Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 107

Chapter 107: The Catastrophe Approaches

“The Prophet is back? I just finished washing up; do you want to go take a shower?”

“Let Lappland go first… I can’t take much more of this…”

“Hey, hey, what happened now?”

“It’s a long story…”

Slumped on the living room sofa like a man whose soul had been thoroughly drained, Lynn stared blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t even bother to turn his head toward Croissant, who had just strolled out of the bathroom.

“If this keeps up, I’m going to be driven insane by her sooner or later,” Lynn said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “She tore apart the recipient’s lair again. This is the third time she’s wrecked a place today. I sat in the car and watched with my own eyes as she drew her sword and sliced off an entire floor. Just thinking about having to clean up the fallout gives me a massive headache.”

“Eh? From the looks of it, your relationship with her is actually quite good.”

“Where exactly did you see that? I really want to know…”

“It shows everywhere, doesn’t it?”

“I’m just exhausted.”

Behind him, the rustling sound of a towel aggressively rubbing wet hair came to a sudden halt. Croissant leaned over the back of the sofa, her face dropping into Lynn’s upside-down field of vision. Her bare shoulders glistened with residual moisture, and a wide, business-savvy grin stretched across her face.

“Then how about I treat you to barbecue again?” she offered brightly. “That same shop from last time. I heard their newly imported meat is excellent. Plus, they’re having a massive sale right now. Want to go eat together on our day off?”

“Barbecue? That sounds okay…”

Looking up at Croissant’s damp, fluffy hair framing her face, Lynn actually gave the offer some serious thought. A hot meal sounded like exactly what he needed to recover from the day’s chaos.

But before he could sit up and entertain the daydream of sizzling meat, the door behind him clicked open. Exusiai, who had been listening to music in her room, stepped out into the hall. She froze the moment she saw Croissant leaning over the sofa.

Tilting her head, Exusiai asked with genuine curiosity, “Croissant, aren’t you cold? Standing there chatting like that? Aren’t you going to change?”

“Ah, right. Now that you mention it, Exusiai, it is a bit chilly.”

“Take care…”

‘Huh? Did I miss something just now?’

Lynn shifted his gaze. Reflected in the floor-length mirror across the room, he caught sight of Croissant’s smooth, entirely bare back as she hummed a tune and walked toward the dormitory. The towel he thought she was wearing was merely draped casually over one shoulder. His mind, previously entirely occupied by the stress of Lappland’s violent rampages, suddenly stalled. He had definitely missed something significant.

Before he could dwell on his missed opportunity, the sharp chirp of the car locking echoed from outside. Lappland rounded the corner and stepped into the safehouse, her face lit up with a terrifyingly bright smile. Lynn’s heart skipped a heavy beat. The lingering thoughts of Croissant vanished instantly, replaced by a spike of pure wariness. He watched the Lupo stroll inside, her hands clasped behind her back and her tail wagging in a steady, rhythmic sweep. His mind raced, bracing for whatever fresh disaster she was about to unleash.

“Yo~ Is Texas here~” Lappland called out, her voice dripping with that signature, saccharine edge.

The bedroom door opened. Texas walked out, rolling her eyes at Lynn’s paralyzed form on the sofa. She didn’t offer Lappland a greeting, merely giving her a look of flat disdain before pointing a slender finger directly toward the bathroom.

Lappland didn’t utter a single complaint. She offered a sweeping, grinning bow, practically skipped to the back of the dorm to grab her clothes, and hurried into the bathroom in incredibly high spirits. It was a complete mystery what had put her in such a euphoric mood all day, but she was thrilled, and Lynn certainly wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it.

Texas, however, hadn’t come out just to direct traffic. She pulled a thick stack of folded documents from her jacket pocket and tossed them onto the coffee table with a heavy thud.

Lynn rubbed his face, forcing himself to sit up, and tiredly picked up the top file. It was a chaotic assortment of newspaper clippings and printed online reports. One particular headline, printed in massive, bold font, immediately caught his eye and made him raise an eyebrow.

“A Catastrophe is imminent in Chernobog. All urban districts are about to relocate, while the outer areas will migrate toward the interior of Ursus?”

“Yeah,” Texas said, taking a seat on the adjacent sofa. She pulled a Pocky stick from its box, snapped it between her teeth, and gestured to the papers. “Over a dozen Catastrophe Messengers confirmed it together. Relocation preparations should start around tomorrow or the day after.”

She flipped open a secondary folder. “But that’s not what we need to focus on. There are still several trading cities around Lungmen, and construction teams are gathering supplies. Thanks to the heavy machinery from Eden Corporation, the speed of relocation and integration is much faster than anyone expected. But there’s one glaring problem: the Infected.”

“The Infected?”

“Those with Oripathy. They’ve formed several underground organizations and are actively protesting in the streets of Chernobog. Rumors are circulating that the city government plans to abandon the Infected entirely and leave them behind to face the Catastrophe. So, these people have joined forces with sympathizers, elderly citizens who refuse to leave their homes, and relatives of the Infected to stage massive protests. It’s highly likely they’ll be violently suppressed by the Chernobog military. But there’s one specific organization we need to pay close attention to.”

“…Reunion Movement?”

Looking at the stark, jagged symbol printed on one of the newspaper clippings, Lynn traced the lines with his eyes.

“What exactly do these people do?”

“A self-help organization formed exclusively by the Infected,” Texas explained, her tone measured and calm. “I heard their leader is quite capable and had even reached a certain accord with that Iron Fist leader, but the situation looks incredibly delicate now. Panic is spreading like wildfire in Chernobog because of the abandonment rumors. Because of that, the Reunion Movement has naturally become the lead of the resistance.”

“Oh… then they’re finished.”

Staring at the Reunion Movement’s emblem, Lynn shook his head with a heavy sense of regret.

An organization that rallies behind a unified, symbolic icon is infinitely more magnetic than a scattered mob., a faction armed with its own cultural identity and slogans poses a geometrically increasing threat to ruling authorities during a crisis. It was a fundamental rule of power—no authoritarian government could ever tolerate such a thing.

In times of peace, a government might turn a blind eye to dissenting opinions for the sake of economic development. But with a Catastrophe looming and the extreme, iron-fisted nature of the Ursus Empire, they would undoubtedly resort to inhumane methods to force compliance. The Reunion Movement was painting a massive target on its own back. Crushing them wouldn’t just silence the Infected; it would serve as a bloody warning to silence any internal dissent within the Ursus ranks as well.

‘But there’s one variable here…’Lynn thought, his eyes narrowing.’Can the Ursus military actually crush the Reunion Movement that easily? If I remember correctly, Oripathy actively triggers and strengthens Originium Arts. Chernobog couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to corner a desperate army of walking explosives, right…?’

“But none of that political mess is our concern,” Texas interrupted, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against a separate, sealed dossier. “What we need to focus on is this. It’s a direct request from Rhodes Island, the mobile pharmaceutical company. They want Penguin Logistics to retrieve this specific item from Chernobog during the relocation chaos.”

“What exactly is this thing?”

Looking down at the grainy photograph in the dossier Texas was pointing at—an image of a massive, ominous Black Coffin—Lynn tilted his head, a deep sense of foreboding settling into his bones.