time, though his confidence was tinged with unease.

"Alright, Derek," Vi said one afternoon, standing beside him in an empty scrap yard as Vander looked on. "Let's see how far you can push yourself today."

Derek nodded, trying to focus on her voice instead of the restless energy coursing through him. His muscles felt coiled, ready to spring at a moment's notice. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something.

"Alright," Vi continued, pointing to a massive metal beam that lay half-buried under a pile of debris. "Think you can move that?"

Derek took a deep breath, trying to ignore the faint tremor in his hands. He walked over to the beam, crouched down, and wrapped his fingers around it. For a moment, he hesitated.

He could feel the power in his arms, the way his muscles almost hummed with potential. He clenched his jaw, pushed down the unease bubbling in his chest, and heaved.

The beam came loose with a groan of protest, the weight of it hardly registering in Derek's grip. He stood, holding it aloft as the others stared in astonishment.

"You're a beast, Derek!" Vi had exclaimed one day, grinning as he hauled a massive stack of metal crates with ease.

He had forced a laugh, but inside, he didn't feel like celebrating. A beast. Yeah, that's exactly what I feel like.

"Holy crap," Claggor muttered, his jaw practically on the floor.

Derek set the beam down carefully, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His heart pounded in his chest—not from exertion, but from the sheer rush of it all.

The power felt good. Too good.

"Great job, Derek," Vander said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're getting a handle on this."

Derek nodded mutely, avoiding Vander's eyes. He didn't trust himself to speak.

Later, when they tested his speed, it was the same story. Derek sprinted across the scrap yard in the blink of an eye, the world around him blurring as he moved. It was exhilarating, but also terrifying. Every step felt like it could send him careening out of control, like he was a storm barely contained.

At night, the unease only grew.

Derek lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of his room in the Last Drop. He couldn't sleep—hadn't been able to for days. The energy inside him was too much, too restless. He rolled over, burying his face in his hands.

What's happening to me?

His body buzzed with energy, his mind filled with disjointed thoughts and vivid dreams he couldn't remember upon waking. He started to dread the quiet hours, when the moonlight filtered through the cracks in the ceiling and seemed to call to him.

His mind was a whirlwind of questions and doubts. He could feel the moon's pull even now, calling to him like a siren's song. It wasn't just his body that was changing—it was his mind. His thoughts felt sharper, more primal. And the anger... it was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation to erupt.

He clenched his fists, his claws extending instinctively. The sight of them sent a shiver down his spine.

This isn't me, he thought desperately. This isn't who I am.

But the full moon was coming, and with every passing day, Derek felt himself slipping further away from the person he used to be.

"It's like it's pulling me," he admitted one night to Vander during one of their private talks. "I don't know how to describe it, how to explain it. but... I can feel it. Like it's inside me, pulling at me. The closer it gets, the harder it is to... stay myself. When the moon's out, it feels like... like it owns me."

Vander had listened in silence, his face grim. "We'll figure this out, Derek," he said, though the uncertainty in his voice was impossible to miss.

Derek wasn't so sure.

The closer the full moon came, the harder it became to control his emotions. His temper flared over the smallest things. Mylo had been the first to bear the brunt of it, making an offhand comment about Powder that sent Derek into a rage.

"Why don't you shut up for once?" Derek had snarled, his voice unnaturally deep.

Everyone had gone quiet as his eyes glowed golden in the dim light, his claws extending instinctively. Mylo had stepped back, wide-eyed, while Powder placed a gentle hand on Derek's arm to calm him. The moment she touched him, the anger drained away, replaced by guilt.

"I'm sorry," he had muttered, avoiding their gazes as he stormed off.

The others weren't blind to what was happening.

"He's... different," Claggor said one evening as they sat around a makeshift table in the bar. "Stronger, yeah. Faster. But... I don't know. He's not himself."

Vi frowned, her arms crossed. "He's going through something, Claggor. We all are. He just needs time to figure it out."

Mylo snorted. "Yeah, well, he nearly snapped my head off yesterday. All I did was make a joke."

Vi shot him a glare. "Maybe if you stopped being a jerk for five seconds, he wouldn't be so on edge."

Powder sat quietly, her hands fidgeting with a small device she'd been tinkering with. She didn't say anything, but her wide, worried eyes spoke volumes.

They had all noticed it—the way Derek's eyes sometimes glowed faintly in the dark, the way his mood swung unpredictably, the way his strength seemed almost unnatural.

"Whatever's happening to him," Vander said, his voice heavy with concern, "we'll figure it out. Together."

Derek hated the way he was losing control. It wasn't just his strength or speed that scared him—it was the fury that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to consume him. It wasn't him. At least, it hadn't been.

For Derek, the hardest part wasn't the changes themselves. It was the fear of what he might become.

Am I still me? he wondered as he stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror of his room. His golden eyes stared back, glowing faintly even in the dim light.

The changes were undeniable now. His muscles were more defined, his posture more upright. Even the way he moved felt different—smoother, more precise, like a predator stalking its prey. He tried to focus on the positives, the way his friends supported him, the way they treated him like he was still Derek.

But deep down, he feared the worst. What if the next time he lost control, it wasn't just words or growls? What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt Powder?

He couldn't let that happen.

And yet, despite his fears, there were moments of strange clarity, of connection. He could feel the moon's presence now, even during the day, a constant hum in the back of his mind. It wasn't all bad—sometimes, it felt like it was guiding him, strengthening him, giving him purpose. But as the full moon approached, the pull grew stronger, more insistent, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist it.

Through it all, Derek found solace in his friends. Despite his fears, they didn't shy away from him. Vi pushed him to embrace his strength, reminding him that it wasn't just a curse—it could be a tool, a weapon to protect those he cared about.

Claggor helped him practice balancing his newfound power, coming up with exercises to test his control. They spent hours fine-tuning Derek's movements, ensuring that he could direct his strength without causing harm.

And then there was Powder.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day. She was the only one who seemed to truly understand his struggles. Especially after that night.

Flashback

The Last Drop was eerily quiet at this hour, the usual chatter of the bar replaced by the distant hum of the undercity. Derek sat slouched in the corner booth, the weight of the day pressing down on him. His body felt strange, his mind even more so. The newfound strength, the speed, the anger—all of it felt like a burden he wasn't sure he could carry.

A soft shuffle of feet drew his attention. Powder approached hesitantly, clutching a small, tattered blanket in her hands. Her blue eyes flicked between him and the floor, unsure of her place in this moment.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You, um... you looked cold."

Derek managed a faint smile. "Thanks, Powder," he murmured as she draped the blanket over his shoulders.

She plopped down beside him, sitting cross-legged on the booth's cushion. For a while, they just sat there, not saying anything, listening to the faint creaks of the old building and the distant hum of machinery outside.

"You're not a monster, you know," Powder said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek turned to her, surprised. "How do you know?"

"Because I've seen real monsters," she replied, her blue eyes glinting with a mix of innocence and wisdom. "And you're not one of them."

Derek swallowed hard, his chest tightening. "It's hard not to feel like one. Especially when... when I lose control."

Powder reached out, placing her small hand on his. "You're still Derek. And I know you can overcome this we are with you."

Her words were simple but heartfelt, and for the first time in days, Derek felt a flicker of hope.

But after a while derek notice's some tension in her posture and asks if she is okay.

Powder hesitated, chewing on her lip. "Yeah," she said, though the word sounded hollow.

Derek tilted his head, studying her. "You sure? You don't sound okay."

Her shoulders stiffened. She opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it again. It was clear something was weighing on her, something she wasn't used to sharing.

"I... I guess I'm not," she admitted quietly. She picked at the edge of her sleeve, her gaze fixed on her knees.

Derek waited patiently, sensing that she needed space to find the words.

"I mess everything up," Powder blurted out suddenly. Her voice cracked, and she winced as though the admission physically hurt her.

Derek frowned, his brows knitting together. "What? No, you don't—"

"I do!" she interrupted, her voice rising slightly. Her hands balled into fists in her lap. "Every job we go on, every plan we make—I'm always the one who screws it up! Mylo's right. I'm just... useless."

The words tumbled out of her like a dam had burst, and once she started, she couldn't stop.

"I can't fight like Vi, or Claggor, or... or talk my way out of trouble like Mylo. And he hates me. I know he does. He's always picking on me, always making me feel like I'm just some dumb little kid who shouldn't even be with you on the jobs."

Derek's heart clenched as he listened.

"And maybe he's right," Powder continued, tears brimming in her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe... maybe everyone will leave me, just like..." Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, her small frame shaking as sobs overtook her.

Derek was stunned. He'd always known Powder was sensitive, but he'd never realized just how much she carried inside her, unspoken and unseen.

He reached out hesitantly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Powder..."

She didn't respond, just kept crying, her words spilling out between sobs. "I'm scared, Derek. I'm scared that one day, I'm going to mess up so bad that you'll all just... give up on me. And then I'll be all alone."

Derek's chest tightened. He slid closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She didn't pull away, leaning into him instead as her sobs continued.

"Hey," Derek said softly, his voice steady despite the ache in his heart. "That's not going to happen. You hear me? I'm not going anywhere. None of us are."

Powder sniffled, lifting her tear-streaked face to look at him. "You don't know that," she whispered.

"I do," Derek insisted, his golden eyes locking with hers. "Powder, you're not useless. You're brilliant. You're the only one who can fix all those crazy gadgets around here. Half the stuff we use wouldn't even work if it weren't for you."

She blinked at him, her tears slowing.

"And you're kind," Derek continued, his voice growing firmer. "You see the good in people—even when they don't see it in themselves. You're funny and creative, and honestly, I don't know how we'd manage without you. You're the heart of this group, Powder. You hold us together, even if you don't realize it."

Powder stared at him, her lip trembling.

"And Mylo?" Derek added with a small, lopsided grin. "He's just a jerk sometimes. But that's his problem, not yours. He doesn't hate you. He's just bad at showing he cares."

Powder let out a small, shaky laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "You think so?"

"I know so," Derek said firmly. "And even if you mess up a hundred times, even if you make mistakes, it doesn't matter. We all mess up, Powder. But I promise you—no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. Always. You're my family."

The words seemed to break through the storm in her mind. Powder leaned against him fully, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Derek," she murmured, her voice small but steady.

Derek gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Anytime, Powder."

For a long time, they sat like that, the silence between them no longer heavy but comforting. Derek could feel her breathing slow, her body relaxing against his.

And for the first time in a long while, Powder stop worrying about the things she messed up or thinks will mess up in the future.