English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicArknights: Soul Knights of Terra — Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Terra, Superman, and Saria
“Terra… is it dangerous here?” the Boss asked, his deep voice echoing across their shared mental link.
“Dangerous? That is the understatement of the century,” Old Four replied immediately. “The natives here are basically supermen. Natural disasters can wipe out the surface at any given second, there is a mountain of apocalyptic horrors buried on the planet, and to top it all off, there are literal lumberjacks watching from orbit at all times!”
Old Two paused. “…Lumberjacks? Are there stinky bears too?”
“Not that kind of lumberjack!” Old Four snapped.
“What do we do?” Old Three’s voice trembled. “Can we still go back?”
Silence fell over the mental connection.
Could they really go back?
“There is a chance,” Old Four said, forcing a confident tone to anchor the group. “Since we managed to cross over, there has to be a way back. In the game’s lore, there are tons of crossovers, and those characters all traveled here! If we find the right method, we will definitely make it home!”
He deliberately avoided mentioning their current physical forms, and the others tacitly ignored the subject.
“Anyway, let us confirm our coordinates first,” Old Two said, his tone shifting back to a cold, analytical baseline. “Old Four, you know the lore. Where are we?”
“Well, the Boss is obvious. That logo you described is definitely Rhine Lab. You are in Columbia.” Old Four paused to think. “Old Three… if you are in a snowfield, it is either Ursus, Sami, or Kjerag. Do you see any snow-capped mountains? Are there dense jungles?”
“No!” Old Three cried out. “It is just an endless expanse of snow, barely any trees! And a massive blizzard is picking up right now!”
“Tsk. That is the Ursus tundra, then,” Old Four muttered. “Old Two, what about you? Any distinct landmarks?”
“It looks like a war zone,” Old Two replied, his voice tight. “There is ash floating everywhere in the air.”
“A battlefield… check the corpses around you. Do they have twisted horns?”
A brief pause. “Yes. Pointed tails, too.”
“Damn it! You are in the worst spot out of all of us! That is Kazdel. They slaughter each other every single day over there!”
“What do you mean?” Old Two’s aloof facade cracked. “What do you mean I am in the worst spot?!”
“Calm down, Old Two,” the Boss intervened, suppressing his own rising anxiety to anchor the group. “First, secure your immediate area. Are there any living people nearby? Anything moving?”
Old Two went quiet for a few seconds. The sound of shifting debris echoed faintly through the link as he cautiously explored.
“Nothing alive for now,” Old Two finally said, his breathing steadying. “Just a lot of corpses. They died recently.” He hesitated. “Wait… these bodies. Can I resurrect them?”
“Your Necromancer skill?” the Boss asked.
“Do not test it yet!” Old Four warned. “We have no idea if you can actually control the resurrected targets in this reality!”
“Understood.” Old Two took a deep breath, pulling his cold, detached persona back into place under the crushing weight of survival. “I need to find cover. I am still not used to this body.”
“I—I am caught in the blizzard!” Old Three sobbed, the howling wind audible through the connection. “It is getting worse! And… I swear I just heard wolves howling!”
“The frozen tundra of Ursus…” Old Four’s tone grew grim. “Old Three, can you summon anything?”
“I will try…”
A chaotic burst of static and rustling snow flooded the link, followed by a piercing, otherworldly shriek.
“A monster!” Old Three screamed in sheer panic. “It has a deer head and it can fly! It is floating right in front of me! Wait… the wind and snow are dying down around it.”
“Do not panic, that is your skill. Did you forget which skin you equipped?” the Boss reassured him gently. “Let your summon shield you from the elements and find a village or a cave.”
“That is a bad idea, Boss,” Old Four interjected. “The Ursus locals are violently hostile toward the Infected. Judging by our current skins, we are absolutely going to be mistaken for Sarkaz. In this world, being a Sarkaz is practically synonymous with being an Infected.”
“…Then just survive the blizzard for now,” the Boss decided. “Old Four, what is your situation in Iberia?”
“Me? Handsome guys never suffer bad luck!” Old Four’s signature smugness returned in full force. “I am chilling by the sea! The view is fantastic… though the water color is a bit off. It is completely gray and hazy. There are some schools of fish swimming in the distance…”
He trailed off.
“Wait… those fish look wrong.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Holy crap! Seaborn!” Old Four yelled. “The local specialty of Aegir! I am definitely not safe here either!”
The situation was a complete disaster.
The Boss was trapped in the ruins of a Columbian research facility, his monstrous identity drawing immediate hostile attention.
Old Two was stranded in a mass grave on a Kazdel battlefield, surrounded by lethal threats.
Old Three was freezing in the Ursus tundra, caught between natural disasters and wild beasts.
Old Four was exposed on the lethal coast of Iberia, staring down the creeping horror of the Seaborn.
“Brothers,” the Boss spoke up, his voice carrying the absolute authority of their eldest. “Survive first. At all costs, focus on your own lives.”
He let the command sink in before continuing. “Familiarize yourselves with your new bodies and powers immediately. The skills, weapons, and passive traits tied to our Soul Knight skins are our only capital in this world. Old Two, figure out your weapon’s exact effects. Old Three, see what else you can summon. Old Four, test your lifesteal limits. I need to know exactly how much damage my shield can block. We must figure these mechanics out today.”
“Understood,” Old Two replied.
“Map out your surroundings,” the Boss ordered. “Identify local factions, pinpoint the threats, and figure out what resources or people you can exploit. Old Four, you know the lore better than any of us. Provide tactical intelligence at all times.”
“You got it, Boss.”
“Old Three, do not be afraid. We are right here with you. The second I secure my position, I will find a way to reunite with you.”
“Okay…” Old Three sniffled.
“Old Two, you have the sharpest eyes. Analyze our situation and see if we missed anything.”
The mental link went quiet as the brothers processed the heavy instructions.
“I have one right now,” Old Two said slowly. “Have any of you thought about how exactly we are communicating?”
“Uh… telepathy?” Old Four guessed.
“Can telepathy display text in your vision?”
“Holy crap! Is this the legendary chat group system?” Old Four gasped.
“Holy crap!” Old Three echoed.
“…I already claimed that reaction, Old Three. You do not need to repeat it.”
“No!” Old Three shouted, his voice echoing with sudden spatial reverb. “I just walked into a room! The layout… it looks exactly like the Vitality Hall from the game!”
“What?!” the other three yelled in unison.
“How did you get in?” the Boss demanded.
“I have no idea! I just thought about finding shelter and suddenly I was standing inside!”
“No good,” Old Two reported a moment later. “I just tried to visualize it, but I am still stuck outside.”
“Does that mean only Old Three has access?” Old Four muttered. “That makes no sense. I am the one hosting the multiplayer lobby.”
“It might be tied to a specific physical action or a verbal trigger,” Old Two reasoned. “Old Three, did you do anything specific right before—”
Boom!
A deafening crash shattered the connection.
“What happened?!” Old Two demanded. “Where did that explosion come from?”
Old Three and Old Four quickly confirmed their areas were quiet.
Silence stretched from the Boss’s end.
“Boss?” Old Two pressed.
“A woman just plummeted through the reinforced ceiling,” the Boss finally replied, his mental voice tight. “She shattered the concrete floor upon impact, but she looks completely unharmed.”
“Huh? Is she even human?” Old Three asked.
“There is only one person on this continent who fits that description,” Old Four groaned, a sense of impending doom bleeding into his words. “Boss, let me guess. Does she have a pair of dragon horns, long white hair, and orange eyes?”
“Yes.”
“Run! That is the Terra equivalent of Captain America! She can freefall from six thousand meters and walk it off without a scratch!”
“Too late.”
The Boss slowly turned his massive, molten head. Dozens of crimson laser sights cut through the drifting dust, locking onto his chest and head.
“I am already surrounded.”
“Do not give up, Boss!” Old Three cried out. “I am looking for a weapon in the Hall right now! Just hold on, I will find a way to help!”
“Intruder. State your purpose.”
The woman’s voice echoed through the ruined facility. It was calm, heavy, and radiated an unquestionable, suffocating majesty.
The Boss stood frozen. His current face, forged from jagged volcanic rock and flowing magma, betrayed no emotion, but his massive hand tightened around his shield.
It was not that he wanted to play the silent tough guy.
He simply could not understand a single syllable of the local language.
[Boss: She is speaking! But I cannot understand a word she is saying!]
[Old Four: Obviously! She is speaking the Terra language! And if Saria herself is on the field, that means Rhine Lab has classified you as a maximum-level threat!]
[Old Three: Hang in there, Boss! I think I almost figured out how to send items!]
[Old Two: Language barrier confirmed. Diplomatic communication is impossible. Prepare for combat, Boss. It is time to test your defensive limits.]
In the physical world, Saria stared down the towering lava monster. The creature radiated blistering heat, filling the ruined sector with the acrid stench of sulfur. When the towering beast offered absolutely no response to her verbal warning, Saria let out a quiet, measured sigh.
A flicker of regret crossed her sharp orange eyes, instantly swallowed by the cold, resolute determination required to execute her duty.
Just minutes prior, the upper management and her eccentric colleagues had practically salivated over the security footage of this anomaly. One of the lead researchers had even screamed a specific designation over the comms.
“Ifrit! That is undeniably an Ifrit! Saria, you are ordered to retrieve the specimen intact!”
Being the target of Rhine Lab’s scientific curiosity was a fate worse than death. As the Director of Defense, Saria knew exactly what happened to subjects strapped to their operating tables.
Yet, even setting aside the researchers’ twisted desires, this creature had breached a highly classified sector. Letting it walk away was a tactical impossibility.
The frantic, greedy demands of the scientists continued to buzz in her earpiece, but Saria’s expression remained carved from ice.
The molten giant standing before her did not look like an entity that would go down quietly.
“I will do what I can,” she murmured to herself.
Saria crossed her gauntleted fists over her chest. The air temperature plummeted as her Originium Arts flared to life. Brilliant white crystal particles, shifting and flowing like living sand, rapidly materialized over her arms and torso. The sheer density of the energy fluctuation made the surrounding air vibrate.
This was her signature Arts: Calciumization.
“Final warning,” Saria declared. Her tone remained perfectly level, yet the raw kinetic threat laced within her words was terrifyingly clear. “Surrender now, and you will be spared unnecessary suffering.”
The Boss still could not decipher the words, but the universal language of violence was loud and clear. The woman’s combat stance, combined with the tightening perimeter of heavily armed security personnel, delivered a singular, absolute message.
Bloodshed was inevitable.
Knowing words were useless, the Boss gave his only possible reply.
A deep, rumbling roar of molten fury echoed through the ruins.