Arknights: I'm Pretty Strong With Minecraft — Chapter 16

Chapter 16: If It’s Too Hard, Let’s Not Do ItYou're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

Ivan stared at the chaotic indoor lake flooding the ruined classroom. He waded over to the bubbling source of the deluge, casually dipping a battered iron bucket into the tide.

A strange, muffled gurgle echoed through the room. In the blink of an eye, the surging water that had nearly submerged half the area vanished without a single trace.

The students who had just scrambled up from the soaked floor, both commoners and the pampered noble offspring, froze in sheer disbelief. Their eyes darted from the dry ground to the calm young man holding a perfectly ordinary bucket.

Ivan noticed the heavy silence. He touched his cheek. “What? Is there something on my face?”

The crushing reality of their situation quickly shattered their temporary stupor. Almost in unison, dozens of hungry eyes locked onto the few surviving food bags scattered near the charred debris.

“Food! That belongs to us!” a commoner student yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

“You filthy peasants!” a young noble snapped back, his face twisting with disdain. “That is our property. You dare try to steal from your betters?”

The fragile peace shattered. Zima let out a feral snarl, her eyes burning with raw fury. She lunged forward, tackling Rosa to the hard floor. The heavy blade of her axe pressed flush against the noble girl’s pale, delicate neck.

Yet, Rosa did not struggle. She simply lay on her back, her clear azure eyes meeting Zima’s rage with a chilling, quiet acceptance, as if she had already surrendered to her grim fate.

Nearby, Vika, the girl who had once stood by Truth as a close friend, stepped across the dividing line to stand firmly in front of the aristocratic faction.

“Come on!” Vika shouted to the wavering crowd. “We should side with the nobles! No matter how hard we commoners struggle, it means nothing in the end.”

Truth watched the betrayal unfold. Her expression remained perfectly still, but the temperature in her eyes plummeted to absolute zero.

Pinned to the floor, Zima glared at Vika, her teeth bared like a cornered beast. The air grew thick with hostility, the brief relief of the vanished flood entirely replaced by a suffocating, murderous intent. A bloodbath felt seconds away.

A lazy drawl cut through the heavy tension.

“Hey, hey. Let’s dial it back a bit, alright?”

Ivan strolled right into the dead center of the standoff, his posture entirely relaxed. He reached down, grabbing Zima with one hand and the pinned Rosa with the other, hauling both girls to their feet with effortless, obvious strength.

Rosa caught her balance and smoothed down her disheveled collar. She offered Ivan a faint, polite nod. “Thank you.”

Zima, however, violently wrenched her arm out of his grip. “Anna brought you here, didn’t she?!” she screamed, her chest heaving. “What? Are you planning to be a lapdog for these nobles too?!”

Ivan casually dug a pinky into his ear. “Why are you yelling so loud? We are all stuck in the same miserable boat right now. Nobody is in a position to look down on anyone.”

The arrogant noble youth from earlier scoffed loudly. “Who among us is anything like you commoner trash! You are just…”

The insult died in his throat. In a blur of motion, Ivan drew his twin handguns. Dark purple energy pulsed along the sleek metal of the Requiem of the End, the cold muzzles resting squarely against the center of the noble’s forehead.

All color drained from the boy’s face. His knees knocked together uncontrollably.

“L-let’s just talk this over…” he stammered, his previous arrogance crumbling into pathetic begging.

“Why did you stop shouting?” Ivan tilted his head, a bright, playful smile curving his lips. “I really liked that arrogant attitude you had going a second ago. Come on, bring it back.”

“N-no… I wouldn’t dare…”

Satisfied, Ivan lowered the weapons, letting his gaze sweep over the terrified, silent crowd. “Aren’t you all starving? As it happens, I have a massive stockpile of food right here.”

He turned his attention back to the shivering aristocrats. “Since you are all respectable lords and ladies, you surely have plenty of cash to spare, right?”

The mention of money and a potential transaction brought a flicker of life back to the nobles. They straightened up slightly, clinging to the familiar comfort of commerce.

“How much food do you actually have?” the lead noble girl asked cautiously.

Every eye in the room locked onto Ivan.

He did not answer right away. Instead, his smile widened as he casually reached into his jacket pocket.and support the real translator.Read at elysianreads.com This is a stolen translation. You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

Under the intense scrutiny of dozens of starving students, he pulled out a massive, perfectly ripe red apple. It looked absurdly pristine, completely alien to the ash and ruin of the school.

Someone in the crowd swallowed hard.

Then Ivan reached back in. He pulled out a second apple. Then a third. With steady, rhythmic motions, he kept reaching into the exact same small pocket, producing bright, heavy apples until a literal mound of fruit piled up around his boots. There had to be at least thirty of them.

The expressions around the room morphed from desperate hunger to total, brain-breaking bewilderment. They stared at the small fabric pocket, then at the mountain of fruit, their minds failing to process the blatant violation of physical space. Invisible question marks practically floated above their heads.

“Originium Arts?” a student whispered in awe, clinging to the only logical explanation for the impossible.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” Ivan said cheerfully. “Just call it my Arts and leave it at that.”

Truth furrowed her brow, stepping closer. “You had food this whole time? You lied to me earlier?”

She was referring to his dramatic claim of nearly starving to death just hours ago.

“Hold that thought. We can discuss my acting skills in private later,” Ivan said, winking at her. He turned back to the wealthy students. “So, what is the going rate for a meal these days?”

The noble girl acting as their leader chewed her lip. “Ten bars of Pure Gold! That is more than fair.”

Ivan shook his head without missing a beat.

“Twenty!” she offered, her voice rising.

Ivan shook his head again, looking thoroughly amused.

“Twenty-five bars of Pure Gold! That is our absolute limit!” she snapped, her jaw clenched tight.

Before Ivan could give his habitual rejection, the noble youth who had just had a gun to his head lost his temper entirely.

“Are you messing with us?!” he shrieked, throwing his hands up. “Give us a straight price! You are making things incredibly difficult for us!”

Ivan’s smile vanished instantly. He stepped back, miming the motion of grabbing a heavy table and violently flipping it over.

“Difficult, huh? Then let’s just not do it!”

He raised the Requiem of the End, aiming the glowing barrels toward the ceiling.

“Listen up! All eyes on me!” Ivan’s voice boomed through the ruined classroom, commanding absolute authority. “I have a major announcement. My name is Ivan. And as of right now, I am the boss of this entire establishment! Every single one of you takes orders from me. Are there any objections?”

Zima and Rosa stared at him, entirely blindsided by the sudden, hostile takeover.

“I will gather the leaders from both of your little factions for a private meeting shortly to discuss the new rules,” Ivan added, pointing directly at the two girls.

For the first time all day, the commoners and the nobles found common ground, uniting in their outrage.

“We protest! We do not even know who you are!” a commoner boy yelled.

“Exactly! Why should we trust a complete stranger?” a noble girl chimed in.

Ivan casually leveled his twin handguns at the crowd, his expression returning to a lazy, dangerous calm.

“Protest denied. Anyone who feels like resisting is welcome to eat lead.”

He ignored the collective flinch of the crowd, turning his attention back to the two stunned girls.

“Hey, you with the axe, and you with the fancy coat. Come over here. We have a meeting to hold.”

[Rhodes’s Note: “Eat lead” is adapted from the raw’s “taste my peanuts,” a common Chinese internet slang term for getting shot by bullets.]You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.