Arknights - Unknown To Dawn

Ed: Even today im still lost in how it was, sorry and i hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

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Xian descended the narrow staircase, W cradled in his arms like a fragile doll. Her body was limp, and her breath was shallow but she was still alive, for now. He glanced down at her pale face, a trickle of blood staining her lips. The coppery smell of blood filled the air, sharp and unrelenting.

"I need to put you somewhere safe… but where?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the thudding of his own heart.

As he reached the first floor, his eyes darted around the room, scanning for a suitable place to lay her. The small dining area? No, too exposed. The couch? Too soft for what he needed.

Then, he noticed a fresh trail of blood seeping from her wound, staining his gloves and shirt. His decision was instant.

"No time to think," he growled under his breath, adjusting his grip on her.

Xian bolted down the hallway, his boots pounding against the wooden floor. The dining room blurred past him as his focus narrowed to a single point at the storage room door just ahead.

Seconds felt like minutes as he reached the door labeled Storage Room. He kicked it open without hesitation, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside, the room was a chaotic mess, filled with an assortment of tools, gadgets, and spare parts strewn across every surface.

"Damn it," Xian hissed, his voice tight with frustration. "This place is a disaster."

Ignoring the mess, he swept his arm across the giant table in the center of the room, sending a cascade of devices, tools, and tangled wires crashing to the floor.

"Sorry about the mess, but I'm not losing you here," he murmured, laying W gently on the now-cleared table. Her body sagged, motionless, and a bag slipped from her waist to the floor. Xian spared it a glance but dismissed it immediately.

He spun on his heel and darted toward the shelves lining the room. "Where is it? Where's the damn first aid kit?" he muttered, his hands rifling through boxes and containers. Tools clattered to the ground as he searched, frustration mounting with each passing second.

"Come on, Xian… think. You just reorganized this place last week. Where the hell did you put the med kits?"

His eyes flicked back to W, lying pale and still on the table. The sight sent a jolt of urgency through him. "Stay with me, W," he barked, more to himself than to her. "I didn't drag you here just to watch you die."

Finally, beneath a pile of old schematics and cloth covers, he found the last of his medical kits. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, yanking it free and rushing back to W's side.

He placed the kit on the table and leaned over her, quickly checking her pulse and breathing. His gloved fingers trembled slightly as he pressed them against her neck.

"Still alive… barely," he muttered.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the kit and began cutting away her blood-soaked clothing. Her jacket and shirt fell away, revealing a network of explosives and gear strapped to her chest.

"Are you kidding me?" Xian muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation. Carefully, he disarmed and removed each piece of equipment, placing them on a separate table nearby. "You're a walking bomb. Great."

Finally, with her upper body exposed, he saw the full extent of the damage—a deep gash starting at her left shoulder and running diagonally across her torso. It wasn't deep enough to hit vital organs, but it was critical enough to require immediate attention.

"All right, Xian… focus. This isn't the time to panic." He took a deep breath and began working.

The next few minutes were a blur of precision and speed. He cleaned the wound, stitching it carefully while muttering to himself. "Good. No signs of infection. Need to stop the bleeding first… then stabilize her."

He used every tool at his disposal—sutures, clamps, antiseptics—working methodically despite the rising tension in his chest. His glances flicked between her face and the heart monitor he'd attached to her.

Just as he finished stitching the wound, the shrill beep of the heart monitor pierced the air. Xian froze, his eyes snapping to the device. The line was flat.

"No. No, no, no!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He slammed his hand against the table. "You're not dying on me, damn it!"

He grabbed the defibrillator, his hands moving on autopilot. "Clear!" he shouted, pressing the paddles against her chest. Her body arched briefly before collapsing back onto the table.

The monitor stayed silent.

"Damn it, come on!" he shouted, adjusting the settings. "Clear!"

Another jolt. No response.

He clenched his jaw, his breathing ragged. "You're not done yet, W. I won't let you be."

For the third time, he pressed the paddles to her chest. The jolt sent her body rising again, and this time, the monitor beeped.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Her heart was beating.

Xian slumped against the table, his gloved hand wiping sweat from his brow. His entire body felt like it had been drained of energy.

He grabbed a clean blanket from a nearby shelf and draped it over her exposed torso, tucking it around her shoulders. He adjusted a pillow beneath her head and stepped back, his legs threatening to give out.

With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto one of the couches, his head falling into his hands. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was finally ebbing, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

He glanced at W, her chest rising and falling steadily now. She was alive. That was all that mattered.

"Don't ever make me do that again," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he leaned back, the weight of the moment pressed down on him, but his eyes stayed fixed on her sleeping form.

Xian leaned back at the couch to relax his shoulders, finally allowing himself a moment to breathe after the whirlwind that had unfolded just moments ago. His gaze lingered on W, who was now asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically after the medical procedure. For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of machinery. The intensity of what had just happened seemed almost surreal.

"What the hell happened to you?" Xian muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece together the events that had brought W to this state. But it clicks him, flashes of memory resurfaced, the news report he had seen, grainy footage showing two shadowy figures clashing on a warehouse rooftop.

The intensity of their fight, the sparks of explosives, and the sheer brutality of it all were etched into his mind.

He rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. As the pieces of the puzzle began to align in his mind, his gaze drifted to the floor where W's bag had fallen. It lay there, slightly ajar, its contents spilling out onto the sterile ground. Without thinking, he stood and walked over to it, crouching down to pick it up.

The bag felt oddly light in his hands, but what caught his attention was a small, metallic box tucked inside. His brow furrowed as he pulled it out, holding it up to the light. The box was unremarkable at first glance, but there was a strange weight to it, as if it carried something far more significant than its size suggested.

"Whats this, some kind of relic or something?" Xian whispered, his curiosity piqued. He ran his fingers along the edges, searching for any sign of a latch or a button. After a moment, he found a small, almost invisible switch on the side.

He pressed it, and the box clicked open with a faint metallic sound. His breath hitched as he looked inside. Nestled within the box was a small blue crystal, no larger than a pinky finger. It glimmered faintly under the harsh fluorescent light, its surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed both familiar and foreign.

Xian's eyes widened as he carefully lifted the crystal, holding it between his fingers. "I've seen this before… but where?" he murmured, his mind racing to recall the symbol's origin. It was as if the answer was right on the edge of his memory, just out of reach.

The crystal felt cold to the touch, almost unnaturally so, and yet it seemed to hum faintly with an inner energy. He turned it over, examining it from every angle, but no answers presented themselves.

With a sigh, Xian placed the crystal back into the box and set it aside. His gaze shifted to the rest of the room, now in disarray. Tools and devices lay scattered across the floor, remnants of the frantic operation he had just performed. He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering to himself, "Guess I should clean this up before she wakes up."

As he began tidying the room, his eyes flickered back to W. She remained motionless, her face uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep. It was a stark contrast to the W he had come to know. The sarcastic, cunning, and unpredictable behavior of her's.

"W…" he said quietly, as if testing the weight of her name on his tongue. He knew her, or at least he thought he did. Back on Earth, before the Great Collapse had torn his world apart, he had spent hours delving into the lore of Arknights, piecing together the fragmented stories of Babel and its enigmatic cast of characters.

W had always stood out to him, a mercenary with a dark past and a penchant for chaos. But now, seeing her like this, he realized how little he truly knew about her.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling on it now. As he bent down to pick up a fallen screwdriver, he heard a faint sound and soft, almost inaudible noise that made him freeze.

He turned sharply, his eyes locking onto W. She had stirred, a quiet murmur escaping her lips, but she remained asleep. Xian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, relief washing over him.

"Still out cold," he muttered. "Good."

With renewed urgency, he finished cleaning the room, setting the tools back in their proper places and wiping down the blood-streaked table. He wasn't sure how W would react when she woke up, but he wasn't taking any chances. He double-checked the locks on the doors, ensuring she couldn't just walk out or turn on him without warning.

As he glanced at her one last time, he couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. W was an enigma, a walking contradiction wrapped in danger and mystery. And now, with the crystal and her injuries, the stakes felt higher than ever.

"Guess I'll find out soon enough," Xian muttered, pulling up a chair and settling in to wait. "But.... Let's still make some precautions"

Arknights: Unknown To Dawn

The giant table creaked faintly as W shifted, her body instinctively reacting to the dull ache in her muscles. Her movements were slow at first, just a twitch of her fingers and a slight roll of her head. But soon, her breathing grew heavier, and with a loud groan, she pushed herself upright. She blinked rapidly, her crimson eyes adjusting to the light. A surge of unease shot through her. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air.

W's instincts, honed through years of mercenary work, kicked in as she scanned her surroundings. Her gaze landed on a figure sitting calmly in the corner, half-shrouded in the dim lighting. The man was toying with a gun, inspecting it with a precision that made him look like a professional. He was wearing a strange mask but one W instantly recognized. It was a funerary mask, a kind used in times for mourning rites, often associated with death.

Her breath hitched. The man was unfamiliar. A stranger.

The stranger Xian sensed her gaze and shifted slightly, his head tilting toward her. The mask obscured his face, giving him an unsettling air of detachment. W's sharp mind immediately went into overdrive, analyzing him, assessing the situation. She didn't know who he was, but something about his calm demeanor sent a chill down her spine.

"What the hell?" W murmurs whispering, her voice was raspy but laced with her signature sharpness."Nice getup, stranger. What's with that outfit? Are you just playing dress-up?" She said while trying to remember what happens last time, she still retaining some fragments of what happened before she passed out.

Xian's reply was measured, calm, and unsettlingly devoid of emotion. "Maybe I just like to keep people guessing."

W narrowed her eyes. His tone was unnervingly composed, too calm for someone sitting across from a Sarkaz mercenary known for reputation and destruction.

"Who are you?" she pressed again, her voice growing sharper.

Xian tilted his head slightly, his gaze unflinching behind the mask. "You don't need to know my name. What you need to know is that you're alive because I decided you were worth saving."

W scoffed, her instincts screaming at her to keep her guard up. She hated this. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was too controlled, too deliberate.

"And why should I believe that?" W asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You don't exactly scream trustworthy, stranger. What's with the mask? Mourning someone?"

Xian tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "The mask?" He touched it briefly. "It's just something I had lying around. Didn't think it mattered."

W blinked, caught off guard by his nonchalance. She didn't know whether he was mocking her or simply oblivious. Either way, it irritated her.

"You're either really stupid or really brave to be sitting there so calm," she said, smirking. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, W," Xian said, his voice still calm but with a subtle edge that made her sit up straighter.

Her smirk faltered. He knew her name.

The atmosphere grew tense, a silent battle of wills playing out between them. W's usual tactics, sarcasm, intimidation, and unpredictability seemed to have no effect on him. If anything, his calm demeanor only unsettled her further.

"What's your game?" W demanded.

Xian leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "I could ask you the same thing," he said. "What were you doing at that warehouse? What was your mission? Your objective?"

W's eyes narrowed. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Xian didn't flinch. Instead, he asked a completely unexpected question, one that threw her off balance.

"What is a bomb?"

W stared at him, caught off guard. Then, to his surprise, she laughed a sharp, mocking sound that echoed through the room.

"A bomb? Really? Is that supposed to scare me?" she said, grinning.

Xian didn't react. He watched her silently, his calm gaze unnerving her more than any threat could.

"What's so funny about destruction?" Xian asked, his tone dropping to something darker. "What's funny about fear? About helplessness? About lost hope?"

W's grin faded. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Xian leaned back again, his voice taking on an almost cryptic quality. "Back where I come from, there's a story. About a weapon so powerful it could destroy entire cities in an instant. No chance to fight back. No warning. Just... oblivion."

W faltered, the weight of his words sinking in. "What kind of weapon?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Xian didn't answer directly. Instead, he stood and began pacing slowly. "Tell me, W. What is an explosive to you? A tool? A weapon? Or something more?"

W glared at him, her confidence wavering. "It's... a means to an end," she said carefully.

Xian stopped and turned to face her. "Wrong," he said. "It's fear. It's control. It's the promise of destruction so absolute that no one dares to resist."

The room grew colder as his words hung in the air.

"And you think you're the only one who understands destruction?" W snapped, trying to regain her footing.

Xian gets up and walks slowly.... steps by step forward and closer to her at the right distance, his gaze locked on her. "You think you're strong," he said quietly. "But strength means nothing when you're staring down true hopelessness."

W's eyes narrowed, her mind racing to decipher his intent. She was no stranger to manipulation, but this man's approach was unlike anything she had encountered before. His questions were disarming, cutting through her defenses and leaving her unsteady.

"You talk too much," she snapped, her voice tinged with irritation. "You think you're clever, don't you? Acting all mysterious, trying to get in my head. Newsflash, buddy it's not gonna work."

Xian didn't react to her outburst. Instead, he moves forward a little, the gun in his hand pointed downward but still in his grasp. He began to circle the table slowly, his movements measured and deliberate.

"I wonder," he mused aloud, his tone almost detached, "how a Sarkaz handles being dissected alive. Do you think you'd survive it? Or would your body give out before the pain got too much?"

W's heart raced, though she masked her unease with a glare. "You're insane," she spat.

"Maybe," Xian admitted, stopping just short of her. "Or maybe I'm just curious."

The tension reached a breaking point as W lunged at him, her fist swinging. But the moment her fist connected, she realized something was wrong. Her strength wasn't there. She was too weak than she normally was even discovered that her recovery time is too slow.

Xian didn't even flinch. He caught her wrist effortlessly, holding it in place. "See? You're not as strong as you think," he said, his voice almost taunting.

W glared at him thinking of what he had done to her body, her breathing heavy. "What do you want from me?"

Xian didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the table and picked up the metal box. W's eyes widened in alarm as he opened it and took out the crystal.

"Don't—" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw him holding the crystal.

Xian turned to her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "Interesting," he murmured, watching her reaction closely.

W was frozen, her usual bravado replaced by something Xian hadn't expected, fear.