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ArabicArknights: Soul Knights of Terra — Chapter 37
Chapter 37: Angel Investor
The morning sun over Kazdel struggled to pierce the perpetual, suffocating gloom. It was a sunny day by local standards, which meant the sky was merely a lighter shade of ash.
A ragged band of Sarkaz mercenaries sat in a loose, defeated circle. Heavy, dark bags hung under their eyes as they stared dully at the completely extinguished ashes of their campfire.
“How long has it been…”
“At least six hours, right…”
“By the way… why didn’t we just run away while we had the chance in the dark?”
“Do you have a death wish? Did you want to try running from her?”
“…No.”
“Ugh… rotting Originium! Why does my skull feel like it is splitting open…”
A weak, groggy voice broke the miserable silence. The mercenaries slowly shifted their deadened gazes toward the source of the sound. W, who had somehow slept peacefully through the entire night, was sitting up in the dirt. She rubbed the back of her neck with a deep grimace, shaking the grogginess from her head. As soon as she looked up and realized she was surrounded by a dozen haggard, hollow-eyed strongmen, she instinctively let out a colorful string of vicious Kazdelian curses.
The mercenaries merely glanced at her with deep weariness, lacking even the baseline energy required to tell her to shut up.
Hoederer’s voice drifted from behind W, thick with an exhaustion that seemed to seep into his very bones. “W, if you are done complaining, go sit to the side. Do not block the way.”
“What? Is our fearless leader getting nosy now?” W snapped back immediately. She habitually reached down to her thigh to draw her weapon and spin it a few times to make a point, only for her fingers to grasp empty air.
W froze completely. The memories of the previous night flooded back into her aching brain like a violent tide. The terrifying woman who had appeared out of thin air. The cold steel of a longsword pressed flush against her throat. And then…
“Blight take it! Where did that monster of a woman go?! Did you cowards already kill her?!”
Hoederer rubbed his throbbing temples. “No… we just…”
He stopped speaking halfway through his sentence. Along with the rest of the surrounding mercenaries, Hoederer’s gaze shifted subtly to a spot directly behind W.
“It seems my continued survival is a great disappointment to you.”
A calm, icy female voice drifted from right over W’s shoulder. W’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. Acting purely on lethal instinct, she twisted violently, throwing a sharp, bone-breaking elbow strike directly toward the source of the sound.
A low, vibrating hum tore through the clearing. The very fabric of time seemed to stutter and freeze for a fraction of a second.
W stumbled, clutching her backside in sudden pain as she scrambled away, putting ten feet between herself and the threat while spitting out another string of frantic curses. Vera had materialized at W’s previous spot without displacing a single grain of dust, nonchalantly shaking the longsword she had just used to swat the explosive expert away.
Vera’s voice held absolutely no discernable emotion, yet the sheer weight of her presence made W’s scalp tingle with primal danger.
“Are you all blind?!” W shrieked at her crew. “Why were you just watching!? The enemy walked right into the middle of the camp!”
The mercenaries stood up in heavy silence, completely ignoring W’s outburst as they walked past her. Hoederer took the lead, stepping up beside Vera and turning to face his subordinate.
“W… the person standing before you is our new employer. I suggest you mind your language.”
Leaving the dazed W sputtering in the dirt, the group of mercenaries gathered in front of Vera. Seeing that the terrifying caster had brought no supply crates or wagons with her, a wave of bitter disappointment washed over their haggard faces.
Vera looked at their sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, raising a single eyebrow. “You did not sleep all night?”
A suffocating silence answered her. After watching someone like her bypass all their perimeter alarms and appear directly in the center of their camp, what kind of lunatic would dare close their eyes?
Taking their silence for professional aloofness, Vera moved on. “Food and medicine are ready. The food is strictly meat, and as for the medicine… the healing effect might not be exactly what you are used to.”
The mercenaries scanned the empty clearing in utter confusion.
A low hum vibrated through the air once more. The mercenaries widened their eyes in shock as a massive Rift Beast—resembling a monstrous, mutated bear—materialized out of thin air and slammed heavily into the dirt. Beside the massive carcass sat a neat, pristine row of glass bottles filled with a glowing red liquid.
Vera gestured for the men to inspect the goods. The mercenaries exchanged wary glances before Hoederer finally stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the dry earth.
The more he inspected the massive beast, the deeper his confusion grew. There were no visible blade or burn wounds on the thick hide of the Rift Beast. Yet, upon pressing his hands against the creature’s flank, Hoederer could feel that nearly every bone inside its body had been pulverized, as if it had been constricted to death by a mythical python.
, beasts of this sheer size and fur density simply did not exist in the barren wastelands of Kazdel. The corpse had not even begun to stiffen. Had this woman traveled all the way to the frozen tundras of Ursus, hunted a monster barehanded, and returned in a single night?
No. Moving across such a vast geographical distance in a matter of hours was a logistical impossibility.
Hoederer stood up, looking at Vera with deep hesitation. “This Rift Beast…”
“I found it,” Vera replied smoothly.
Facing the stunned silence of the hardened killers, Vera tilted her head slightly. “You do not believe me?”
Not a single mercenary dared to make a sound. Whether they believed her absurd claim or not was entirely irrelevant; what mattered was that absolutely none of them possessed the courage to call her a liar.
At that moment, Ines crouched down and picked up one of the red potion bottles, examining the glowing liquid with deep suspicion. “Is this… blood?”
“No. That is medicine.”
Ines silently popped the cork and brought the rim to her nose, sniffing carefully. There was no metallic tang of blood. Instead, a wave of pure, concentrated freshness washed over her senses, instantly clearing the heavy fog of exhaustion from her brain.
She looked up at Vera. The Necromancer met her gaze and stated plainly, “Oral administration is fine. Topical application is also fine. Would you like to test it?”
Before Ines could respond, a younger mercenary nearby drew his combat dagger, slashed a deep gash across his own forearm without a second thought, and poured half the bottle’s contents directly onto the bleeding flesh.
The scene that followed made every veteran in the camp hold their breath.
The heavy bleeding stopped at a speed visible to the naked eye. The jagged edges of the wound contracted violently, knitting together as a thick blood scab formed, dried, and then flaked away to reveal perfectly smooth, unblemished skin beneath.
The mercenaries stared at the arm in absolute horror and awe. It was not until the wound was completely erased from existence that another mercenary finally found his voice.
“How long did that take?”
“Three… three minutes…”
Three minutes. To completely regenerate a deep laceration without leaving a single scar. Was this level of miraculous healing something lowly mercenaries like them were even allowed to touch? Was this glowing liquid truly just medicine, or some forbidden Originium art?
The mercenary who had tested it stared at the half-empty bottle in his hand, his face suddenly twisting into an expression of deep, devastating heartbreak. He had just wasted half a bottle of a priceless artifact on a superficial cut!
Hoederer’s mind raced. He quickly counted the remaining bottles on the dirt, then counted the men standing in the clearing. The ratio was exactly one bottle per person.
The rest of the crew instantly understood the math. Survival instincts overrode their fear, and they swarmed forward, desperately snatching up their allotted bottles and clutching them to their chests like newborn children. In the blink of an eye, only the heartbroken mercenary who had wasted his share was left standing empty-handed.
Vera watched the chaotic scramble with mild interest. It seemed the synthesized mixture of Life Potion and Spring Water from the Safe House Nursery was highly effective on Terra’s natives.
Everyone had claimed their share, save for one person.
The grieving mercenary looked over at W, who was still standing frozen on the outskirts of the camp. He took a tentative step toward her. “Uh… if you do not want yours…”
“In your dreams, you rotting corpse!” W glared at him with murderous intent, sprinting forward and sliding into the dirt to snatch her bottle of red potion before he could even blink. She refused to look at Vera, keeping her head ducked low as she quickly blended into the safety of the crowd.
Hoederer took a deep, steadying breath. He walked up to Vera and bowed deeply, his tone stripped of all previous wariness and replaced with absolute, genuine sincerity. “Thank you for your immense generosity.”
The miraculous healing properties of these potions alone were worth far more than the total payout of a high-risk Catastrophe zone mission. This new employer was terrifyingly wealthy.
“The travel route has been preliminarily planned,” Hoederer continued, eager to prove their worth. “When do you believe it would be appropriate for us to break camp and set off?”
“There is no rush.” Vera’s cold gaze swept over the exhausted, trembling crowd, finally landing on the massive carcass of the Rift Beast. “The food is right here. Finish resting. Eat and drink your fill before we march.”
That final, quiet instruction completely shattered the mercenaries’ remaining psychological defenses.
What kind of divine, angelic employer had they stumbled upon?! She provided top-tier, miraculous medical supplies. The rations were not the usual rock-hard black bread that could break teeth, nor were they rotting potatoes that refused to boil soft. She had brought them hundreds of pounds of fresh, premium meat!
Their mission was simply to help her build a reputation, yet the main combat force was clearly the employer herself. Her strength was monstrous, her pockets were bottomless, and she actually treated her disposable meat shields with basic dignity.
Finally, a younger-looking mercenary squeezed his way to the front of the pack, a desperate, flattering smile plastered across his scarred face. “Big Sister! Are you planning to form your own permanent mercenary company? Please consider me! I fight incredibly hard, I swear!”
Once the dam broke, the floodgates opened entirely.
“Wait! Big Sister, I can do it too! My mission completion rate is vastly superior to his!”
“Take me! I… I can warm your bed!”
“I can cook!”
“Bullshit! You only know how to roast potatoes!”
“Blight take you! At least the potatoes I roast are edible! That is better than you, who turns everything into charcoal!”
The clearing devolved into absolute chaos. The hardened killers scrambled over one another to promote their meager skills, nearly coming to blows as they viciously infought for the chance at permanent employment.
Hoederer’s face darkened considerably, thick veins throbbing against his forehead as he watched his disciplined crew act like starving scavengers.
“Quiet.”
Vera’s voice was not loud, but it carried a chilling, absolute authority that instantly snapped the noisy mercenaries’ jaws shut. They stared at her, their eyes wide with a mix of terror and desperate anticipation.
“I have no interest in the loyalty of the incompetent,” Vera stated coldly. “You only need to execute the tasks I arrange for you. Now… process the food. Light a fire and eat. As for the rest of your requests… we will discuss them when we arrive at the Scar Market.”
She did not agree to hire them permanently, but she did not explicitly refuse either. This calculated, ambiguous attitude only fanned the flames of hope in the mercenaries’ chests.
The crew immediately sprang into action. They descended upon the Rift Beast with their combat knives, skinning the hide, lighting roaring fires, and setting up heavy iron pots with an efficiency that Hoederer had never witnessed in his life.
Hoederer watched his men work with unmatched vigor. He let out a long, complicated sigh and muttered, “I apologize. I have embarrassed you with my lack of discipline.”
“Keep your people in check,” Vera replied simply. She turned away, finding a quiet spot near the edge of the camp to sit down and close her eyes.
Meanwhile, hidden safely within the bustling crowd, W secretly sized up the terrifying Caster. She rubbed the smooth glass of the potion bottle with her thumb, her crimson eyes flickering with a dangerous, calculating light.
‘[Vera: It seems the situation in Kazdel is much more serious than I initially calculated. Or is it merely that these specific mercenaries are living exceptionally miserable lives?]”[Vane: Actually, organized mercenaries are considered the upper class around here. If it were not for the generally absurd physical constitution of the Sarkaz race, given this hellish living environment, they would have gone extinct centuries ago.]”[Gregor: They are built like walking fortresses, yet they live a life where they can barely guarantee their next meal?]”[Vane: According to my highly reliable sources… the air in Kazdel is just ninety percent protein powder! I am confident in this assessment.]”[Gusi: Do you require more prey, Second? I can hunt a few more beasts to stock up our inventory.]”[Vera: Mm. I will leave the hunting to you.]’
Sitting by the tree line, Vera opened her eyes and exhaled a soft, weary breath. The chaotic banter of her brothers faded as her mind drifted back to the heavy discussion they had shared in the Safe House the previous night.
When she had first proposed the idea of actively entering the Dungeon again, it had immediately drawn sharp skepticism from the group.
‘[Go back into the Dungeon?]’Gregor had crossed his heavy, armored arms, his molten eyes narrowing in confusion.'[Did we not just escape that place?]’
“Supplies… our resource pool is still far too shallow,” Vera had explained, laying out their grim reality. “The fourth’s weapon blueprints are all fully unlocked, but the physical materials required to forge them have vanished entirely. The third has also confirmed that the environmental treasure chests no longer provide a stable yield of Blue Coins. This means that even if we are lucky enough to scavenge the raw materials out here, crafting those specialized weapons remains a distant luxury.”
She had looked around at her three companions, her expression grave. “Therefore, if we wish to obtain the armaments necessary to significantly improve our survival odds in this world, the most direct method remaining is to acquire them randomly through the Dungeon.”
“I object!” Vane had immediately raised his hand, his pale face set in a rare frown. “Some of those weapons are indeed incredibly strong… but we shouldn’t be that desperate for firepower right now, right?”
The Vampire had bounded over to Gregor’s side, attempting to pat the Paladin on the shoulder before his hand was scorched by the ambient heat, forcing him to yank it back. “With the Boss here, we are practically invincible! If we actually run into a Catastrophe or a monster we cannot kill, we can just shrink back into the Safe House and wait for the Boss to teleport in and crush them! It is a foolproof strategy!”
“I must agree with the fourth’s assessment,” Gusi’s deep, resonant voice had echoed through the room, carrying his usual heavy caution. “Our current combat strength is more than sufficient to deal with most situations on Terra. Actively forcing our way back into the Dungeon presents risks that may not be proportional to the rewards.”
“After all, it is highly out of character,” Vane had added, tilting his head to study Vera with piercing crimson eyes. “You, the second, are widely known as the most cautious and calculating among us. Why are you suddenly so anxious to take the initiative and risk your life in the Dungeon?”
Gregor and Gusi had both shifted their focus to Vera, the weight of their combined gazes demanding the truth.
Vera had remained silent for a long time under the scrutiny of her brothers. Finally, a barely audible, fragile sigh had escaped her lips.
“I want to try and see if, after clearing the Dungeon completely… we can go back home.”
The air in the Safe House had solidified into ice. The playful, chaotic smile on Vane’s face froze completely. Gusi’s antlered head lowered in heavy, suffocating silence, and the molten light radiating from Gregor’s lava-forged body dimmed for a long, agonizing moment.
“We have been missing for two days…” Vera had whispered, her usual icy facade cracking just a fraction. “Back on Earth, our families must have already listed us as missing persons, right?”
No one spoke.
“Think about it. Did we not play a cooperative run of Soul Knight right before we transmigrated into these bodies? If clearing the game was the trigger condition for our transmigration, then if we clear the Dungeon again… can we reverse the process? Can we go back?”
She had looked at their stricken faces, quickly composing herself. “Of course, I am not saying we have to dive into the Dungeon immediately. We can plan this long-term. We can wait for a while, gather intelligence, and then…”
‘[Second…]’Gregor’s voice had echoed through their mental link, cutting through her frantic rationalizations. It was deep, serious, and immovably steady.'[Do not be afraid. I am here.]’