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ArabicArknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Protecting Alina
As far as the Sarkaz were concerned, their fractured race generally fell into three distinct factions.
The victorious Theresis faction was by far the most populous. The blood feud between the Sarkaz and the various nations of Terra had stretched on for thousands of bitter years. Coupled with the presence of ancient monsters who had lived for centuries—or even millennia—stoking the fires of vengeance, and backed by the Sanguinarch’s Court and the Military Commission, they were clearly preparing to ignite something massive.
Then there was the defeated faction loyal to Theresa. Even though Theresa had fallen in battle, very few of her subordinates chose to bend the knee to Theresis; the vast majority scattered into the winds. Yet, from listening to Flandre’s casual remarks, Buldrokkas’tee could tell that this remnant group was like a severed centipede—dead, but still twitching. Their influence lingered in the shadows. Even with Theresa gone, her spirit continued to burn quietly among her surviving loyalists.
Finally, there were the completely neutral escapists. These were the Sarkaz who refused to participate in the bloody civil war, choosing instead to abandon Kazdel entirely. They were not cowards or deserters, but simply individuals who could not bear to point their blades at their own kin.
But regardless of which banner a Sarkaz stood beneath, they all held absolute, unwavering respect for the legendary figures known as the Six Heroes. If those heroes hadn’t turned the tide back then and salvaged their crumbling civilization, Kazdel would have been entirely erased from history.
This reverence was especially strong for Her Highness, Theresa. Amidst a suffocating sea of iron and blood, her gentleness and boundless tolerance had held up a fragile piece of the sky for the future of the Sarkaz. Even her most staunch political opponents would respectfully add the title ‘Her Highness’ when speaking her name. It wasn’t just because she was the Lord of Fiends, but because of the immeasurable sacrifices she had made for their people.
Yet, whenever Flandre mentioned her, the girl remained chillingly calm. She showed neither sorrow nor anger, speaking of the late Lord of Fiends as if she were nothing more than a passing stranger in a storybook.
To any Sarkaz, this level of detachment was utterly beyond understanding. If it weren’t for the overwhelming, obvious aura of a Blood Fiend clinging to the girl, and a combat style that perfectly mirrored their vicious, blood-draining arts… Buldrokkas’tee would have suspected she was actually a Changeling wearing a Blood Fiend’s stolen skin. Only those shapeshifting anomalies could be so entirely apathetic to the world around them.
Having received the latest missive, Talulah rushed back to the camp the very next day.
At this moment, a piece of paper lay flat on the crude wooden table before her. The handwriting scrawled across it was hideously ugly—Talulah’s own penmanship from when she was ten years old possessed more elegance. But the actual contents of the letter commanded her full attention.
After carefully deciphering the jagged words, she looked up at the towering Wendigo standing quietly beside her.
“Your Excellency Patriot, what are your thoughts on this matter?”
“Possible. Worth considering. Valuable.”
Buldrokkas’tee had clearly already analyzed the proposal, his deep, rattling voice answering without hesitation.
“Alright, then. While the harshest of the wind and snow haven’t locked us in yet, we will arrange for a team to head south. If we are fortunate, by the time the winter thaws, they can return with the necessary supplies.” Talulah possessed a fiercely decisive nature; the moment she deemed a plan viable, she pushed it forward with unyielding momentum.
She turned her gaze toward the small blonde girl lounging nearby. “Do you know the approximate location of this pharmaceutical company? This… Rhodes Island?”
“Flandre thinks they should still be in Rim Billiton!” Flandre tapped her chin, answering with a vague sense of uncertainty. In her fragmented memories, Rhodes Island had retreated to Rim Billiton following Theresa’s death. Where the landship traveled after that was a blur, but starting from Rim Billiton meant they would either have to head east toward Yan, or make a wide detour southwest through Siracusa to reach Leithanien and Victoria.
“Rim Billiton, huh? It’s a long trek, but not impossible to reach from here.” Talulah rubbed her temples, her mind already mapping the logistics. “I remember we have an Infected in our ranks who is fluent in the common tongue; he used to serve as a diplomat. We will arrange for two skilled fighters to escort him and track down this Rhodes Island. Patriot and I will each draft a formal letter. That should be enough to demonstrate our sincerity.”
With the decision made, the camp’s leadership moved into action.
They first summoned the Infected ex-diplomat and outlined the expedition. The man agreed instantly. In his eyes, this was practically a golden ticket. No matter how poorly managed a mobile landship organization might be, it couldn’t possibly be worse than freezing in the tundra with the Reunion Movement., Rhodes Island was a pharmaceutical company dedicated to researching Oripathy. If he could secure a long-term stationing there, wouldn’t he have access to a stable supply of suppressants? It was infinitely better than waiting in the snow for a meager ration of medicine that might never arrive.
“As for his escorts, I suggest we send two,” Yelena spoke up, her frosty breath misting in the air. “Our Yeti Squadron will provide Big Bear. His Oripathy has already advanced into the middle stages. Sending him to Rhodes Island for treatment will also serve as a perfect test to gauge their actual medical expertise. Talulah, you should recommend the second guard.”
Frostnova looked at the Draco leader. Her suggestion was a calculated layer of political protection; if the diplomatic mission went awry, the failure wouldn’t rest solely on Talulah’s shoulders.
Talulah nodded in understanding. “Speaking of candidates, I have a warrior named Reed. He is exceptionally capable in a fight, and the crystal formations from his Oripathy are in a highly sensitive location. He is perfectly suited for escort duty, and just like Big Bear, we can evaluate Rhodes Island’s true capabilities based on how they handle his condition.”
Having settled the roster, the two women glanced over to see Flandre Scarlet dozing off in a nearby chair, her head bobbing slightly.
“Oh, Flandre doesn’t mind as long as you guys figure it out,” the vampire muttered, wiping a stray drop of drool from the corner of her mouth. “Flandre was just giving a suggestion! She really didn’t expect you to drag her into all this planning.”
Despite her complaints, Flandre vaguely recognized the names they had just discussed. She didn’t have much of an impression of the Yeti member, but that ‘Reed’guy was definitely the infamous’Red Blade’ who had hacked his way through the Area 59 Ruins in her past memories. Her recollection was a bit fuzzy, but a man capable of surviving that meat grinder was far from simple.
The two chosen escorts were quickly summoned. Big Bear was initially reluctant to leave the tundra, but after being caught by the ear and sternly lectured by Frostnova, the towering Ursus obediently trudged off to pack his bags. Reed, the Red Blade, accepted the assignment with silent, professional indifference.
With the preparations finalized, the trio was ordered to gather their gear and set out at first light, heading south to hunt for the elusive landship.
Flandre Scarlet had already returned to her corner of the room, diligently continuing her study of the Ursus language.
“Can this Rhodes Island you mentioned really cure Oripathy?” Alina asked softly, bringing over a warm cup of water during Flandre’s study break.
“Flandre doesn’t know for sure,” the vampire replied, shaking her head so hard her blonde pigtails whipped through the air. “But Rhodes Island has a lot of very powerful doctors! Even if they can’t completely cure it, making the pain go away shouldn’t be a problem for them.”
Oripathy was an absolute, terminal death sentence for the people of Terra. Alina knew that hoping for a miraculous, complete cure was a fool’s dream. But if the agonizing suffering of the Infected could merely be alleviated, that alone would be a miracle worth praying for.
A few days later, the biting north wind howled, dragging thick, drifting snow into the hidden camp.
While the Infected children laughed and chased each other through the ankle-deep powder, the adults watched the sky with grim, furrowed brows. Winter had arrived several days earlier than the previous years, rendering their already meager stockpiles dangerously insufficient.
Talulah stormed into the command tent, her face tight with frustration.
Not long ago, a group of newly joined Infected had decided that the Reunion Movement couldn’t provide them with the salvation they sought. In the dead of night, they chose to steal a vital portion of the camp’s winter supplies and flee into the tundra. They were caught red-handed by Talulah’s patrol.
Patriot had coldly advocated for ‘cleaning up’ the traitors on the spot, citing the laws of survival. But Talulah’s heart wavered. She blamed herself, believing that the deserters only stole because she had failed as a leader to inspire hope and provide enough food. Against Patriot’s heavy objections, she ordered her guards to let the thieves leave with their lives.
The disagreement had sparked a heated, bitter argument between the Draco and the Wendigo. Now, pacing the floor of the tent, Talulah poured out her bleeding ideals and her sorrow over Patriot’s ruthless pragmatism to Alina.
Sitting by the hearth, Flandre openly curled her lip in disgust.
This subtle sneer did not escape Alina’s watchful eyes. “Little Flandre, do you have a different view on what happened?”
Flandre tilted her head, her ruby eyes locking onto Talulah. “Sister Talulah said those people brandished weapons at you, right? Flandre believes that once someone draws a weapon, they become an enemy. And enemies should all be killed!”
The sheer, casual cruelty in the child’s voice caused the temperature in the room to plummet.
Flandre stared directly at Talulah and switched her tongue, speaking in flawless, archaic Yanese.
“Flandre read a storybook from Yan once, and there is a saying in it that is very true: ‘Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together.’ Those thieves dared to raise their blades against the very people protecting them. That means they will not hesitate to raise those same blades against unarmed Infected and innocent people out there in the snow. You can tolerate their betrayal because of your own blinding kindness and faith… but you must have the resolve to pay the bloody price for everything you allow to live.”
Flandre had deliberately used the Yanese dialect, explicitly ensuring that Alina could not understand the dark warning.
But Talulah, the only other person in the room fluent in the eastern tongue, felt her entire body lock up. The naive idealism in her chest clashed violently against the cold, ancient truth spoken by the little monster sitting by the fire.
Sensing the sudden, suffocating tension radiating from Talulah, Alina looked between the two of them with deep concern. She didn’t know what Flandre had just said, but the impact it had on the Draco leader was obvious. Judging by Flandre’s earlier comment, the girl likely believed Talulah should have sided with Patriot and executed the deserters.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Alina murmured gently, reaching out to stroke Talulah’s silver hair, soothing the rigid tension from her shoulders. “Talulah, it is right for you to hold fast to your principles. If you didn’t have that kindness, why would any of us be willing to unite around you?”
Before Talulah could formulate a response, a scout rushed into the tent, urgently reporting that the front-line patrols needed her immediate support. Swallowing the heavy unease Flandre’s words had planted in her chest, Talulah adjusted her sword and led her subordinates back out into the freezing wind.
Once the tent flap fell shut, Alina gave Flandre a mild, reproachful look before glancing out the frosty window.
“It is still early in the day. I am planning to walk to the neighboring village to see if I can trade for some extra supplies. Flandre, would you like to come along?”
Flandre instantly hopped out of her chair, the grim philosopher vanishing, replaced once more by a bright, eager child. “Of course! If Sister Alina wants Flandre to go, Flandre will go!”
Alina smiled warmly and lightly flicked the girl’s forehead. “What a sweet thing to say. How could I ever refuse your company, little Flandre?”
Taking a woven basket filled with handmade trinkets from the corner, Alina led the way out of the cabin.
“Whew, the wind is biting today!” As soon as she stepped past the threshold, the swirling snow hit her face, causing the Elafia to shiver violently.
Beside her, Flandre was entirely bundled up in a thick, fluffy winter coat. The Blood Fiend didn’t actually feel the cold—her undead physiology rendered the tundra’s wrath entirely irrelevant. But Alina felt that Flandre must be freezing, and so, to appease the gentle woman’s maternal instincts, Flandre reluctantly allowed herself to be stuffed into the heavy robes Alina had specially sewn for her.
Near the camp’s perimeter, they bumped into Talulah’s squad preparing to head out. Hearing that Alina and Flandre were walking to the neighboring village to barter, Talulah frowned, reminding them that the sun set rapidly in the dead of winter and urging them not to linger. As for their physical safety, Talulah didn’t waste breath worrying. With Flandre Scarlet walking beside her, Alina was arguably the safest person on the entire continent.
The two groups parted ways at the fork in the road. Alina and Flandre trekked through the snow-dusted pine forest, arriving at their destination after a brisk half-day’s journey.
This small, isolated village existed in a delicate gray area. The residents were fully aware of the Infected camp hiding in the nearby mountains. In truth, most of the villagers either had secret ties to the Infected or had family members currently living within the Reunion Movement. Their quiet existence served as a vital cover and trading post for Talulah’s people.
Flandre had visited this hamlet once or twice before with Alina. Many of the locals recognized the strange, blonde child, so Flandre didn’t even bother concealing the bizarre, crystal-adorned wings sprouting from her back.
As they walked down the snowy main street, several familiar faces waved and called out warm greetings. Alina smiled, returning the pleasantries as she guided Flandre into a cozy, wood-heated general store.
“Ah, Alina! Have you brought little Flandre to trade again?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter greeted them with a beaming smile.
“Yes, I managed to weave a few more trinkets over the past week. Auntie, please see how much grain these can fetch!” Alina smiled, placing her woven basket on the wooden counter.
“Alina, your hands are truly blessed by the spirits. Out of all the goods sent down from the mountain, yours are always the most exquisite.” The shopkeeper lifted a woven charm, sighing in genuine admiration.
“Auntie, you flatter me too much.”
“Nonsense. Let’s see… is this sack of grain enough? Oh, and I’ll throw in two extra Plumabeast eggs for little Flandre. If it hadn’t been for this little one’s help last month, my husband would have been dragged away by the Ursus Patrol. He specifically wrote in his last letter that I must properly thank little Flandre if I saw her.”
The auntie bustled around the counter, carefully nesting two large, speckled Plumabeast eggs into Alina’s basket alongside the grain.
“Auntie, I couldn’t possibly accept this…” Alina tried to gently push the eggs back, but the older woman caught her hands, squeezing them warmly.
“Hush now, this is a thank-you gift for little Flandre, not for you. You’re just the packhorse helping her carry them up the mountain. Isn’t that right, little one?” The woman leaned over the counter, winking at the vampire.
Flandre blinked her ruby eyes. She had absolutely no need for mortal food, but she operated on a very specific, childlike logic regarding offerings.
Alina glanced down at Flandre. Seeing that the girl made no move to refuse, the Elafia could only sigh helplessly and secure the eggs in the basket.
Stepping back out into the freezing street, Alina looked down at her companion. “You don’t even eat normal food. What are you going to do with those?”
“A gift is a kindness,” Flandre stated solemnly, her breath puffing into the cold air. “Flandre must accept kindness. If she doesn’t, the Auntie will be very sad.”
Hearing this bizarrely earnest philosophy, Alina could only shake her head with a fond, speechless smile, affectionately rubbing the girl’s blonde hair. She glanced up at the darkening sky. “The trading is done. Let’s hurry back before the sun completely disappears.”
Flandre nodded, and the two began their slow, crunching trek back toward the mountain camp.
The journey was peaceful until they reached the dense, shadowy heart of the pine forest.
Without warning, the underbrush violently rustled. Several ragged figures wielding rusted short knives leapt out onto the snowy path, blocking their way. Their sunken, desperate eyes immediately locked onto the heavy basket in Alina’s hands.
“Give us the food in that basket—no, drop the whole damn basket and step back!” the lead bandit snarled, his breath reeking of desperation and cheap alcohol.
Alina instantly took two steps back, using her own body to completely block Flandre from the bandits’ line of sight.
“No. I traded for this through my own hard work. I will not give it to you,” Alina said, her voice trembling but resolute.
“Why are we wasting breath on this bitch? Let’s just grab it and run before the Guerrilla Squad catches us!” another bandit hissed. Seeing the plump grain sack and the rare Plumabeast eggs, his eyes turned bloodshot with raw greed.
He lunged forward, thrusting his rusted blade directly toward Alina’s shoulder to force her to drop the goods.
BANG.
A wet, deafening explosion shattered the quiet forest.
The bandit’s forward momentum abruptly halted. The hand gripping the knife simply ceased to exist. A sickening spray of crimson blood, pulverized meat, and shattered bone fragments painted the pristine white snow in a horrific arc.
The man stood frozen in absolute shock for a single, agonizing second before dropping to his knees, clutching his ruined, geysering stump, and unleashing a blood-curdling scream of pure agony.
The remaining bandits stumbled backward, their faces draining of color as they stared in sheer terror at their comrade’s mutilated state.
“Flandre, don’t!” Alina cried out, turning to grab the girl’s shoulder to stop the slaughter.
But as Alina reached out, the air around them warped.
In the next second, three identical Flandres materialized out of thin air, stepping out from behind the original. Four of a Kind. The four vampires stood in a perfect line, their glowing, crystalline wings flaring out as they stared expressionlessly at the trembling bandits.
“Sister Alina is a good person,” the four Flandres spoke in perfect, chilling unison, their voices echoing unnaturally through the trees. “Sister Alina needs protection. Those who attack Sister Alina are enemies.”
The four girls raised their hands, their ruby eyes glowing with god-like, apocalyptic malice in the dimming light.
“And enemies need to be killed!”