Arknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 104

Chapter 104: Compatriots!

Columbia was, without question, an exceptionally good place.

Driven by explosive economic growth, relentless technological advancement, and the vast, untamed frontiers of the pioneering zones, this young nation had clearly carved out a path entirely distinct from the decaying empires of the core circle.

You lot can stay in the central territories and slaughter each other over scraps, Levi mused. I’m off to conquer new continents.

A stable social environment, a relaxed cultural atmosphere, and a constant drive for scientific innovation were the absolute prerequisites for attracting top-tier talent. As a rising power, Columbia’s initial grasp on these elements hadn’t been overwhelmingly dominant. But unfortunately for the rest of Terra, the global matchmaking system was simply too heavily skewed in their favor.

The socially stable Yan harbored deep-seated xenophobia; even now, Lungmen remained its sole truly open port. Over in Victoria, a land of rich and diverse culture, the king had been strung up from the gallows, the nobility was in open rebellion, and not even the capital could guarantee a peaceful night’s sleep, let alone stop the horrifyingly cruel persecution of minorities. Then there was Ursus. They possessed advanced science, yet they dumped every single technological breakthrough into their war machine, churning out weapon systems while their starving farmers couldn’t even get their hands on a basic tractor.

“I never imagined that, upon arriving in this world, I would willingly choose to conduct my life’s research in a nation modeled so perfectly after the American Empire.”

The Soviet scientist—sporting a proud, carefully parted hairstyle that bore a striking resemblance to a certain deceased acquaintance—muttered the words with a heavy dose of self-deprecating irony.

His oddly accented Victorian left the young assistant trailing beside him completely bewildered.

“Professor Levi, did you say something?”

“Nothing.” Levi shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the pristine avenues.

The streets of Trimounts lived up to every single one of his preconceived notions regarding capitalist decadence. Even the most inconspicuous, mundane trash can on the street corner was outfitted with motion sensors. The moment you reached out, the lid would slide open with a soft mechanical whir, allowing you to smoothly discard your waste. Afterward, a synthesized voice would actually chime in to praise you: “Everyone is responsible for protecting the environment.”

Convenient? In Levi’s eyes, this was nothing short of extravagant, a sickening waste of precious technological resources.

When he had first plummeted into Terra, he had landed straight into the dirt of a pioneering zone. There, he had witnessed the so-called “Great Reclamation Movement” with his own eyes—a brutal, blood-soaked meat grinder that made the American Westward Expansion look like a polite disagreement.

And the memory that had branded itself deepest into his soul was that of a blind child.

Her name was Mary. She was a victim of Terra’s peculiar curse, Oripathy. The disease had already stolen her sight, making it physically impossible for her to keep pace with the grueling, backbreaking labor demanded by the pioneer group. Yet, the overseers had ruthlessly assigned her the exact same quota as a fully grown, healthy adult.

Imagine, just for a second, if the sophisticated sensors and micro-motors wasted on these Trimounts trash cans were developed and applied to industrial prosthetics. How much easier would that little girl’s labor have been? How much suffering could be erased for countless other physically disabled children?

That would be true convenience. That would be progress.

As for why Levi hadn’t simply saved the little girl…

It was Mary who had found him in the wastes of the pioneering zone. The only reason she was wandering out there to begin with was because her Oripathy had reached its terminal stage, and she had been tossed into the wilderness like garbage to die.

Levi, fresh to this cruel world and entirely ignorant of its rules, had possessed no power to save her. All he could do was sit by her side, holding her frail hand as she walked the final, agonizing stretch of her short life. When the end came, he held a quiet funeral for her, gathering the jagged Originium crystals left behind after her body shattered to build a small, tragic tombstone in the dirt.

Recalling the suffocating weight of that past, Levi’s chest tightened with a familiar, lingering grief.

But grief was useless. All he could do now was funnel the exorbitant salary he earned as a Columbian researcher into his true purpose. Aside from the absolute bare minimum required for food, basic clothing, and equipment maintenance, he didn’t spend a single cent on himself. Every remaining voucher was poured directly into his Red October Pioneer Fund.

His assistant, naturally, failed to comprehend a single fraction of Levi’s internal world. Seeing the professor fall into a grim silence, the young man simply adjusted his glasses and pulled out the day’s itinerary.

“Professor Levi, Ms. Kirsten, the Director of Rhine Lab, has formally extended an invitation to you. Are you interested in a meeting?”

“Kirsten?” Levi’s eyes flickered with a brief spark of recognition, but he immediately shook his head. “Tell her that if she wants my time, she needs to bring a concrete project to the table, not just send out empty, meaningless social invitations. Scientists should act like scientists, not like disgusting, long-winded politicians.”

“Understood. I will draft a polite refusal.” The assistant nodded, pen hovering over his clipboard.

Just as he opened his mouth to inquire about the next item on the schedule, he blinked. Levi had completely vanished from his line of sight.

Levi couldn’t care less about the rising research star the Trimounts Scientists Committee had assigned to babysit him. He had already turned on his heel and stepped through the sliding glass doors of a street-side bookstore.

Linquan Chain Book Superstore.

The streets of Trimounts, the undisputed City of Science, were never lacking in literature. The Trimounts Grand Library was widely recognized as Terra’s fifth-largest repository of knowledge, ranking only behind the Victoria Royal Grand Library, the Ursus National Library, the Leithanien Ludwig University Library, and the Yan International Archives.

Yet, this particular bookstore stood out as a bizarre anomaly among the sleek, modern storefronts.

It was a Columbian branch of a publishing house originating from Yan. It exclusively stocked and published literature imported from the East.

This was exceedingly rare. From what Levi had gathered, the Yan of Terra functioned much like ancient China—a massive, self-contained behemoth closed off from the rest of the world, with only a single city acting as a valve for outsiders. Its internal culture, philosophies, and customs were entirely alien to the core nations.

This isolation was exactly why Yan, despite boasting a continuous history far older than Victoria’s and having largely avoided devastating global wars, only held the fourth rank in global library archives.

It simply wasn’t open to the public. The world knew that the Yan archives guarded countless rare, ancient texts, but almost no one was actually permitted to step inside and read them.

Levi harbored no particular prejudice against this world’s equivalent of China, but a spark of genuine curiosity drove him. What exactly did the scholars of Yan study in this era? He had heard rumors of specialized professions like “Civil Engineering Masters” operating within their borders. Perhaps studying their unique technological branches could offer a new angle for improving the brutal living conditions in the pioneering zones.

“Welcome in!”

A bright, friendly voice chimed from the counter, greeting every customer who crossed the threshold. Levi stood near the entrance, his sharp eyes scanning the store’s layout, before his gaze naturally locked onto the prominent display shelf right by the main doors.

“The Chronicles of Earth? An alternate world sci-fi novel?”

He frowned, leaning closer.

Science fiction was hardly a foreign concept to him. His homeland had once been the absolute beating heart of the genre. His people had looked at their existing technology and dared to dream of the future, placing their ultimate hopes on the shoulders of the next generation. They fantasized about humanity finally outgrowing the cradle of Earth, piercing the veil of the star sea, and establishing a true, universal communist society among the cosmos.

The tales of those starry-eyed children burying time capsules, earnestly asking the Soviets of a century later if their great ideals had finally been realized, and wondering how beautiful their society had become—those stories had moved countless millions to tears.

But Levi wasn’t frowning because a sci-fi novel had appeared in a Yan bookstore.

He was frowning at the title itself.

Though there had been fierce internal debate regarding the translation, Wei Yenwu had ultimately deferred entirely to Mr. Ernst’s creative control. The concept of the world, as Ernst had dictated, was translated into the Columbian edition using a word that struck Levi with an overwhelming, bone-deep familiarity.

“Earth…”

Terrans were accustomed to using the word “land” as a synonym for the world. The oceans remained a terrifying, unexplored void, and all historical attempts at long-distance deep-sea navigation had been violently severed by The deep Silence. Therefore, for a Terran author to use “Earth”—a word inherently tied to the soil beneath their feet—to describe an alternate world wasn’t entirely out of place.

But to a man with Levi’s specific, hidden origins, “Earth” carried a vastly different, singular meaning.

It meant Home.

“Hello there! Are you interested in The Chronicles of Earth?”

An enthusiastic Perro clerk trotted over, her tail giving a polite wag as she addressed him.

Truth be told, when the clerk had first received the shipment of these books from the Lungmen headquarters, she hadn’t been thrilled. If Lungmen was the city of cutthroat commerce, Trimounts was the city of cold, hard science. What could a sci-fi novel about an alternate world, penned by some guy from the snowy mountains of Kjerag and published in Lungmen, possibly have to offer?

What was it going to be? A cybernetic Snow Leopard baring its metal fangs in a frozen wasteland?

It sounded ridiculous. Trying to sell science fiction to the researchers of Trimounts was a fool’s errand.

But, driven by sheer boredom and a sliver of curiosity, she had cracked open a display copy during her break.

By the time she finished, she had transformed into a rabid evangelist.

“You have absolutely excellent taste, sir! I cannot recommend this book enough,” the Perro clerk beamed, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you ask me, it’s not just a sci-fi novel; it reads like a historical epic. The world Mr. Ernst paints so vividly—a world completely devoid of Oripathy—is stunning, yet incredibly grounded. It’s not some fluffy fairy tale where everything is perfect just because the Infected don’t exist. No, it’s precisely because there is no Oripathy, no Catastrophes, and no Infected that it forces us Terrans to look in the mirror! It makes you realize the deep-seated contradictions and everyday sufferings we’ve just grown numb to. It is an absolute masterpiece!”

The clerk preached with the fervor of a zealot. But halfway through her pitch, her wagging tail slowed to a halt. Something was wrong.

Wait a minute. Why does this guy look like he’s about to hyperventilate?

She stared at Levi. The stoic professor’s eyes were blown wide, his pupils trembling. His breathing had grown ragged and heavy, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the display shelf. The clerk instinctively took a step back, suddenly very out of her depth.

“Um… Valued customer? Sir? Are you feeling alright?”

Levi violently snapped back to reality. He sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, forcing his heart rate down.

“I’m fine.”

He reached out, his finger pressing firmly against the glossy cover of the book.

“How much for this?”

“Oh! Well, do you want to buy the complete set or just individual volumes?” The clerk quickly recovered her retail smile. “If you purchase the whole set, the Four Ancient Civilizations Arc is discounted to 300 Columbian Gold Vouchers, and it comes with the official Setting Collection for free! If you buy them individually, the Setting Collection is 20 Columbian Gold Vouchers, and each main volume is 80.”

Four Ancient Civilizations?

Levi’s gaze sharpened into absolute, unyielding resolve.

At this point, he didn’t care if this was some cosmic coincidence or a deliberate signal. He was walking out of this store with these books.

“The whole set,” he commanded.

The clerk’s face lit up like a flare. She practically skipped back to the counter, punching the keys on the cash register with a satisfying ding.

“Will that be cash or card today, sir?”

Levi reached into his coat for his wallet. He paused, his fingers brushing against worn leather, before he slowly withdrew his phone instead.

“Please wait a moment. I need to make a call.”

Five minutes later, the assistant—who had been on the verge of a panic attack, mentally preparing a resume titled ‘I Used to Have a Job’ after losing his high-profile VIP—burst into the bookstore. Sweating profusely and panting for air, he slapped his company card down on the counter, paying for the heavy stack of books.

“Professor Levi, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” the assistant gasped, clutching his chest. “Next time you decide to vanish into thin air, could you please give me a five-second warning?”

“If I warned you in advance, it wouldn’t be vanishing, would it?” Levi retorted smoothly, picking up the neatly bagged books.

The assistant choked on his own breath, his face twisting into a mask of pure misery. “Then next time, can we please just not vanish?”

Levi offered him a sideways glance and gave a curt nod.

The assistant let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and immediately whipped out his clipboard. “Alright, Professor, we have an academic exchange meeting with the materials division in exactly half an hour. Don’t you think we should head over to—”

“Cancel it,” Levi interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Cancel every single appointment I have for the rest of the day. I am going back to read.”

The assistant froze. He stared at Levi’s retreating back as the man walked out the door without a second glance. He looked down at the jam-packed, carefully color-coded schedule in his hands, and suddenly realized that finding Levi might have actually been the worse outcome.

If he had just lost him, he’d only be fired. But now? Now he had to call a dozen high-ranking Trimounts elites and tell them the eccentric genius was blowing them off to read a novel. They were going to exile him to a pioneering zone!

“Professor Levi, wait! Let’s be reasonable here!” The assistant scrambled out the door, chasing after him. “We can read tonight, right? The evening is completely free!”

But Levi had already found a quiet outdoor cafe down the street. He dropped into a wrought-iron chair at a glass table, ignored the waiter, and cracked open the first volume.

His brow was furrowed so deeply it looked carved from stone. Even though he was merely opening a piece of fiction, a heavy, suffocating tension radiated from his frame.

He turned to the first page. His eyes scanned the epigraph.

It was an obvious, blatant homage to One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Slowly, the tension melted from Levi’s shoulders. A quiet, immensely relieved smile graced his lips.

He hadn’t guessed wrong. He wasn’t the only ghost wandering this alien earth.

Ernst, a man from Kjerag?

It seemed a meeting with this “compatriot” of his was no longer just an option. It was a necessity.

“Professor Levi, I am begging you, could you just—”

“Hmm. Actually, do me a favor and cancel all my appointments for the next few days,” Levi said, not looking up from the page. “I might be going on a long trip.”

The assistant opened his mouth. The desperate words of persuasion died in his throat, replaced by a hollow, ringing silence.

Are you kidding me? I shouldn’t have said anything! How did my begging make it infinitely worse?!