Arknights - Echoes Of The Unfound Dawn

A/N: Note: please fix them (-------).

T/L: I didn't get paid well for this.

3rd pov

The next day, Xian woke early, his mind sharp and focused. The weight of Ch'en's words from the night before lingered in his thoughts: You're not alone anymore. It wasn't just about survival anymore; it was about his development. He had to prove to himself that he could handle more than just his mundane tasks as a shop manager. Now, he was walking a tightrope, balancing between two worlds—one of anonymity and normality, and the other, full of shadows and uncertainty.

He glanced over the list he had made for himself earlier, the same list that had been folded in his pocket, almost forgotten as his routine kicked in. Today, he'd start checking off some of those boxes.

1. Stealth & Observation: Learn how to move undetected, how to notice things others might miss.

2. Physical Fitness: Train my body, improve my agility and endurance.

3. Mental Sharpness: Think ahead. Never rush.

4. Tech Skills: Keep hacking, but cover my tracks.

It wasn't just about moving quietly anymore. Xian had realized that the true challenge lay in staying unpredictable, in blending into crowds, slipping through unnoticed, becoming a ghost that no one could track. But being unnoticed meant more than just hiding. It meant manipulating the world around him, understanding how to move between the cracks of society and make himself just another part of the environment.

---

Later that afternoon, Xian found himself in the outskirts of Lungmen, the quiet, unassuming alleyways that he had started to frequent. These weren't the busy streets where everyone had their eyes on you. Here, you could disappear if you knew how. He crouched near a corner, scanning for a target—a person to follow without being seen, someone who wouldn't notice him, someone who could give him a sense of how well his training was going.

It was a woman, walking briskly, head down, lost in thought. She wouldn't notice him. He stepped lightly, his steps calculated. He moved with purpose, but without haste, observing the rhythm of her walk, the way she shifted her weight. Xian knew he wasn't just trying to follow her; he was trying to blend in, make himself invisible.

He shadowed her for several blocks, staying far enough behind to avoid detection but close enough to keep track of every movement. This wasn't about closing the distance. It was about learning the pattern, understanding how she moved through the city like part of the scenery.

When he reached the end of his practice run, he didn't feel satisfaction. There was no rush of success, no smug feeling of having done it right. Instead, he felt something more unsettling: the realization that this skill, this ability to hide, wasn't something anyone could learn overnight. It was a game, but it wasn't just about winning. It was about staying alive long enough to play it.

---

That evening, after closing up his shop, Xian's phone buzzed. A message from Ch'en.

Meet me tonight. I have something for you.

A frown tugged at his face. Every time Ch'en sent one of these messages, he was pulled deeper into a world he hadn't asked for. But he couldn't back out. Not now. Not when he was just starting to get the hang of this new life.

---

The café was quiet when Xian arrived, a dimly lit corner tucked far from the bustling streets. Ch'en was already there, seated with her usual composure. She had a presence about her that made it hard to ignore her, even in such a low-key setting.

"You've been working hard," she said, her tone flat but acknowledging.

Xian sat across from her, leaning slightly forward, eyes focused. "I've been trying to improve. Stealth, observation... you know, all that."

Ch'en nodded, her expression unreadable. "Good. But it's not enough. You can't just move quietly. You need to learn the game. You need to think like the enemy."

Xian raised an eyebrow. "The enemy? You make it sound like I'm already a target."

"Everyone is a target," she said simply. "But the difference between a target and a player is knowing how to move, how to control the board. If you're predictable, they'll catch you."

Xian leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning. "I'm not exactly sure I know what you mean."

Ch'en smirked slightly, her usual aloofness fading for a moment. "You'll figure it out. You already have some of the tools you need. It's time to make you harder to catch."

With that, she slid a small, sleek device across the table to him. "This is a tracker. It'll allow me to keep tabs on you while you're out there. Don't mistake it for help—it's a way to track your movements, test your adaptability. If you're too predictable, I'll know."

Xian picked up the device, feeling its weight in his hand. It was more than just a tool. It was a test. A challenge.

"You'll be using it while you train," Ch'en continued. "I'll be watching, but I won't interfere. You'll need to figure out how to stay ahead of me. How to remain unpredictable. It's time to learn what you're really capable of."

Xian studied the device for a moment before slipping it into his bag. "Alright," he said, his voice low but determined. "I'll do it. I'll make sure I don't disappoint."

Ch'en's eyes softened just a fraction, though her voice remained steady. "I don't expect you to disappoint. But remember, you're not alone in this. And you don't get to fail."

---

Later, Xian walked back to his apartment, the weight of Ch'en's expectations heavy on his shoulders. This wasn't just about proving something to her—it was about proving it to himself. He was no longer just a guy fixing broken machines. He was learning a different kind of skill set, one that didn't involve tools and tech, but instead, instinct and precision. And with the tracker on him, there was no room for error.

He had to be smart. He had to be unpredictable. He couldn't afford to be anyone's pawn.

As he stepped into his apartment, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a different kind of message—a warning.

You're being tracked. It's time to test how well you've learned.

Xian looked out the window, his gaze distant, calculating. This wasn't just a test of his abilities anymore—it was a test of his identity. And if he could pull this off, if he could evade being caught... maybe he'd finally become the enigma he'd been trying to be all along.

The next morning, Xian's routine was the same as always. He woke, dressed in his usual attire, and grabbed a quick breakfast, but his mind was elsewhere. Ch'en's parting words the night before resonated deep within him, like a faint hum that he couldn't shake off. You're not alone in this. You don't get to fail. It wasn't just a threat, but a challenge, one that pushed him to dig deeper than he ever had before.

The tracker in his bag was a constant reminder of that challenge. It was no longer about improving his skills for personal growth—it was about surviving in a world where every movement, every choice, would be watched. His mind was already working, piecing together the puzzle of how he could outsmart Ch'en and the tracker, how he could weave his own path through the shadows.

Before heading to work, he checked his system. The screen flickered briefly as it loaded.

There was a new notification: Skill Progress Recorded: Stealth Mastery, Observation, Agility Enhancement, Mental Precision, Hack Tracking. His eyes narrowed as he saw the familiar tabs light up with progress. The system had been silently recording his every step, every bit of improvement, every time he exercised his skills.

Xian tapped into the skill logs, scrolling through the detailed analysis. His heart quickened slightly as he realized the system now allowed him to trigger records for specific skills manually. His fingers hovered over the options, weighing the possibilities. He could access his progress whenever he wanted. With a few mental commands, he triggered a new log for the day, marking the beginning of a deeper training session that would test both his body and mind.

But there was no time to linger on the screen. He needed to focus. His shift at the shop was starting soon, and he had work to do—both for his manager duties and for his own mysterious goals.

---

Xian stepped into the workshop, the familiar scent of grease and metal greeting him. The noise of machines whirring in the background was almost comforting, but it was a mask, hiding the tension simmering beneath the surface. He had a job to do, but he wasn't here just to fix broken gadgets. He had a different kind of repair in mind.

His eyes scanned the room quickly. The company was bustling, workers moving about, unaware of the silent storm brewing under the surface. Xian had learned long ago how to blend in, to seem like just another cog in the machine. But now, he was more than that. He was hunting, not for enemies, but for information.

There were files in the back room, sensitive data, things that were just as broken as the machines he worked on. He needed to get his hands on them, quietly, without raising suspicion. The last thing he needed was for anyone to realize what he was really doing. He didn't trust anyone here—not fully. His eyes narrowed as he moved through the room, making his way toward the storage area. It was hidden behind a thick curtain, tucked away in the back corner. No one would think to check.

He slid past the workers, pretending to focus on his tools. His movements were slow, methodical, almost lazy, as if he were just another worker on a regular shift. But his mind was sharp, his instincts humming. Every step, every breath, every movement was calculated.

The back room was dark, lit only by a flickering fluorescent bulb. Xian moved in and locked the door behind him, the soft click barely audible. He stood there for a moment, listening, feeling the air shift around him. There were no cameras in here, but there was always the risk of someone walking in. He couldn't afford to get caught.

His fingers danced over the keys of the terminal. The file he was looking for wasn't hard to find—too easy, in fact. It almost seemed like they wanted him to find it. But Xian wasn't fooled. This was a test, just like the tracker. They wanted to see how far he'd go.

He tapped into the system, bypassing the weak security protocols with ease. As the file opened, Xian scanned the contents quickly. It was more than he had hoped for—details about the company's shady dealings, contracts with unsavory individuals, and even references to black-market tech. This was gold.

His heart beat faster as he downloaded the information onto his secure drive. But he didn't linger. There was no time to enjoy the small victory. He had to go. He had to erase every trace of his presence. Fast.

He wiped the terminal clean, his fingers moving with practiced speed. Just as he finished, the door handle rattled. Someone was coming.

Xian's body tensed. His breath caught in his throat as he slipped into the shadows, melting into the dark corner like a ghost. He barely dared to breathe as the door creaked open. Footsteps echoed in the small room, slow and deliberate. He could feel the presence of the other person, close, so close.

His pulse thudded in his ears. The seconds stretched, each one longer than the last. Just one mistake, and it's over. Xian's eyes stayed locked on the figure, waiting for them to move past. If they saw him, it would all unravel.

The figure paused, sniffing the air for a moment. Xian's breath stilled, his body frozen. But then, as if satisfied, they turned and walked out of the room. The door clicked shut, and Xian exhaled, his body relaxing just a fraction. He had done it. He had evaded detection once more.

-------

The sun had barely risen, but Xian was already halfway through his day, his routine barely interrupted by the storm of thoughts whirling through his mind. Ch'en's challenge had only solidified his resolve to push beyond the limits he had set for himself. The tracker was an unwelcome companion in his bag, its weight reminding him that the game had only just begun. Every action, every decision, every glance over his shoulder now carried an invisible consequence.

Xian stepped out from the company and into the quiet morning air of Lungmen, his eyes scanning the street like a predator looking for its prey. The tracker might've been monitoring him, but that didn't mean it could predict everything he would do. He had learned that much the night before. His system had recorded his progress—skills honed and refined—but he wasn't about to let anyone think they had him cornered.

His phone buzzed again as he walked down the narrow street, a brief vibration that made him hesitate. It was a message from Ch'en, but it wasn't quite what he expected.

The signal's gone.

A smirk tugged at Xian's lips. He had anticipated this, though perhaps not in the way Ch'en would've imagined. The tracker, the one that Ch'en thought was keeping tabs on him, had been gamed. Replaced. Its signal was now leading her in circles, while Xian's actual movements were free from her watchful eye. For a moment, he felt a rush of pride—a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long while. But there was no time to dwell.

His escape had begun.

---

Xian moved with purpose, slipping through the streets with ease, blending into the background like he had done so many times before. But the moment he turned a corner, he felt it—a subtle shift in the atmosphere. A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye told him he wasn't alone. He slowed his pace, his instincts screaming at him. They were already on him.

He darted forward, running faster, knowing the chase was inevitable. As he rounded another corner, he heard footsteps echoing behind him. Whoever was tailing him wasn't just a casual bystander. They were closing in.

Xian's heart raced as he picked up speed, pushing himself harder, further. He turned into an alleyway, leaping onto a stack of crates with a fluidity that surprised even him. His feet barely touched the ground as he propelled himself up the side of a building, scaling it with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times.

He could hear the enemy behind him—grunts of frustration as they attempted to follow. But they weren't as fast. Xian's training, his newfound agility, was paying off. He jumped from one building to another, pushing himself further into the heart of Lungmen. But the one trailing him wasn't giving up.

---

Just as Xian was about to turn onto a quieter street, he spotted it—a motorcycle parked on the side of the road, its engine humming softly as if it were just waiting for him. He grinned.

There was no time to think. He sprinted toward it, leaping onto the bike and twisting the throttle. The engine roared to life beneath him, and just as he shot off, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps catching up. His pursuer was relentless, but Xian wasn't worried.

The chase had taken a new turn. Now, it was a race, and he was in control.

But his enemies were determined. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two figures on foot, gaining ground. They were close—too close.

Without warning, one of them pulled out a knife and hurled it toward Xian. It sliced through the air, whistling as it flew, but Xian swerved expertly, dodging the blade by inches. Another knife followed, then another. Xian weaved through the streets with expert precision, narrowly avoiding each throw. But one of them struck him—just a glancing blow to his cheek. A sharp sting shot through his skin, followed by another deep cut across his arm.

Xian gritted his teeth, adrenaline spiking. He had to end this. He reached for his gun, pulling it out with practiced speed. But then, a sudden thought hit him. He quickly swapped the real gun for a completely different weapon—a seemingly normal, unassuming Sankta gun.

His pursuers, none the wiser, kept chasing him, their frustration mounting. But Xian was about to throw them for a loop.

He took aim and fired.

The shot rang out, echoing down the alley. It wasn't the powerful blast that they were expecting—it was a soft pop, a muted sound, nothing like the violence they had anticipated. The enemy stopped dead in their tracks, confused, eyes narrowing as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

One of the pursuers, clearly flustered, shouted, "What the hell?! He's using a Sankta gun!"

"Impossible!" the other one snapped. "He's not even a Sankta!"

Xian, barely containing his laughter, revved the engine, pushing the bike forward. He could feel the tension rising, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. They were stunned, flabbergasted, unable to process what was happening.

"Oh, I'm not a Sankta," Xian called over his shoulder, his voice light and taunting. "But I guess I've picked up a thing or two along the way."

His grin widened as he watched the pursuers scramble, fumbling in their disbelief.

One of them lunged forward, trying to catch up, but Xian was already miles ahead. He swerved sharply, taking a tight corner that had his enemies stumbling in their tracks. But they were persistent, angry, throwing knives in his direction as he zipped through the streets, laughing all the way.

The game had changed. It wasn't just a chase anymore. It was a test of endurance, wit, and most of all—audacity.

Xian reveled in it, the thrill surging through his veins. He darted through crowded intersections, evading the barrage of knives and attacks, his heart pounding not with fear, but with exhilaration. Every dodge, every sharp turn, every narrow escape made his adrenaline surge higher. He wasn't panicking anymore. No, now he was having fun.

As he approached the outskirts of Lungmen, the narrow streets opening up into an expanse of concrete, he heard them getting closer again, but they were slowing down. Their attacks were becoming less frequent, more desperate.

"Come on!" one of them shouted in frustration. "We can't lose him!"

Xian laughed again, the sound echoing in his chest. He could almost feel their blood boiling. He pushed the throttle harder, zooming forward, his figure almost a blur against the skyline. The thought of being caught never even crossed his mind. He was too far ahead, too unpredictable now.

"Catch me if you can!" he taunted.

The motorcycle roared forward, its engine singing a victory song as Xian disappeared into the distance, leaving his pursuers sputtering and swearing behind him. The chase was over—for now. But Xian knew one thing for sure: the game was only just beginning.

Xian's heart raced as the thrill of the chase surged through his veins. The roar of the engine beneath him synced with his adrenaline, matching the rapid beats of his pulse. As he tore through the winding streets of Lungmen's slums, the crumbling buildings and narrow alleys seemed to close in on him. The air smelled of decay and oil, yet it all felt invigorating—alive in a way that Xian hadn't felt in a long time.

His pursuers, a relentless group of four, were still hot on his tail. They hadn't given up yet. Xian could feel their frustration, thick in the air, and he was ready to give them a chase they wouldn't forget.

"Catch me if you can!" he yelled, a wild grin spreading across his face. His motorcycle howled as he took another sharp corner, his pursuers barely keeping up. They were adapting quickly, learning his patterns, but Xian wasn't about to make it easy for them.

The thought of them catching him seemed more and more unlikely as he swerved the bike and cut through the labyrinth of alleyways. They were fast, but so was he. He spotted an alley ahead, a dead-end that could break their rhythm. His mind worked fast—this was getting too predictable.

Xian jerked the handlebars, diverting the bike sharply into the narrow alley. The walls on either side seemed too close to fit, but Xian knew this place—knew how to navigate it. His pursuers, unfamiliar with the tight turns and sharp angles, were forced to stop at the mouth of the alley, swearing under their breath.

"Where the hell did he go?" one muttered, scanning the street. Another spat on the ground, frustration evident.

Xian hid behind a rusted dumpster, the sound of footsteps growing louder as they approached. He held his breath, barely containing his laughter. The first of the pursuers walked right past, oblivious to his presence. That was when Xian made his move. He revved the engine and shot forward, a blur of motion as he sped past them.

The pursuers turned around in shock. "How the hell is he—" one started, but Xian was already a block ahead, weaving through the slums with breakneck speed.

He zigged and zagged through the alleys, his enemies growing more desperate with every turn. A sudden burst of knives came flying toward him, slicing through the air. Xian jerked the bike to the side, narrowly avoiding the first blade, but the second caught him on the arm, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips. The third nicked his cheek, drawing a line of blood. He cursed under his breath but didn't slow down.

This wasn't about avoiding danger anymore. It was about control. He was the one setting the pace now, not them.

"Is this what they mean by 'living on the edge'?" Xian mused aloud, laughing to himself. "Am I crazy for enjoying this?"

No answer came, but it didn't matter. The faster he went, the more fun it became. Another knife flew toward him, and Xian swerved with an almost unnatural precision, only for the blade's edge to slice through his sleeve. The pain was sharp, but it was just another reminder that he wasn't invincible.

"Seriously, you guys need to try harder!" Xian shouted back, hearing the frustrated shouts from behind. He couldn't even keep track of how many were still on his tail, but it didn't matter. He knew the slums now, knew how to bend the maze to his will.

Ahead, he spotted an old, abandoned car. It was a beat-up wreck that had clearly been there for years. Without hesitation, Xian swerved toward it, hopping off his bike and launching himself onto the car's roof. His pursuers, too slow to react, followed him into the alley, unaware of what he had planned next.

Standing atop the car, Xian grinned, looking back at them. "Guess what? You guys aren't the only ones who know how to make a quick escape!"

With a surprising display of agility, Xian leapt from the car, soaring through the air and landing in a roll. He sprang up into a sprint, darting through the winding alleys, leaving his stunned pursuers behind. Their curses echoed in the distance as they hesitated, unsure of what to do next. But Xian was already gone, slipping through the cracks of Lungmen's labyrinthine slums.

The pursuers, now desperate and enraged, shouted insults and threw knives as they stormed after him. But Xian was always a step ahead, darting around corners, slipping through shadows. They were sloppy now, their coordination faltering.

Xian chuckled to himself, enjoying the chaos he was leading them through. Every time they thought they had him cornered, he slipped away again, laughing all the while.

"You know," he called back with a cocky grin, "I've been told I'm an expert at dodging. You guys should've picked a different line of work."

"Shut up, you little brat!" one of the pursuers yelled, anger creeping into his voice. "You're going to regret this!"

But Xian didn't care. The moment they started yelling, he knew they were losing control. And that was the moment he had been waiting for. He pushed the throttle on his bike, and the engine roared to life. The slums blurred as he tore through the streets, leaving his pursuers far behind.

But just as he thought the chase was over, something nagged at him—a sense that this wasn't the end. The tracker might have been off, but they weren't going to give up that easily. They would keep coming, keep hunting. But for now, Xian could smile. This was the kind of challenge he lived for.

And somewhere, out there, Ch'en would be watching. She wouldn't give up on him either.

For the first time in a long while, Xian felt truly alive.

---

3rd Person POV

Xian's motorcycle roared through the slums of Lungmen, the sound of his pursuers' engine drawing nearer with every passing second. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins, but his mind remained sharp, focused. Every twist, every turn, every decision was calculated. He had to keep moving.

He had thought this would be a routine escape. Survive the trap. Slip away unnoticed. But life had other plans. Pain radiated from his body, but he couldn't afford to stop. Not now.

I can't win like this...

Hours had passed since he'd narrowly avoided their first ambush. His pursuers were relentless, coordinated in ways that suggested they weren't just chasing him—they were hunting him. Every move they made seemed calculated, an intricate dance designed to box him in. But Xian wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.

He had trained for moments like this. Though not a fighter by nature, his engineering background had taught him to think quickly, to survive. He wasn't just a man in a desperate chase. He was a survivor, always seeking out the cracks in the system to exploit.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, an irritating interruption.

I don't have time for this, Xian cursed, reaching for the device. But just as he touched it, a sharp pain shot through his spine. He swerved hard to dodge a weapon shot, nearly losing control of the bike.

But as he steadied himself, something shifted. A familiar feeling lingered in the air—he wasn't alone in this. Others were watching him. And then, just as he felt his grip slipping, Xian spotted them.

The figures in the armor—sleek, menacing, glowing with eerie detail—were the same as the designs he had sketched a year ago. His mind raced, trying to recall the late-night sessions spent drafting plans for mechanical prototypes. One man had come to his shop then, lingering over his designs, asking too many questions. He had stolen them.

Xian's blood ran cold.

This is bigger than I thought.

His enemies taunted him, gloating about their stolen power. They had taken his designs and turned them into a deadly force. Xian clenched his fists, fury welling inside him. He had built this. He had unknowingly created his own worst enemy.

Xian's mind clicked into action. Running wasn't an option anymore. He wasn't just going to survive this chase. He was going to fight back.

The suits of armor were faster, stronger. But Xian had something they didn't: ingenuity. He wasn't the same person he had been when he first arrived in Terra. He had changed. And now, it was time to prove it.

With a surge of energy, he swerved, dodging between alleys, setting the stage for his counterattack. They were relentless, but Xian had a plan. He wasn't just running. He was luring them into his trap.

But as his body grew more exhausted, something strange happened. His perception sharpened. His system's Appraisal Eyes activated, revealing the armor's weaknesses—gaps, vulnerabilities. Xian smiled.

They had underestimated him.