Arknights - Unknown To Dawn

Ed: Hello everyone it's me again!, and sorry from the delay!. It's just that everyone is so busy including me to move-on today. Anyways, Enjoy the chapter❤️.

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Xian walked down the familiar street, his shop just a block away. The cold wind picked up, biting through his coat and ruffling his hair. He hunched his shoulders, muttering to himself.

"Why is it always windy and miserable every time I step outside? Like, is the weather waiting for me or something?" His voice carried a mix of sarcasm and resignation, as if this was just another part of his life he'd learned to tolerate.

As he neared the corner, the unmistakable sound of sirens broke through the wind. A police car, lights flashing, roared past him. Xian barely gave it a glance.

"More trouble somewhere," he said under his breath. He turned his head just enough to follow the car's path, then sighed and shook his head. "Another one" he sighs "Really, it's getting overwhelming" .

The siren's echoes faded into the distance, leaving a strange stillness in their wake. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking until he stood in front of his shop. The sign above the door swayed slightly in the wind, the worn paint peeling at the edges.

Fishing out his keys, he fumbled for the right one, his fingers brushing against the cold metal.

"I really should have putted some names at these keys" he grumbled, squinting at them in the dim light. After a moment, he found the one he was looking for and slid it into the lock.

The door creaked open, and Xian stepped inside, letting the warmth of the shop wash over him. He shut the door firmly, cutting off the faint sound of sirens still lingering outside. For a second, he stood there in the quiet, staring at the dark interior.

Shaking off the momentary stillness, he made his way to the kitchen. The bag of groceries landed on the table with a soft thud as he stretched his arms over his head, letting out a groan.

"All right, let's get this over with," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "The sooner I'm done, the sooner I can crash."

He unpacked the groceries methodically, setting the vegetables, spices, and meat in their usual spots. As he arranged the ingredients, his mind wandered, a small smile tugging at his lips. Cooking wasn't just a chore; it was one of the few times he felt fully in control, where every step had a purpose and a reward.

Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work. The sound of running water filled the room as he washed the vegetables, the rhythmic scrape of the knife against the cutting board following shortly after. He worked efficiently, but with care, tasting and adjusting as he went.

At one point, he dipped a spoon into the simmering pot and brought it to his lips. The flavors were warm and familiar, but something about them pulled at the edges of his memory. A long-forgotten scene surfaced: laughter around a crowded table, the clinking of bowls, and the warmth of a hand brushing against his.

His grip on the spoon tightened, and he closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head.

"Don't go there, Xian," he whispered. He turned back to the stove, his movements sharper now as he focused on the task at hand.

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of spices and broth, the kind that made you feel at home no matter where you were. Xian plated the food with care, arranging it neatly on the table. He clasped his hands together for a brief, silent prayer, the habit ingrained in him from years ago.

The first bite made him pause. The flavors were perfect or too salty, not too bland, just the right balance. He let out a small, satisfied hum.

"Not bad at all," he said, his voice softer now, as if he were afraid to disturb the moment.

As he ate, the distant sound of sirens still echoed faintly outside, but Xian barely noticed it and continues to focus on what he's eating.

After finishing his meal, Xian leaned back in his chair, a content sigh escaping his lips. "That hit the spot," he muttered to himself. For a brief moment, he let the quietness of the room settle in, the faint ticking of the wall clock the only sound accompanying him.

Eventually, he stood up, picking up his plate and utensils. He carried them to the sink, setting them down with a clink. He noticed there were still leftovers on the table and began packing them into containers. "Can't let this go to waste," he remarked, shaking his head. "Groceries aren't cheap, and I'm not about to throw money down the drain."

After securing the leftovers in the fridge, he turned back to the sink. The pile of dishes stared back at him, taunting him with its mundane inevitability. Xian rolled up his sleeves and got to work, the sound of running water and scrubbing filling the air.

"You know," he said to no one in particular, his voice echoing in the small kitchen, "people on Earth used to have dishwashers for this. Not a bad idea, really. Maybe I should rig something up like an automated scrubbing arms or something." He chuckled at the thought, though the idea lingered in his mind longer than he expected.

Once the dishes and utensils were cleaned and set to dry, Xian wiped his hands on a nearby towel and let out a deep, tired sigh. "Finally done," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

He trudged to the living room, his steps slow and deliberate. As he reached the small couch, he groaned and flopped onto it unceremoniously, spreading himself out like he'd been carrying the weight of the world. "I'm so done for today," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the cushion.

After a few seconds, he stretched an arm toward the coffee table, his fingers searching blindly for the TV remote. When he finally grabbed it, he sat up just enough to aim at the television and turn it on. The screen blinked to life, filling the room with the soft glow of random channels flickering by.

Xian flipped through the channels lazily, his expression growing more irritated with each click. "Nope. Boring. Seen that. This one's garbage…" he muttered as the images on the screen shifted. After a few more clicks, he let out a frustrated groan. "Seriously, how is there nothing good on? Isn't this supposed to be entertainment?"

Resigning himself, he leaned back against the couch and sighed. "Guess I'll just watch something random then," he said, though his tone was far from enthusiastic. He continued flipping until something caught his attention, a news channel.

The screen displayed a female reporter standing in front of what looked like an industrial district. The words "Warehouse captured video footage " scrolled across the bottom in bold letters. Xian straightened up, his tiredness momentarily forgotten. "The warehouses incident?" he said as he brows furrowing.

The reporter spoke with urgency, her voice clear despite the faint static in the audio.

"We now have a video footage from a bystander who witnessed an extraordinary battle at the city warehouses. Please note, the following video contains graphic and intense scenes."

Xian's curiosity was piqued, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as the footage began. The screen switched to a shaky, low-quality video. The camera zoomed in on two figures standing on a rooftop. It was hard to make out their features due to the blur and the distance, but their movements were unmistakable.

"A huge fight between bigshots takes place at the warehouse?, then what were they after?" Xian muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on the video.

In the footage, the two figures suddenly clashed. One of them, seemingly smaller, threw what looked like a bomb toward the other. The explosion lit up the rooftop, but the larger figure moved with inhuman speed, dodging and closing the distance. The others however wielded a long, glinting object, likely a sword then slashed at the smaller figure, who barely managed to evade.

"What the hell?" Xian whispered, his eyes glued to the screen.

The fight continued, both figures jumping from one warehouse rooftop to another. The one using explosives seemed to be trying to create distance, setting off traps and misleading movements using bombs at every opportunity to counter and for defense. The swordsman, however, was relentless, cutting through obstacles and pressing the attack.

The bystander's camera shook violently as explosions erupted in the background. The smaller figure tried to retreat but was caught off guard when the swordsman dashed forward with terrifying speed. A bright flash of steel slashes and the smaller figure staggered back, clearly injured.

The swordsman loomed over at the fallen opponent for a brief moment before the entire warehouse suddenly exploded. The cameraman bystander screamed, and the video ended abruptly, the screen going black.

The news anchor's voice returned, calm but tinged with tension.

"Authorities are still investigating the incident and the identities of those involved. This marks yet another unexplained event in Chernobog, adding to the growing unrest in the City."

Xian leaned back against the couch, his mind racing. "That… wasn't human," he said quietly. The movements, the speed, the precision, everything about the swordsman seemed beyond what a normal person could achieve.

He shook his head, his thoughts drifting. "Back on Earth, this would've been labeled as some high-budget action movie or a conspiracy theory," he mused aloud. "But here… here it's just another day, isn't it?"

The faint rustling of wind outside brought him back to the present. He glanced at the window, where the shadows of swaying tree branches danced against the glass. For a moment, he sat there in silence, the weight of the surreal world he now lived in pressing against his chest.

Finally, he let out a tired laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I better get used to this. No point in pretending this place follows Earth's rules."

He picked up the remote and turned off the TV, the room plunging into quiet darkness.

Arknights: Unknown To Dawn

Not long after, Xian yawned and stretched his arms lazily. "Alright, enough for tonight," he mumbled, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV. The room went dark, the faint hum of the television fading as he stood up.

He took a few steps toward the stairs but suddenly stopped, facepalming. "Damn it," he groaned, shaking his head. "I forgot about the programming project I was supposed to finish tonight."

He stood there for a moment, debating whether to go back to his workspace. But his exhaustion got the better of him, and he sighed heavily. "I'll deal with it tomorrow," he muttered in resignation, trudging toward the stairs.

As he ascended to the second floor, the soft creaks of the wooden steps echoed through the quiet house. The hallway greeted him with a dim, flickering light from a single bulb at the far end, casting long, shifting shadows along the walls. It gave the space an eerie yet strangely nostalgic warmth, reminding him of old nights back on Earth.

As he walked down the hallway, his attention was drawn to the window on the right. The sound of heavy rain pattering against the glass reached his ears, accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder. "Great," he muttered, noticing how the rain lashed against the pane in violent sheets.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the hallway for a brief moment, followed by the howl of strong winds. Xian sighed again, his breath fogging up the cold glass as he leaned closer. "Just perfect," he grumbled. "How am I supposed to go out tomorrow with this mess? I swear, this weather has it out for me."

He stared outside, watching the droplets race each other down the glass. For a moment, his mind drifted to simpler times, a quiet nights spent watching the rain back on Earth. But as he watched, something unusual caught his eye.

A streak of red.

It was faint at first, blending with the rainwater on the window. Xian squinted, his curiosity piqued. "Is that... blood?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the storm.

Following the trail, his eyes widened as he noticed the source. At the top-right corner of the window, a pale arm rested against the glass, slick with rain and smeared with crimson.

Chills ran down his spine. His body froze, his instincts screaming at him to look away, but his head turned almost involuntarily toward the left side of the window.

Before he could fully process what he was seeing, the glass shattered with a deafening crash.

Lightning illuminated the scene in brief, stuttering flashes. A figure lunged through the broken window, its silhouette framed by jagged shards and whipping rain. Xian barely had time to react before he was knocked to the floor, a weight pinning him down.

His heart pounded as he stared up at the intruder, his breath caught in his throat. A knife glinted in the dim light, pressing dangerously close to the left side of his neck.

The figure leaned in, their ragged breathing mixing with the storm's howls. In the flashes of lightning, Xian could make out her features.

White hair clinging to her rain-soaked face, red horns gleaming against the dark, and eyes with a tired, bloodshot, and menacing stares.

It hit him like a freight train.

"Sarkaz..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

His eyes darted to her chest and stomach, where blood seeped through a large, jagged wound. Despite the injury, her strength was terrifying, the blade at his neck pressing ever so slightly deeper.

And then he recognized her.

His breath caught as his mind raced to make sense of the situation. "W..." he muttered under his breath, panic rising in his chest. "This... this can't be real."

Of course, it was real. He had known for a while now that Terra was his new reality. But knowing it and experiencing it were two very different things. Seeing W. the W, one of the most infamous and unpredictable Sarkaz mercenaries and was a shock he hadn't prepared for.

His emotions swirled: fear, confusion, and a strange mix of frustration and awe. He had expected to encounter figures from Terra eventually, but not like this—not with one of them pinning him to the ground, knife in hand.

W stared at him, her gaze piercing despite the exhaustion etched across her face. She shifted her grip on the knife, applying more pressure. Xian winced, his breathing shallow as the blade inched closer.

But her strength faltered.

A shaky curse escaped her lips, loud enough for Xian to hear. Her grip slackened, and her body swayed.

Without warning, W collapsed forward, her forehead colliding with Xian's. He groaned at the sudden impact, snapping out of his fear-induced paralysis.

"AHH–Damn it!" he hissed, wincing as he looked at her face. Up close, she looked even worse. Her skin was pale, and her breathing was shallow. Blood continued to drip from her wound, staining his shirt.

It was then that he noticed the knife had fallen from her hand, clattering harmlessly to the floor.

Xian's panic subsided just enough for his instincts to kick in. "She's... bleeding out," he muttered, his voice shaky. His hands moved before his brain could catch up, carefully maneuvering her limp body off of him.

Struggling to his feet, he scooped her up in a princess carry, her weight surprisingly light despite her imposing presence. "Crap, crap, crap," he muttered under his breath as he stumbled toward the stairs.

The storm outside raged on, the broken window letting in cold gusts of wind and rain. But Xian paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on the unconscious Sarkaz girl in his arms, her blood staining his hands and clothes.

"Just what the hell have I gotten myself into?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm as he carried her downstairs.