Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 79

Chapter 79: The Border Nation

In reality, Shining had heard him perfectly well. The knight demanding their surrender possessed a perfectly legitimate reason for his hostility.

The Columbia civil war had finally boiled over.

For the longest time, one of the foundational pillars of Kazimierz, the Kingdom of Knights, was its tourism. Draped in a manufactured, fairy-tale atmosphere, the nation maintained a highly specific, commercialized knight system. Through internal family politicking, sponsored study tours, and carefully polished resumes, one could climb the ranks.

From low-ranking grunts to the exalted High-ranking Knights, the trials were less about martial prowess and more a pageant of fame, marketability, and erudition. Every High-ranking Knight was expected to be the absolute embodiment of power and beauty, flaunting their dazzling figures under the stadium lights of the Major. Such champions naturally attracted the deep pockets of tycoons and foreign dignitaries; political marriages and corporate sponsorships were arts Kazimierz had perfected. Up until a few months ago, this gilded cage operated exactly as designed.

But the world refused to remain static. The industrial revolution sparked by Originium technology and the shockwaves of the Columbian civil war shattered the illusion.

The true victims of Columbia’s collapse were not neighboring giants like Lungmen, Ursus, Yan, or Higashi. It was Kazimierz. Watching the Columbian territories drown in hellfire dragged the Kingdom of Knights into a state of absolute economic and social chaos.

A massive chunk of Kazimierz’s revenue relied directly on Columbian trade. With those markets reduced to ash, the domestic environment turned suffocatingly harsh. Fueled by the fanaticism bleeding over the borders, a faction of traditionalist Kazimierz Knights demanded they march to the front lines to reclaim their lost honor in actual combat. Acting as the vanguard of the nation, they deployed a luxurious, highly publicized battalion: three High-ranking Knights, twenty-two mid-ranking officers, and a hundred and fifty low-ranking soldiers, all marching off to max out their prestige in a real war.

Three days after they reached the front line, a single, half-crippled High-ranking Knight crawled back across the border. He brought with him the ashes of his comrades.

He also brought back a message from the victors.

Keep playing in your fairy tales. Reality has no place for you.

The destruction of their glorious vanguard triggered a violent chain reaction across Kazimierz’s already high-pressure political landscape. The serfs and commoners, long oppressed by the knightly class, began to bare their teeth.

While the neon-lit capital of Kawalerielki remained relatively stable, the surrounding borderlands rapidly slipped from the General Chamber of Commerce’s control. In every rural village, every mining town, and every dark alleyway, fresh conspiracies brewed. The higher-ups, terrified by the slaughter of their best fighters, initiated a desperate countermeasure. They called it the Monk Project—a brutal fusion of Originium Arts and heavy machinery, designed to forge a brand new class of ultra-loyal, heavily augmented knights to crush the dissent.

Funding this project required crushing taxation, which only ignited more rebellions.

Exiled and disgraced knights suddenly found themselves backed by the furious public. The same arrogant nobles who used to beat their serfs for sport were now being dragged out of their stations and slaughtered by armed villagers. On the surface, Kazimierz still looked bright and beautiful, but its rotting foundations were ready to collapse at the slightest touch.

The wealthy elites in the capital remained addicted to their fantasy, eager to sing, dance, and watch theatrical knight epics. Yet, just across the border, the relentless artillery fire of Rhine Lab and the monstrous biological weapons of Umbrella Technology roared in a terrifying duet, easily puncturing the fragile myth of the knight. Against a tidal wave of coilguns and self-detonating bio-horrors, individual martial strength was reduced to a pathetic joke.

Building-sized electromagnetic cannons leveled entire canyons, blasting them into flat plains before cratering them into lifeless basins.

Faced with that apocalyptic reality, even someone as terrifyingly strong as Shining—or the few rational veterans left in the Kingdom of Knights—chose to shrink their patrol routes and take massive detours. Getting caught in the crossfire between those warring factions meant absolute erasure.

However, this tactical retreat meant the central government lost its grip on the local territories. As regional enforcers, local knights held sweeping administrative and judicial power. Kazimierz’s culture strictly forbade cowering before a strong enemy, and while the higher-ups knew hiding was the only logical choice, the ambitious and stubborn local lords in the borderlands refused to accept their irrelevance.

Naturally, the borders erupted into a chaotic mess of riots, banditry, and internal collusion.

“…That is everything. Can you let me go now?”

“Wouldn’t it have been better if you just said all that earlier?” Lappland whistled, her tone dripping with bored disappointment as she casually swung her twin swords. “You insisted on us dropping our weapons and surrendering. Did you really think we looked like easy prey?”

The local knight hung suspended in the air, completely immobilized by a cage of glowing, golden light bars.

“I thought I was finally going to get to make a mille-feuille or a sandwich cookie out of someone…” Lappland sighed, pouting slightly.

“What exactly is a mille-feuille?” Lynn asked, watching the interrogation from the sidelines with mild curiosity.

Lappland instantly perked up. Her eyes curved into dangerous, ecstatic crescents as she stepped closer to the trapped knight, happily poking the tip of her blade against his exposed neck. A thin line of blood welled up, accompanied by a pathetic shriek.

“Prophet, you don’t know? Let me demonstrate! Look at this lively little low-ranking knight. A mille-feuille means peeling him open, layer by layer, slicing the meat so thin you can stack it right back up into a pastry shape. Here, watch—”

“No! Don’t do it!” The knight thrashed wildly against the light bars, tears streaming down his dirt-caked face. “I already told you everything! What else do you want from me?! I said it all!”

Lappland tilted her head, pressing the blade a millimeter deeper. “You probably still owe us an apology, don’t you think?”

“I apologize! I plead guilty! I’m sorry! Just get the knife away from me, please, I beg you!”

“Alright, Lappland, put it away,” Lynn said, his voice calm and even. “No need to scare him to death.”

“Tsk…”

Lappland lowered her sword with a heavy, exaggerated sigh of regret. The knight slumped against his glowing restraints, looking at Lynn with sheer, unadulterated gratitude, praying the young man would continue to show mercy.

Lynn, however, felt no particular sympathy. He and Lappland had taken this side of the perimeter, while Shining and the others interrogated the rest of the ambush party. The knight’s reckless demand for them to disarm and submit to a local trial was a fatal mistake. To put it bluntly, if Lynn’s group wanted to keep their tracks hidden, slaughtering this entire patrol would be the standard procedure.

Mercy wasn’t about being a saint. Explaining the political situation was fine, but out here in the lawless wilderness, allowing a group of armed strangers to confiscate your weapons and march you away was literal suicide. Whether it was the chaotic crew of Penguin Logistics, the hardened operators of Blacksteel International, or even Shining with her gentle smiles—none of them would ever accept such a demand.

The moment this knight uttered the word “disarm,” he had declared war. Towns operated on order and laws; the wilderness operated on blood. Everyone in their convoy understood this perfectly.

“Are you done over here?”

Texas walked up beside Lynn, looking thoroughly exhausted. For once, instead of a chocolate Pocky stick, she had a lit cigarette pressed between her lips, the thin trail of smoke drifting up into the dry air.

“We’re done,” Lynn replied, glancing at her. “What about your side, Texas?”

“A High-ranking Knight is stationed nearby. These guys are his personal retainers.” Texas took a slow drag, her lupo ears twitching toward the horizon. “They came out here after receiving an alert, and they haven’t reported back in over ten minutes. Even though we’re in the right, things have already escalated. We’re going to have to deal with whoever runs this territory.”

What an absolute hassle.

Texas let out a long, quiet sigh, her amber eyes fixed on the thick clouds of dust gradually rising in the distance.