Chapter 14 - Hollow

A/N:The electricity is running funny....R.I.P Phoney.

Xian finally slowed his pace as his house came into view, sweat clinging to his brow as he caught his breath. Jogging with heavy bags wasn't exactly ideal, but at least he managed. His focus shifted as he approached his front door, the sound of the bustling city fading behind him.

His thoughts turned to the kids. "What do they need again? Clothes, obviously. But not just any clothes; they'll need something durable, comfortable, and warm enough for this weather." He furrowed his brows. "I think there's that old magazine in my drawer… the one I used for practicing visualizing different outfits. Good thing my... uh... art doesn't need to rely on the system to work, or I'd be useless right now."

He let out a sigh. "Art. That's what I'll call it for now. Raw and unpolished, but it works."

With that, Xian opened the door and stepped inside.

The moment Xian closed the door, three pairs of eyes greeted him. The boys—Rico, Finn, and Tobi—sat sprawled out on the couch, towels loosely draped around their shoulders, their hair still damp from their baths.

Xian sighed heavily. "Still in towels? Seriously, guys?"

Rico, the loudest of the group, sat up straight and tilted his head. "Did you get everything done?" His tone was surprisingly respectful, though his energy radiated curiosity.

"Mostly," Xian replied, setting the bags down with a thud.

"What'd you buy?" Finn, the clever one, leaned forward, his sharp eyes already scanning the contents of the bags.

"Stuff we'll need," Xian answered vaguely, shaking his head as he handed the bags to them. "Here, take these."

Tobi hopped off the couch and grabbed one of the bags, nearly dropping it from the weight. "Where are the girls?" Xian asked, glancing around.

Rico pointed toward the hallway. "Two of them are still in the bathroom. Elisa's in the kitchen."

Xian raised an eyebrow. "Elisa?"

"She said she was cooking something," Rico added casually.

"Cooking?" Xian perked up. That was unexpected. He nodded, leaving the boys to inspect the bags as he made his way to the kitchen.

Xian entered the kitchen to the faint scent of something sizzling. Elisa, the group's self-proclaimed leader, stood near the stove, startled when she noticed him. Her white hair was slightly damp, and she wore an oversized shirt—one of his, he realized immediately.

"You're back!" she greeted nervously, fidgeting with her hands.

Xian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm back. What are you wearing?"

Elisa's cheeks flushed, and she bowed her head. "I-I'm sorry! I borrowed it without asking. The clothes I had were too dirty to wear after the bath, so I—"

"Wait," Xian interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You mean the dirty clothes from the laundry?"

Elisa winced. "Y-Yes…"

Xian let out another sigh, a habit he realized was becoming far too frequent lately. "And what are you doing now?"

She glanced back at the stove nervously. "I... I just wanted to thank you. For everything. Giving us a job, letting us eat and take baths... I-I know it's a lot, and I was rude to use your ingredients without asking, but I thought I could at least cook something to show my gratitude. I'll pay you back once I have enough money!"

Xian blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her earnestness. He sighed again, softer this time, and nodded. "Alright, call everyone to the living room when you're done."

Elisa nodded vigorously, relief washing over her face as she hurried to finish cooking.

Xian went to his room, rummaged through his drawer, and retrieved the magazine he had mentioned earlier. Flipping through its pages briefly, he tucked it under his arm and returned to the living room, where all six kids now sat scattered across the couches.

He immediately noticed two of the girls—Nia and Mira—still in towels. His eyes twitched. "You two... at least put on something before sitting on the furniture!"

The girls jumped, their faces red with embarrassment, and muttered quick apologies.

Xian shook his head, setting the magazine down on the table. "Alright, listen up." He pointed at the magazine. "Pick the type of clothes you want. Something normal. No weird requests."

The kids exchanged glances, hesitant. Rico was the first to flip through the pages, his brow furrowing in thought. Slowly, they began pointing out their preferences, each speaking cautiously as if they were afraid to ask for too much.

Xian nodded as he took mental notes of their choices. For a moment, he stared at them thoughtfully, realizing he'd need their measurements to make the clothes properly. Then he remembered something—his system's Appraisal Eyes.

Focusing, he activated the skill. Immediately, translucent status windows appeared in his vision, each displaying the kids' measurements alongside basic figures resembling their respective races.

"Convenient," Xian muttered, quickly scanning them.

But as he continued, he noticed something odd. The emotional states displayed in the status windows began to change drastically. The once neutral white hues shifted to orange, and the kids began to tremble, huddling closer to one another.

Xian frowned. "What's wrong? Why are you scared?"

They didn't answer at first, until Mira, the shyest among them, stammered, her words jumbled. "Y-Y-Your eyes…"

Xian blinked, confused. "My eyes? What about them?"

"L-Look at the mirror!" she cried, pointing behind him.

Turning, Xian spotted the hall mirror. He froze. His reflection stared back at him with lifeless black pupils surrounded by glowing white outlines, eerily reminiscent of black holes.

He stared for a long moment, his mind racing. "Well, that's new," he muttered, maintaining a calm exterior despite the shock. He couldn't help but speculate, wondering if this was a side effect of overusing his system.

He turned back to the kids and gave them a vague explanation. "It's just a side effect. Nothing to worry about."

The kids didn't look convinced, but they didn't press further.

As Xian left for his room, telling them to wait ten minutes, the kids exchanged nervous glances.

Rico leaned toward Elisa, whispering, "What kind of 'side effect' makes your eyes look like that?"

Finn nodded, his clever mind already forming wild theories. "Maybe it's because he's secretly cursed. Or worse—he's part of some dark organization and did something illegal to get those powers!"

Tobi's eyes widened. "What if he's possessed by some ancient evil? We're gonna get dragged into some terrifying battle, aren't we?"

Elisa sighed, rubbing her temples. "Stop jumping to conclusions. It's probably nothing."

Still, the kids couldn't help but let their imaginations run wild, their exaggerated speculations only growing more ridiculous with each passing second.

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Xian stepped into his room, the weight of the materials in his hands barely registering against the torrent of thoughts swirling in his mind. The evening air, thick with a quiet stillness, wrapped around him as he placed the bundles of fabric and thread carefully on his bed. He could hear the faint hum of distant machinery outside his window, but for now, it was just him and the materials that lay before him, ready to be shaped.

One by one, Xian laid the items out, taking a moment to appreciate the fine quality of the fabrics he had picked up from the tailor shop. The textiles were simple yet durable—perfect for the children, practical yet sturdy enough to withstand the wear and tear of daily life in Terra. His fingers brushed over them lightly, each piece smooth to the touch, as if inviting him to begin.

A flicker of his senses sharpened, and with a deep breath, he focused his attention. The system stirred, and his eyes glowed faintly, the intricate designs of the appraisal ability unfurling before him like a tapestry of data. He marveled at the oddity of it, the fact that something as strange as his sight could feel so... natural. The world around him seemed to split into layers—material compositions, hidden patterns, and energies he could barely comprehend.

He'd been meaning to investigate his abilities further, but that would come later. For now, there was a task at hand.

With his thoughts steady, Xian willed the fabrics to float. The movement was subtle at first, as if the materials themselves were hesitant to obey. Then, as his concentration deepened, the fabrics began to shimmer, rising gently into the air, as though guided by an unseen force. A flicker of satisfaction passed through him, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It worked. He could feel the materials reacting to his command, each thread, each weave, shifting in place under his mental touch.

"Okay," he murmured to himself, "let's do this."

He reached out mentally, threading his focus through the delicate strands of fabric, manipulating them with a precision he hadn't known he could wield. It felt almost... effortless. As though the materials responded to his will, folding and twisting in perfect alignment as he began stitching them together. Needles, though invisible, moved rapidly through the air, stitching the fabric with surprising speed. Each movement was smooth and synchronized—Xian's mind guided the process, and the materials obeyed.

The sound of the needles working was oddly soothing, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic click as they darted in and out of the fabric. Xian's hands remained still, but his mind moved in time with the flow. The cloth seemed to come alive under his control, reshaping itself into something functional, practical.

It took only minutes. His first set of clothes, simple and practical, were completed. Xian stepped back, surveying the finished product. The fabric, though simple, was expertly stitched together. Each piece, from the pants to the shirt, felt sturdy, the seams firm but not overworked. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest. It was the first time he had crafted something like this, and it had come out nearly perfect.

"Not bad," he said with a small, self-satisfied grin.

His fingers brushed through his hair as he moved on to the next set, pushing away his lingering pride to focus on the next task. The design was more versatile this time—a set of clothes that could be worn in various seasons, adaptable and flexible. The style shifted slightly, with a few added touches for durability and comfort, knowing the children would need clothing that could handle the harsh conditions of Terra.

As the next set of clothes took shape, Xian's concentration deepened. The process was so fluid, so natural, that he almost didn't realize how quickly he was working. The fabric hovered gracefully as it shifted, cut, and sewn together under his mental guidance. The needles danced through the material, stitching in perfect alignment. His mind moved in sync with the flow, every motion purposeful, every stitch adding to the final piece.

Minutes passed, and the second set of clothes was finished. Xian couldn't help but feel a little taken aback. He had expected the process to be longer, maybe even difficult, but here he was—having crafted two complete sets of clothing for the children, all under six minutes. A small surge of excitement bubbled inside him as he marveled at his own efficiency. He hadn't even realized just how much control he had gained over the process in such a short time.

"That's… that's pretty amazing," he muttered under his breath, a hint of surprise in his voice. He'd managed to do something like this so quickly and easily. The thrill of it lingered in his chest, making him feel a little more accomplished than he'd expected.

He glanced at the status bar that flickered in the corner of his vision. The words appeared almost in an instant: Craft - Novice.

Xian's pulse quickened. This was the skill he'd been wanting for days now—the ability to create, to craft, to bring anything he could imagine into reality. He had only dreamed of having such a power, and now it was his.

"Craft… I can actually craft now," he said softly to himself. His eyes traced the details of the skill's description. Novice Stage. It was still early days, but the possibilities were endless. The ability to create anything—from simple tools to complex machines. It felt like the universe had just opened up to him in a way he hadn't imagined.

His hands tingled with excitement. Now, he thought. Time to test it.

Xian walked over to his cabinet and began rummaging through it. His fingers sifted through the various materials—scraps of metal, wire, some old tools that he had been meaning to repair. They were all functional, if a bit worn, but they'd do. He placed them all on the bed, his mind already working, arranging the materials into what he needed.

As he sat down, he focused. The air around the materials grew heavier, denser, as his will surged into the mix. Slowly, the materials began to rise, just as the fabrics had. They moved with fluidity, swirling around each other, bending and merging into one cohesive form.

Xian's eyes narrowed in concentration as the pieces began to shape into something—something powerful. In just two minutes, the work was complete. The spinning materials slowed, and before him sat a gleaming silver revolver.

He blinked. The revolver was sleek, well-crafted, a work of art in its own right. Xian reached out, his fingers brushing over the cold metal, feeling the weight of it. He had no experience with firearms, not really. Back on Earth, he'd never had much interest in them, though he'd watched a few gun tests online from time to time, his grandfather explaining the mechanics in his spare moments.

Still, despite his limited knowledge, Xian knew this was functional. He could feel it in his bones, the raw potential in the way it was built. His appraisal eyes flared, and a flood of data poured into his mind. The revolver's parts, the materials it was made from, its firing mechanism—all of it was laid bare before him. It was a powerful tool, and he knew exactly how to use it, even at his novice level. There was no need for formal training when his ability filled in the gaps.

Xian let out a small chuckle as he picked up his old gun from Chernobog, the one he had used during his time there. It was a standard Glock, simple but reliable. He set it next to the revolver, a comparison of two worlds: one he'd crafted, and one that had come with him from the past.

He focused again, mentally commanding the two weapons to float. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he'd hoped for something—anything—out of the fusion process. He waited, his gaze flickering between the two guns, his heart pounding with quiet anticipation.

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

Xian sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the disappointment. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. The fusion of the two weapons was beyond his skill at this stage. He could feel it in his gut. It wasn't time yet.

Still, the thought of fusing weapons, unlocking new potential... It was an exciting possibility. A future he could work toward.

"Well," Xian muttered, placing the guns down, "guess I'll keep trying. It's not like I have anything else to do."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes shifting back to the materials on his bed. Modifying weapons, though it could be taxing, was something he knew he could do. His Sankta gun back in Chernobog had proven that. But the fusion... that was something else entirely. He would need more time, more practice, and a better understanding of the mechanics.

With a sigh, Xian rose from his seat, moving over to the clothes he had just finished making. He carefully folded them, the fabric soft and firm in his hands. The children would need them, and he had already delayed enough. There was still much to do, and he knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges.

As he stepped out of his room, the weight of the clothes felt lighter, as though the task had been accomplished, and now, it was time for him to face whatever came next.