Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Tech Workers Have Filthy HeartsYou're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

In reality, both elite Operators harbored a wealth of substantial, blood-soaked information. Though they appeared delicate—hardly the picture of frontline juggernauts—one only had to imagine them donning heavy tactical gear, hefting massive riot shields, and holding the line without a single tremor to understand their true nature. The combat prowess these two beautiful girls possessed was easily on par with the most capable veterans of Penguin Logistics.

As Operators of Blacksteel International, they were bound by strict protocols of confidentiality, yet there remained plenty of unclassified horrors they could speak of freely. Although this duo had only been formally engaged in active combat for just over two years, they had flawlessly executed a string of high-intensity operations, cementing their status as hardened veterans from any perspective. They might not have possessed the sheer, overwhelming devastation of Blacksteel’s absolute strongest—the legendary squads that had fought through the meat grinder of the Columbia Civil War—but their lethal competence was beyond doubt.

Being elite meant they were exceptionally well-informed. They had witnessed extraordinary atrocities and held secrets that ordinary civilians couldn’t even begin to fathom. Even with the classified data redacted, the casual details they shared were astonishing enough to chill the room. Beneath the calm, gentle cadence of Liskarm’s voice—the girl with two long, blue horns curving from her head—Lynn’s terrifyingly sharp intuition easily picked up the distinct, metallic stench of blood and gunpowder emanating from their stories. In this chaotic world, private security contractors undoubtedly witnessed the darkest underbelly of civilization. Just listening to their casual descriptions left Lynn drowning in a deep sense of regret.

What he had originally thought was a brilliantly novel, entirely fictional setting for his next book turned out to be something these mercenaries had already encountered physical evidence of. How was he supposed to write a novel now? This world was mutating and developing far too fast; even a visionary novelist’s imagination couldn’t keep pace with the sheer absurdity of reality. What should he do? Pivot to a completely different genre again? That meant drafting entirely new world-building documents from scratch.

“I really didn’t expect things like zombies to actually exist in this world…” Lynn muttered, rubbing his temples. “Immortality. Now that truly is a tempting idea.”

Having finally managed to peel a clingy Sora off her arm, Texas dragged a chair over and slumped down beside him. She let out a soft, weary sigh after absorbing the Blacksteel Operators’ descriptions.

“In my hometown, there are plenty of families who will slaughter each other in the streets over various territorial interests,” Texas said, her tone flat and stoic. “But even so, they never imagined pursuing something as insane as immortality. After all, such a concept sounds like pure fantasy. I didn’t expect Columbia to have already started researching this on such a massive scale…”

“Oh, and don’t forget the human experimentation,” Franka chimed in, her voice dripping with a frivolous, teasing lilt. “But that kind of thing is usually reported through back channels, so it doesn’t strictly fall under our standard confidentiality protocols. As for what is locked behind those confidentiality clauses… well, I’ll leave the gruesome details up to your imagination.”

“I knew it!” Lynn groaned. “These massive tech conglomerates must be doing incredibly shady things behind closed doors. I guess not everything rumored on the dark web is just a conspiracy theory.”

Lynn glanced at Franka’s amused, fox-like smile, then looked down at his open notebook. The pages were heavily defaced with thick red crosses, striking out hours of careful plotting. He felt a sharp headache throbbing behind his eyes.

Damn it all. Those arrogant fools online who claimed to be Columbia biological researchers had sworn up and down that such bio-weapons absolutely did not exist. Now, looking at the facts, wasn’t that complete and utter nonsense? Active Operators from Blacksteel International had just confirmed, to his face, that the Columbian sector was currently dealing with literal zombies and flesh-and-blood mechanical lifeforms. Yet here he was, eagerly thinking this setting was a stroke of creative genius, planning to use it as the core premise for his new thriller. Wouldn’t the people who had actually fought those monstrosities laugh their heads off reading his book? This novel was officially dead in the water.

He had asked those ‘researchers’ on the forums three months ago, and the company had apparently deployed zombies two months later. Did it not take time for a massive corporation to launch a black-ops project in a single month? Didn’t scientific research require at least a shred of dignity and rigorous testing?

Could world-ending research results just be conjured out of thin air the moment someone thought of them?

“This young man is absolutely right; a vast majority of biological technology is strictly confidential,” Franka continued, leaning forward with a dramatic sigh. “I almost contracted an incurable, flesh-rotting disease during one of our operations! These tech and bio companies definitely won’t advertise how much shady, illegal business they hide in their basement labs. For example, Confidentiality Clause Number One, Confidentiality Clause Number Two, Confidentiality Clause Number Five—those are all things that look absolutely terrifying on paper. Just thinking about them makes me feel like something terrible is going to happen.”

Didn’t you conveniently avoid going on any of those specific missions?

Liskarm shot a cool, sidelong glance at her companion, who was currently smiling with her eyes narrowed into playful crescents. Choosing not to interrupt her colleague’s shameless bragging, the blue-horned Operator turned her attention back to Lynn.

“If you want to write a non-fiction historical thriller, the zombies and flesh-and-blood mechanical puppets you mentioned certainly do exist in Columbia,” Liskarm advised, her tone measured and professional. “But if you are aiming to write a pure fantasy novel, these concepts are clearly not enough. They already exist in reality, right here among us.”and support the real translator.Read at elysianreads.com This is a stolen translation. You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

“Thank you,” Lynn sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If you hadn’t told me, I really would have been played for a fool by those people online. A whole group of them insisted that zombies were a myth and that no one in this world was actually pursuing immortality. I truly believed it was all fake. Alas, now I have to rewrite a massive amount of core settings, and I don’t even know if I can manage it… If the foundational world-building isn’t rock solid in a novel, writing the follow-up chapters becomes a nightmare. Regardless, thank you both very much for the intelligence. Truly.”

“You’re welcome. This is my business card.” Liskarm nodded solemnly. She reached into the hem of her tactical jacket, retrieved a crisp, professional card, and handed it to Lynn. “If you need any security consulting or extraction services in the future, you can contact us directly.”

“Here, take mine too, young man!” Franka, who had just been casually sipping her black tea, suddenly whipped a card out of her own pocket. She shoved it forward preemptively, deliberately blocking Liskarm’s hand in a blatant show of competition. “You can call me whether you have something important or not, okay? But I won’t answer if I’m in the middle of a firefight, so sorry in advance about that.”

Liskarm’s brow twitched. She raised a silent, warning eyebrow at her partner.

Sensing the sudden spike in atmospheric tension—and keenly aware that he would likely become collateral damage if the two heavily armed women escalated their competition—Lynn quickly snatched both business cards from the air. He carefully tucked them into a dedicated, safe page in his notebook. After offering a polite nod to the two Operators, who had already begun aggressively thumb-wrestling over the table, he hugged his notebook to his chest and retreated to squat in a quiet corner of the room, sinking into deep thought.

His creative ideas regarding biological research had hit a brick wall. He needed to approach his next setting from an entirely different angle.

Should he write a sprawling space opera? An industrial-age epic featuring Gothic capital ships, faster-than-light travel, and massive orbital cannons? He hadn’t tackled that specific flavor of hard sci-fi before.

Lynn pushed himself up, wandered back to his chair, and began struggling to draft new concepts. Beside him, Texas was staring blankly at the wall, thoughtfully digesting the terrifying implications of the Blacksteel Operators’ words and sinking into a rare state of confusion. Sora, the idol, had for some completely unknown reason begun enthusiastically sweeping and cleaning the office with a bright hum. Over on the far side of the room, Croissant and Exusiai were still sound asleep across a row of chairs, though they had shifted into slightly different positions, making their tangled limbs look even more painfully awkward.

Just as this fragile, peaceful moment settled over the office, with Lynn chewing on his pen and clutching his notebook, three sharp, authoritative raps echoed from the front entrance.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Who is it?”

Seeing that absolutely no one else in the room had any intention of getting up to answer, Lynn tucked his notebook under his arm and shuffled over. He slowly pulled the heavy door open, reciting the company’s standard rejection line from memory:

“Penguin Logistics’ working hours are Monday through Saturday, from eight AM to five PM. This is a private residential area, so we do not receive work-related matters after hours…”

“Hello. L.G.D.”

A black-haired young woman stood on the threshold, holding up a polished silver badge. Two long, dark horns rested gracefully against her hair. She offered a crisp, perfectly measured bow, her voice carrying an unshakable, ironclad conviction.

“I am Superintendent Ch’en. This is my officer’s ID. I received a formal report, and our preliminary investigations show that a recent explosion case is directly related to Penguin Logistics. This is an official case inquiry. Please assist with the investigation.”You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.