Arknights: Soul Knights of Terra — Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Honor Must Be Defended!

Elsewhere, within the serene confines of the Vitality Hall.

“Are you really not going to talk?”

Gusi’s voice was a gentle, melodic murmur. He sat with pristine posture, his calm gaze fixed on Vane, who was currently attempting to compress his entire body into the darkest corner of the room.

“Talk… talk about what?” Vane swallowed hard, his back pressing flush against the cold stone wall.

The very next instant, the stone floor fractured. Thick, emerald vines violently sprouted from the cracks, snapping around Vane’s wrists and ankles like iron manacles before hoisting him entirely into mid-air.

“Gwah—! Third Brother, what are you doing?!”

Gusi turned a deaf ear to the frantic shouting. Under Vane’s terrified, wide-eyed gaze, the Druid slowly and methodically reached out and pulled off Vane’s boots.

“Third Brother, I misjudged you! How could you do this to your own flesh and blood… Hahahaha! St-stop! What is that?! Hahahaha!”

Vane’s dramatic protests crashed into an abrupt halt, instantly replaced by a breathless, uncontrollable burst of laughter. The vines had slithered up to the exposed soles of his feet, their leafy tips beginning to brush against his sensitive skin in a high-frequency, agonizingly gentle rhythm.

“Hahahaha! Stop it, Third Brother! Hahaha! I’m dying! I’m really dying! Hahaha…”

Vane thrashed wildly against his bindings, tears streaming down his cheeks as his face flushed a brilliant, suffocating red.

“What are you two doing? Why can’t I watch?”

Ifrit’s loud, complaining voice echoed from the doorway. The young Sarkaz girl marched in, her little hands reaching out, trying with all her might to pry Gusi’s fingers apart to break his concentration.

“It’s nothing,” Gusi replied, maintaining absolute, flawless control over the writhing vines. His tone remained entirely devoid of waves. “Just a friendly exchange of martial pointers between brothers. Go watch TV on the second floor.”

“But I want to watch Fourth Brother more…”

“Go. Watch. TV.”

“…Oh.” Ifrit pouted, her shoulders slumping as a separate, gentler vine wrapped around her waist and physically escorted her up the stairs.

“Hahaha! St-stop! I can’t take it anymore! I-I can’t breathe… haha…”

Vane’s laughter began to crack into wheezes, his frantic struggling growing weaker by the second. The vines ceased their movement instantly, retreating into the floorboards. Gusi tilted his head, studying Vane’s unfocused, tear-blurred eyes with genuine curiosity.

“What on earth did you do in Iberia? Can’t even this make you talk?”

“Ha… ha… Third Brother…” Vane panted heavily, his chest heaving as a spark of unmatched, martyr-like determination ignited in his eyes. “There are some things in this world… that are far more important than life itself!”

Gusi watched him in silence for a long moment, then nodded in deep understanding.

“Then let’s continue.”

“Eh? Wait! This plot isn’t right, I request a redo—Hahahaha! Don’t! Hahahaha! Stop!”

“You really are stubborn.”

Gusi sighed, looking at Vane, who was now rolling his eyes back and actively drooling from the sensory overload. With a flick of his wrist, the vines finally released their prey.

“If you don’t want to say it, forget it.” Gusi lifted Vane’s limp form and tossed him onto a soft floor cushion. “You could have easily withstood this by activating your [Immortal Body] skill, but you insisted on toughing it out through sheer willpower… It’s not like I would have found out you used it.”

Vane’s battered body trembled. He gritted his teeth, retorting with an abnormal, fierce persistence, “H-how could I… use a combat skill against my own brothers…”

“That almost moved me.” Gusi picked up Vane’s boots and tossed them onto his chest. “If you aren’t willing to confess, keep it to yourself. Can you handle the recovery?”

Vane caught his breath. The terrifying, innate regenerative abilities of a Vampire began to manifest, knitting his strained muscles back together. He sat up in a single, explosive leap, his movements so sharp and agile that he seemed like an entirely different entity from the convulsing mess on the floor just moments prior.

“The humiliations of the past will be washed away in blood! My honor must be defended!” Vane declared, pointing a dramatic finger toward the ceiling. “Just wait, all of Iberia will soon welcome a brand-new, epoch-making era led by my hand!”

His speech carried the momentum of a conquering emperor—provided one ignored his bloodshot eyes and the lingering beads of cold sweat clinging to his forehead.

Gusi stared at him.

He remained silent for several long seconds before speaking with brutal honesty. “Now that you say that, I’m even more curious.”

Vane’s impassioned, theatrical expression instantly froze. Fresh cold sweat seemed to seep from his pores.

Gusi didn’t press the issue. He stood up smoothly, turning his back to walk toward an unfinished painting resting on an easel. “Never mind. Just remember not to overplay your hand out there. If the situation really spirals out of control, tell the Boss.”

Vane sat in silence, a bitter, hollow smile creeping onto his lips.

‘How am I supposed to solve this?’he thought desperately.’They’ve already seen my face. Can I still find some random scapegoat to take the blame…?’

…Beep. Beep. Beep…

“Teacher… are we going to die?”

Irene knelt powerlessly on the cold, unforgiving ground. After being dragged to this desolate location by a horde of absolute lunatics, the supposed mastermind had actually vanished into thin air.

The two Inquisitors had attempted to break through the blockade of bodies, but their martial prowess was entirely useless against this specific group of freaks. Worse, their resistance only seemed to have increased the monsters’ bizarre enthusiasm.

Hearing his beloved disciple’s trembling words, Dario offered comfort with a completely blank, deadpan expression.

“It is fine. They have not harmed us yet.”

“But they haven’t let us go either…”

“Are you scared?”

“Not at all.” Irene shook her head, her expression twisting into something deeply complicated. “Seeing you in that position, Teacher… I find it impossible to feel any fear.”

Dario’s jaw tightened. He shifted his weight, trying to subtly break free from the suffocating embrace of the burly Blood Kin wrapping its arms around his waist. However, the creature only hugged him tighter. Feeling a distinct, unyielding protrusion pressing against his lower back, the High Inquisitor wisely decided not to move another muscle.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Dario shifted his gaze to the other three figures trapped alongside them. Two individuals in heavy black robes lay completely unconscious on the dirt, but there was still one more awake.

“Aegir youth, do you know what these things are?”

“Ah, ah—” The young man, whom Irene had managed to untie earlier, frantically shook his head and pointed a trembling finger at his own throat.

“You can’t speak…” Irene’s gaze softened with sympathy, while Dario felt an even heavier weight settle over his chest.

Just as the High Inquisitor was attempting to formulate a new plan to extract clues from the mute Aegir, the air pressure suddenly dropped.

A brilliant flash of light streaked across the clearing. The surrounding Blood Kin instantly grew restless, their heads snapping toward the center of the illumination. Without a second of hesitation, the horde converged on the light.

“Quiet.”

Vane’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. The writhing mass of Blood Kin froze as if struck by absolute zero.

Dario narrowed his eyes. Victorian language. It was a clue, but hardly enough to confirm the target’s true identity or allegiance.

“It’s you!” Irene realized instantly. She scrambled to her feet, pointing her longsword directly at Vane’s chest, her face flushing a furious crimson. “You per… pervert! What exactly do you think you are doing!?”

Vane, who didn’t understand a single word of the Iberian dialect Irene was screaming, maintained his facade of icy calm. Taking advantage of the split second the master and disciple shifted their attention to him, he fired an emergency override command through the Blood Kin mental network.

[All units! Change your faces immediately! Do NOT use my face!]

[And—regardless of whether you have the biological capacity to do it or not… immediately mimic clothing!]

The horde of Blood Kin paused.

Then, under the utterly astonished, horrified gazes of Dario and Irene, the flesh of the monsters closest to them began to writhe. The sound of shifting meat and snapping cartilage filled the air.

Dario’s breath hitched in his throat. As he watched, the facial structures of two towering Blood Kin melted and reformed, rapidly taking on the exact, hardened contours of his own face.

In that horrifying instant, the High Inquisitor’s mind bypassed his own safety entirely. His thoughts raced to the geopolitical implications. If this group of abominations could perfectly replicate human faces, then if they were released into the general populace…

“What on earth are you doing!!!”

Irene’s piercing scream shattered Dario’s grim train of thought. Following his disciple’s trembling gaze, Dario fell into a stunned, absolute silence.

Several of the monsters, possessing incredibly strong, heavily muscled male physiques, were now sporting his disciple’s delicate, petite face.

Dario felt as though his sanity had just taken a quantifiable, catastrophic blow of ten thousand points.

Fortunately, after finalizing their facial mimicry, the Blood Kin forced their shifting flesh to simulate the heavy fabrics of Dario and Irene’s Inquisitor uniforms. The little Aegir bird, who had been on the verge of fainting from the sheer visual trauma, barely managed to keep his eyes open.

Regaining his composure, Dario stared at the impossible scene before him. A terrifying name from the deepest, darkest intelligence files of Terra suddenly leaped to the forefront of his mind.

The ability to change physical form at will. Absolute, hive-mind control over derivatives. This overwhelming level of raw strength…

Dario’s voice dropped to a grave, dangerous register as he spoke in fluent Victorian. “Shapeshifter… what is your true objective in infiltrating Iberia?”

He had directly misjudged Vane as a high-ranking member of the Sarkaz Royal Court—the terrifying faction most adept at espionage, infiltration, and flesh-crafting: The Shapeshifters. All the characteristics displayed before him aligned far too perfectly with the classified intelligence reports.

And Vane, who was currently the target of this massive misunderstanding…

‘It worked!’

Vane was screaming with ecstatic joy inside his own mind. He wanted to do a celebratory backflip right there in the dirt.

The blame was shifted! The perfect scapegoat had been found!

Forcing down the corners of his mouth to prevent a massive grin from breaking his stoic facade, Vane slowly turned around, his cape billowing dramatically.

‘Very good. Next, I just need to confirm this fake identity and lock the blame onto the Sarkaz!’

“So you recognized me. Not bad insight…” Vane drawled, his voice dripping with ancient arrogance.

Dario’s heart tightened painfully in his chest. The monster had admitted it. Were they about to be silenced to protect the Royal Court’s secrets?

He immediately shot a desperate signal to Irene with his eyes, his muscles coiling like steel springs. Even if he had to burn his own life force to ash, he would carve open a path for his disciple to escape and report this catastrophic infiltration to the homeland!

However, his heroic determination had barely materialized before it was completely derailed by his disciple’s devastating interrogation.

“Regardless of who you are!”

Irene hadn’t caught her teacher’s subtle tactical hint at all. Her face was burning red as she leveled her blade at Vane, issuing a soul-searching demand in broken Victorian: “—How could you let them run around completely naked in the wilderness?!”

Her voice was exceptionally loud, fueled by a potent mix of righteous indignation and sheer embarrassment. The sheer absurdity of the question stunned Vane.

It also stunned Dario.

Dario slowly turned his head. A look of deep bewilderment fractured his stoic features as he stared at his beloved disciple.

‘Child, what we are discussing right now is a catastrophic national security crisis concerning the very survival of Iberia! We are not conducting a city appearance inspection!’

Vane’s toes were frantically curling inside his boots, gripping the soles in sheer awkwardness. He summoned every ounce of his life’s acting experience to keep his voice from cracking. “…This is a necessary component of the grand plan.”

“What kind of grand plan requires an entire army to not wear clothes!?” Irene fired back relentlessly.

The veins on Vane’s forehead began to throb visibly. “You… shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about the actual objective of the plan itself?!”

“Does your objective require being executed by a mob of naked men!?”

Irene had perfectly inherited the core trait of the Iberian Inquisition: ruthlessly getting to the absolute bottom of things. She was still pursuing the logic! The Inquisitor was not letting it go!

“Unless your entire plan is inherently indecent!”

“[Blood Demon swear word!]”

Vane finally snapped, his cool facade shattering as he growled in total exasperation. “Can you please change the topic?! We are currently in the middle of discussing a very serious, high-stakes national defense infiltration issue!”

Irene’s expression only grew more severe, her grip on her sword tightening. “As an Inquisitor, maintaining the harmony, stability, and moral order of Iberia is my sacred duty!”

“And you—” She pointed her blade squarely at his nose. “—directing a group of people to run naked in broad daylight, behaving in a degenerate manner, harboring suspicious motives, and dodging direct questions…”

She looked Vane up and down, delivering her final, absolute judgment word by word: “—You are nothing but a pervert!”

Vane’s face flushed a deep, volcanic red.

Off to the side, Dario silently lowered his weapon. The High Inquisitor stared blankly at the dirt, beginning to deeply doubt his own deductive reasoning, his career choices, and the nature of reality itself.

Seeing Dario lower his guard, Vane’s internal panic spiked to critical levels.

“Believe me! I really am here on a highly dangerous, classified mission to infiltrate Iberia!” Vane pleaded, his hands raised defensively. “I swear to you, I am not a pervert!!!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Vane finally stopped struggling. He took two slow steps backward, a hollow, broken smile forming on his lips as he looked up at the Terra sky.

“Is it too late to find Kristen Wright and just fly away from this planet…”