Arknights - Echoes Of The Unfound Dawn

A/N: Merry Christmas! And also enjoy the chapter❤️🎆.

As Xian pulled away from Swire, their faces were still mere inches apart. His expression was serious, his brows furrowed with determination, though a faint flush colored his cheeks. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling heavily from both the tension of the moment and the emotions roiling inside him.

Swire, her face equally flushed and her body trembling slightly from the ordeal, mustered enough strength to whisper hoarsely, "Why… why did you… do that?"

Xian met her gaze, his tone firm but tinged with irritation. "Because you wouldn't take the damn pill, and I didn't have time to argue."

Her weak but fiery glare narrowed. "That's… no excuse… You can't just…!"

"Don't start," he interrupted, his voice edged with frustration. "You forced me, Swire. I told you to take it, but you wouldn't listen. If you're mad about it, save your strength and yell at me later. Right now, we don't have time for this."

Swire's embarrassment quickly morphed into a mix of anger and confusion, her voice rising slightly despite her weakened state. "You're… unbelievable…! You—who even does that?!"

Xian didn't respond, instead turning his attention to the room around him. He began moving with purpose, opening cabinets, pulling out tools, and inspecting appliances. His hands worked methodically, dismantling anything he deemed useful, his focus unwavering.

Swire's voice grew more indignant, though her tone remained fragile. "I mean, seriously… We just met! We barely know each other! And now you're—what—acting like some kind of… hero?!"

Her words trailed off as Xian continued to rummage through the space, his movements deliberate and swift. He finally paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "I'm doing what I have to," he said simply. "Save your energy, Swire. You're going to need it."

Swire clenched her fists weakly, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Don't just… brush me off… You can't ignore me after pulling… something like that…"

Xian didn't even look at her this time. "I'm not ignoring you," he said curtly. "But I need to focus. Every second counts."

Seeing that her words weren't landing, Swire let out a shaky breath, her gaze following him as he moved around the room. Her thoughts drifted, her mind clouded by a whirlwind of emotions—anger, confusion, and something she couldn't quite place.

She muttered under her breath, "You're insane… Completely insane…"

Xian, kneeling beside an old appliance, didn't bother to respond. He was too focused on dismantling its casing, carefully extracting components and sorting them into piles on the floor.

Eventually, Swire fell silent, her weak protests giving way to a quiet, resigned watchfulness. She lay on the cot, her head tilted slightly as she observed him. His movements were precise, his focus intense. There was something almost admirable about his determination, though she wouldn't admit it aloud.

For now, she simply watched, her breathing steadying slightly as she tried to conserve what little strength she had left.

Xian, now surrounded by an array of parts and tools, took a moment to pause and collect his thoughts. His mind raced as he sifted through memories—fragments of designs and concepts from Earth, ideas for devices that could separate energy and raw materials. He'd seen similar principles in Terra's technology, and now he needed to merge the two.

His hands moved quickly as he began assembling pieces on the worktable. Capacitors, wires, and plates of various metals were arranged with care, each component fitting into a larger vision that was forming in his mind.

"This has to work," he muttered under his breath.

With a pile of parts ready on the table, Xian began crafting the device he needed. His hands worked with practiced precision, his thoughts laser-focused on the task at hand. He didn't have time for mistakes, nor could he afford to doubt himself.

Behind him, Swire continued to watch in silence. Though her body ached and her strength was fading, she couldn't help but be struck by the sheer intensity of his determination. Whatever he was doing, she could only hope it would be enough.

Xian's hands moved with precision, though his mind felt like a whirlwind of thoughts and calculations. The clutter of dismantled appliances surrounded him on the floor—a microwave stripped of its circuitry, a coffee maker with its heating coil yanked out, and several other devices rendered unrecognizable. His breathing was heavy, his focus entirely consumed by the task.

He stretched out his hands, activating his crafting skill. For a moment, he felt the familiar tingle of energy flowing through his fingertips. Yet, as he tried to assemble the components into a cohesive whole, the energy flickered and died, leaving the pieces inert.

Xian frowned, his brows knitting in concentration. Why isn't this working? He tried again, channeling his limited understanding of Terra's technology alongside his Earth-based logic. Still, his skill refused to activate properly, leaving the parts scattered before him like pieces of an unsolvable puzzle.

He paused, rubbing his temples as his thoughts raced. "Maybe… it's because I'm trying to combine concepts I barely understand," he muttered to himself. "Or maybe my crafting skill is just too underdeveloped."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he leaned back for a moment. Swire's weak voice broke the silence, murmuring faintly from her cot. "You… look like… you're building a bomb or… something."

Her words caught him off guard. He glanced at her, seeing her weak smile barely masking her pain. Despite her condition, she still found the strength to jab at him.

"Not a bomb," Xian replied tersely. "Something to save your stubborn ass."

Swire chuckled softly but winced almost immediately. "Could've… fooled me…"

He returned to his work with renewed determination. His hands moved swiftly, piecing together the parts step by step. A capacitor was carefully soldered onto a small circuit board, followed by thin wires connecting the board to a makeshift power source. Each component was meticulously adjusted, his mind constantly recalculating the structure to fit the unstable nature of Terra's originium energy.

After what felt like an eternity, he placed the final piece into the device. It glinted under the dim light of the room, a crude but functional metal glove. Xian stared at it, his heart pounding with both relief and anxiety.

Swire's voice broke through again, softer this time, almost as if she were talking to herself. "He's… really something… isn't he…?" She wasn't even sure if Xian could hear her, but the words slipped out anyway.

Unwilling to leave it at the basic level, Xian immediately set to modifying the glove. Terra's technology was inherently unstable, and he knew this device would need an advanced stabilization mechanism if it were to function effectively. Sparks flew as he tinkered, his mind working faster than ever.

Minutes passed—seven, to be exact. By the time he finished, the glove had undergone a complete transformation. Its metallic surface was now lined with thin grooves that pulsed faintly with light, and the internal components had been recalibrated to maximize its output.

Xian slipped the glove onto his right hand, flexing his fingers experimentally. It fit snugly, the energy coursing through it making his skin tingle. He clenched his fist, satisfied with the result.

Hearing a faint groan from Swire, he turned sharply, rushing to her side. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow. "Swire," he said urgently, "this might hurt a bit, but I need you to trust me."

Swire opened her eyes weakly, her gaze flickering toward the glove. "What… is that…?"

"Don't ask questions right now," Xian replied, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "Just hold still."

Without giving her a chance to argue, Xian activated the glove. A faint hum resonated through the room as the device came to life, its crude circuitry glowing faintly. He pressed, right above where the infection was most concentrated.

Swire clenched her teeth, her body tensing as a sharp pain shot through her arm. The painkillers dulled it slightly, but it was still agonizing. "Damn it… Xian…!"

"I know it hurts," Xian said through gritted teeth, his own expression twisted in concentration. "But I'm almost there. Just bear with me."

The glove began extracting the originium particles, drawing them out of her body. As the particles disintegrated on contact with the glove's metal, faint wisps of smoke rose into the air.

Swire groaned louder, her hand shooting up to clutch Xian's side, gripping his stomach tightly. Her fingers dug in, and Xian winced in pain.

"Swire… you're… killing me here," he groaned, his voice strained.

Her grip loosened slightly, but her weak voice lashed out. "Then… stop… hurting me!"

"I can't," Xian shot back. "Not until it's done."

As Xian worked relentlessly, he started to notice something unsettling. The glove on his hand, which had been carefully crafted and modified, was beginning to falter. The faint hum of its operation turned erratic, and the heat it emitted started to scorch his skin. Then it hit him—the metal wasn't enough to fully control the originium.

His stomach dropped as the realization sank in. The device is useless.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud, gritting his teeth as he pushed the device harder. He thought he could reduce the originium particles in Swire's body, but instead, they had begun to react uncontrollably.

The first sign of disaster was the burning sensation in his right hand. Xian flinched as a sharp pain shot through him, and he looked down in horror as the originium particles started to transfer from Swire into his own body. Unlike Swire's slow progression, the infection accelerated as it spread into him, crawling up his arm in jagged lines of crystalline growth.

"No… no, no, no!" he shouted, clenching his jaw to stifle a groan of pain. He tried to stop the transfer, but the process was beyond his control.

The infection snaked up his arm, reaching his chest and the muscles across his back. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony coursing through him, but Xian refused to stop.

Lost in the throes of pain, Xian didn't notice that Swire had stopped groaning. When he finally looked at her, he froze.

Her head had lolled to the side, her eyes shut, her body still. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Xian feared the worst.

"Swire…?" he called, his voice cracking. He leaned closer, pressing two trembling fingers to her neck. Relief washed over him as he felt a faint pulse.

"Just asleep," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "You scared the hell out of me."

Though her condition had stabilized, Xian's was worsening. The infection was relentless, tearing through his body like wildfire. Every breath felt labored, every muscle screamed in protest. Yet, he refused to stop.

With sheer willpower, he continued the extraction process. His hand trembled as he controlled the glove, his focus unwavering even as sweat poured down his face.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last traces of originium were extracted from Swire's body. The glove vibrated violently, its internal systems fried, and Xian ripped it off with a pained yell.

Xian sat there for a moment, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He could feel the infection coursing through his veins, his body slowly succumbing to its spread. His legs felt like dead weight, and he realized with dawning horror that he couldn't move them anymore.

He glanced at Swire, her face serene in her sleep. Despite the pain and exhaustion, a small smile tugged at his lips.

"You're okay now," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

With the last of his strength, he threw the glove across the room. It hit the wall with a metallic clang, sparking briefly before falling silent.

Xian slumped forward, the edges of his vision darkening. He managed one final look at Swire before his body gave out completely.

As unconsciousness claimed him, he fell to the floor beside her, his breathing shallow, his fate uncertain.