Arknights: How Did I Actually Become the Doctor? — Chapter 27

Chapter 27: The Mysterious Little Button and the State of Reunion

Out on the unforgiving snowfields of Ursus, a squad tightly wrapped in white masks trudged along a narrow, half-buried trail, pushing deeper into the desolate woodlands.

The collapse of the Reunion Movement had been almost incomprehensibly swift. From Talulah’s sudden betrayal to their subsequent capture, the mysterious Doctor of Rhodes Island had wielded terrifying tactical precision to snap the spine of the Infected rebel army—yet deliberately stopped short of wiping them out entirely.

Most of Reunion’s combat cadres were currently sitting in holding cells. But, in what could only be described as a miraculous coincidence, the logistics division—liaisons, quartermasters, medical staff, and the administrative backbone—had suffered practically zero casualties.

As a result, the current Reunion Movement was essentially a brain-dead giant. The fanatical voices that had driven them toward violent madness were gone, yet the internal organs keeping the beast alive were somehow still pumping.

To put it bluntly, the organization was in a bizarre state of corporate limbo. The CEO had run off, the board of directors was in jail, but the company was still barely functioning. The remaining grunts were just clocking in every day to avoid having a gap on their resumes.

Even more absurdly, the disciplinary inspectors responsible for internal affairs hadn’t died either. They were still rigidly performing their duties! Nobody in the current Reunion camp had any grand ambitions about defecting, but every single morning, they were still forced to fold their blankets into perfectly crisp, military-standard squares.

This hollow, bureaucratic nightmare was a complete deviation from the original ideals the Yeti Squadron had fought for.

Ultimately, Patriot and Frostnova had gathered their direct subordinates and abandoned the main Reunion camp. To avoid being surrounded and suppressed by Ursus patrol teams, the heavily outnumbered remnants had no choice but to vanish into the harshest, most desolate stretches of the frozen tundra.

What? You ask how you know all of this?

Please. The Black Snake couldn’t even comprehend basic computer logic, and Patriot and Frostnova were practically tech-illiterate.

Ever since you realized you had genuinely existed on Terra before your amnesia, you had ruthlessly scoured your personal terminal. Deep within the directory, you finally unearthed a hidden, encrypted folder.

The first file inside was mockingly titled: Thought_so_nothing_left_for_you.zip.

Extracting it revealed a single photograph of you and Theresa. In the image, the Sarkaz King had her hands gently clasped over her lower abdomen, her head tilted slightly as she looked at you with a painfully tender, gentle expression.

You stared at the screen. “…@■ he really is a damn bastard—”

It was entirely possible to harbor a deep, burning hatred for your past self.

The second file appeared to be a locked executable. It demanded a password, and its filename was simply: Hot_Local_Mature_Women_Late_Night_Chat.exe.

Relying purely on your own degenerate gamer instincts, you confidently typed in the classic numeric code: 33550336.

The screen flickered once. Then, absolutely nothing happened.

You immediately gave up. If the ‘past you’wanted to troll the’current you’, he clearly had plenty of layers of encryption left to burn through.

Hearing that you planned to venture deep into Ursus territory once again, Kal’tsit’s brow furrowed. “There aren’t many operators available to carry out this kind of deep-dive mission lately,” she noted, her tone measured. “The ones you usually favor…”

You understood her implication instantly. Favor? It’s not that I don’t like the others! It’s just that their DPS isn’t high enough to justify the deployment slot!

“Skadi is immensely powerful, yet you have never been accustomed to coordinating with her on the battlefield. Why is that?” Kal’tsit finally asked the question that had clearly been bothering her for weeks.

To the rest of Rhodes Island, your criteria for selecting combat personnel was an unsolvable mystery.

“Because she’s a block-one Guard!” you replied, as if stating the most obvious law of physics. “Even a basic Tactical Hound offers better lane utility than her!”

It was the absolute truth. High-cost, single-block units were the ultimate taboo for improved, low-rarity clears!

Kal’tsit stared at you, completely failing to comprehend your bizarre tactical jargon.

“Sigh, forget it, forget it. I promise I’ll bring her along next time I need to farm a boss!” You decisively derailed the topic, looking at the feline with bright, expectant eyes. “Kal’tsit, can I borrow Mon3tr?”

In Kal’tsit’s hands, Mon3tr was a top-tier summon. But if you deployed it solo? That thing was a meta-defining god of destruction. Old cat, if you don’t know how to maximize its stats, let me take the wheel!

“…Fine.” Kal’tsit remained silent for a long moment before finally relenting. “Mon3tr will also monitor your vitals and sleep schedule. Ensure you return early.”

She paused, her expression softening just a fraction. “Rosmontis and Amiya are quite fond of the dormitories you decorated for them. Blaze is currently preparing to host a party to celebrate the final removal of all those cardboard boxes littering the landship’s corridors.”

Our setup isn’t some slice-of-life harem anime, you thought dryly. We really don’t need to throw a party every single day.

You felt a sudden lump in your throat, quickly masking it by taking a massive bite of the fish-ball cheese bun Nearl had just brought back from Lungmen.

According to the Radiant Knight, Mr. Lee had discovered that the ‘Siren’s Kiss’ you traded him was actually so absurdly valuable that he had specially sent over premium snacks just to make up the price difference.

Hundreds of miles away, Frostnova bit down hard on a frozen, rock-solid potato.

This was their fifth day marching through the unforgiving wild forest. The biting cold was the least of their worries.

Many of the Yeti Squadron members were suffering from rapidly worsening Oripathy. Following the recent upheaval, the Ursus Empire’s stance toward the Infected had grown even more draconian. Finding civilians willing to sell them basic supplies, let alone medicine, was nearly impossible.

Patriot had recently crushed another illegal mining operation that enslaved the Infected. While it was a moral victory, the influx of frail, starving refugees meant their already dire food reserves were stretched to the breaking point.

“Big Sister, look! We caught a Featherbeast!”

A young Yeti member ran up, excitedly holding out a tiny, scrawny bird barely the width of his palm. The creature looked just as malnourished as the soldiers.

“Well done. The wounded in the back happen to need a nutritious broth.” Frostnova offered a gentle, encouraging smile. Without a hint of hesitation, she pushed away the precious meat the young man was trying to offer her.

“Huh? But Boss, you haven’t eaten much of anything today…” The Yeti member’s excitement faded into immediate concern.

Frostnova waved a dismissive hand, tapping the satchel resting against her hip. “Don’t worry about me. I brought a whole bag of sugar when we left the camp. I still have plenty of food.”

Perhaps the freezing temperatures had numbed his senses, or perhaps the spicy scent of Frostnova’s signature candy had simply faded in the wind. The Yeti member didn’t press the issue, letting out a long sigh of relief.

“That’s good. We thought you only ate that half a potato today. We were worried sick!”

Watching the young soldier run off toward the medical tents, shouting happily about the Featherbeast, Frostnova’s faint smile lingered.

Slowly, she reached into her satchel.

Her fingers brushed against dozens of crinkling candy wrappers. Inside almost every single one was a smooth, cold stone, carefully wrapped to maintain the illusion of a full bag.

She searched for a long time before her numb fingertips finally brushed against the very last piece of actual candy. She pulled it out, clutching it tightly in her palm until her body heat caused the edges to melt slightly against the wrapper.

In the end, she couldn’t bear to eat it.

Carefully, she re-wrapped the slightly sticky candy and tucked it safely back into the depths of her bag.

“I still have sugar…” she whispered to the empty snow.

[Rhodes’s Note: “Folding quilts into tofu cubes” is a reference to the strict internal discipline of the Chinese military, where soldiers are required to fold their bedding into perfectly crisp, square blocks resembling blocks of tofu.]