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ArabicArknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 16
Chapter 16: The Shadow of Ursus
Old Lin harbored a deep appreciation for Lucian. The sentiment was entirely mutual.
Had the elderly Zalak not extended a protective hand back then, Lucian and Exusiai—two Sankta drifting without roots—would have found it nearly impossible to carve out a place for themselves in Lungmen’s unforgiving landscape. Old Lin had even looked after another of their compatriots in the past. The sheer weight of these favors left Lucian in a rare position: Old Lin was one of the few people on Terra who could actually make the laid-back Sankta feel a genuine sense of obligation.
But whether it was a symptom of old age or just a father’s neurotic anxiety over his only daughter, Old Lin had spent an agonizing amount of time trying to push her into Lucian’s arms.
Both Lucian and Lin Yuxia had drawn a hard line in the sand, rejecting the idea multiple times. Old Lin simply waved away their protests, stubbornly convinced they were just playing coy. He wasn’t exactly pimping her out, but his aggressive matchmaking bordered on a threat.
Right now, the elderly mob boss had his whiskered face thrust across the tea table, practically invading Lucian’s personal space.
“What exactly is wrong with my Yuxia?!” Old Lin demanded. “She’s gorgeous, she’s cute, and she ought to have you young punks lining up around the block! Do you have any idea how many legs I’ve broken over the years just to keep those filthy street rats away from her? I raised her with my own two hands! And don’t let that slender, fashionable figure fool you—she’s built to bear children! Popping out five or six big, fat boys for you in one go would be a breeze!”
“That’s exactly the problem!” Lucian leaned back, pressing himself into his chair to escape the old man’s bloodshot glare.
It was precisely because of this overbearing attitude that Yuxia, during her rebellious teenage years, had packed her bags and insisted on living alone. Lucian remembered hearing they had recently gone to the cinema together. For a brief moment, he had wondered if their strained relationship was finally thawing.
Then he learned what they watched: a Siracusan gangster flick that ended with the mob boss losing his wife, alienating his children, and dying completely alone in a gutter.
What kind of message was Yuxia trying to send by dragging her mafia don father to that?
Regardless, Lucian needed to step off this landmine immediately. He waved a hand to clear the air. “Let’s shelve the topic of Miss Yuxia for now. I came here for actual business. A few extremist Infected organizations have slipped into Lungmen. Are you aware of this, Old Lin?”
“—Oh? Keep talking.”
The transformation was instantaneous. The doting, overbearing father vanished. Old Lin settled back into his chair, the temperature in his eyes dropping to absolute zero. This was the Shadow King of Lungmen, the undisputed monarch who ruled the chaotic underworld of the Slums.
Lucian exhaled a quiet breath of relief and continued. “You must have seen the news out of Chernobog recently. The Reunion Movement. I ran into some of their people today—well, yesterday, technically. They’re spreading propaganda among the local Infected, trying to stir the pot and make a name for themselves.”
Old Lin arched a brow. “Is that so? An Infected organization operating out of a place like Ursus, and they actually possess that kind of long-term vision?”
His skepticism was entirely justified. The Ursus Empire ruled its Infected with an iron, blood-soaked fist. History was littered with their crushed rebellions, and the past few decades had been anything but peaceful. To the rest of the world, it was an objective fact that Ursus Infected were treated worse than livestock. They were starved, broken, and lacked the basic organization or supplies to mount a real threat.
From a strategic standpoint, Reunion’s grand ideological claims meant nothing. Even if they somehow united every single Infected within the Ursus Empire, they would still be nothing more than an ant trying to trip a marching war machine. The only reason they had managed to cause a stir in Chernobog was simply because the Ursus military hadn’t bothered to look down and step on them yet.
Yet, this disproportionately weak group was already trying to extend its claws into other cities.
Old Lin stroked his beard, his sharp mind turning. “Lungmen and Chernobog are in close proximity right now. If they were bleeding manpower or desperately trying to flee Chernobog, our city would indeed be their first choice. So, Lucian, do you believe they harbor hostile intentions toward us?”
Lucian shook his head. “Not at all. They plan to keep their main operations rooted in Chernobog. They’re gearing up for something massive. They genuinely believe that if they pull this off, the entire world will be forced to watch, and Infected from all over Terra will flock to their banner. Even if it’s just big talk to keep their grunts motivated, they must have some concrete backing to risk it… Also, please don’t call me ‘Lu,’ call me Lucian.”
Old Lin completely ignored the protest. To a traditional man of his generation, a name like Lucian obviously meant ‘Lu’was the surname and’Cian’ was the given name. No matter how many times Lucian tried to correct him, the old Zalak’s stubborn habits remained set in stone, and there was truly nothing to be done about it.
Besides, now was not the time to argue over semantics.
Old Lin was completely immersed in his own thoughts, his expression grim. “Ursus, Ursus… For an insatiable war machine like that, a minor insurrection should have been ground into dust the moment it sparked. Why let it fester to this degree? Has their internal structure rotted that badly over the last ten years…? No, impossible. A mere decade isn’t enough to hollow out an empire.”
Lucian didn’t interrupt the old man’s calculations. He simply lifted his cup and took a quiet sip of tea. He had fulfilled his civic duty by delivering the warning. How the Shadow King chose to deal with Reunion afterward was his own business; Lucian had no intention of interfering.
also, Old Lin’s paranoia regarding Ursus was deeply ingrained. Lucian had only mentioned a ragtag Infected group, but the old man immediately escalated the threat to the entire empire. Having only left Laterano a few years prior, Lucian didn’t share the same visceral understanding of international politics. He knew Ursus was a brutal, expansionist state that had waged endless wars for decades. To him, it was just a historical fact. But to a veteran of Old Lin’s era, the looming shadow of Ursus was a very real, very physical threat.
A moment later, Old Lin snapped out of his reverie. He lifted his head and barked toward the door. “Someone! Fetch me a real-time map of the mobile cities! I need the exact coordinates of Lungmen and Chernobog, right now!”
Lucian blinked. “Oh, if you just need a map, I’ve got one right here. I can pull it up on my phone.”
He tapped the screen a few times, running a quick search, and slid the device across the table.
On Terra, natural disasters were a constant, lethal threat. The highly volatile energy of Originium birthed Catastrophes with apocalyptic destructive power, forces of nature that humanity currently could not fight. To survive, civilization built mobile cities. Catastrophe Messengers acted as specialized forecasters, reading the terrain and celestial signs to predict the formation of these storms, guiding the massive city-states out of harm’s way.
Because these movements dictated the survival of millions, real-time tracking apps were publicly available, updated constantly by the tireless Messengers.
Old Lin stared at the crisp, glowing display on Lucian’s phone. His eyes narrowed, a mix of awe and suspicion in his gaze. “The speed of technological development these days is truly terrifying… Hmm?”
Mid-sentence, the old man’s expression hardened. He suddenly reached out, his grip tightening around Lucian’s wrist. His whiskered face hovered inches from the glass screen, his sharp claw tapping against a specific icon.
“Lucian. Can you check the logs and tell me exactly when Chernobog stopped moving?”
“Let me see.” Lucian scrolled through the data history. “Looks like it hasn’t moved an inch for a week. Maybe they dropped anchor to resupply?”
Old Lin slowly shook his head. “No. There are no resource nodes in that sector. It’s a barren wasteland.”
Lucian tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”
He lacked the grim instincts of a man who had survived true warfare; he couldn’t smell the gunpowder lingering in the air. But to Old Lin, the pieces were aligning into a terrifying picture. A major Ursus city halting in a dead zone. Its shrinking distance to Lungmen. The sudden, unnatural boldness of a clownish group like Reunion. These seemingly isolated anomalies, when combined, were the ticking gears of a bomb about to detonate.
“Am I just an old man jumping at shadows,” Old Lin murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “or is the ghost of that venomous snake still lingering in the dark…”
He narrowed his eyes at the glowing map, sinking into a long, heavy silence.
[Rhodes’s Note: The naming joke stems from Chinese naming conventions. Old Lin assumes “Lucian” is a full Chinese name, splitting it into the surname “Lu” and the given name “Cian” (Xian), which is why Lucian has to awkwardly ask him to stop calling him “Lu”.]