Xian sat at his workbench, the faint hum of machinery filling the quiet of his shop. The smell of oil and solder lingered in the air, grounding him in the familiar rhythm of his craft.
The old radio in front of him crackled softly as he twisted the final screw into place, its gears clicking to life with a low, steady whir. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the worn wood echoing in the stillness.
He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension that had built up over hours of work. The day's routine weighed heavily on him, yet the simple act of fixing something of restoring order to even the smallest piece of machinery offered a kind of solace.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping past the usual hour he would close up shop. Xian glanced at it and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Guess I lost track of time again," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the faint mechanical hum.
Standing, he stretched, his muscles stiff from hours spent hunched over the workbench. His stomach growled, breaking the silence and reminding him of the one thing he had neglected all day food. He rubbed the back of his neck, moving toward the small fridge tucked into the corner of the shop.
Inside, the sparse contents greeted him with little enthusiasm: a few eggs, some wilted greens, and half a loaf of bread. He frowned, clicking his tongue. "Not much to work with," he muttered.
It was the same routine every night finish work late, scrounge together whatever food he had left, and promise himself he'd stock up properly tomorrow. Grabbing a towel, he wiped the grease from his hands and headed toward the stairs.
The old wooden steps creaked beneath his weight as he ascended to the second floor, his modest living quarters. It wasn't much just a small bedroom with a cot pushed into one corner and a cluttered desk covered in papers and half-finished ideas.
The bathroom was cramped, but the hot water was a comfort after long hours in the shop.
The water streamed over him, washing away the grime and tension of the day. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, his thoughts drifting unbidden to earlier events.
Amiya.
Her name surfaced in his mind, uninvited but persistent. He could still see her bright blue eyes, their intensity lingering in his memory. She was polite, composed, but there was something about her presence that had unsettled him. She was just a customer nothing unusual about that. Yet, there was a weight to her gaze, an unspoken curiosity that made him feel as though she could see straight through him.
Xian shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. "Don't overthink it," he murmured to himself. "She's just another customer."
Pulling on fresh clothes, he grabbed his wallet and keys, making his way back downstairs. The cool evening air greeted him as he stepped outside, the shop door clicking shut behind him.
The streets were alive with the quiet bustle of the night. Vendors called out from their stalls, their voices blending into a symphony of activity as lanterns cast a warm glow over the cobblestones.
The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble anew.
Xian took a deep breath, his gaze wandering over the lively scene before him. This was his new normal a far cry from the world he had known, but one he had come to accept in his own way. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he set off into the night, the rhythm of the city carrying him forward.
Even as he walked, his thoughts couldn't fully escape the strange encounter from earlier. But for now, the promise of a hot meal was enough to keep them at bay.
Xian navigated the narrow streets toward the local market, his steps steady but unhurried. The evening air was cooler now, brushing past him in gentle waves, carrying with it the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, grilled meat, and spices.
The market square buzzed with life, lanterns casting flickering light over the bustling crowd as vendors called out, their voices competing for attention.
"Fresh greens, best in the district!"
"Two for one! Only tonight!"
He slid into the flow of shoppers, the noise washing over him like an ambient tide. His focus remained on the task at hand, moving from stall to stall with a quiet efficiency. A basket of fresh greens, a small bundle of cuts from the butcher, and a sack of rice all purchased with the soft clink of coins exchanged for goods.
The weight of the basket in his hand felt grounding, a small reminder of normalcy in a world that still felt alien. Life here was strange and unpredictable, but some routines like shopping for food remained stubbornly familiar.
As Xian adjusted the basket in his hand, a sudden shift in the crowd's energy caught his attention. People were no longer moving as freely, their murmurs growing louder, more anxious. His gaze followed theirs toward the large screen mounted above the square.
The news broadcast filled the air, the anchor's voice sharp with urgency:
"...riots have escalated in the outer districts. Several neighborhoods have been set ablaze, and authorities report significant casualties. Reunion forces have claimed responsibility…"
The screen flickered, displaying grainy footage of chaos masked figures storming through the streets, buildings engulfed in flames, and frightened civilians scrambling to safety.
The single word Reunion loomed prominently in bold red letters, a harbinger of destruction that felt closer than ever.
Xian's grip tightened on the basket as he stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the screen. Around him, conversations erupted in hushed tones, tinged with unease.
"They're pushing deeper into Chernobog…"
"How long until they reach the inner city?"
"This is getting out of control."
He swallowed hard, his thoughts turning inward as he processed what he was seeing. Reunion. The name carried weight an undeniable presence in Terra's fragile order. He'd heard the stories, the whispers of their violence and ideals, and now, the undeniable reality stared back at him from the screen.
A single, unwelcome thought wormed its way into his mind: Could I do it?
The question struck him like a blow, its implications settling heavily in his chest. If the worst happened if Reunion's chaos spread to his doorstep what would he do? Could he fight back? Could he kill if it came down to survival?
His stomach turned at the thought. Xian had always been a fixer, a builder, someone who mended what was broken. Destruction, violence that wasn't who he was. And yet, in the face of a world that demanded impossible choices, he couldn't ignore the possibility.
With a deep breath, he shook his head, forcing the thought aside. Hypotheticals wouldn't help him now. For all his worries, Reunion hadn't reached him, not yet.
The screen dimmed as the broadcast shifted to another story, and the tension in the crowd slowly eased, though the undercurrent of fear lingered. Xian turned away, resuming his path back to the shop.
The streets were quieter now, the vibrant energy of the market fading as the evening wore on. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the cobblestones. Xian's gaze lifted briefly to the stars, faint and distant but visible between the looming buildings.
For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, to find solace in the simple act of walking home. He had food in his basket, a meal to cook, and a quiet night ahead small comforts that felt precious amidst the uncertainty.
But as he neared his shop, the faint wail of sirens echoed in the distance, barely audible over the city's hum. It was a sound he'd grown accustomed to tuning out, but tonight, it felt different, carrying with it a sense of foreboding he couldn't quite shake.
Still, Xian kept walking, his focus on the immediate: unlocking his door, setting the basket down, and preparing for another evening in his strange new world.
Whatever was coming, he'd face it when it arrived. Until then, the routine was enough. Or so he told himself.
After finishing his meal, Xian stood and began clearing the table, his actions mechanical, driven by habit rather than thought. The soft clatter of porcelain against the sink broke the stillness of the shop, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet space.
He worked methodically, rinsing each dish under the tap and setting them aside to dry. In the background, the low hum of idle machinery served as an ever-present reminder of the life he'd built here piecemeal, but functional.
As he dried his hands on a worn towel, Xian leaned against the counter, his gaze wandering toward the shadowed expanse of the shop. The glow from the single overhead lamp cast long, uneven shadows across the room, giving it a muted, almost dreamlike quality.
The silence was heavy, thick enough that it seemed to amplify the faint ticking of the wall clock.
He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts drifted. Fatigue gnawed at the edges of his mind, but it wasn't just physical. No, this was something deeper a mental exhaustion that had been building for days.
Why can't I shake this feeling?
The events of the day replayed in his mind, looping endlessly. Amiya's calm yet piercing gaze. The news broadcast in the market, the images of Reunion's destruction. And the ever-present question that loomed over him like a storm cloud: What am I even doing here?
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. The faint memory of his grandparents surfaced, their steady guidance and unwavering support a stark contrast to the uncertainty he now felt.
Their lessons had always centered on practical wisdom fix what's broken, make use of what you have but they'd never prepared him for something like this.
This world, Terra, was a paradox so vibrant and alive, yet overshadowed by constant threats. It was a far cry from the small, predictable life he'd led on Earth.
And yet, for reasons he still didn't fully understand, he'd managed to carve out a place for himself here. But was it enough?
The knot in his chest tightened. He didn't have answers, only more questions. Why had he been brought here? Why now? And why him, of all people?
Xian shook his head, pushing off the counter. His gaze lingered on the shop for a moment longer before he turned away. The weight of the day hung heavy on his shoulders, pulling him toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
Each creak of the wooden steps beneath his feet was oddly grounding, a small comfort in its familiarity.
The room was as modest as the rest of the shop bare walls, a simple bed, and a small desk cluttered with notes and tools. He sat on the edge of the mattress, running a hand through his hair as a yawn escaped him.
His body ached, not from exertion, but from the accumulation of tension he'd carried all day.
Sliding under the thin blanket, Xian let his head sink into the pillow. The darkness of the room enveloped him, but his thoughts continued to churn, refusing to quiet. Something's coming, he thought, the unease gnawing at him.
He didn't know what, but the feeling was undeniable, like a low rumble of thunder in the distance.
Despite the turmoil in his mind, exhaustion finally won. His eyes grew heavier with each passing second until they closed, and sleep claimed him at last.
The shop fell silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the steady rhythm of his breathing, as the weight of the day gave way to the stillness of the night.
His peaceful slumber was shattered just thirty minutes later. The sudden explosion rattled the walls of the shop, jolting Xian awake with a gasp. His heart pounded in his chest, and before his eyes even adjusted to the darkness, the floor beneath him shook with another deafening blast.
"What the hell is going on?!" he muttered, scrambling out of bed, his breath shallow.
His pulse raced as he bolted upright and rushed to the window. The scene unfolding before him was like something from a nightmare. Fires raged in the distance, their orange glow painting the streets in a hellish light. The acrid smell of smoke reached his nose, and screams pierced the night air. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos.
Arts? No, this was no ordinary disaster.
The sound of destruction echoed closer, sending a chill down his spine. His body moved on instinct, adrenaline flooding his veins as he fumbled for something to defend himself. His thoughts raced.
Weapon... He needed something, anything.
Then it hit him-the gun. He had a weapon. A small handgun, hidden away in a box beneath the counter. He remembered the man who had given it to him, the injured stranger who had begged for help months ago. The man had left it behind, along with a strange metal necklace shaped like a cross. The necklace had always intrigued him, smooth and featureless, with no markings or symbols.
Xian grabbed both the gun and the necklace, quickly strapping the pendant around his neck before clutching the gun in his trembling hands. His palms were slick with sweat. He'd never used a weapon before, never needed to, but now, he wasn't about to go down without a fight.
Suddenly, the front wall of his shop exploded inward. The blast sent debris flying, knocking Xian off his feet and into a nearby shelf. His breath was stolen from him, and he coughed as the dust filled the air, his vision blurred. A low growl cut through the haze, and Xian's heart dropped as he saw the towering silhouette emerging from the rubble.
A Sarkaz.
Xian's blood ran cold. He'd heard of them-the warriors, merciless and brutal. It didn't matter if you were a civilian or a soldier. If a Sarkaz wanted you dead, there was little hope.
The creature wasted no time. With a savage grunt, it kicked Xian hard in the chest, sending him crashing into the stairs. Pain flared through his ribs, and a sharp gasp escaped him. He tasted blood in his mouth.
I need to get out of here, he thought, struggling to his feet. He stumbled, clutching his side, and dragged himself toward the second floor.
Another sharp pain erupted in his arm. He screamed, falling to his knees as the arrow lodged deep into his right arm. Blood trickled down his sleeve, and the world spun for a moment.
"Pathetic!" a voice sneered from below.
Xian's blurry eyes focused on the figure standing at the base of the stairs: a Reunion member, crossbow in hand, eyes gleaming with malicious glee. Xian's pulse quickened as the Sarkaz closed in on him, its heavy footsteps thundering behind him.
"Why... are you doing this?" Xian gasped, his voice weak and strained. "Why attack innocent people?"
The crossbowman laughed cruelly, his voice dripping with mockery. "You wouldn't understand, weakling."
The Sarkaz didn't hesitate. With a single swift motion, it kicked Xian again, sending him crashing through the second-floor window. The glass shattered around him, and he hit the ground with a sickening thud. His breath was knocked from his chest, and he lay there, dazed, bloodied, and bruised.
For a moment, everything was still. The world felt distant as he struggled to breathe. Then, he heard the footsteps-two sets now, moving toward him.
"You're weak," the Sarkaz sneered. "Just another useless civilian."
Xian chuckled weakly, the pain in his chest almost unbearable, but still, he managed a grin. "Yeah... maybe. But I'm not as stupid as you think."
The crossbowman scowled, his grin turning into a snarl. "What are you going to do? That little toy won't save you."
Xian raised the gun, his vision blurring, but his hands were steady. He aimed at the Sarkaz and fired. The bullet hit the towering figure square in the chest, but it didn't even flinch. The creature merely smirked.
"See? Useless," the Sarkaz taunted.
Xian's grin only widened, though his teeth were gritted with pain. His eyes flicked to the kitchen window above, the remnants of the old shop's structure hanging precariously. Guess I missed, he muttered to himself.
With a flick of his wrist, he aimed at the gas tank near the stove. Aimed at the hanging knives. His finger squeezed the trigger.
Boom!
The explosion was deafening. The kitchen erupted into chaos as fire and shrapnel tore through the room, sending the two Reunion soldiers flying. The knives, sharp and deadly, embedded themselves into the soldiers' bodies, their blood mixing with the dust and debris.
Xian shielded his face, the heat of the blast washing over him as the world shook. When the dust finally settled, he lay there, barely conscious, his head spinning, and his body battered. A weak chuckle escaped his lips.
"I really have lousy aim..." he mumbled, the pain almost unbearable now, but a faint, pained smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He had survived. Barely.
At the far part of the city
Amiya's ears twitched, catching a distant, faint rumble in the stillness of the night. She froze mid-step, her sharp gaze shifting to the horizon. Moments later, the echoing boom of an explosion tore through the quiet, accompanied by a faint orange glow blooming in the dark skies over Chernobog. Another explosion followed, louder this time, sending shivers up her spine.
Dobermann immediately noticed Amiya's reaction and stepped closer. "What is it?" she asked, her tone steady but cautious.
"Explosions," Amiya murmured, her voice barely audible. Her wide eyes reflected the glow in the distance. "They're too close."
The rest of the Rhodes Island team quickly gathered, their weapons in hand and expressions hardening as the tension around them thickened. Beagle adjusted her shield grip instinctively, Fang's spear shifted into a ready stance, and Kroos nocked an arrow, her bowstring taut. Though they stood firm, their faces betrayed a subtle unease.
"Reunion," Dobermann said grimly, her sharp eyes fixed on the fiery skyline. "They've advanced faster than we anticipated. This district is compromised."
Amiya nodded, though her thoughts wandered elsewhere—back to Xian. That brief encounter at his shop nagged at her. His unreadable, blank presence unsettled her in ways she couldn't describe, as if staring into an abyss that revealed nothing in return. It wasn't the hostility she feared; it was the emptiness, a vast calm that felt unnervingly detached from reality.
That emptiness terrified her.
"Do we investigate the area?" Beagle asked, raising her shield defensively. Her tone was steady, but her nervous glances betrayed her worry. "It might be connected to the explosions."
Amiya hesitated. The proximity of the chaos to Xian's shop tugged at her thoughts. Was he caught up in this? Could Reunion have targeted him for some reason? The questions clawed at her mind, but she knew the team had no time for detours.
"No," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "The mission comes first. Our priority is the evacuation routes in the northern district. That's where the civilians are concentrated."
Dobermann nodded, approving the decision. "Agreed. But keep your guard up. If Reunion's infiltrated this area, they won't stop at simple destruction—they'll target the people."
The team nodded and moved out, their steps quick and purposeful as they navigated the dim, winding streets of Chernobog. The air grew heavy with the acrid tang of smoke, the distant cries of terrified civilians carried faintly through the city. Amiya gripped her staff tightly, its faint hum of Arts energy providing a small comfort as she kept her senses sharp.
Ahead, Dobermann took the lead, her commanding presence a steadying force. Beagle stayed close, shield up and scanning the shadows for danger, while Fang and Kroos covered the flanks, their weapons ready. Amiya stayed near the center of the formation, her staff poised to counter any threat, though her mind was clouded with unease.
Why couldn't I sense him? she wondered again, her thoughts drifting back to Xian. That unnatural void in her perception—it wasn't normal. And yet, it lingered in her thoughts like a bad omen.
"Stay focused," Dobermann called out firmly, snapping Amiya from her reverie. "We're almost at the rendezvous point."
Amiya nodded, forcing herself to push Xian from her thoughts. Whatever was happening with him, she had to trust he could handle himself—for now.
As they neared the northern district, the chaos around them grew more intense. Fires raged in several buildings, their flickering light casting eerie shadows over the cobblestone streets. Civilians fled in panic, some clutching meager belongings while others simply ran, their faces etched with terror. Many were injured, their wounds telling stories of Reunion's violent advance.
Dobermann raised her hand, signaling the team to halt. "We assist the civilians from here," she ordered. "Beagle, Kroos, secure the western side and guide the injured to the shelters. Fang, you're with me. Amiya, take point and monitor the area for threats."
"Yes, ma'am," the team replied in unison.
Amiya moved swiftly, her staff glowing faintly as she scanned the immediate area. She spotted a family huddled near a collapsed cart, the mother cradling a crying infant while the father struggled to calm two terrified children. Without hesitation, Amiya approached.
"Follow me," she said gently, her calm tone cutting through their panic. She reached out a hand to the father, helping him steady one of the children. "The shelters aren't far. You'll be safe there."
The father nodded shakily, gathering his family. "Thank you," he said, his voice trembling.
"Stay close and move quickly," Amiya urged, glancing around to ensure the path was clear.
Nearby, Beagle raised her shield defensively as she guided a small group of injured workers toward the shelter's entrance. Kroos kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding rooftops, her bow ready to intercept any threats.
Meanwhile, Dobermann and Fang worked efficiently, cutting through debris to clear a blocked alley where more civilians were trapped. Fang's spear struck down the larger obstacles, while Dobermann barked instructions to keep the panicked crowd moving.
Through it all, Amiya's thoughts remained divided. Her focus on the mission was absolute, yet her concern for Xian gnawed at the edges of her mind. She found herself glancing back toward the shop's direction more than once, her heart heavy with worry.
Please be safe, she thought, gripping her staff tighter as she turned her attention back to the task at hand.
Minutes later after they finish,
the team regrouped near the shelter entrance, the flow of civilians gradually subsiding as the area was cleared. Dobermann gave a final scan of the surroundings before nodding in satisfaction.
"That's everyone," she said. "We've done all we can here. Now we move to the northern checkpoint."
Amiya glanced back toward the distant glow of Chernobog's skyline, her unease growing with every passing second. Tonight's chaos felt like the prelude to something far worse—a storm gathering strength just over the horizon.
"Let's go," Dobermann called, her voice firm.
As the team moved out, Amiya cast one last look back at the city and whispered under her breath, "Xian… you'd better be okay."
The thought lingered in her mind as they disappeared into the shadows, the faint echoes of the night's destruction following close behind.
After quite some time. Amiya stood by the map table in the dimly lit room, her sharp eyes tracing the marked route that wound deep into Chernobog.
The destination: the sarcophagus housing the Doctor's stasis chamber. The plan was simple enough in theory, but the growing tension in her chest reminded her that simple rarely held true in practice.
The low murmur of the Rhodes Island team preparing for the mission filled the room. Supplies were being checked, weapons polished, and last-minute adjustments made. Yet Amiya's attention remained locked on the map, her ears twitching slightly with unease.
Dobermann, standing just a few feet away, crossed her arms and studied Amiya carefully. "You're worried about the Doctor, aren't you?" she asked, her tone calm yet direct.
Amiya nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over the line on the map that represented their planned route. "If we can reach them before Reunion realizes what's in the sarcophagus, we'll have an overwhelming advantage. But if Reunion finds out…" Her voice faltered, unwilling to give life to the grim scenario playing in her head.
Dobermann stepped closer, her voice firm and reassuring. "That's exactly why we need to move quickly. Reunion is still focused on causing chaos. As far as we know, they have no idea what we're after. If we maintain our cover, we'll reach the Doctor before they realize anything is amiss."
Amiya took a deep breath, forcing her rising anxiety back into its corner. She shifted her gaze toward the far side of the room, where Rhodes Island operators were assisting evacuated civilians. Beagle was handing out water to a family, her shield propped against the wall nearby. Fang and Kroos were double-checking their gear while offering quiet words of encouragement to each other.
For a moment, her thoughts drifted. She pictured Xian amidst the growing chaos, his distant, unreadable presence lingering in her mind. She clenched her fists tightly, grounding herself. I can't let personal concerns distract me, she thought. Xian can handle himself. I have to trust that.
Turning back to Dobermann, Amiya's expression hardened, her resolve clear. "You're right. We stick to the plan. The Doctor is waiting, and we can't waste a second."
Dobermann nodded approvingly. "Good. Prep the team. We move out in ten."
The operators moved like a well-practiced machine, the atmosphere shifting from preparation to quiet determination. Beagle hefted her shield, adjusting its straps with quick, practiced movements.
Kroos slung her bow across her back, double-checking her quiver, while Fang's spear glinted faintly under the dim light as she gave it one last inspection. Amiya joined them, her staff humming faintly as she infused it with a steady reserve of Arts energy.
"Everyone ready?" Dobermann's commanding voice cut through the room. Her sharp gaze swept over the group, ensuring there were no loose ends. The operators nodded in unison, their expressions serious but steady.
"We'll take the western route," Dobermann continued. "It keeps us out of Reunion's primary focus areas. Stay quiet, stay alert, and stay together. No one acts alone."
Amiya stepped forward, holding her staff with both hands. "Remember, the Doctor is our top priority. Once we secure them, we'll regroup and extract as quickly as possible. We can't afford to draw Reunion's attention."
The group acknowledged her words with quiet affirmations. With a quick glance back at the map for confirmation, Amiya led the team out of the building.
The night outside greeted them with the faint, acrid smell of smoke and the distant sound of shouting a grim reminder of the chaos engulfing the city.
As they moved through the shadowed streets of Chernobog, the team remained silent, their steps deliberate and calculated. Amiya stayed near the front, her senses extended for any sign of danger.
Behind her, Dobermann kept watch, her sharp eyes scanning every alley and rooftop for movement. Beagle, Fang, and Kroos flanked their formation, weapons at the ready, their movements fluid and coordinated.
The further they traveled, the closer they drew to the heart of the chaos. Faint tremors from distant explosions vibrated through the ground, and the glow of scattered fires illuminated the edges of the streets. Civilians occasionally darted across their path, fleeing the destruction with panicked expressions.
Despite the danger looming over them, Amiya couldn't shake the heavy weight pressing against her mind. Her thoughts flickered back to Xian, imagining him caught up in the chaos near his shop.
Was he safe? Was he prepared for something like this? Or had Reunion already reached him?
Dobermann's voice pulled her back to the present. "We're approaching the rendezvous point. Focus, Amiya. We'll have no room for hesitation if things go wrong."
Amiya nodded, steeling herself. "Understood."
As the team pressed onward, Amiya forced herself to stay in the moment, focusing on the mission ahead. The image of the Doctor waiting in stasis became her anchor, a reminder of what was at stake.
One Hour Later...
Xian's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. His arm throbbed from the arrow wound, each step sending sharp jolts of agony through him.
Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead, staining his vision with a hazy red tint. The world around him spun, but he forced himself forward, step by agonizing step. He had to survive. He couldn't die here.
With a stumble, Xian crashed into the cold alley wall, pressing his back against it, trying to steady his breath. His pulse hammered in his ears, each heartbeat a reminder of his fragile state. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs, his side aching from the blood-soaked fabric clinging to his torn shirt.
I need to rest… to think, he thought, but his mind was clouded. There was no time.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed nearby, sharp and rhythmic. Xian's heart leapt into his throat. His body screamed for him to move, but he froze, instinctively ducking behind a nearby trash can.
His muscles coiled like a spring, every nerve on edge. The footsteps grew closer, then halted.
A group of Reunion soldiers emerged, their heavy boots ringing in the silence, weapons glinting faintly beneath the dim streetlights. Xian held his breath, the world narrowing to just the sound of his own pulse.
Please don't see me, please don't see me he thought.
But then, his foot brushed against the trash can. The metallic clatter was deafening, shattering the tension.
"Who's there?" A sharp voice barked, and the soldiers turned, their eyes scanning the shadows.
Xian cursed silently, his heart racing. No. No time!
His instincts screamed at him to move, to run, but before he could react, an arrow whizzed past him, cutting the air with a razor-sharp hiss. He jerked his head back, just narrowly avoiding it.
More soldiers appeared from the shadows, crossbows aimed at him. Panic surged through him. He was trapped.
"Look at this rat crawling through the trash," one of the soldiers sneered. "Time to take out the garbage."
They loosed their arrows.
Xian dove to the side with a sharp grunt, feeling the ground slam into his shoulder. The air screamed past him as bolts embedded in the stone wall where he had just been standing. Pain shot through him, but he didn't have time to process it. The air was filled with the deadly whizzing of more arrows. There was no escape.
This is it... The thought flashed through his mind like a cold blade. I was naive. Weak. Always pushing things aside. And now I'm going to die here…
As the arrows closed in, everything around him seemed to slow. His breath, ragged and uneven, calmed. The world stretched out before him, each motion and thought slowing to an almost serene pace.
The arrows, now suspended in mid-air, hung in front of him like a frozen moment in time.
Then it happened.
A deep, burning sensation rose from his chest. It wasn't physical-no, this was something else. Something primal. The fire inside him flared, igniting deep in his soul.
Suddenly, the air shimmered. A strange, tingling sensation filled the alley as if the very atmosphere had thickened with energy. His eyes widened as a glowing panel materialized in front of him, floating effortlessly in the air.
This... this is just like those system panels in the novels...
His eyes scanned the strange symbols displayed before him:
[Extract Originium from the Atmosphere]
[Notice: Host in danger, auto-extract Activated]
His mind raced, but it wasn't fear that filled him now. Knowledge surged within him, flooding his very core. His instincts sharpened, his muscles tightening, prepared to act. His hands tremble not from fear but from the raw power coursing through him.
As the panel faded, time snapped back to its normal flow. The arrows, mere inches from him, resumed their deadly path.
Xian's golden irises flared open, burning with an intense light. His left pupil shimmered with a symbol of sound waves; his right held the faintest glimmer of a star.
His body felt detached, as though watching from a distance, yet every movement felt natural. Like a rhythm he had always known but never understood.
He grasped the nearest metal pipe, rusted and jagged, with a fluid motion. Without thinking, he spun it in his hands an instinctive, almost elegant motion. The barrage of arrows continued their deadly descent, but Xian was already in motion.
With a practiced swing, he deflected the first bolt, the clang of metal against metal ringing in his ears. Sparks flew as the second bolt crashed into the ground. He spun again, the pipe moving with purpose, knocking another arrow aside with surprising precision.
It was messy his movements rough and unrefined but there was an undeniable power in them.
The Reunion soldiers stood frozen, their shock evident. One of them shouted, "What the hell?"
Xian didn't answer. He charged forward.
In a blur of motion, Xian closed the distance, bringing the pipe down in a swift arc. He swept the crossbow from the soldier's hands, sending it flying through the air.
Without pausing, he followed up with an upward strike, catching the soldier's jaw with the blunt end of the pipe, sending them crashing to the ground.
Another soldier lunged at him with a spear, but Xian was already moving. He ducked, twisting his body mid-spin, the motion fluid. The pipe jabbed out, driving into the soldier's abdomen with brutal force. The soldier staggered backward, winded, and Xian used the momentum to vault over them, landing in a roll.
He was up in an instant, his legs sweeping out to knock another soldier to the ground.
The alley was alive with the buzz of tension, but Xian didn't stop. His movements flowed one into the next, each strike calculated, each dodge instinctive. The soldiers were disoriented, their attacks clumsy in comparison to his newfound rhythm.
Another soldier charged at him, sword drawn. Xian spun around, ducking low as the sword missed by inches, then swung the pipe in a wide arc, slamming it into the soldier's wrist, sending the weapon clattering to the ground.
One by one, the soldiers fell. The final one stood trembling, gripping their crossbow with desperate hands.
"What... what are you?" they stammered, their fear palpable.
Xian, panting heavily, bloodied and battered, locked eyes with the soldier. His golden irises gleamed in the dim light, glowing like burning embers. The soldier's fear deepened, reflected in their wide eyes.
"I'm just someone who finally decided to take things seriously," Xian replied, his voice low and resolute.
The soldier fired in desperation. Xian sidestepped, the arrow whistling harmlessly past him. Without missing a beat, he lunged forward. His pipe collided with the soldier's chest, knocking them to the ground with a single, forceful blow.
The alley fell silent.
Xian stood among the fallen soldiers, his chest heaving with exhaustion. His hands trembled as he let the pipe fall to the ground. His mind, now clear of the fog of battle, began to process what had just happened. He looked at his hands, still stained with blood, then back at the unconscious soldiers.
"What... the hell just happened to me?"