Chapter 10: Chapter 10 - Hands that reach beyond
A/N: Sleep well to be able to understand math, no reasoning and just do it. I learn it the hard way.
Afternoon Training
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over Lungmen as Xian wiped sweat from his brow. He stood in his backyard, an open space surrounded by modest greenery, his makeshift training ground. His breathing was labored, and his muscles ached from the intensity of the past few hours. Yet, a sense of accomplishment coursed through him as he sheathed his practice sword.
Xian slumped onto a wooden bench, his hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. His shirt clung to his back, drenched in sweat, and his fingers trembled slightly from the repeated exercises. Despite the exhaustion, he felt good-better than he had in days.
He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the cool afternoon breeze wash over him. His mind wandered to his training regimen. Back on Earth, this kind of discipline had been ingrained in athletes, martial artists, and soldiers. He had adapted those principles here, blending them with what he knew about Terra's unique world, particularly its combat techniques involving Arts and Originium.
Yet, Xian preferred sticking to the fundamentals first. "Strength, endurance, and technique," he thought. "No flashy moves until the basics are rock solid." His hand drifted to the hilt of his practice sword, feeling the familiar weight.
Opening his eyes, he called out his Status Window.
A translucent blue screen materialized before him, filled with detailed statistics of his progress. His gaze swept across the various attributes: Strength, Agility, Endurance, and Mentality had all seen significant improvements. However, what caught his attention most was the Swordsmanship bar.
It was nearly full, the bright progress line just a sliver away from completion. The bar was labeled Novice Level, a term that irked him more than it should.
"Novice, huh?" he muttered, wiping his hands on his pants. "Even after all this training, I'm still just a novice?"
He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the bar. There was something about it, a nagging feeling that this wasn't the end. His mind raced with possibilities. What happens when I fill this bar? He speculated that the skill would level up, but what then? Would it be like a game back on Earth, where each level required exponentially more effort to progress?
"If that's true, I've only scratched the surface," he thought grimly. "The higher I go, the harder it'll get."
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. His sword training wasn't just about mastering a weapon-it was about survival. His recent encounter with Ch'en and the LGD had made that painfully clear. His lack of preparation nearly got him captured, or worse.
"I need to be better," Xian muttered. "Faster. Stronger. Smarter." He clenched his fist, watching his knuckles whiten. The thought of being helpless again was unacceptable.
Despite his resolve, doubts crept in. Could he really keep up? This world was vastly different from Earth, with dangers he could barely comprehend. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, one thing was clear: he couldn't rely on anyone else. Not fully. Not yet.
He closed the Status Window and stood, stretching his arms over his head. His body protested, but he pushed through the discomfort. Training was done for today, but tomorrow was another challenge.
Suddenly, his gaze shifted toward the small workbench in the corner of the backyard. A few simple weapons and tools were laid out-some were traditional, others were modified with Originium-infused technology. He walked over, picking up a short dagger he had been experimenting with. Its blade gleamed under the sunlight, faint traces of Originium embedded along the edge.
He activated his Appraisal ability.
The system interface flickered to life, covering his vision with detailed overlays. Information about the dagger flooded his mind.
================================
>Object: Dagger
Durability: 85%
Sharpness: 90%
Originium Resonance: Low.
================================
He studied the data carefully, fascinated by how precise the appraisal was. He'd tested this ability earlier on mundane objects, but weapons felt different-more alive.
"Maybe I can use this to refine my training," he mused. He inspected the other weapons, noting their strengths and weaknesses. Even the most minor detail could be the difference between life and death.
His mind wandered back to the Originium Crystals that had formed on his back during the battle. They hadn't shown up in his skill list, confirming his suspicion: it wasn't a learned ability but a raw manifestation of power. Dangerous and uncontrolled.
He sighed, staring at his hands. "If I can't control it, it'll consume me." The thought was sobering. He needed more answers-more time to understand this power before anyone else discovered it.
His thoughts drifted to Ch'en. Their recent encounter had left him uneasy. Her sharp eyes, relentless questioning, and authoritative presence were etched into his mind. She wasn't someone who let things go easily.
"Ch'en..." he whispered, her name lingering on his lips. She was formidable, no doubt. But could he trust her?
For now, all he could do was prepare.
Xian took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs. He sheathed the dagger and walked back toward the house.
---
The door clicked shut behind Xian as he stepped into his modest home, the familiar comfort of his space offering him a brief moment of peace after a long day of training. His body ached, every muscle protesting the efforts he'd pushed them to, but he didn't mind. It was the price for progress, and he had come to accept that.
Xian moved toward the bathroom, the thought of a warm shower tempting him. The sound of water hitting the tiles seemed to wash away the weight of the day, giving him the chance to reflect. The heat of the water soothed his sore muscles, but his mind was elsewhere. As the steam filled the room, memories from Earth began to surface.
After finishing his bath, Xian felt the hunger creep up on him. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him of the day's training.
He opened the kitchen cupboard, scanning the contents with the practiced eye of someone who had spent countless hours cooking. Today, he would treat himself to something familiar, something that would remind him of Earth-the life he had lost.
With careful hands, he pulled out the ingredients he needed for his favorite dishes.
First, a French salad.
The recipe had been a personal experiment, learned on his own back in university. The crisp greens, the tangy vinaigrette, and the delicate balance of flavors-each bite had once been a small victory for him in the chaos of university life. It was a dish that reminded him of simpler days, of freedom, and of sitting in the sun with friends he could talk to about everything and nothing.
He smiled to himself as he prepared it, even as memories of his life on Earth crept into his thoughts.
Next came his favorite curry, a dish his uncle had taught him. He could almost hear his uncle's voice now, filled with pride as he explained the importance of the spices. Curry had always been something special in their family.
The rich blend of spices and the tender meat simmered together to create a comforting warmth, a dish that tied him back to family dinners, laughter, and the feeling of being surrounded by love and familiarity.
And finally, adobo. The Filipino dish his aunt had taught him. It wasn't just food; it was tradition, a connection to his roots. The vinegar, soy sauce, and garlic melded together in perfect harmony, filling the house with an aroma so comforting it made his chest tighten. He felt the presence of his aunt in every stir of the pot, every turn of the spoon.
As the food came together, Xian leaned against the counter and let his thoughts wander. Despite the fact that he had grown up with his grandparents, his aunts, uncles, and cousins had always been a part of his life. They would visit, bringing with them an energy that filled the house with laughter and warmth. He recalled their faces, the way they always seemed so eager to support him, no matter what.
His grandmother's voice echoed in his mind, "Xian, when are you going to find yourself a girlfriend? You're still young, you know? I want to meet her. I want to know that you'll be taken care of." Xian chuckled bitterly, as if his grandmother's words had been too much for him back then. She had always been the one to push him, always the one to ask about his future, about his plans, and about his life outside of school.
Her nagging had been a constant background noise in his life. Yet now, it felt like a hollow reminder of the world he had lost. "I want you to be happy, Xian," her voice had always carried a sense of care, of love. But now, those words felt like an unreachable dream. He wished, more than anything, that he could hear her again.
Then there was his grandfather. A man of few words, but his presence had been enough. Xian remembered the lessons his grandfather had taught him-life lessons that were often punctuated with a hard look and a firm tone. "Always be prepared, Xian. People will take advantage of you if you're not careful." But Xian's obedience had not come just from respect.
He had learned early that his grandfather, in his quiet way, was a man who never let his guard down. And there had always been a shotgun close by. The sound of it loading in the morning had become a strange, steady rhythm in his life. Xian shivered slightly as he remembered that.
Despite the love, despite the care, there was always the unspoken understanding that danger was never far away.
Xian's hands stopped moving for a moment. The knife clattered against the cutting board, and a deep ache spread through his chest. It was at that moment that he realized he was crying. Unnoticed tears slipped down his face as the weight of the reality hit him.
No matter how much he had prepared himself for this new world, no matter how many times he'd reimagined it in his mind, the truth remained: he was alone.
In his mind, he had known it all along. This world was not his own. He had played Arknights for years at the age of 14, following the story, imagining what it would be like to be a part of it, to be one of those characters. But now, as he sat in this strange world, all the familiar faces from the game were nothing more than echoes.
He was a stranger here-an anomaly, an outsider. A character, but not in the way he had imagined.
Xian took another bite of his food, the taste bittersweet in his mouth. His mind was clouded with thoughts of his past life, of all the people he had left behind. He continued eating, but the tears blurred his vision.
The food that had once brought him comfort now felt like a cruel reminder of what he could never go back to. It wasn't until the plate was empty that he realized the weight of the emotions that had overwhelmed him. The memories, the loss, the uncertainty-all of it had faded, leaving only the resolve in its place.
"I can't change this. I can't bring them back." He whispered to himself. Slowly, Xian wiped his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. The pain of the loss didn't go away, but he couldn't afford to linger on it. "I need to stay alive. That's the only thing that matters now." The moment he found himself in Chernobog, he knew that survival would be his first and only priority.
Xian's thoughts settled, his resolve hardening. "Everything I've done, everything I've been through-this is fate. I can't escape it. I have to get stronger. I don't have a choice."
A chuckle escaped his lips, light and almost humorous. The absurdity of it all, the contradictions of his life, made him feel almost absurdly alive. "This is it. This is my path."
---
With a sigh, he finished cleaning the dishes. His mind was clearer now, his purpose refocused. Just as he dried his hands, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Ch'en.
"We'll meet tonight."
Xian's heart quickened. There was no time to waste. Tonight was another step forward, another challenge to face. He grabbed his jacket and took a steadying breath, preparing himself for what was to come. Whatever fate had in store for him, he was ready to face it head-on.
"I'll stay alive. I'll make it through this." He said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a new resolve.
Xian stepped out of his house, the world of terra awaiting him.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone