Arknights: I'm Pretty Strong With Minecraft — Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Concentrate and Prepare

Swire pressed the heavy communication button at her collar, the faint hiss of static cutting through the lingering smoke of the battlefield.

“All units, this is Swire.” Her voice was crisp and authoritative, echoing slightly in the narrow urban corridor. “Sniper Squads A2 and Beta 4, your sector is clear. You are now cleared from high alert status. Proceed to rendezvous at Sector C7 as planned. Repeat, proceed to Sector C7.”

A brief crackle of confirmation came through the earpiece. Swire breathed a long, quiet sigh of relief, unhooking her thumb from the radio and clipping the tactical terminal back onto her waist. The tension that had been gripping her shoulders finally began to bleed away.

She turned her head, her gaze landing on Ch’en. The Lungmen officer stood beside her, expression as stern and unyielding as the steel of her blade. Swire offered a half-joking smirk, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Phew… Seriously, I never thought there would actually be a day when I would fight alongside you with such perfect cooperation.” She paused, her voice softening just a fraction. “It really feels… like a long time ago.”

Ch’en sheathed her sword. The sharp, clean click of the guard locking into the scabbard rang out with absolute precision. Hearing Swire’s words, she did not even turn her head. She kept her posture rigid, deliberately maintaining a cold, professional distance.

“Do not misunderstand,” Ch’en responded, her tone flat and indifferent. “This is merely a forced, unavoidable collaboration dictated by the circumstances. The mission comes first.”

Swire pouted, rolling her eyes. She was already more than accustomed to Ch’en’s stubbornly abrasive attitude.

Just as she opened her mouth to fire back a sharp retort, she noticed Ch’en suddenly stand up straighter. The officer’s sharp gaze was locked onto the distant horizon, staring intently at a sprawling district of low-rise buildings and complex, shadow-drenched alleys.

“Swire,” Ch’en began, her voice dropping an octave. “From now on, I will be operating alone.”

Swire blinked, startled by the sudden shift, before a deep frown creased her forehead. “Huh? Alone? Where exactly are you planning to go?”

“I am heading into the slum area. Based on our previous movement analysis, there should still be a significant number of Reunion Movement remnants hiding within that grid. We cannot allow them to rendezvous smoothly. We must root them out right now.”

Swire studied Ch’en’s tense profile, the tight set of her jaw, and immediately saw right through the flimsy tactical excuse. It was not about movement analysis at all. It was glaringly obvious that Ch’en was deeply concerned for the Infected civilians who were currently trapped in that chaotic zone.

“Alright, alright,” Swire sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “If you are so worried about the safety of the slum residents, you could just be honest and say so.”

Ch’en’s underlying thoughts had been laid bare, yet her face remained an impenetrable mask. She did not bother to retort. She simply turned and walked forward, raising a hand in a dismissive wave toward Swire’s back.

“Fine. I will leave the cleanup and command here to you… Miss Shi.”

Ch’en deliberately emphasized that last appellation, letting the formal family name hang in the air.

Swire reacted exactly like a cat whose tail had just been stomped on. Her posture stiffened, her metaphorical fur instantly bristling as she glared at Ch’en’s retreating back.

“What?! How many times have I told you! Do not call me that!”

Several streets away, the heavy thud of a body hitting the concrete echoed through a narrow alleyway.

Blaze had just deftly pinned a struggling Reunion Movement soldier to the ground, her knee pressing firmly into his back to cut off his resistance.

“I am sorry,” Blaze said, her tone carrying a genuine hint of apology, though her restraining movements remained absolute and unambiguous. “I am not trying to hurt you all by doing this. I apologize.”

Once the soldier was secured, she turned her attention to an L.G.D. member who was slumped against a nearby brick wall. The man was trembling violently, his uniform covered in dust and grime.

Blaze offered a warm, friendly smile and took a step toward the shaken guard. She spread her hands wide, palms open to clearly demonstrate that she was unarmed and meant no harm.

“Lungmen brother over there, it is alright now! The Reunion Movement has been dealt with, you are sa—”

Blaze never got to finish her sentence.

The still-shaken L.G.D. member looked up, his wide eyes locking onto the faint, jagged traces of black Originium crystals visible on Blaze’s exposed arm.

In a fraction of a second, the relief on his face was entirely replaced by raw fear and visceral disgust. He suddenly jerked upward, raising his heavy tactical crossbow—the weapon that should have been aimed at the enemy—and tremblingly leveled it directly at Blaze’s chest.

“Do not come any closer! Stop!” he screamed, his voice cracking with panic. “You… you are an Infected too, aren’t you?! Stay away from me!”

Blaze’s warm smile froze. The cheerful light in her eyes dimmed, slowly dissolving into a heavy, helpless sigh.

She stopped her advance. She stood there in the damp alleyway, looking at the man’s face, watching how it contorted with blind prejudice and terror. Yet, she was not angry. The heat of battle faded from her posture, replaced by a quiet, heavy understanding mixed with deep pity.

“You were just saved by an Infected, and as a proud member of the L.G.D., you feel deeply ashamed, don’t you?”

She pinpointed the ugly core of his complex, tangled emotions with surgical precision.

She waved her hand, her tone cooling into something far more indifferent. “Alright. While I, this Infected, have not changed my mind… if you do not want to cause trouble, then disappear quickly.”

The guard, overwhelmed by a toxic mixture of humiliation and panic, clutched his crossbow tightly to his chest. He stumbled away from the wall, practically tripping over his own boots as he scrambled to flee through the opposite end of the alley.

Just then—

“I kindly saved you, who are you yelling at?!”

A loud, theatrical shout echoed from the mouth of the alley. The voice was deliberately mimicking Ivan, complete with a highly peculiar, exaggerated accent!

The Doctor rushed into the narrow space, wielding a heavy wooden shield that pulsed with a bizarre, captivating purple luster. He planted his feet firmly, completely blocking the escape route of the fleeing L.G.D. member.

Striking a dramatic pose he had clearly learned from Ivan—one he evidently thought looked incredibly cool—the Doctor muttered under his breath.

“Come on, face me!”

He adjusted his grip on the glowing wood.

“Concentrate and prepare!”

The panicked L.G.D. member had not even registered the new arrival when the Doctor took a sudden, aggressive step forward.

A simple, unadorned shield bash—driven by the flat edge of the enchanted wood—slammed accurately into the guard’s torso!

The impact was heavy and blunt. The L.G.D. member did not even have the breath to groan. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into a clean, unconscious heap on the pavement.

The Doctor lowered the shield and clapped his hands together, dusting them off as he looked down at the unconscious man. He mumbled softly to himself.

“Ivan’s lines that he mutters during fights really are quite impactful…” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But when they come out of my mouth, it always feels a bit odd. Not quite his usual style.”

Blaze, who was still standing a few paces away, stared at the scene with wide eyes. If she were a cartoon, a massive exclamation mark would have physically popped into existence above her perked cat ears.

“Do-Doctor?!” she stammered, completely thrown off balance. “How did you…?”

She had absolutely not expected the tactical commander of Rhodes Island to suddenly charge into an alleyway, much less “solve the problem” with a glowing piece of wood and brute force.

Seeing Blaze’s stunned expression, the Doctor immediately puffed out his chest. He tapped the surface of his glowing, enchanted shield with a proud, echoing thud, eagerly showing off his new toy.

“Oh! Impressive, right! This is special equipment Ivan made just for me! How about it, isn’t it cool?”

Blaze finally recovered from her shock. She stepped closer, her eyes tracing the strange, rippling purple light effects that seemed to defy the very laws of Originium Arts. She nodded honestly, thoroughly impressed.

“Cool… it really is! That glow, that strange texture! How about… letting me try it?”

Her eyes sparkled with sudden, intense interest, her feline curiosity fully ignited.

Hearing this request, the Doctor pulled the shield slightly closer to his chest. He thought seriously for a long moment before reluctantly answering.

“It… it is not impossible… But you have to promise to return it to me the second you are done!”

Blaze burst into a bright, ringing chuckle at his incredibly precious, protective demeanor. She waved her hand dismissively, the heavy atmosphere from moments ago completely shattered.

“Alright, alright, I was just kidding! I am not going to snatch it from you! Doctor, just make sure you protect yourself!”

Her smile was cheerful and genuine once again.

As the tension in the alley fully relaxed, Blaze reached up and clasped her hands behind the back of her head. She looked up at the narrow strip of grey sky visible between the Lungmen rooftops, a wave of nostalgia washing over her.

“Too bad Ivan isn’t here right now. Otherwise, I could just lie back and watch him perform again.”

The Doctor nodded in solemn agreement, the glowing shield resting at his side.

“Indeed… Once you have experienced the sheer ease and joy of fighting alongside Ivan, you can never truly go back to that arduous, traditional fighting style. It is simply too inefficient!”

Both of them sighed in perfect unison internally.

‘It is just so comfortable to follow Ivan, that absolute cheat!’

Meanwhile, several streets away, moving alongside GreyThroat and the rest of the vanguard squad, Ivan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He sneezed. Twice. Violently.

Ivan rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking utterly bewildered as he stared down the empty street.

“Who is talking about me again?”