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ArabicArknights: How Did I Actually Become the Doctor? — Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Ace and Nearl
The heavy thud of armored boots announced her arrival before the golden light of her Arts illuminated the dust-choked ruins.
“My team members are still behind. Seeing your location, I advanced ahead to provide protection.”
The towering Kuranta struck her breastplate in a crisp, flawless salute.
“The Radiant Knight Nearl, awaiting your instructions!”
Ace and Nearl’s simultaneous arrival was a godsend. In game terms, the stage difficulty had just plummeted from a brutal challenge mode back to a manageable tutorial.
Nearl curiously reached out, lightly tugging at the edge of the Doctor’s heavy hood. The moment a cold, warning glare pierced through the dark fabric, she blinked, immediately dropping her hand to offer another knightly bow. Without another word, she shifted into a protective stance at his flank.
‘Frail. Mysterious.’ That was Nearl’s first impression of Rhodes Island’s highest authority. Through the thick layers of his coat, she could practically feel the sharp, overly thin bones of his wrists. Her chivalric instincts flared, naturally positioning him in the safest pocket of their formation.
At the vanguard, Ace fluidly took point. He swapped out with Touch, the exhausted medical operator who had spent the last hour miserably forced to heal herself while tanking heavy aggro. Ace glanced back over his shoulder, a warm, expectant smile cutting through his rugged features.
‘Long time no see, Commander.’
He naturally slotted into the exact tactical choke point the Doctor favored, perfectly angled to intercept Sarkaz Lancer charges and body-block Arts fire aimed at the squishy backline. It was a dark, ironic joke—former Babel elites being the absolute best at slaughtering Sarkaz mercenaries.
But right now, only one thing mattered.
“Welcome back to the team, Ace.”
Every Elite Operator of Rhodes Island had left a deep mark on the Doctor in his past life, but Ace was the one who had carved the most heart-wrenching, unforgettable scar into his memory. Now, armed with the chance to rewrite the script, the Doctor swore to the heavens he would not leave this man behind to die again.
“At your command, Doctor.” The massive riot shield slammed into the concrete, raised high for the person he had been waiting for. Even stripped of his memories, the Doctor commanded a trust from Ace that transcended mere instinct.
The sentimentality lasted exactly one second before the gamer took over.
“Sharp, clear the mobs! Drop point B4, watch exit A16! Artillery strike inbound in three seconds—I am counting on you, Touch!”
The poor Medic, having rested for barely half an hour, was ruthlessly deployed as a fast-redeploy bait unit to draw the explosive crossfire.
At the front, Ace and Nearl formed an unstoppable, grinding wall of steel and golden light. They surged forward like a tidal wave, violently crushing the Reunion Movement’s defensive lines head-on.
Black Arts flared. Amiya blasted through a crumbling section of reinforced concrete that blocked their path, the shockwave rattling the Doctor’s teeth. The core sector of Chernobog was agonizingly close.
“Everyone, pick up the pace,” the Doctor ordered, his voice clipped and cold. “We are moving too slowly. At this rate—”
‘—I might miss the window to catch Ines faking her death! She is top of the wolf list! A top-tier Intelligence Officer plus a mid-tier Greatsword Guard, absolutely free! Work, damn it, work!’
“Cough… cough, cough!” A violent, wracking fit of coughing erupted from beneath the mask, cutting off his commanding tone.
Amiya spun around instantly. The entire vanguard ground to a halt, every operator staring at him with raw anxiety.
“…It is nothing. Keep moving.” The Doctor waved them off, suppressing the urge to panic. He could not exactly admit he had almost lost his cool, nearly letting his inner capitalist-rabbit take the wheel. For a second, he genuinely wondered if he was mutating into a Cautus.
If the surrounding warzone was not so lethal, Amiya looked fully prepared to tackle him to the asphalt and force a complete physical examination on the spot.
The stench of sulfur in the air grew suffocating. Above them, the sky bruised into a sickly, apocalyptic purple—the absolute herald of an imminent Catastrophe.
Despite the Doctor’s flawless, omniscient micro-management ensuring no Reunion squad could halt their advance, their momentum bled away for a different reason. Desperate Ursus civilians, dragging their families through the rubble like moths drawn to a fading flame, had latched onto Rhodes Island’s wake, begging for salvation.
“—Mama, Mama, please get up…” A little girl in soot-stained rags yanked desperately at her mother’s arm, trying to drag her along as the panicked crowd surged past them.
The middle-aged Ursus woman weakly pried her daughter’s fingers away. Trembling, she pointed toward the vanguard bearing the triangular blue flag, silently begging her child to run ahead alone.
A jagged, festering gash tore across the woman’s calf—a severe, untreated Originium infection. Dark, sluggish blood soaked her pant leg below the knee.
“Go… quickly, go…”
Tears carved two clean tracks down the little girl’s filthy face. Watching the main convoy pull further away, her small hands shook. She was just about to let go…
“Can you support her?”
The cold, stern voice belonged to the Perro instructor. Dobermann, her signature whip coiled at her waist, frowned fiercely. Yet, without a microsecond of hesitation, she crouched down, allowing the bleeding woman to drape an arm over her neck.
Dobermann was already supporting a heavily pregnant woman with her other arm, and a toddler even smaller than the crying girl was strapped securely to her back.
The little girl stared, completely stunned, until the Perro sharply repeated the question. Snapping out of her daze, the girl scrambled to support her mother’s other side with all her meager strength.
Looking back, the girl saw three or four heavily armed operators break away from the front line, voluntarily dropping to the rear to physically carry the straggling civilians.
Even as the Catastrophe swallowed the sky in darkness, the little girl found the courage to keep walking. Through eyes blurred by tears, she looked up at the triangular flag snapping in the toxic wind.
‘Rhodes Island.”Thank you… thank you all.’ She stared at the armored figures leading the charge, burning their silhouettes into her very soul.
A blinding beam of black Arts violently pierced the chest of a Reunion caster hiding in the ruins. Amiya lunged, grabbing the Doctor’s freezing hand and half-carrying him out of the trajectory of a collapsing concrete pillar.
“Doctor… are you alright?” she breathed, holding him tight against her side.
“…I am fine. Everything is still under control,” he replied, smoothly and unobtrusively untangling himself from her protective embrace.
‘Bunny, next time pick a different carry animation, please. Think of my image! I just established a terrifying, cold-blooded mastermind persona with that flawless four-man, three-star perfect clear! You are ruining my street cred!’
[Rhodes’s Note: “Wolf list” (狼榜) refers to a highly popular and influential community-made Operator Tier List in the Chinese Arknights fandom, used by players to determine which characters are the most “meta” to pull and build.]