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ArabicArknights: How Did I Actually Become the Doctor? — Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Mephisto and Faust
“Hahahahahaha… This is a very, very fun…” The white-haired boy gripped his uniquely styled Originium Arts unit, his delicate features twisting into a frantic, manic laugh that echoed across the ruined streets.
“—Battle Royale game?”
A hooded figure, completely shrouded in a heavy tactical coat, casually cut through the boy’s self-indulgent monologue.
“Boring tricks. Just a little bird who thinks he’s clever.” The Doctor let out a soft, dry chuckle.
The sheer contempt, thick enough to practically bleed from his words, effortlessly pierced Mephisto’s psychological armor. Within the Reunion Movement, the boy was entirely accustomed to receiving nothing but hatred, terror, and disgust. He thrived on it. He took immense pride in being a monster.
But this person was different. Little Bird.
The hooded man showed absolutely no fear, nor the subconscious revulsion most people displayed. He simply looked down at Mephisto with a chilling calm, like an ancient, immortal entity observing a particularly ignorant, rabid animal.
It was a crushing, suffocating pressure of absolute superiority—a sensation Mephisto had never experienced in his life. No one had ever dared to look at him like that. Like he was a pathetic, tasteless clown.
Worse, Mephisto could sense genuine pity and forgiveness radiating from this eccentric commander. For a fraction of a second, the boy actually felt a flicker of hesitation in his own heart, a realization that drove him into a blinding fury.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Mephisto hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “When I catch you, I’m going to… rip out your vocal cords!”
‘Wait, he tilted that easily?’Beneath the hood, the Doctor blinked.’I haven’t even started my combo yet!’
Then again, it made sense. On the blood-soaked land of Terra, villains who weren’t just mindless thugs were rarer than pureblood Dracos. In Mephisto’s short, twisted dozen years of life, he had probably never encountered the glorious meta of pre-battle trash talk. In this grim world, the absolute ceiling of verbal warfare was usually just screaming Sarkaz profanities.
They didn’t even try to attack each other’s mothers during an argument! Insert Shocked_Amiya.jpg here.
“You rat hiding in the shadows! You coward who won’t even show his face!” Mephisto continued to rant, his voice cracking. “I’ll tear you into ten thousand pieces! Cherish your remaining time—”
The Doctor frowned beneath his visor. He waited patiently for the boy to pause for breath before delivering the killing blow.
“Your voice is incredibly unpleasant. Keep it down. Even a tone-deaf Sarkaz mercenary who can’t sing a single note sounds better than you.” The Doctor tilted his head, his tone devoid of all warmth. “Having raw Originium crystals growing directly out of your throat would be an improvement over your talking.”
Critical hit. A one-hit verbal kill.
Bloodshot veins instantly bulged across Mephisto’s eyes. “Aaaaaaaah!! Attack! Kill them all!!!”
Under his frenzied command, the infected zombies known as the Herd surged from all directions, crashing like a tidal wave of rotting flesh against the bright blades and roaring muzzles of the Rhodes Island operators.
Clang!
Sharp’s tactical longsword swung in a brutal horizontal arc, carving a massive, bloody wedge into the tide of bodies. To his flank, Pith held her Arts unit high. Her protective spells flared to life, shielding the indomitable Vanguard from a hail of rubble and stray bullets.
Higher up, Amiya stood atop the edge of a dilapidated building. With her arms spread wide, she unleashed a continuous barrage of black Originium Arts. The dark bolts rained down as dense and relentless as heavy machine-gun fire, single-handedly suppressing the enemy Casters until they couldn’t even lift their heads from behind cover.
Meanwhile, a light as blinding as the midday sun erupted from the flank. Stepping lightly across the crushed skulls of the Herd, a golden figure charged forward with absolute resolve, carving a straight path toward the enemy commander.
A lethal decapitation strike took shape in the blink of an eye.
‘Kid, you didn’t actually think I’d play fair and clear out all your minions before fighting the boss, did you?’The Doctor watched the battlefield unfold.’Do you have any idea what happened to the target of my last decapitation strike?’ Insert Dark_Humor.jpg.
“…You!”
Shock and rage warred in Mephisto’s eyes. The blazing sunlight pierced through the layers of blood and stone he had hastily pulled together as a meat shield. Without losing a fraction of her momentum, Nearl locked her resolute gaze onto the boy, a dazzling holy light igniting upon the head of her warhammer.
Just as the Radiant Knight’s heavy hammer swung down, aiming to shatter Mephisto’s neck, the deafening crack of a large composite crossbow echoed across the ruins.
Boom!
A heavy alloy bolt slammed into the side of Nearl’s hammer, violently knocking the killing blow off course.
Sixteen seconds. That was all it took for the Doctor to force Mephisto’s final trump card out of the shadows.
Boom! Boom!
Knowing his position was compromised, Faust abandoned his silence. He fired repeatedly, his heavy bolts imbued with the terrifying Originium Arts of Reunion’s strongest sniper. The kinetic force gouged deep, smoking craters into Nearl’s heavy armor, forcing her to brace herself.
Despite Mephisto being mere inches away, Nearl could not take another step forward under the oppressive sniper fire. She could only watch helplessly as the white-haired boy scrambled backward on his hands and knees, melting into the safety of the Herd and vanishing from sight.
“Retreat! Quick, retreat!” Having nearly had his skull caved in during the very first clash, Mephisto completely lost his nerve. He commanded the Herd to scatter in all directions, abandoning any thought of a counterattack.
In his blind panic, the boy completely failed to notice a crucial detail on the battlefield. Sharp, who had been fighting a two-front war and aggressively pushing the line just moments ago, did not pursue the retreating mob. Instead, the elite guard had quietly slipped away, altering his route through the ruins.
“Ugh… it hurts! I can’t catch him.” Blood trickled from the fresh cracks in the Pegasus’s armor. Watching the madman escape into the shadows, Nearl gripped her weapon, her voice tight with frustration.
Yet, the Commander’s voice crackled through her earpiece, entirely unbothered.
“No rush. You did well, Nearl.” The Doctor’s tone was as cold and precise as a ticking clock. “Remember what I said? The plan enters Phase Two. Everyone, advance.”
Witnessing Mephisto’s safe withdrawal, Faust did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. He slung his massive crossbow onto his back and sprinted toward the lower levels of the ruins, not daring to linger in his sniper nest.
However, just as he prepared to exit through the Abandoned Power Pump Station, the sniper’s flawless escape route collapsed.
Moments earlier, when the narrow-escaping Mephisto had felt the heat of Amiya’s black spell brush past the tip of his nose, his mind had gone completely blank from terror. Even though he trusted Faust unconditionally, human instinct had overridden his Arts.
In that single, fractured second, his control over the Herd severed.
The two infected thralls stationed to guard Faust’s escape route went dormant, completely losing their ability to provide early warning.
And Ace was already there, his heavy shield planted firmly into the concrete, having waited for this exact moment.
A fragile sniper, cornered in close quarters by an elite heavy defender. Faust calculated the odds instantly. Hearing the heavy footsteps of Rhodes Island operators rapidly converging from all sides, he turned his gaze toward the nearby window, intending to make a desperate, suicidal vault into the alley below.
But as he looked up, he froze. Crouched on the windowsill was a familiar face—a hesitant but ultimately defected fast-redeploy specialist from Reunion, blocking the only exit.
Faust stared at the defector, the heavy shield of Ace, and the encroaching shadows. He remained perfectly silent for a long while before making the only logical choice left to him.
Slowly, the sniper raised his hands.