Deep inside the Hollow, Michael's footsteps echoed on the warped, neon-streaked platforms, the air thick with Ether's electric hum.
The space was a surreal labyrinth—floating debris, flickering holographic screens, and twisting corridors that defied geometry, like a TV Mode puzzle gone rogue.
He tried to recall which Hollow Zone this was, his mind sifting through Zenless Zone Zero wiki entries from his Earth days, but nothing matched.
This isn't in the game, he deduced, his rational mind steady.
Makes sense.
New Eridu's Hollows evolve, uncharted rifts popping up like glitches.
The thought grounded him, a reminder that he wasn't just a player anymore—he was living in this world.
Billy Kid paced ahead, his cybernetic joints clicking, his star-shaped eyepiece glinting under the Hollow's violet glow.
"We're squandering valuable time here," he griped, kicking a piece of debris.
"Could be out there nabbing' bounties, not stuck in this glitch-fest."
Anby, her Cunning Hares jacket patched but sharp, nodded, her hand resting on her blade's hilt.
"We need to update Nicole. She'll want a sitrep, especially if this job's going south."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes scanned the shadows, wary of Ethereal ambushes.
Eous, the rabbit-like Bangboo hopping beside them, chirped, its LED eyes flickering as it processed data. Billy crouched, ruffling its ears.
"Yo, Eous, you got that carrot data on this Hollow? We need an exit, pronto."
The Bangboo's voice buzzed, synthetic but cheerful.
"Processing… carrot data encryption in progress. Estimated completion: five minutes."
Michael sighed, rubbing his trimmed beard.
"Eous will need some time to encrypt it," he said, his tone practical.
Bangboos are reliable, but they're not instant. He glanced at the Cunning Hares, their frustration palpable.
"Look, I know this is a mess, but stick with me. You'll get paid."
He still had the $10,000 Dennie chip from his lottery win, which was worthwhile since it helped him connect with them and pay for the assistance.
Billy snorted, holstering his revolvers.
"You better not be bluffin'g, Mikey. I'm not doing charity runs."
Anby gave a curt nod, her trust tentative but holding.
"Just don't slow us down."
As they moved deeper, Michael's senses prickled.
The brass coin in his pocket grew warm, a subtle warning of danger.
Something's off, he thought, his rational calm wavering as the Hollow's Ether pulsed erratically.
Then, without warning, the world froze. Everything turned white, a blinding void swallowing the neon and shadows.
Time halted, and before him, a vision unfolded like a movie scroll—a cascade of events, precise and inevitable.
In 50 seconds, an Ethereal would plummet from the Hollow's ceiling, a hulking mass of corrupted Ether with claws like scythes.
Ten seconds later, Billy would spot it, raising his revolvers, while Anby drew her blade, both ready to counter.
Thirty seconds after that, as they battled, a Hollow Hoplitai—a mechanized Ethereal with a spear-like appendage—would emerge from a rift, its attack vector calculated to exploit their distraction.
In a mere three seconds, its spear would pierce Michael's chest, the Ether surge overwhelming his negligible Ether resistance, causing catastrophic cellular destabilization and immediate death.
In 1.55 minutes he saw his own death as a show, clinical and detached, like a data slate projecting his demise.
No, he thought, panic spiking but swiftly suppressed.
I'm not dying here.
As the vision faded, time snapped back, the Hollow's neon glow returning. Michael barely breathed, his heart pounding.
In a split second, he yanked the 1 Dennie chip from his pocket, using it as a catalyst for his mystic abilities.
He snapped his fingers, the gesture sharp, his ability manifesting like a subtle ripple in fate.
The scenario unfolded just as he'd seen: the Ethereal crashed from above, its roar shaking the platform.
Billy spun, guns blazing, shouting, "Heads up!" Anby's blade flashed, carving into the creature's hide.
Michael braced, counting the seconds. Thirty… twenty-nine…
The Hoplitai emerged, its spear gleaming, lunging as predicted.
But fate twisted. A metal pillar, dislodged from the Hollow's unstable structure, hurtled from nowhere, slamming into the Hoplitai with a deafening clang.
The Ethereal was flung against the wall, its spear skittering harmlessly across the platform.
Michael's snap had nudged probability, turning a fatal strike into a miraculous miss.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos, urgent but controlled.
The Cunning Hares didn't hesitate—Billy grabbed Eous, Anby sprinted ahead, and Michael followed, his loafers pounding the neon-lit ground.
The Ethereal's roars faded behind them, the Hollow's maze stretching on, but they were alive.
***
Michael's loafers pounded the neon-streaked platforms of the Hollow, his breath steady despite the chaos.
The Cunning Hares—Billy, Anby, and Eous—kept pace, their silhouettes sharp against the flickering violet glow of the labyrinthine rift.
Ethereals materialized from the shadows, their claws glinting, but as they lunged, bizarre accidents thwarted them: a platform collapsed under one, pinning it; another tripped on floating debris, crashing into a wall.
Billy's eyes widened, Anby's grip on her blade tightened, and Eous chirped in disbelief.
It was as if the world was on their side.
My mystic ability's working overtime, Michael thought calmly, noting the improbably fortunate mishaps.
He didn't dwell—running was priority one.
Eous, bouncing at Billy's side, beeped triumphantly, its LED eyes flashing.
"Carrot data decrypted! Exit route acquired. Follow my lead!"
The Bangboo's synthetic voice cut through the Hollow's hum, guiding them through twisting corridors littered with glitched holographic screens.
"About time, little buddy!" Billy grinned, his revolvers spinning.
Anby nodded, her eyes scanning for threats.
Michael kept close, his tie flapping, the 10,000-slip warm along with the coin chip warm in his pocket.
But danger loomed ahead.
A massive Ethereal emerged, its armored form dominating the platform. Dullahan, its headless silhouette unmistakable, activated its jagged blade, the weapon humming with corrupted Ether.
Eous chirped urgently.
"Exit gate directly ahead—in front of the target!"
Billy skidded to a halt, his guns lowering.
"No way we're rushing that!" he said, eyeing Dullahan's swinging stance, the blade arcing in a deadly sweep.
"That thing's a one-way ticket to scrap city!"
Anby's blade was drawn, but her stance hesitated.
"We can't outrun it. Not without a plan."
Michael's heart raced, the threat overwhelming, but his rational calm held. No time to hesitate.
The exit was their only shot, and Dullahan wasn't budging.
He glanced at Eous, then at Billy and Anby, their resolve wavering.
I've got to act.
"Sorry in advance," he said, his voice firm but apologetic.
Scooping up Eous, who latched onto his back with a surprised chirp, he surged forward, shoving Billy and Anby with all his strength.
"What the—?!" Billy yelped, stumbling. Anby grunted, her balance thrown, but both were propelled toward the exit.
Dullahan's blade swung, a lethal arc aimed at their necks, the air crackling with Ether.
Michael's mystic ability flared, a snap of his fingers channeling his power through the Denny chip.
Just a nudge, just enough. The Hollow's exit gate shimmered open at the perfect moment, a violet portal flaring wide.
They tumbled through, the blade's edge missing by millimeters as the gate snapped shut.
They crashed onto solid ground, rolling across a gritty alley in New Eridu's outskirts, the neon glow of Brant Street flickering nearby.
Michael landed hard, his tie askew, Eous still clinging to his back. Billy scrambled up, dusting off his jacket, his eyepiece glinting with indignation.
"Yo, Mikey, what was that?! Shoving us like that—you got a death wish or something?"
Michael pushed himself up, lying back on the pavement, his breath steadying.
"Sorry," he said, his tone calm but sincere.
"It was the only way. You'd have hesitated, and we'd all be dead."
I saw it in the vision, he thought, recalling the precognitive flash of their deaths.
His mystic ability had saved them, but he kept that to himself.
Anby sheathed her blade, her expression torn between annoyance and respect.
"You're reckless, but you got us out. Don't do that again."
Eous hopped off Michael's back, chirping gratefully.
"Carrot data confirms: safe extraction achieved!"
Before anyone could respond, a voice cut through the alley, sharp and familiar.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you idiots!"
Nicole Demara, leader of the Cunning Hares, strode forward, her pink hair catching the neon light, her arms crossed.
"What's going on? You ditch my comms, dive into a Hollow, and drag some rando along?"
Billy scratched his head, holstering his guns.
"It's a long story, boss. It kind of involves mercs, Ethereals, and this guy going full hero mode."
Nicole's eyes narrowed, landing on Michael.
"And who's this guy?"
Michael sat up, brushing dirt from his slacks, his rational mind already framing his answer.
Michael brushed dirt from his slacks, his trimmed beard damp with sweat, his tie loose after the Hollow's chaos.
Nicole Demara stood before him, her pink hair vibrant, eyes narrowing as she demanded answers.
Billy, Anby, and Eous flanked her, their gazes mixed—Billy's curious, Anby's wary, and Eous's LED eyes flickering.
Michael stood steady, his rational mind clear.
Time to wrap this up and get out.
"I'm Michael Varen," he said, his voice calm, meeting Varen's gaze.
"A white star institute researcher, I already explained my story to your partners. Got tangled in a bad job with my old boss's Null_Face embezzlement."
"Mercenaries grabbed me, I escaped, ran into your crew, and we hit that hollow to dodge them. That's the short of it."
No need to mention the mystic ability. His ability to nudge fate had saved them, but that was his secret.
Nicole crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"That's a neat story, Varen, but you're not just some desk jockey. Nobody shoves my team through a Hollow Gate like that without skills."
Billy grinned, his eyepiece glinting.
"Yeah, Mikey's got moves! Saved our butts back there."
Anby nodded slightly, her blade sheathed.
"Reckless, but effective."
Michael shrugged, keeping it light.
They certainly are a happy group.
He was ready to leave, but a promise nagged him.
He'd assured the Cunning Hares payment for their trouble.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the 10,000-Dennie chip—his lottery winnings, earned through his Mystic ability.
"Here," he said, tossing it to Billy, who caught it with a surprised blink. "I promised to pay you. That's for getting me out. We're square."
Billy stared at the chip, whistling. "Ten grand? Damn, Mikey, you're loaded!"
Nicole's eyes widened, but she smirked. "Generous for a guy who just tumbled out of a Hollow. Don't expect a discount next time."
Eous chirped, hopping closer.
"Payment accepted! Carrot data updated!"
Michael gave a small nod, turning to go.
"Stay safe," he said, his loafers clicking as he headed toward Seventh Street.
Job's done, time to lay low. His thoughts stayed calm, focused on getting home, not dwelling on the Hollow or the mercenaries still out there.
Behind him, the Cunning Hares watched, their voices low.
"That guy's weird," Billy said, pocketing the chip.
"Ethereals tripping over themselves, that Hollow Gate timing—nobody's that lucky."
Anby frowned, her hand resting on her blade.
"He knew what he was doing. Too calculated, that's a researcher for you..."
Nicole tapped her chin, her smirk fading.
"He's hiding something. Nobody drops ten grand and walks away like it's nothing."
Eous tilted its head, its LED eyes flickering.
"Who is Michael Varen, really?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the Cunning Hares headed off, the neon lights swallowing their silhouettes.
Meanwhile, Michael reached his Seventh Street apartment, the stairwell smelled of motor oil, and his door creaked as he entered the familiar mess—ramen wrappers and a busted Bangboo in the corner.
He kicked off his loafers, tossed his tie on a chair, and sank onto the couch, the neon glow from the window painting the room in electric hues.
His hand brushed the brass coin in his pocket, warm but quiet.
The Hollow, the Ethereal accidents, the gate's perfect timing—it was all his Mystic ability, nudging fate like a loaded die.
But the vision of his death, the mercenaries, the murders on Seventh Street—they weighed on him.
Enough's enough, he thought, his decision clear and calm.
To avoid using his ability anymore.
I'll stick to the Institute and keep my head down.
New Eridu was dangerous enough without him playing fate's game.