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ArabicArknights: I'm Pretty Strong With Minecraft — Chapter 26
Chapter 26: Three Bedrooms and One Living Room
“By the way, Brother Bear, Sister Rabbit… can you… can you save Sister Misha?”
A smaller girl chimed in, her voice trembling with a suppressed sob. “Sister Misha, she… she’s been targeted by bad people. She told us that if we stayed with her, we’d be in a lot of danger…”
The girl lifted a worn cloth doll, pressing it tightly against her chest. “She gave us this before she left. She said it was an amulet to keep us safe.”
Ivan dropped his usual easygoing grin. He crouched down to meet the children at eye level, his expression entirely serious. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her and get her away from those guys.”
“Really?” The kids stared at him, desperate for a sliver of hope.
Amiya knelt beside him, gently smoothing the little girl’s messy hair. “Really. I promise you. Now, let us take you home, alright? It wouldn’t be safe if those bad people came back to bother you.”
The children exchanged confused, embarrassed glances. They shuffled their feet, staring at the dirt. “We… don’t have a home.”
Amiya froze, her rabbit ears drooping. “No home?”
“We just sleep wherever,” an older boy explained, trying to sound casual as he pointed to a pile of damp cardboard and torn plastic sheeting in the alleyway. “Under the bridge, or inside those big empty crates. We don’t have parents either. But it’s fine! We’re really good at hiding. The bad guys won’t find us easily!”
Amiya and the Doctor exchanged a heavy look. Seeing these kids forced to grow up so fast, acting tough just to survive the slums, twisted a knot in their chests.
The Doctor remained quiet for a long moment before turning to the young man beside him. “Ivan… can you help them?”
“Of course. Easy.”
Before the words even left his mouth, a faint pixelated shimmer flickered in the air. A heavy, glittering Diamond Pickaxe materialized in Ivan’s grip.
He spun on his heel and swung the tool directly into the solid brick wall of the adjacent alley.
Crack!
The stone shattered instantly. Instead of crumbling to the ground, the debris vanished into thin air. Ivan swung again, his arms a blur of motion. In mere seconds, he carved out a massive, perfectly cubic void in the earth. He smoothed the edges, hollowing out a spacious, structurally flawless three-bedroom, one-living-room underground shelter right before their eyes.
He hopped inside, slapping down a few Torches on the walls. Warm, bright light flooded the clean stone interior. He tossed a stack of cooked steaks and bread onto a makeshift counter, then hopped back out, sealing the entrance with a wooden Trapdoor and tossing the tattered plastic sheets over it for camouflage.
“Alright.” Ivan dusted off his hands and grinned at the frozen children. “This is your new base. There’s plenty of food and water inside. Just remember to lock the door from the inside.”
The kids stood with their mouths hanging open. They stared at the hidden entrance, then back at Ivan, their brains completely short-circuiting at the sheer impossibility of what they had just witnessed.
When the reality finally set in, a wave of overwhelming gratitude crashed over them.
“Thank you… Thank you, Big Brother!” They bowed repeatedly, their voices cracking with excitement.
“You’re welcome.” Ivan ruffled their hair. “We’ve got to get going. Stay inside and keep quiet.”
Amiya stared at the hidden trapdoor, sensing the warm light and the smell of fresh food radiating from beneath the plastic sheets. Her eyes were wide. “Mr. Ivan… you’ve done something completely unimaginable again.”
She shook her head, refocusing on the task at hand, and turned back to the kids. “Oh, right! Excuse me, could you tell us what Misha looks like?”
Elsewhere in the slums, Franka idly twirled a strand of hair around her finger, blowing out a long sigh. “Ugh… searching for an unregistered Infected down here? It’s like looking for a specific grain of sand in a desert. What a massive waste of time and energy.”
Liskarm kept her eyes scanning the alleyways. “The slums have a complex layout and high population mobility. It’s the easiest place for a target to hide. While starting the sweep here isn’t the most efficient, it’s the most secure protocol. This is a necessary procedure.”
“I know the logic,” Franka groaned, dragging out the syllables. “I just never expected that two elite operators from Blacksteel Worldwide would end up taking orders from that ‘Devil Inspector’ of the Lungmen Guard Department. She’s terrifying when she starts lecturing!”
Beep beep beep—!
The communicator on Liskarm’s waist buzzed sharply. The screen lit up with the caller ID: [Officer Ch’en].
Franka stiffened, nearly biting her tongue. “…Uh! She didn’t hear what I just said, right?”
Liskarm shot her partner a dry, helpless look and tapped the answer button. “I am currently patrolling Sector B of the slum streets.”
A crisp voice crackled through the speaker.
“Received, Officer. Target name: Misha. We will begin the sweep immediately,” Liskarm replied with practiced professionalism.
As the call cut off, a familiar, amused voice drifted over from the shadows. “Yo. Fancy running into the two Blacksteel beauties again. Looks like the mission is giving you a headache.”
Ivan strolled out of the alley, flashing a lazy grin.
Franka’s eyes lit up, her previous complaints vanishing instantly. “Well, hello there! We meet again, Brother Ivan! What, did you come all this way to comfort us because we’re working so hard? Are you going to treat us to something delicious in Lungmen?”
Ivan chuckled. Instead of answering, he flipped his palms upward. Two heavy, gleaming Golden Apples materialized out of thin air. He tossed them casually toward the two mercenaries.
Franka fumbled to catch the heavy fruit. As the metallic surface caught the dim alley light, her eyes widened. “Is this… an apple made of solid gold? Brother Ivan, you really are a low-key billionaire!” She dug her fingernail into the skin, marveling at the bizarre texture.
“One for each of you. Keep them handy,” Ivan said, waving a hand dismissively. “They aren’t paperweights. They’re high-tier recovery items. If either of you takes a bad hit, just eat it. It works way faster than your standard emergency meds.”
“An… item? Eat it?” Liskarm stared at the Golden Apple in her palm. The cold, heavy metal felt entirely unnatural. She eyed the object with deep suspicion; it looked more like a museum artifact than a ration. “Can this actually be consumed? Its physical composition is clearly metallic…”
“Oh, Liskarm, you’re always so stiff,” Franka teased, happily pocketing her apple. “It’s a gift from Brother Ivan, so of course I’m keeping it. Who knows, it might just save my life when things go south.”
Ivan watched Liskarm’s internal struggle against the laws of physics and laughed. He reached out, pretending to take it back. “If you really don’t trust it, I’ll take it off your hands.”
“Nope! We’re keeping them!” Franka intercepted, stepping between them. “No take-backs on gifts! Thanks, Brother Ivan!” She shot him a playful wink.
Amiya stepped forward from behind Ivan. “Excuse me, but do you know why there is such an urgent search for Misha all of a sudden?”
Liskarm shook her head. “I’m sorry, we don’t have those details.”
“Whatever the reason,” Ivan stated, his tone shifting back to business, “making sure Misha stays safe is the top priority right now.”
Amiya nodded firmly. “We will immediately relay this directive to all Rhodes Island reconnaissance teams operating in the vicinity.” She turned her gaze to the two Blacksteel operators. “For this upcoming search, please coordinate with us. Rhodes Island and Blacksteel need to work together to provide timely support.”
Franka flashed a bright smile and tossed up an ‘OK’ sign. “No problem at all!”