Arknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 19

Chapter 19: I Am Only Responsible for Completing My MissionYou'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.

For Kjerag, faith was the very marrow of its soul.

Unlike the other sprawling empires of Terra that merely paid lip service to distant deities, this isolated snowscape was genuinely forged by Kjeragandr. Without the Goddess’s divine protection, the relentless natural disasters ravaging the continent would have swallowed this paradise whole centuries ago. The devotion of the Kjerag people was absolute—a bedrock of piety that could never be shattered by a few silver-tongued arguments.

Ernst knew this from the start. He never harbored the slightest intention of denying Kjeragandr or pushing some radical atheist agenda. That wasn’t progress. That was pure, unadulterated foolishness. It was ungrateful, and worse, it completely failed the most basic test of political pragmatism.

Yet, even with his careful planning, Ernst hadn’t anticipated this particular twist. He hadn’t aimed his crosshairs at the Karlan Temple, but the Temple had managed to tear itself apart anyway.

The shockwave rippling through the citizens of Kjerag was physical.

On one end of the ideological battlefield stood the Saintess of Kjerag. Having endured grueling trials to become the living vessel of Kjeragandr’s will, she had just publicly declared Ernst innocent.

On the opposite end stood the Grand Elder. A man of immense, entrenched respect, he had spent months laying a foundation of calculated rhetoric. Now, he weaponized the crowd’s boiling emotions, declaring that the Saintess had warped the divine oracle and that Ernst was fundamentally guilty.

The same agonizing question gripped the thousands of onlookers packed into Holy Stone Plaza: Who do we believe?

Siding with the Saintess meant dismantling their own prejudices. It meant turning their backs on the Grand Elder—a figure who had guided their spiritual lives since birth—and forcing themselves to swallow the bitter, unfamiliar pill of Ernst’s modern reforms. A monumental task for a people steeped in tradition.

But siding with the Grand Elder triggered a far more dangerous paradox. To believe him meant rejecting the Saintess, trampling on Kjerag’s most ancient traditions, and denying the chosen voice of Kjeragandr. It meant elevating a secular, mortal leader above divine will.

And if a secular leader held more authority than the Saintess, how could anyone dispute Ernst’s claim to power? After all, Ernst was currently the highest secular authority in the nation. By the Grand Elder’s own twisted logic, Ernst held the ultimate right of interpretation.

The spiritual whiplash was absolute.

Holy Stone Plaza fractured into chaos. Neighbors who cheerfully traded morning greetings now clustered into defensive packs. Whispered debates spiraled into shouting matches, and shouting matches rapidly degraded into vicious, spit-flying personal attacks. The biting chill of the mountain air did nothing to cool the boiling blood of the crowd.

“Ernst spouts nonsense nobody understands and sells off our sacred land! How is he innocent?”

“The Saintess declared him innocent! It’s an oracle from Kjeragandr herself. Are you calling the Goddess a liar?”

“The Grand Elder said she misinterpreted it! Why are you defending that traitor anyway? Did the SilverAsh family line your pockets?”

“You bastard! I’m a devout follower of Kjeragandr! What’s wrong with trusting her chosen vessel? Is the Grand Elder your bloody father? How dare you question the Saintess!”

“Look at you, getting hysterical!”

“Classic! You run out of arguments so you call me hysterical. I’ll break your jaw!”

Fists flew. The sharp crack of knuckles against bone echoed over the cobblestones.

Enciodes watched the escalating violence with cool, predatory detachment. The ideological brawl was devolving into a physical riot. It was the perfect opening. Ignoring the furious, questioning glares from Ratatos and Arctosz seated beside him, he leaned forward and issued a crisp command to Degenbrecher.

“A riot has broken out in the plaza. The trial is suspended,” Enciodes ordered, his voice a low, smooth baritone that cut through the surrounding din. “To prevent casualties, Degenbrecher, mobilize Karlan Trade’s security personnel up the mountain immediately. We must assist the Paleroche family in maintaining order.”

Arctosz slammed his hands on the table, surging to his feet. “Enciodes! What are you playing at? The Paleroche family is solely responsible for security during the trial. Keep your private army out of this!”

Degenbrecher didn’t even blink at the clan leader’s outburst. She simply offered Enciodes a sharp, knowing salute and pivoted on her heel, striding swiftly toward the mountain path.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.

Enciodes turned to Arctosz, a faint, aristocratic sneer playing at the corners of his mouth. Even now, Arctosz’s only concern was turf—desperately trying to block Karlan Trade from encroaching on his security duties. It was almost pitiable. Enciodes leaned back in his ornate chair, steepling his fingers as he looked up at the towering, furious man.

“There are nearly ten thousand people packed into this plaza right now, Arctosz,” Enciodes said, his tone dripping with the patient condescension of a tutor addressing a slow child. “When this mob truly snaps, do you honestly believe your handful of guards can hold the line? This is the Holy Mountain. We are standing before the Holy Stone. If blood is spilled because of your stubborn incompetence, can you bear the weight of that sin?”

He offered a thin, razor-sharp smile. “Karlan Trade has transport vehicles stationed at the base of the mountain. My people can arrive the fastest. I am simply helping you.”

Arctosz’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. The muscles in his jaw bunched as he ground his teeth, finally letting out a harsh snort before dropping heavily back into his seat.

Enciodes watched the defeated man with a quiet sigh.

That pathetic scrap of authority you cling to… it’s nothing but a trinket.

He didn’t just want a piece of the security detail. He wanted it all. Kjerag, the Temple, the very earth at the foot of the Holy Mountain.

Moving like a shadow down the pre-arranged mountain route, Degenbrecher quickly located the hidden staging ground. Matterhorn stood at attention, overseeing the heavily armed ranks of the Snowcap Patrol waiting in ambush.

“The boss has given the word,” Degenbrecher announced, her voice clipped and professional. “Prepare to move out.”

Her task complete, she turned to head back up the trail. The plan was simple: slip back into the plaza under the guise of returning from a routine Karlan Trade outpost check, then smoothly integrate with the arriving Snowcap Patrol.

But her path was suddenly blocked.

A figure clad in sleek, tactical black stepped out from the treeline, blocking the narrow mountain pass. Degenbrecher’s icy gaze swept over the stranger, locking onto the distinct emblem stitched into the fabric of their shoulder. The Black Knight’s brow furrowed.

“Blacksteel Worldwide mercenaries?” Degenbrecher asked, her hand resting casually near the hilt of her blade. “What is a Columbian outfit doing all the way up here?”

“Just completing a mission,” a calm, grounded voice replied.

The leader stepped fully into the light. It was a Vouivre maiden, her shield heavy and her stance impeccably disciplined. Liskarm held her ground, her eyes locked on the legendary Black Knight without a trace of fear.

“If you are heading up to seize Ernst SilverAsh,” Liskarm stated flatly, “then I must ask you to turn back.”

“Who sent you?” Degenbrecher demanded, the air around her dropping a few degrees.

Liskarm shook her head. “Client confidentiality. We do not disclose our employer’s identity or the specifics of our contract.”

It was a textbook mercenary response, but Degenbrecher didn’t need a confession to solve the puzzle. In the entirety of Kjerag, only two factions possessed the wealth and the external communication channels to hire foreign muscle. One was Enciodes and Karlan Trade. The other was Ernst and his newly formed government faction. Given Blacksteel’s Columbian roots, the financial backer was glaringly obvious.

“Has Magnus Bank truly weighed the consequences of interfering in Kjerag’s internal affairs?” Degenbrecher asked, layering a subtle, lethal threat into her tone. She paused, letting the silence stretch before offering a pragmatic alternative. “Clear this path, and my employer can arrange a far more lucrative contract with your people.”

The Vouivre operator remained entirely unmoved. Liskarm adjusted her grip on her shield, her expression a mask of professional stone.

“If you wish to negotiate terms, you can take it up with Magnus Bank,” Liskarm replied, her voice steady and resolute. “I am only responsible for completing my mission.”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.