Arknights - Echoes Of The Unfound Dawn

The next item was rolled onto the stage with meticulous care—a pair of large, rough stones, one black and the other a deep, almost iridescent blue. They sat on a velvet cushion, their jagged edges untouched by refinement. To most, they looked like unremarkable rocks, but the soft whispers that rippled through the crowd indicated they weren't ordinary.

The auctioneer stepped forward, clearing his throat to recapture the room's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next item is quite the enigma. These stones were recovered from the depths of an abandoned Originium mine in Kazimierz. Their composition defies conventional analysis, and while no one has determined their precise applications, experts agree they are unlike any known material found in Terra. Starting bid: 300,000 LMD."

Xian froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the stones.

Originium? No, it's something else entirely, he thought. His vision blurred momentarily, the stones shimmering in a way no one else seemed to notice. The system kicked in, lines of faint text appearing in his mind like a hidden layer of reality.

"Unidentified High-Density Material. Potential latent energy storage at 2.3 times the efficiency of standard Originium. Possible adaptive properties with further refinement."

Xian's heart skipped a beat. This isn't just some collector's item—it's a goldmine of research potential. If I can get my hands on that…

He sat up straighter, his fingers twitching slightly. Swire, who had been idly inspecting her nails, caught his sudden movement and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not seriously thinking of bidding, are you?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Maybe," Xian replied cautiously, still focused on the stones.

Swire snorted, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "What are you going to bid with? Your pocket change? Face it—you'd get outbid by the time you opened your mouth."

Xian shot her a glare. "Not everyone's swimming in money, Swire. Some of us have to think before throwing LMD around."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Swire said, waving him off. "Besides, if you want it that badly, I could always buy it for you. Consider it my good deed for the day."

Xian blinked, surprised by the offer. "Wait, seriously?"

"Of course!" she replied, though her mischievous grin betrayed her true motives.

"And what would you want in return?" Xian asked suspiciously.

Swire's smile widened. "Oh, just a small favor. You remember that agreement we made at the mall, don't you?"

Xian's eye twitched. Of course it's about that, he thought bitterly.

"Hold on," Xian said, crossing his arms. "That so-called 'agreement' wasn't exactly fair, Swire. You practically cornered me into saying yes."

Swire feigned innocence, placing a hand on her chest. "Cornered you? I believe you agreed willingly. In fact, I think your exact words were, 'Fine, just this once.'"

"That was because you wouldn't stop badgering me!" Xian snapped, his voice low enough not to draw attention. "You twisted my words."

"I prefer the term 'negotiated,'" Swire said, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Xian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, fine. But what does that have to do with this?"

"Well," Swire began, her tone overly sweet, "I could consider extending our… partnership. Let's say, for example, I buy this little rock for you now, and in return, you owe me one more favor. Nothing too big, of course."

Xian's instincts screamed at him not to trust her, but the allure of those stones was too strong. He groaned internally. I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

Swire noticed his hesitation and leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Come on, Xian. It's a good deal. You get your fancy stones, and I get a small favor in the future. Win-win."

Xian clenched his fists, his mind racing. He glanced at the stones again, the system's earlier appraisal replaying in his head. The potential they held was undeniable.

This could be the breakthrough I've been looking for, he thought. But dealing with Swire…

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't go overboard, alright?"

Swire's grin was positively radiant. "Overboard? Me? Never."

Xian's stomach churned. Why do I feel like I just signed a contract with the devil?

The auctioneer's voice echoed through the hall. "We'll start the bidding at 300,000 LMD. Do I hear 300,000?"

A hand shot up almost immediately, followed by another. The numbers climbed rapidly—350,000, 400,000, 500,000.

Xian felt a pang of panic as the price soared. "Uh, Swire? You sure about this?"

"Relax," she said, raising her hand casually to bid 600,000.

"What do you mean, relax?!" Xian hissed.

"Oh, hush," she replied, her voice dripping with confidence.

The bidding continued, the numbers escalating past Xian's wildest expectations. 700,000. 800,000. 1 million.

Xian's heart sank deeper with each number. I could live ten lifetimes and not make that much money.

Swire, however, seemed entirely unfazed, her smug expression unwavering. "1.2 million," she said, her voice loud and clear.

Xian buried his face in his hands. This woman is insane.

The bidding slowed as it reached 1.5 million. A few of the other participants hesitated, and murmurs began to ripple through the crowd.

"That's far too much for a pair of rocks," one man muttered.

"Unrefined material with no confirmed applications," another agreed. "Completely impractical."

Swire turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze silencing the whispers. "Impractical for you, maybe," she said smoothly. "But for someone with vision? Priceless."

The other bidders bristled but said nothing.

Xian leaned closer to Swire, his voice low. "Do you have to antagonize everyone?"

"What's the point of being rich if you can't have a little fun?" she replied, flashing him a wicked grin.

"Rich people logic," Xian muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

The final call came at 1.8 million, and no one else raised their hand. "Sold, to the young lady in the back," the auctioneer announced, his gavel striking the podium.

Swire leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, that was fun."

"Fun?" Xian repeated, staring at her in disbelief. "You just spent 1.8 million LMD!"

"Correction: we just spent 1.8 million LMD," Swire said, emphasizing the word with a smirk.

Xian groaned, slumping in his seat. I'm never going to live this down.

As the stones were prepared for delivery, Swire nudged him playfully. "Cheer up, Xian. This is an investment. Besides, you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" he repeated incredulously. "For what? Putting me in debt to you for life?"

Swire laughed, clearly enjoying his misery. "You'll see. One day, you'll look back on this and realize how generous I've been."

Xian shot her a withering glare. "Generous, my ass."

Inside, though, he couldn't deny the excitement bubbling beneath his frustration. Those stones might just be the key to something extraordinary—and for better or worse, Swire had made it possible.

But I'm definitely paying her back for this. Somehow.

.

.

.

.

.

The dimly lit room at the back of the auction house was a sharp contrast to the opulent grandeur of the main hall. Here, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, the cold silence broken only by the occasional scuffle of boots against the floor. A number of bodies, dressed in the uniforms of auction security, lay sprawled across the room. Some were slumped against the walls, others collapsed over tables, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

In the center of the carnage stood Mephisto, his unsettlingly pale features illuminated by the flickering light of an Originium lamp. Around him, his grunts rummaged through crates and shelves, muttering among themselves as they searched for their target.

"This is taking too long," one of them grumbled, tossing aside a box of unmarked vials. "Why do we always have to do the grunt work?"

"Shut it," another snapped, rifling through a drawer. "Do you want to be the one to tell Mephisto we didn't find it? Be my guest. I'm sure he'd love to hear your excuses."

The first grunt shivered and said no more.

"Besides," a third added, smirking, "once we get that thing, it's going to be chaos out there. Imagine the faces of those rich fools when they realize they've walked into their own nightmare."

The group chuckled darkly, their movements more hurried now as the anticipation built.

Mephisto, however, remained silent, his gaze distant. His mind wandered back to the conversation he'd had with Tallulah just hours ago.

"Mephisto," Tallulah's voice crackled through the communicator, her tone calm yet commanding, "I trust you understand the importance of this operation."

"Yes, of course, Lady Tallulah," Mephisto replied smoothly, his unsettling smile audible in his voice. "Though I must admit, I'm a little disappointed you won't be joining us. It's not often I get to witness your... firepower firsthand."

"There are matters that require my attention elsewhere," Tallulah responded firmly, brushing aside his remark. "Faust and Crownslayer will assist you. Ensure everything proceeds as planned. This is a critical opportunity to destabilize the region."

"I've already formulated a plan," Mephisto assured her, his tone brimming with confidence. "The auction is the perfect stage. Imagine it: the wealthy, the powerful, all gathered in one place, completely unguarded. The chaos we could unleash..."

"Report your progress regularly," Tallulah interrupted. "And remember, no unnecessary risks. We can't afford a failure here."

"Yes, yes," Mephisto said with a wave of his hand, even though she couldn't see it. "You worry too much. Leave it to me."

The communicator clicked off, and Mephisto's grin widened.

"Found it!" one of the grunts exclaimed, snapping Mephisto back to the present.

The group gathered around as the grunt held up a small, unassuming box. Mephisto stepped forward, taking it with deliberate care. Inside, nestled within a bed of velvet, was a large, translucent stone, its surface shimmering faintly with an unnatural light.

Mephisto's smile grew predatory. "Ah, there you are," he murmured, cradling the stone like a precious artifact.

"What's so special about that thing?" one of the grunts asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

Mephisto's pale fingers ran along the stone's surface, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed with a sickly green light. "This little gem," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "will amplify my control over Originium-based lifeforms. With this, even those beyond my reach will succumb to my influence. Imagine the possibilities."

The grunts exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.

Mephisto turned, his cape billowing slightly as he moved. "Prepare yourselves," he said, his voice commanding. "We'll put on a show for the good patrons of the auction today. Let's see how well their wealth protects them."

The grunts grinned and began rummaging through a pile of disguises—waiter uniforms, janitor suits, and auction staff attire.

"This is going to be fun," one of them muttered, slipping into a uniform and adjusting his cap.

"Fun for us," another chuckled. "Not so much for them."

Mephisto looked on, his grin unwavering as he pocketed the stone. Let the chaos begin, he thought, stepping out of the room with a flourish.

The group exited the back room, leaving behind the eerie silence of their earlier carnage. Each grunt wore their disguise with confidence, blending seamlessly into the bustling environment of the auction house staff. Mephisto strolled ahead of them, his composure calm yet brimming with a sinister energy, as though the very air around him crackled with anticipation.

The hallway leading to the main auction room was alive with movement: servers carrying trays of champagne, security guards stationed at intersections, and attendants guiding latecomers to their seats. Yet no one seemed to notice the disguised intruders weaving through the crowd, their movements practiced and precise.

"Stick to your roles," Mephisto murmured as they reached a side entrance to the auction hall. "And remember, no mistakes. This performance needs to be flawless."

The grunts nodded, each one eager yet disciplined, knowing the consequences of failure under Mephisto's command.

Inside the auction room, the air was filled with the hum of quiet conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. The wealthy attendees, adorned in their finest attire, exuded an air of indifference as they observed the items on stage. Mephisto, now seated inconspicuously among the crowd, took a moment to observe his surroundings.

He closed his eyes briefly, the stone in his pocket thrumming faintly against his palm. He could feel its power coursing through him, a tangible promise of the chaos he was about to unleash.

"Let the games begin," he whispered under his breath, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

 Arknights: Echoes of the unfound dawn

Back the auction room.

Xian leaned back in his chair, legs crossed lazily as he gazed at the opulent surroundings of the auction hall. The low hum of murmured conversations and the occasional clink of glasses filled the room. Beside him, Swire adjusted her perfectly tailored blazer, her sharp feline ears twitching slightly as she stretched her arms.

"Honestly," Swire began, her voice laced with the usual playful arrogance, "I don't get how you always look so... unbothered. Don't you ever get restless just sitting around like this?"

Xian smirked, his relaxed posture unchanging. "Sitting around isn't so bad. You'd be surprised how much you notice when you're not constantly on the move."

Swire raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Sounds like an excuse to be lazy if you ask me."

"I could say the same about you," Xian shot back with a grin, nodding toward her slouched posture.

Swire clicked her tongue, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table between them. "So, tell me," she said, her amber eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. "What exactly did you do before all this? Your work, I mean. You don't strike me as someone who's spent their life in Lungmen."

Xian hesitated, his expression turning thoughtful. He scratched the back of his head, choosing his words carefully. "I worked with machines mostly—fixing things, building things. Nothing glamorous."

Swire tilted her head, her curiosity deepening. "Machines, huh? So, what kind of things did you build? Don't be vague now."

"Just... things people needed," Xian replied, deflecting skillfully. "Cars, appliances, gadgets. Whatever paid the bills."

His casual tone didn't fool Swire, but she didn't press him further. Instead, she smirked. "Fine, keep your little secrets. Must've been a dull life though."

Xian chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "What about you? What's it like being an LGD officer?"

Swire groaned dramatically, throwing her head back against the chair. "Oh, don't get me started. It's supposed to be my break, and here I am talking about work."

Xian hid a smile. "Break, huh? Funny, I thought you never took those."

Swire glared at him, though her expression was more exasperated than angry. "Oh, don't you dare start. The paperwork alone is enough to make anyone go mad. And then there's Ch'en..." She sighed heavily. "Do you know how exhausting it is to work under someone who thinks everything needs to be done perfectly and immediately? It's like she doesn't believe in rest."

Xian listened attentively, occasionally nodding as Swire vented her frustrations. Despite her sharp tongue, there was a genuine exasperation in her tone that made him wonder just how much pressure she was under.

"And the conflicts," Swire continued, her voice dropping slightly. "The city feels like it's on the edge of something. You can sense it, can't you? The tension? The Infected situation is spiraling, and the upper brass..." She shook her head, her expression darkening.

At that, Xian perked up. He always paid close attention to any updates about Lungmen's Infected and the rising tensions. The impending chaos he feared seemed to inch closer with every passing day.

"Reunion's been stirring up trouble too," Swire whispered, leaning closer. "We had a run-in with some of their people not long ago. It wasn't pretty. And you, lucky you, will probably end up dealing with them eventually. Part of the job, you know?"

Xian frowned, his laid-back demeanor slipping slightly. "I'm just an informer. Why would I have to deal with something like that?"

Swire grinned mischievously, her sharp teeth flashing. "Oh, come on. Don't play coy. With arms like those," she said, poking his bicep, "you're practically built for it."

"Arms like these," Xian retorted, pulling back, "are for fixing things, not fighting. If you're expecting me to dive into the fray, you've got the wrong guy."

"Oh, I know all about you," Swire said smugly, leaning back with a knowing smile. "Ch'en's told me plenty."

Xian froze. His mind raced, irritation bubbling to the surface. Why would she talk about me?

"What exactly did she say?" he asked, his tone sharper than before.

"Oh, you know," Swire said nonchalantly. "Stuff about you being surprisingly capable. A little mysterious. And that she sleep-talk in the office sometimes."

"She..what?" Xian blurted, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

Swire laughed, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Don't worry, she didn't say anything too embarrassing. Though now I'm curious about what she dream about."

Xian pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. Why does this always happen to me?

Before Xian could formulate a response, a commotion near the front of the room drew their attention. One of the auction staff had stepped up to the podium, whispering urgently to the speaker.

Xian's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in the speaker's expression—shock, followed by fear. He turned to Swire, about to comment, when the unthinkable happened.

The speaker's body jerked violently as a knife plunged into his side.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by screams. Chaos broke out as guards rushed to protect their patrons, their movements swift but disorganized.

"Stay down!" Swire hissed, pulling Xian behind their table as arrows rained down from above.

Xian glanced toward the entrance and spotted several Reunion members wielding crossbows, their faces obscured by crude masks.

"They're already here?" he muttered, his mind racing.

Four of the attackers turned their attention toward Xian and Swire, leveling a crossbow in their direction. Xian moved on instinct.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small knife, his fingers working with blinding speed to modify it. In a blur of motion, he slashed through the supports of the chairs around them, sending the makeshift barricade toppling just in time to deflect the incoming arrows.

The bolt clattered harmlessly to the ground, and Swire stared at him, wide-eyed. "What the hell was that?"

"No time," Xian said tersely, scanning the room.

Swire snapped out of her shock, grabbing her bag. She rummaged through it before pulling out a small bottle of perfume. Without hesitation, she hurled it at a nearby attacker.

The bottle shattered against the grunt's face, and he screamed, clawing at his eyes.

The chaos intensified as guards and Reunion clashed. Some of the guards managed to take down their attackers, while others fell to the relentless assault. The air was thick with the sounds of metal clashing, arrows whizzing through the air, and cries of pain.

Suddenly, one of the Reunion members hurled a large bag into the center of the room.

"Bomb!" someone shouted, but the warning came too late.

Xian's ears caught the faint hissing sound just before the explosion. Without thinking, he grabbed Swire and pulled her close, shielding her with his body as the blast tore through the room.

The force of the explosion sent them tumbling to the ground. Swire's ears rang as she blinked up at Xian, her face a mix of shock and confusion.

Xian, lying over her, stared at the wreckage, his mind racing. They're not supposed to be here yet.

He clenched his fists, his expression darkening. Something's not right.

Swire pushed herself upright, shaking off the disorientation from the blast. Around them, the once grand auction hall was now a scene of utter devastation. Splintered wood, shattered glass, and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air.

Screams echoed as survivors scrambled to find cover, guards fought desperately, and Reunion pressed their assault.

"What the hell is going on?" Swire snarled, her sharp eyes darting around the room. She winced, brushing dust off her blazer. "This İsn't some random attack."

"No kidding" Xian muttered, his gaze fixed on the chaos. He quickly scanned the room, noting the positions of the Reunion forces.

Their movements were methodical, almost rehearsed. This wasn't just a raid; it was an organized strike.

Swire crouched beside him, her frustration evident. "They're after someone, or something. Damn it,

Ch'en's going to kill me if I let this mess get any worse."

"You think she'Il care more about this or your perfume bomb?" Xian quipped, pulling out his makeshift knife and checking its edge.

Swire shot him a glare. "Focus!

What's the plan here, genius?"

Before he could respond, a group of

Reunion fighters burst into the room from a side entrance, weapons drawn. Their masked leader barked orders, pointing toward the surviving civilians huddled in corners.

"Take them alive if possible," the leader growled. "The bigshots are worth more breathing."

Xian's jaw tightened. So that's the target. Ransom or leverage. Makes sense.

"Swire, can you fight?" he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

Swire snorted. "'Im an LGD, not some pampered socialite. I can handle myself. But l'd appreciate some backup."

Xian smirked, his knife spinning between his fingers. "Good, because we're outnumbered, and I'd rather not die in this overpriced theater."

As the Reunion grunts closed in,

Xian moved first. He grabbed a broken chair leg and hurled it like a javelin, striking one of the attackers in the chest and knocking him back.

Before the others could react, he darted forward, using his knife to sever a crossbow string and disarm another grunt.

Swire followed his lead, ducking low and sweeping a heavy vase off a nearby table. She swung it with surprising force, smashing it into the side of an attacker's head.

"Not bad Xian commented, sidestepping an incoming blade and countering with a precise slash to his opponent's arm.

"Don't patronize me!" Swire snapped, tossing her now-useless weapon aside and grabbing a metal tray from a nearby buffet table. She used it to block a strike before slamming it into her opponent's face.

The room was a chaotic battlefield.

Guards fought valiantly to protect their charges, but the Reunion forces were relentless. The screams of the wounded and dying mixed with the clash of weapons and the occasional gunshot.

One of the grunts, armed with a crossbow, aimed at Xian and Swire.

"Get down!" Xian barked, grabbing

Swire by the arm and pulling her behind an overturned table. The arrow thudded into the wood, missing them by inches.

"You've got quick reflexes," Swire admitted begrudgingly, catching her breath.

"And you've got a loud mouth," Xian retorted, peeking over the edge of the table.

Swire was about to snap back when her ears twitched, catching the faint sound of something being tossed.

She turned just in time to see another Reunion member lob a second bomb into the room.

"Bomb!" she shouted, instinctively pulling Xian down with her.

The bomb detonated with a deafening roar, shaking the entire building. The force of the blast sent debris flying in all directions, and a cloud of dust and smoke enveloped the room.

Xian shielded Swire with his body again, bracing against the shockwave. He felt the heat of the explosion and the sting of shrapnel grazing his arm, but he didn't loosen his grip.

When the dust began to settle, Swire looked up at him, her expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Why the hell do you keep doing that?"

"Instinct, I guess" Xian replied, his voice calm despite the chaos around them.

Swire huffed, brushing herself off as she stood. "Well, stop it. I can take care of myself."

"Noted, Xian said with a faint smirk, though his focus was already shifting back to the situation at hand.

Around them, the survivors were in disarray. Guards were regrouping, trying to form a defensive perimeter, while the remaining Reunion members pressed their attack.

Xian's mind raced. This isn't random.

They're trying to create chaos, yes, but there's something more. They're not supposed to be this organized yet. What changed?

His thoughts were interrupted by

Swire's voice. "Xian, look!"

He followed her gaze and saw the masked leader of the Reunion group issuing new orders. A squad of grunts broke off from the main group and headed toward the back of the room, where several high-ranking officials were huddled together.

"They're going for the VIPs;' Xian said, his tone grim.

"No kidding," Swire muttered. She reached for her communicator, only to curse under her breath. "Damned thing's busted. Typical."

Xian glanced at her, then back at the scene unfolding before them. His grip tightened on his knife. "Guess we'll have to handle this the old-fashioned way."

Swire groaned. "You're really making me work on my break, huh?"

"You're welcome", Xian replied dryly, already moving toward the VIPs.

Swire followed, a determined glint in her eyes. Despite her complaints, there was no hesitation in her movements.

As they fought their way toward the

VIPs, Xian couldn't shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. The timeline he remembered-the one he'd been preparing for-didn't align with what was unfolding now.

Something's changed, he thought, his expression darkening. And I need to figure out what before it's too late.

For now, though, survival came first.

With Swire at his side, he steeled himself for the fight ahead. The chaos was far from over, and the stakes were only netting higher.

Arknights: Echoes of the unfound dawn

The air in the VIP chamber grew heavier as Mephisto stepped through the ornate double doors. His pale features seemed almost ethereal under the flickering chandelier light, his cold blue eyes scanning the room like a predator savoring his prey. His grunts followed behind, their crossbows and makeshift weapons gleaming ominously.

A group of guards, steeling their nerves, surged forward in a desperate attempt to repel the intruders.

"Pathetic," Mephisto muttered, raising a hand with a deliberate slowness that seemed to mock their efforts.

Before the guards could close the distance, a volley of arrows whistled through the air, striking with precision. Bodies crumpled to the ground, their last cries silenced by the eerie stillness that followed. Mephisto stepped over them, his boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

The VIPs—a mix of wealthy merchants, politicians, and influential figures—cowered against the walls. Some clutched each other in fear, while a few stood firm, their faces hardened with defiance.

Mephisto paused, tilting his head slightly as though studying an abstract piece of art. "Ah, the pillars of Lungmen," he began, his voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. "How delightful to see you all gathered here. And trembling, no less."

"What do you want?" one of the merchants demanded, his voice shaking despite his effort to appear brave. "Who are you?"

Mephisto's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Me? I'm but a humble innovator. A seeker of knowledge. And you, my dear friends, will become part of something far greater than yourselves."

His words hung in the air like a thick fog.

"What are you talking about?" another VIP asked, his voice firm despite the fear in his eyes.

Mephisto chuckled softly. "You'll be my perfect experiments," he said, the light in his eyes growing wild.

The room erupted into a mix of gasps and protests.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Mephisto said, his tone laced with sadistic glee. He reached into his coat and withdrew a jagged Originium shard. The stone pulsed with an unnatural glow, and as he held it aloft, a white mist began to seep from his fingertips.

The mist coiled and twisted, forming sinuous tendrils that slithered through the air like living creatures. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the tendrils grew sharper and more defined.

Mephisto extended his hand, and one of the tendrils shot forward, piercing a fleeing guard with the speed of a projectile. The guard's scream was cut short as his body spasmed, then fell lifelessly to the ground.

Gasps of horror filled the room as the body began to twitch and rise again, its movements jerky and unnatural. The reanimated corpse turned its vacant gaze toward the VIPs, its once-human eyes now void of life.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mephisto mused, watching his creation with a twisted sense of pride. "Efficiency, control... yet, admittedly, the results are rather... predictable. But that doesn't diminish the satisfaction."

The VIPs recoiled, some screaming, others shielding their loved ones.

"You're a monster!" one woman cried, her voice breaking.

"Monster?" Mephisto repeated, tilting his head as if considering the word. Then he laughed—a soft, slow chuckle that grew louder and more unhinged with each passing second.

The laughter echoed through the chamber, chilling the hearts of everyone present. Mephisto's grin widened as he gestured to the terrified crowd. "You cling to your lives, your wealth, your status. Yet here you are, helpless. Isn't it ironic? You call me a monster, but what about you? How many of you have turned a blind eye to the infected? How many of you profit from their suffering?"

His voice grew sharper, cutting through their protests. "You think you're untouchable. That your walls and guards can protect you. But now, you'll die here, just like the infected you scorn. And the aftermath... oh, the aftermath!"

He threw his arms wide, his face alight with a maniacal glee. "Lungmen will crumble under the weight of its own hypocrisy. The infected will rise, the untainted will fall, and the city you cherish will burn itself to the ground. And all it takes... is a little push from me."

He laughed again, louder this time, his voice echoing like a deranged symphony.

The laughter abruptly stopped. Mephisto's head snapped toward the door as the sound of running footsteps grew louder.

"Ah," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "It seems we have company."

He gestured to his grunts, who immediately took up defensive positions. But before they could act, one of them cried out and collapsed, a glass knife embedded in his throat.

"What—?" Mephisto's eyes narrowed as more knives whistled through the air, striking with deadly precision. Some of his men fell, clutching their wounds, while others managed to dodge.

The VIPs scrambled for cover, pressing themselves against the walls as chaos erupted once more.

Mephisto's eyes darted to the doorway, where two figures emerged through the smoke. One was Swire, her signature blazer torn and dust-streaked but her posture unyielding. The other was an unfamiliar figure, their face obscured by a strange mask. The mask's design was intricate, marked by swirling lines and a small gold-like glass embedded at its center.

Mephisto's lips curled into a sneer. "An LGD officer and... what are you supposed to be? Some masked vigilante?"

Xian stepped forward, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos. "Just someone who's tired of listening to your monologues."

Swire smirked, raising her weapon. "And someone who's about to kick your ass."

Mephisto laughed softly, his fingers flexing as the mist around him thickened. "How quaint. Let's see how long you last."

Mephisto's reanimated corpses surged forward, their movements unnervingly swift. Xian reacted instantly, hurling another set of glass knives that shattered on impact, sending shards into the creatures' joints and slowing them down.

Swire dashed to the side, firing her handgun at the advancing grunts. Her shots were precise, each one taking down a target or forcing them to retreat.

Mephisto watched the battle with a detached curiosity, his hands weaving intricate patterns as more tendrils formed around him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them hurtling toward Xian and Swire.

Xian ducked, narrowly avoiding the deadly tendrils. He countered by activating a small device in his hand, which emitted a bright flash of light. The sudden glare caused the tendrils to falter, buying him a precious moment to strike.

Swire used the opening to close the distance between her and Mephisto, aiming her gun at his head. "Game over, freak!"

But Mephisto only smirked, his tendrils coiling protectively around him like a living shield. "Oh, my dear officer," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "This is only the beginning."

The battle was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.

 Arknights: Echoes of the unfound dawn

The tension grew thick as Xian and Swire made their way down the chaotic corridors leading to the VIP area. They found themselves blocked by a throng of Reunion grunts patrolling the hallway.

Swire, ever the sharp-tongued officer, let out a frustrated huff. "How in the hell are there this many Reunion scum crawling around? Did the entire underground population of Lungmen just decide to show up here?"

Xian's brows furrowed as he observed the movements of their enemies. "Judging by the patterns, they've taken root here for some time. This isn't random. They're coordinated... and too comfortable for my liking," he said grimly, gripping a makeshift metal rod he'd found earlier.

Swire turned to him with an incredulous glare. "Great. Now you're a strategist? Spare me the commentary and focus on getting us out of this alive!"

Before Xian could respond, a sudden volley of arrows streaked through the air, forcing both of them to duck behind an overturned table.

"Incoming!" Xian shouted, his eyes scanning for something—anything—they could use to counter. His gaze landed on a cluster of broken glass shards scattered near his feet. Without hesitation, he grabbed them, inspecting their edges with a calculating glint in his eye.

Swire raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing? This isn't a bloody action movie! You're not going to MacGyver your way out of this!"

"Just cover me for a second," Xian replied coolly, not even sparing her a glance as he started working.

Swire groaned in frustration, but she complied. Grabbing a metal pole nearby, she swung it like a baton, deflecting arrows and countering Reunion members advancing too close. Her attacks were precise but wild, a mix of disciplined training and raw desperation. She managed to knock out a few grunts but miscalculated her retreat, earning a gash along her arm.

"Damn it!" she cursed, gritting her teeth against the sting. Swire quickly whirled around, only to realize too late that one of the Reunion attackers was lunging at her from behind, blade raised high. Her muscles froze as she braced for the inevitable, prioritizing her mobility over further injury.

But the pain never came.

The Reunion grunt crumpled to the floor, a shard of glass embedded in his neck. Swire's eyes widened as she turned to see Xian, another shard glinting in his hand.

"Stay sharp," he said simply, before throwing another shard with pinpoint accuracy, downing an archer preparing to shoot.

Swire blinked, stunned for a moment, then grinned. "Maybe you do belong in an action flick after all."

She moved to his side, dodging attacks and countering with newfound determination. "You're going to tell me how the hell you pulled that off when we're done here," she said while delivering a sharp kick to another Reunion member.

Xian grunted in response, distracted. His mind was racing, but not because of the immediate battle. Instead, he mulled over the deviation in the timeline. "This wasn't supposed to happen here..." he thought, his expression darkening.

A loud metallic clink interrupted his thoughts. Xian's stomach dropped when he saw the Reunion grunt pull the pin on a grenade. "Oh, crap—!"

Swire grabbed him by the collar and yanked him behind a pillar just as the explosion rocked the hallway. The force of the blast sent them rolling across the floor, coughing from the dust and debris.

"You're welcome," Swire grumbled, brushing ash off her uniform.

Xian chuckled weakly. "Thanks for the save."

Swire shot him an irritated glare. "Don't make me regret it. Now move your ass!" She moved to engage another group, only to stop as she noticed Xian scrambling toward a pile of debris.

"What the hell are you doing now?!" she yelled, deflecting a strike aimed at her shoulder.

"Give me a second," Xian replied, rummaging through the wreckage. He grabbed a few pieces of scrap metal, a strip of leather from his own gear, and a small fragment of Originium he'd pocketed earlier.

Swire's frustration boiled over. "Are you seriously crafting in the middle of a battle?!"

But before she could finish, she felt a sudden shift in the air. A subtle hum of energy vibrated around her, almost imperceptible, yet it set her nerves on edge. She turned to see Xian working feverishly, his movements precise yet frantic. The Originium shard glowed faintly as he poured his focus into the makeshift weapon.

Seconds later, Xian held up his creation—a crude but functional firearm, cobbled together from the scavenged parts. He thrust it into Swire's hands, snapping her out of her stupor.

"Here. Use this," he ordered.

Swire stared at the weapon, dumbfounded. "You're insane. This thing shouldn't even—"

Her protest was cut off as an arrow embedded itself into the table beside them. Instinctively, she raised the gun and fired. The shot wobbled, barely on target, but to her shock, the bullet arced midair, striking the archer squarely in the chest.

Her mouth fell open. "What the hell in the n—?"

"No time to explain!" Xian barked. "Just keep firing!"

Swire didn't argue further. She adjusted her grip, taking out enemy after enemy with each unnatural shot. Meanwhile, Xian sprinted forward, taking advantage of the chaos to close the distance.

Suddenly, Xian stumbled, collapsing onto his knees as a wave of dizziness hit him. His vision blurred, and faint whispers echoed in his mind. The air around him felt heavy, charged with an unnatural energy.

"What the... what is this...?" he thought, panic rising as his emotions spiraled into anger and malice. His heart raced, but a sharp voice cut through the haze.

"Xian!" Swire shouted, her tone sharp with concern. "Get up, damn it!"

Her voice grounded him. He shook his head, steadying his breathing. "Not now. Focus."

Gritting his teeth, he gathered his materials again, this time crafting something new. A mask began to take shape in his hands, its design sleek and angular, with no visible eyes or mouth. At its center, a golden shard of glass shimmered faintly.

Xian placed the mask over his face, the faint hum of Originium energy resonating through him. He rose to his feet, his silhouette now menacing and enigmatic.

"Let's finish this," he muttered, his voice distorted slightly by the mask.

Swire, still firing with precision, glanced at him and smirked. "About damn time."

Together, they surged forward, an unrelenting force against the advancing Reunion. Xian's newly crafted weaponry and mask turned the tide, his ingenuity and Swire's determination carving a path through the chaos toward the VIP hallway.