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ArabicArknights: Soul Knights of Terra — Chapter 38
Chapter 38: This Land
“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Vera’s voice spiked instantly, her tone laced with incredulity. “How could I possibly be afraid? I was just proposing a reasonable hypothesis!”
Vane and Gusi exchanged confused glances, looking toward Gregor. They could not fathom why their Eldest would suddenly make such a claim.
Gregor ignored her frantic denial. He simply stared at Vera in heavy, knowing silence.
Vane, who had been preparing to fire off a few sarcastic jokes, sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He swallowed his words, dropping his cynical grin to look at Vera with genuine concern. Gusi remained entirely silent, though the slight shift in his posture indicated he had also caught the subtle tremor hiding beneath Vera’s overly hurried speech.
[You’re very scared, aren’t you…]
“I told you, I’m not!” Vera snapped, a distinct edge of exasperation fraying her words.
[When the bomb was right in your face, what were you thinking?] Gregor asked calmly.
His simple question shattered the dam holding back Vera’s memories. Her body trembled. The images violently resurfaced in her mind—the crazily flashing red light blinding her vision, the deranged, manic grin plastered across W’s face, the suffocating, metallic scent of death pressing against her throat.
She thought she had masked it perfectly. She had relied on continuous time stops and calculated counterattacks to bury the sheer, paralyzing panic of that fraction of a second.
[I know that feeling.]
[When I was pierced through the body by that woman, I felt it… that icy coldness of death.]
Vera’s voice finally dropped, losing all its defensive heat. She sounded as though she were whispering only to herself.
“Only a little afraid…”
“Really, only a little…” she repeated, desperately clinging to her last shred of dignity.
[I know.]
Vane completely dropped his usual cheeky attitude. He walked over to Vera’s side and, for once lacking a sharp remark, simply patted her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness. Gusi stepped closer in total silence, allowing his massive frame to cast a protective shadow over her.
Gregor stepped in front of her. He looked down at his own hands, hesitating for a long moment, but ultimately kept them at his sides. This body of molten rock and fire would only burn the people he wanted to comfort.
[Wanting to go back is only natural.]
[Being afraid is too.]
[Whether it’s finding the way back or surviving here, we will always be together.]
[So don’t be afraid…]
Gregor’s molten body pulsed with a faint, warm light, pushing back the chill of the Kazdel wasteland.
[I will protect you all, whether it’s you, Third, or Fourth.]
[Trust your Leader… we will go back, and not a single one will be missing.]
“Leader.”
“So cheesy…”
The heavy tension dissipated, and the group’s atmosphere returned to its usual relaxed state. Gregor spoke again, his mental voice shifting back to a serious, commanding tone.
[The Dungeon… we will go, but it shouldn’t be now.]
[You need to rest and recover your energy properly!]
“But I’m not sleepy right now…”
[Third, Fourth!]
“Received!”
“Received!”
Gusi stepped forward. He did not need to speak; his towering stature naturally exuded an immovable pressure. Vane sauntered over with a wide, cheeky grin and began physically pushing Vera toward the makeshift rest area.
“Let’s go, let’s go, Second, be obedient! Sleep is the absolute best skincare for women. Although you can’t really tell with the skin you’re wearing right now, you still can’t ruin the foundation!”
“Wait! Who are you calling a woman!” Vera struggled, but her resistance was entirely futile against the combined physical strength of her two brothers.
Under Ifrit’s utterly bewildered gaze, Vera was forcibly arranged into a bedroll right next to the young Sarkaz. The two of them lay there, staring at each other with wide eyes, until exhaustion finally dragged them both down into a hazy slumber.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present.
A sharp, muffled popping sound exploded right beside Vera’s ear. She shivered violently, her reflexes taking over in a split second.
[Time Stop]
A dim purple screen of light instantly expanded outward, freezing the world in its tracks. Vera whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing into a lethal glare at the source of the disturbance.
W had managed to sneak directly behind her. The mercenary was frozen mid-motion, maintaining a theatrical pose—using her mouth to simulate an explosion sound, her hands thrown up in a mock gesture of shock, and a wicked, thoroughly delighted grin plastered across her face.
This absolute lunatic.
Vera cursed inwardly. She skillfully summoned her little demon familiar to refresh the duration of the time stop. Then, with methodical precision, she physically repositioned W. She tilted the mercenary forward, adjusted her center of gravity, and arranged her into a perfect, unavoidable face-plant.
Once her masterpiece was complete, Vera sat back down in her original spot and deactivated the ability.
“Bloody hell!”
The sudden, heavy thud of a body hitting the dirt, immediately followed by a string of harsh Sarkaz curses, drew the attention of every mercenary in the camp. They stared in utter confusion at W, who had inexplicably face-planted right at Vera’s feet. None of them could comprehend what had just transpired.
Vera looked down at the sprawling mercenary, her voice dropping to the temperature of ice.
“Is it fun?”
W pushed herself up from the dirt. Instead of showing anger, she tilted her head back and flashed a highly malicious smile.
“You’ve got guts. Even that didn’t scare you…”
Vera stared back, entirely unimpressed. “That smile looks really ugly.”
The grin on W’s face stiffened. A vein twitched faintly against her forehead as she forced a fake, mirthless expression.
“Still better than some people who can’t even make an expression!”
Can’t make an expression?
Vera almost laughed out of sheer annoyance. She had fully intended to teach W a much harsher lesson, but a sudden, different whim crossed her mind.
Every Sarkaz in the vicinity froze in place. They watched in stunned silence as Vera suddenly began to smile.
Looking at that expression, the exact same word surfaced in the minds of every hardened mercenary present.
Gentle.
W, who was taking the full brunt of that smile from mere inches away, completely froze. She stared blankly, entirely dazed, until Vera abruptly dropped the expression and returned to her usual cold deadpan.
“Can you smile? Mercenary.”
When W failed to formulate a response, Vera let out a quiet sneer, stood up, and walked away.
W finally snapped out of her daze a moment later. She cursed under her breath and pinched her own cheek in utter bewilderment.
“What the hell was wrong with me just now…”
A short distance away, Ines shook her head slowly. She glanced sideways at Hoederer, who was currently covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.
“I told you, didn’t I? That person is very dangerous.”
This specific brand of danger did not stem from raw destructive power, but from an unpredictable, common-sense-defying style of conduct that even threw someone like W off balance.
Hoederer wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice tight. “I have realized it deeply.”
“Should we ‘invite’ her out?” Ines asked, offering a practical solution.
Hoederer remained silent for a long moment, watching the camp, before finally shaking his head. “Forget it…”
His gaze drifted toward Vera’s retreating figure.
“Since that person hasn’t spoken, let’s not act on our own.”
In the face of their mysterious new employer, the mercenaries simply did not hold enough initiative to make such demands.
Ines let out a light, airy chuckle that carried a distinct edge of mockery. “What? Giving up the Leader’s authority so soon?”
Hoederer did not answer her directly. Instead, he turned his attention to the surrounding mercenaries. They were currently busy processing the freshly hunted Rift Beast meat, and for once, there were rare, genuinely relaxed smiles visible on their faces.
Such pure, unguarded expressions were a massive rarity among the Sarkaz. When was the last time he had seen his compatriots look like this? He honestly could not remember.
Shaking his head to clear his chaotic thoughts, Hoederer looked back at Ines. “Did you see anything?”
Ines crossed her arms. Her gaze was fixed on Vera’s back, specifically on the shadow trailing at her feet—a shadow that still left the Casters’ arts feeling entirely puzzled. She stayed quiet for several seconds before speaking in a tone of quiet disbelief.
“Mm… I saw it.”
“It’s hard to imagine that on this man-eating land, there is actually… such a ‘clean’ person.”
“Clean?” Hoederer frowned heavily. The adjective felt entirely out of place when applied to an individual possessing such overwhelming power.
“Yes… just like a child who knows absolutely nothing of the world.”
Hoederer’s brow furrowed even tighter. “Are you sure you didn’t misread it?”
“Perhaps… the information the shadow fed me is very vague, but that core feeling cannot be faked.” Ines did not offer absolute certainty. She turned and began walking toward the mercenaries who were setting up the heavy iron pots and stoking the fires. “If we don’t hurry over to keep an eye on them, these rare ingredients are going to be completely wasted by that bunch of idiots.”
As she walked, she lowered her voice to a whisper meant only for Hoederer’s ears. The implication behind her words made his heart skip a heavy beat.
“After all, in Kazdel, even real children… aren’t as naive as her.”
Hoederer matched her pace, keeping his voice low. “You mean…”
Ines kept her eyes forward, analyzing the situation with cold logic. “She perhaps… grew up in a place that has never experienced the flames of war. A place where people can actually afford to easily place trust in one another.”
Hoederer fell into deep thought. If that description held true…
“Could it be those Sarkaz tribes that left Kazdel in the early years and took root in other nations? And now, to support Her Highness, they specifically sent the strongest members of their tribe back here?”
“Then they are truly stupid,” Ines commented without a shred of mercy. She paused her steps, shooting a sideways glance at W, who was currently sneaking through the brush, stubbornly attempting to approach Vera yet again. “Putting such an undefended little lamb into a pack of starving wolves. They aren’t afraid she’ll be eaten clean.”
“A little lamb, huh…”
Hoederer chewed on the absurd metaphor, ultimately only able to shake his head in complex resignation.
Who was the sheep and who was the wolf in this scenario was still very much up for debate.
Far away, deep within the core sector of Babel.
A stern-faced Feline walked at a brisk, measured pace through the cold metal corridors. The Operators she encountered along the way immediately averted their eyes the moment they met her gaze, or lowered their voices to a whisper to offer a quick greeting.
Though the Feline maintained an entirely cold, unreadable expression, she offered a precise nod of acknowledgment to every single greeting.
She arrived before a heavy set of doors. She raised her hand and knocked gently against the metal. A warm, gentle female voice drifted out from the other side almost immediately.
“Please come in.”
Kaltsit pushed the door open and stepped inside. Warm-colored lights spilled down from the ceiling, illuminating a pink-haired Sarkaz woman dressed in simple, elegant white clothing.
“Kaltsit,” Theresa looked up from her desk, a helpless but fond smile touching her lips. “I think I’ve said it many times; you don’t need to knock when coming in. Our relationship isn’t so distant that we need to be so restrained by basic etiquette.”
Kaltsit walked up to the table, her expression completely unchanged, and responded in a steady, clinical tone. “The gazes and prejudices on this land run so deep that even the most ordinary interaction between close friends can be interpreted by those with ulterior motives in countless ways, subsequently becoming an excuse for political attacks. Maintaining basic social etiquette is a necessary means to protect the fragile connections between us… and many within Babel.”
“…There are only two of us here right now,” Theresa sighed softly, smoothly cutting off Kaltsit’s long-winded lecture. “There’s no need to be so circuitous, and besides…” She blinked, a faint hint of slyness entering her eyes. “Although I don’t want to use this method, the things you truly want to say in your heart, Kaltsit, are sometimes indeed too obscure. I think you wouldn’t want me to use the power of the Black Crown to directly read your true thoughts, right?”
Kaltsit fell silent for a moment, ultimately deciding to abandon the debate regarding proper etiquette.
“Theresa, what is the matter for which you summoned me?”
Theresa picked up the porcelain teacup resting on her desk, blew gently across the surface, and smiled. “Hmm~ Can’t it just be purely to have you over for tea and a chat? You always keep yourself wound too tight, Kaltsit.”
Kaltsit did not speak. She simply stood there, gazing silently at the Sarkaz leader.
Theresa met her unblinking stare for a few seconds before finally losing the contest. She raised her free hand in a gesture of total surrender. “Alright, alright, there is indeed a matter… that I need to discuss with you. Or rather, I need to hear your judgment.”
She set the teacup down, the warm smile receding slightly from her face.
“Scar-Eye sent a message. Theresis wants to meet with us.”
Kaltsit’s eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp mind instantly catching the subtle phrasing. “Does he want to see ‘you’, or does he want to see ‘us’?”
Theresa sighed, her tone softening into something resembling a plea. “Alright, it’s me. But I just… simply want someone to accompany me. I don’t think you’ll refuse, right?”
“Theresis wouldn’t want to see me,” Kaltsit replied, her voice calm and entirely factual. Her long, bloodstained history with the Sarkaz had long since guaranteed that they could never sit at the same negotiating table in peace.
“Mm… even so,” Theresa tried, attempting to pivot her angle of persuasion. “Kaltsit, aren’t you even a little curious about what Theresis is actively seeking me out for this time?”
“When you return, I will naturally know.” Kaltsit’s tone did not waver in the slightest.
Theresa looked up at her, asking softly, “What if I insist that you go with me?”
Kaltsit remained silent. She looked down at the raw, expectant emotion shining in her close friend’s eyes, and a trace of deep, imperceptible exhaustion bled into her voice.
“Theresa, don’t try anymore.”
She turned her gaze toward the reinforced window, staring out at the scarred, barren land of Kazdel. “To the Sarkaz, I am an out-and-out enemy. This is something I have never denied, and I fully agree with their view.”
“If they could just understand your true intent, understand the future you are pursuing…” Theresa argued gently.
“No, Theresa.” Kaltsit cut her off. She turned back around, her eyes sharp and uncompromising. “This land…” She stopped halfway through her sentence. Meeting Theresa’s earnest gaze, she forced herself to switch to slightly softer wording. “…Most people only focus on survival and the hatred right before their eyes. A distant, overly idealistic future is simply not within their scope of consideration.”
“That’s exactly why it’s even more necessary for us to explain clearly, to communicate!”
Looking at the unyielding firmness in Theresa’s eyes, Kaltsit knew the argument was already lost. This Highness always kept a stubborn spark of hope burning in her chest. Even when facing the deepest, most violent estrangement, she was always willing to try and bridge the gap.
It was a precious quality, but it was also the exact thing that so often left Kaltsit feeling utterly powerless.
“Alright… I will go.”
Before Theresa could even form an expression of joy, Kaltsit immediately added her condition. “But I must be disguised. That is my absolute bottom line.”
The rising joy on Theresa’s face settled into a look of quiet understanding, mixed with a faint trace of regret. “Alright… I agree.”
She deeply regretted that Kaltsit could not stand by her side with her true face and identity. But at the very least, she would not have to walk into that meeting alone to face her increasingly elusive brother.
Theresa followed Kaltsit’s gaze out the window. Down on the open training grounds, a person draped in a heavy, pitch-black hood was currently waving up at their window, accompanied by a young Cautus girl.
Theresa smiled warmly and waved back, a motion that immediately drew a chorus of excited cheers from a crowd of Sarkaz Operators who had been peeking at her from the lower levels.
After those overly enthusiastic Sarkaz were swiftly dragged away by unseen hands in the shadows, Theresa let her mind wander into the past.
Come to think of it, she had not visited the Scar Market in a very long time.
She wondered what it had turned into.