Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 73

Chapter 73: Rock and Roll and the Traveler

Thump-thump-clap. Thump-thump-clap.

What was that sound? Music? Or something else entirely?

Shining pulled back her worn, dust-coated hood. She glanced down at the small pot of soup she had just finished preparing over the crackling campfire, then tilted her head, listening intently to the desolate winds of the wasteland.

As a Sarkaz, and especially as a wandering physician, one had to remain constantly vigilant against their own kind in the unforgiving wilderness. Shining had witnessed far too much ugliness, far too much unspeakable misery bleeding into the soil of this world. Because of that, she despised lingering in heavily populated settlements, choosing instead the solitary path of a traveling doctor, mending the lingering wounds inflicted by a broken past.

Her own strength was more than enough to guarantee her safety as she traversed the barren lands alone. Originally, she had planned to venture deep into Sarkaz territory to retrieve a poor, wounded soul. However, the shifting frontlines of the Columbian battlefield had completely swallowed her intended route. Unable to bypass the mobilized armies on her own, she was forced to pivot, charting a new course toward Kazimierz. She had briefly considered seeking passage through Lungmen or the Ursus Empire, but both territories had abruptly declared strict martial law. For a Sarkaz, slipping through those heavily fortified borders was nearly impossible.

To be a Sarkaz entirely free from the taint of Oripathy was an exceedingly rare anomaly, yet Shining never viewed it as a blessing. In fact, she preferred never to speak of it at all. With her long, pale horns—so distinct from the rest of her kin—and the strange, heavy Originium Arts weapon resting at her side, she could have easily blended into the background of a bustling city during times of peace. But now, for reasons unknown, military blockades were springing up everywhere. She was reduced to trading for meager supplies in the few scattered, friendly villages she could find, trekking across the harsh wilderness toward the Kazimierz border.

Just as she was quietly calculating whether her last piece of stale flatbread could be stretched across three meals, that intense, rhythmic pounding echoed across the plains once more.

Thump-thump-clap! Thump-thump-clap!

It seemed her meal would have to wait.

Listening to that bizarre, infectious beat, Shining looked down at her noodles, which had already boiled down into an unappetizing mush. She shook her head with a faint sigh of regret, rose to her feet, and peered out toward the source of the commotion.

Then, she saw it.

It was a strange vehicle. Even by the standards of Shining’s many years of wandering the nomadic routes, it was an incredibly bizarre sight. The massive camper van was tearing across the barren earth in a wobbling, erratic trajectory. It looked as though the vehicle’s built-in navigation AI, the driver, or perhaps both, had downed an entire liter of cheap, synthetic liquor. The heavy machine swayed and snaked its way forward, kicking up massive clouds of dust.

What in the world was that thing?

Shining stared in utter bewilderment at the approaching camper. Its exterior speakers were cranked to the absolute maximum, broadcasting a heavy, rhythmic percussion into every desolate corner of the wilderness.

“Buddy, you’re a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday! You got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kicking your can all over the place, singing—”

“We will, we will, rock you!”

Thump-thump-clap!

Driven by that relentless, steady beat, the infectious lyrics blasted from the swaying camper van.

The man’s singing voice wasn’t particularly skilled, nor was it perfectly pitched. Yet, paired with the deafening volume and that soul-shaking rhythm, it carried a raw, obvious energy. Even the usually stoic Shining found her eyes narrowing in quiet amusement. Her fingers twitched, lightly tapping against her thigh in time with the heavy bass, watching with a hint of envy as the chaotic vehicle wound its way toward a geologically fragile zone near the Kazimierz border.

Such blatant, unapologetic mavericks were a rare breed in the wasteland. The spectacle was so absurd that the glint of binoculars flashed from distant hillsides, revealing hidden scouts and scavengers staring at the massive Idol logo plastered across the camper’s chassis with absolute bewilderment. Completely oblivious to their audience, the male vocalist simply kept belting out the heavy rock anthem.

“Buddy, you’re a young man, hard man, shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday! You got blood on your face, you big disgrace, waving your banner all over the place!”

“We will, we will, rock you!”

Thump-thump-clap!

Anyone capable of singing a song with such unbridled spirit couldn’t possibly be an enemy, could they?

Shining squinted through the dust at the noisy, careening machine, her own foot now tapping softly against the dry earth.

In the distance, the infectious rhythm was already taking its toll on the hidden watchers. A few curious scavengers had poked their heads out from the rocks, nodding their heads and clapping their hands to the beat, only to be violently yanked back into cover by their more paranoid companions. They stared out with lingering reluctance, watching the camper van flaunt its absolute lack of subtlety across the dangerous plains.

The occupants of the van clearly didn’t give a single thought to how the rest of the world viewed them. They just kept rocking the heavy vehicle back and forth, treating the massive machine itself like a giant, vibrating drum. The intense percussion and synchronized clapping echoed louder and louder across the empty expanse. The man’s careless, slightly deep, yet incredibly vibrant voice carried over the wind, earning a rare, approving smile from the Sarkaz doctor.

“Buddy, you’re an old man, poor man, pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace someday! You got mud on your face, big disgrace, somebody better put you back into your place!”

“We will, we will, rock you!”

Thump-thump-clap!

“We will, we will, rock you!”

Thump-thump-clap!

“The charm of music…” Shining murmured softly to herself. “What a fascinating song.”

She had never heard a melody so full of raw, pulsing life.

Watching the camper van aggressively climb a steep incline, Shining’s smile lingered—until a sudden, horrifying realization struck her.

A heavy, synchronized rhythm. Fragile terrain. The massive weight of the vehicle bouncing in perfect time with the beat, its heavy tires slamming down on the earth like a massive hammer. It was the exact same principle as an army marching in perfect unison across a suspension bridge. And the specific stretch of wasteland they were barreling into was a notoriously unstable geological zone, packed with dense, solid Originium veins. The ground beneath them was entirely hollowed out by subterranean cavities and resonance chambers. Even a normal, quietly driven vehicle ran the risk of causing a cave-in.

Shining’s expression dropped. Memories of past geological disasters flashed through her mind. She bolted forward, cupping her hands around her mouth as she screamed toward the oblivious, rock-and-roll-blasting camper.

“The terrain over there is highly unstable! If you keep driving to that rhythm, you’re going to cause a resonance collapse! Even the safe paths will cave in! Stop the music immediately!”

Thump-thump-clap! CRACK!

“…Ah.”

Sure enough, the ground gave way.

Shining stopped in her tracks, watching helplessly as the camper van hit the final, booming note of the chorus. Right on cue, the earth beneath its tires shattered. The massive vehicle sailed through the air in a surprisingly graceful arc before plummeting straight down into the newly formed sinkhole, landing flat on its chassis with a heavy, metallic crunch.

A massive cloud of dust and smoke billowed up from the crater. Shining winced at the dull thud, a look of deep pity crossing her usually impassive features.

I should go check on them, she thought with a heavy sigh. I cannot simply leave the injured unattended.

Staring down the smoke-filled pit, she knew exactly how this would go. Even though she was coming to help, the moment they saw she was a Sarkaz, they would likely draw their weapons and hurl insults at her. Yet, without a second of hesitation, Shining packed away her meager rations, slung her heavy bag over her shoulder, and began the long trek down toward the wreckage.