Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - It started
A/n: after plastering them, ill hammer them with my heating iron
T/LNote: revision completed, enjoy.
Xian sat at his workbench, the soft hum of machinery filling the shop as he tightened the final screw on an old radio. The smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of coffee from a half-empty mug nearby. He exhaled deeply, setting the screwdriver down and leaning back in his chair. Another day, another job done.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realized his workday was finally over. The familiar ache in his shoulders reminded him of how long he'd been at it. His hands, rough from years of tinkering, flexed as he stood up, stretching out the stiffness in his back.
What to eat tonight? he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't given much thought to dinner earlier, and now his stomach was making its presence known. He wandered over to the small fridge tucked into the corner of the shop and pulled it open. His eyes scanned the contents: a few eggs, some wilted greens, half a loaf of bread.
"Figures," he muttered, noting the absence of anything substantial. A mental checklist formed in his head: vegetables, meat, maybe some rice. He grabbed a towel from the counter and headed upstairs to wash up.
The second floor of the shop was his sanctuary. It wasn't much—a modest bedroom, a small bathroom, and a compact living space—but it was home. After rinsing off the day's grime, he dried himself off, his thoughts drifting back to earlier.
Amiya.
That strange tension he felt in the shop returned briefly, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. No point in overthinking it, he thought. She was just another customer, albeit a curious one. Still, there was something about her—her presence, her eyes—that stuck with him. But dwelling on it wouldn't solve anything, so he pushed the thought aside and changed into a fresh set of clothes.
Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed back down to the shop's main floor and locked up behind him. The cool evening air greeted him as he stepped outside, the streets of Terra alive with activity. Lamps flickered to life, casting warm glows over the cobblestone paths.
He made his way to the local market, weaving through the small crowd of evening shoppers. The familiar sights and sounds of vendors calling out their wares filled the air. Xian picked out fresh vegetables, a few cuts of meat, and some rice, tossing them into his basket.
As he paid for his groceries, his attention was drawn to a nearby commotion. A large screen in the square displayed the latest news: riots in the outer districts, buildings damaged, citizens fleeing. The word Reunion flashed across the screen, accompanied by ominous footage of masked figures clashing with Terra's guards.
He lingered for a moment, listening to the low murmurs of people around him.
"Reunion's getting bold," one man muttered.
"They're pushing closer to the heart of the city," a woman replied, her voice tense. "It's only a matter of time before they're here."
Xian's brow furrowed as he listened. He wasn't one for politics or rebellion, but the chaos Reunion brought wasn't something he could ignore. He knew what they stood for, but he also knew the destruction they left in their wake. His mind wandered, imagining what he'd do if they ever crossed paths.
He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't even a fighter. But if it came down to it, he had his own principles. He'd always lived by the philosophy that life was precious, that taking a life was a line he never wanted to cross. Yet, in this world, that line wasn't always clear.
Could I do it? he wondered. If my life—or someone else's—was on the line, could I take that step?
The thought unsettled him. He shook his head, clearing away the dark musings. No point in dwelling on hypotheticals. He'd cross that bridge if he ever came to it.
Groceries in hand, Xian turned away from the market, heading back towards his shop. The streets were quieter now, the earlier hustle fading into the calm of night. He glanced up at the stars, their faint glow visible between the buildings.
He had no idea that tonight would be anything but calm. Unbeknownst to him, the gears of fate were already turning, pulling him into the events that would soon unfold. For now, though, he walked back home, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond the horizon.
The faint sound of distant sirens echoed through the night, but Xian didn't notice. His mind was focused on getting home, on cooking a warm meal, and on settling into the quiet routine he'd built for himself in this strange world.
But peace rarely lasts long in Terra.
Continuation of the Fanfic
After finishing his meal, Xian washed the dishes and cleaned up the small kitchen. He dried his hands and leaned against the counter, staring into the quiet darkness of his shop. His mind drifted once again.
Amiya… Reunion… Chernobog…
These thoughts swirled together, pulling him into a haze of unease. He'd been reflecting on his past more than usual lately. Memories of Earth, his grandparents, and his time adjusting to life in Terra kept resurfacing. Yet tonight, it felt heavier, as if the future was creeping closer, its weight pressing down on him.
What am I even doing here? he wondered. Why did it have to be me?
He sighed, rubbing his temples. He wasn't one for philosophical musings, but he couldn't shake the sense that something big was coming. His eyes grew heavier as the weight of the day caught up to him. With a tired yawn, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, ready to leave these thoughts for another day.
Within moments of lying down, sleep overtook him.
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Thirty minutes later, a deafening explosion rocked the neighborhood. Xian's eyes shot open, heart pounding. Another blast followed, shaking the entire building. He bolted upright, his ears ringing from the sheer force of the sound.
"What the hell is going on?!" he muttered, scrambling out of bed.
He rushed to the window and saw chaos unfolding in the streets below. Fires burned brightly against the night sky, and distant screams echoed through the air. Panic surged through him as he tried to make sense of it.
Arts? No... this isn't just some Arts gone wrong.
The sounds of destruction grew louder, closer. He stumbled down the stairs, his mind racing.
I need something to defend myself.
He remembered the weapon he had hidden, given to him by a stranger months ago. That man had been injured and desperate, and Xian had helped him without question. In return, the man left behind a small black handgun and a strange metal necklace shaped like a cross. The necklace had always struck Xian as odd—smooth, with no visible markings or human designs.
He grabbed both from under the counter and strapped the necklace around his neck, gripping the gun tightly. His hands trembled. He'd never used a weapon before, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight.
Suddenly, the front wall of his shop exploded inward, sending debris flying. The force of the blast threw Xian backward, slamming him into a shelf. Coughing through the dust, he looked up to see a towering figure stepping through the rubble.
A Sarkaz.
Xian's heart sank. He recognized the horns, the cold, menacing eyes. He knew enough about Terra's races to know that facing a Sarkaz warrior was suicide.
The Sarkaz didn't waste time. With a growl, he kicked Xian hard in the chest, sending him crashing into the stairs. Pain shot through his ribs as he groaned, blood trickling from his mouth.
He forced himself up, clutching his side. I have to get to the second floor, he thought desperately.
As he stumbled upward, another sharp pain shot through his right arm. He screamed, realizing he'd been struck by an arrow. His arm burned, and he struggled to maintain his balance.
"Pathetic!" a voice sneered from below.
A Reunion member with a crossbow stood at the base of the stairs, grinning cruelly. Xian's eyes flicked to the Sarkaz who was now closing in on him.
"Why... are you doing this?" Xian gasped, his voice strained. "Why attack innocent people?"
The crossbowman laughed. "You wouldn't understand, weakling."
The Sarkaz approached Xian, his massive frame casting a shadow over him. Without hesitation, he kicked Xian again, this time sending him flying through the second-floor window. Glass shattered around him as he landed hard on the ground outside, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.
Coughing and groaning, Xian sat up, bloodied and bruised. He steadied himself, leaning against a nearby wall. The two Reunion soldiers emerged from the shop, standing over him.
"You're weak," the Sarkaz said coldly. "Just another useless civilian."
Xian chuckled weakly, his head throbbing from the pain. "Yeah... maybe. But I'm not as stupid as you think."
The crossbowman sneered. "What are you going to do? That little toy won't save you."
Xian raised the gun, aiming it at the Sarkaz. He fired. The bullet hit the Sarkaz's chest but did nothing. The Sarkaz smirked, unfazed.
"See? Useless."
But Xian wasn't done. He grinned through the pain, his eyes flicking to the open kitchen window. "Guess I missed..." he muttered.
With a sudden twist, he aimed at the hanging sets of knives then the gas tank near the stove and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark.
BOOM!
The explosion engulfed the kitchen with the flying knives, sending debris flying. The force threw the Reunion soldiers back and the knives piered them into the rubble. Xian shielded his face, feeling the heat wash over him.
When the dust settled, he lay on the ground, groaning. His head throbbed, his ears ringing.
"I really have lousy aim..." he mumbled, clutching his head. Despite the chaos, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He'd survived—barely.
But this was only the beginning.
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Amiya's ears twitched as the distant sound of explosions echoed through the quiet night. She froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon. The distant glow of flames illuminated the sky above Chernobog.
"Amiya, what's wrong?" Dobermann asked, stepping closer. The experienced instructor's sharp eyes immediately followed Amiya's gaze toward the chaos.
"Explosions," Amiya whispered. "They're close. Too close."
Nearby, the rest of the Rhodes Island operators gathered, their expressions tense. Beagle, Fang, and Kroos stood ready, gripping their weapons tightly. Despite their relatively calm appearance, the tension in the air was palpable.
"Reunion," Dobermann said, her voice firm. "They must've advanced faster than we anticipated."
Amiya nodded, but her mind was elsewhere—on Xian. The brief encounter at his shop lingered in her thoughts. Something about him unsettled her. Despite her ability to sense emotions and intentions, Xian had been... blank. His presence was like a vast, empty sea, calm yet unfathomable. It wasn't hostile, but it wasn't welcoming either.
That void terrified her.
"Should we investigate the area?" Beagle asked, her shield raised slightly in anticipation.
Amiya hesitated. She wasn't sure if Xian had anything to do with Reunion, but the proximity of the explosions to his shop gnawed at her. Still, she couldn't let personal concerns interfere with their mission.
"No," Amiya finally said, shaking her head. "Our priority is the mission. We need to secure the rendezvous point and assist the civilians in the northern district. That's where the main evacuation routes are."
Dobermann nodded in agreement. "We'll stick to the plan. But stay alert. If Reunion's already in this sector, they'll be looking to cause as much destruction as possible."
The group set off at a brisk pace, weaving through the dimly lit streets of Chernobog. Amiya's staff hummed faintly with Arts energy as she maintained her focus, her senses on high alert. Despite her resolve, she couldn't shake the image of Xian from her mind.
Why couldn't I sense him? she wondered. And why do I feel like... we'll cross paths again?
Her thoughts drifted back to their earlier conversation. He had seemed calm, even relaxed while fixing her device, but there had been a hidden weight behind his eyes. A weight she hadn't noticed until now.
"Focus, Amiya," Dobermann's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We're almost there."
Amiya nodded, steeling herself. Whatever happens, I have to stay focused. Xian can handle himself... right?
---
As they moved closer to their destination, the sound of chaos grew louder. Civilians were fleeing the area, many of them injured or terrified. The operators immediately shifted into action, helping guide people to safety.
"Get them to the shelter!" Dobermann barked, directing the team.
Amiya assisted a young child who had fallen, her calm demeanor soothing the panicked family. Yet, in the back of her mind, the growing tension refused to subside. She glanced back in the direction of Xian's shop, her heart heavy with concern.
Please be safe... she thought, before turning back to the task at hand.
The team continued their mission, but Amiya couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was just the beginning of something far worse.
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Amiya stood near the map, her eyes tracing the route to the sarcophagus deep within Chernobog. The team had received no reports indicating Reunion's knowledge of the Doctor's stasis chamber, but that didn't mean they were safe.
Dobermann observed the quiet tension in Amiya. "You're thinking about the Doctor, aren't you?"
Amiya nodded. "If we can reach them before Reunion notices, we'll have a huge advantage. But if they discover the Doctor..." She trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.
"That's why we need to move fast," Dobermann said firmly. "Reunion is still focused on general chaos. They don't know what we're after. We keep our cover, and we'll reach the Doctor before they realize anything."
Amiya glanced at the operators tending to the civilians. She couldn't afford to let her personal concerns cloud her judgment. Xian can handle himself. I have to trust that.
She turned back to Dobermann, her expression resolute. "We'll stick to the plan. Let's get ready to move. The Doctor is waiting."
With the path set, the team began preparations for their approach, completely unaware of how close Xian was to the chaos already unfolding near his shop.
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One hour later
Xian's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. His arm throbbed from the arrow wound, and his vision blurred with each step. Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead, and the world around him spun, but he forced himself forward. He had to survive. He couldn't die here.
He stumbled into an alley, pressing his back against the cold wall, his pulse pounding in his ears. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs. He clutched his side, the torn fabric of his shirt soaked in blood. He needed to rest, to think—but there was no time.
Footsteps echoed nearby. Xian's heart leaped into his throat as he ducked behind a trash can. A group of Reunion soldiers passed, their weapons glinting under the dim streetlights. He held his breath, his muscles coiled like a spring, but his vision swam again. He clenched his teeth, trying to steady himself.
Then, it happened. His foot nudged the trash can. The metallic clatter shattered the tense silence.
"Who's there?" one of the Reunion soldiers barked, turning toward the noise.
Damn it! Xian cursed silently, his pulse racing. He turned to flee, but his instincts screamed at him. Move. Now.
Without thinking, he jerked his head back, just as an arrow whizzed past, slicing through the air where his head had been. The sharp hiss of its flight echoed in his ears. He glanced forward—more soldiers appeared from the shadows, crossbows aimed directly at him.
"Look at this rat crawling through the trash," one of them sneered. "Time to take out the garbage."
They loosed their arrows.
Xian dove to the side, the sharp crack of bolts embedding into the ground where he had stood. His shoulder slammed into the wall, sending a jolt of pain through his body. He cursed under his breath.
Then he saw it—the barrage of arrows filling the air, aimed straight at him. There was no escape. His heart pounded, fear clawing at his mind.
I was naive… weak… always pushing problems aside… The thought tore through him, filling him with regret. This is it. I'm going to die here because I never took anything seriously...
The world seemed to slow. His breathing became calm, almost serene. The arrows, suspended mid-flight, floated before his eyes.
And then he felt it. Deep within his soul, something stirred—a burning spark igniting into a roaring flame. The air shimmered, thick with energy. His eyes widened as a glowing panel materialized before him, floating in the air. It was translucent, displaying strange symbols.
It wasn't foreign to him. He recognized it.
This... this is like those system panels from the novels!
His eyes cought in the only words that stand more infront of him.
Words scrolled across the panel:
[Extract Originium from the Atmosphere]
[Notice: Host in danger, auto-extract Activated]
His mind raced, absorbing the flood of information pouring into him. He felt knowledge seeping into his bones, into his very being—instincts sharpened, muscles primed. His hands trembled but not from fear anymore.
The panel faded, and time resumed its normal flow. The arrows were now mere meters from him.
Xian's eyes flared open—golden irises burning with intensity. In his left pupil, a subtle symbol of sound waves shimmered. In his right, a faint star glowed. Yet, he felt detached, as though watching from afar. His body moved with purpose, like an ancient rhythm he didn't recognize but knew instinctively.
Grabbing a rusted metal pipe from the ground, he spun it in his hand, the motion fluid and confident. The arrows closed in. He slashed through the air with the pipe, deflecting the bolts with swift, precise movements. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal, each arrow deflected with novice efficiency but surprising effectiveness.
The Reunion soldiers stood stunned. "What the hell?" one of them shouted.
Xian didn't answer. He dashed forward, closing the distance between him and the first soldier. With a swift, low sweep of the pipe, he knocked the crossbow from their hands, followed by an upward strike to the jaw, sending the soldier sprawling.
Another soldier charged at him with a spear. Xian ducked, twisting his body mid-spin, and jabbed the pipe into their abdomen. The force sent them stumbling back. Using the momentum, he vaulted over their slumped figure, landing with a roll and sweeping the legs of another attacker.
The air buzzed with tension, but Xian didn't stop. His movements flowed, each strike measured, each dodge instinctual. Despite his novice skill, his improvisation made up for his lack of refinement. He pivoted, deflecting another arrow mid-spin, then disarmed a soldier by striking their wrist, sending their weapon clattering to the ground.
One by one, the soldiers fell.
The final soldier hesitated, gripping their crossbow with trembling hands. "What... what are you?"
Xian, panting and bloodied, locked eyes with them. His golden irises glimmered in the dim light, their ethereal glow reflecting the fear in the soldier's gaze. "I'm just someone who finally decided to take things seriously."
The soldier fired in desperation. Xian sidestepped, letting the arrow fly past harmlessly. Without missing a beat, he lunged forward, knocking the soldier out with the butt of the pipe.
The alley fell silent. Xian stood amidst the fallen enemies, his chest heaving. He dropped the pipe, his hands trembling.
His mind, now free from the fog of battle, began to process what had just happened. He looked at his hands, then back at the unconscious soldiers.
"What... the hell just happened to me?"
Weekly Power Status
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