Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Failed Mission

For the Reunion Movement, the revelation that a massive swath of Ursus soldiers had suddenly become Infected was nothing short of a miracle wrapped in tragedy.

The sheer influx of newly Infected military personnel would inevitably force the notoriously ruthless Ursus empire to soften its draconian stance.

Even the highborn nobles, who historically treated the Infected as disposable fuel for their war machine, had to consider whether their continued oppression might spark a devastating rebellion now that such a massive group of Infected soldiers operated under their direct command.

This was not a matter of a few sickly civilians; these were tens of thousands of physically imposing, battle-hardened veterans with extensive combat experience.

Buldrokkas’tee was the first to grasp the full tactical scope of this situation.

Though the towering Wendigo had not personally witnessed the devastation at the exploded supply depot.

Based on his decades of service within the Ursus military, he knew the munitions stored in those fortified warehouses were exclusively high-yield Originium Bombs and Enhanced Originium Bombs.

Judging by the sheer scale of the explosion, the resulting shockwave must have been apocalyptic.

Thus, the catastrophic spread of highly volatile originium dust across the region was easy to imagine.

Even within the elite ranks of the Ursus military, standard-issue protective gear was notoriously inadequate, meaning the sudden spike in Oripathy cases would guarantee the high command of the Fourth Army Group a collective migraine.

And indeed, that was exactly how the reality unfolded.

When the official casualty reports finally landed on their mahogany desks, the aristocratic commanders nearly collapsed on the spot.

The dead and missing were already numbering in the thousands.

Then came the contamination figures from the aftermath. According to preliminary inspections, roughly fifty thousand personnel had been stationed within a ten-kilometer radius of the blast zone.

These were the loyal soldiers who had heard the emergency sirens and rushed toward the epicenter to defend their post.

Now, two-thirds of those men and women were showing active signs of Oripathy, and the remaining third were testing positive at a terrifying rate.

Medical experts grimly concluded that it was highly unlikely anyone exposed to that dense cloud of originium dust had managed to evacuate safely.

In other words, high command had to prepare for the paralyzing possibility that all fifty thousand elite soldiers would become Infected.

So, how were they supposed to deal with these contaminated troops?

Execute them by firing squad as dictated by traditional Ursus law, or quietly ship them off to some remote sanatorium, only to inevitably banish them to the brutal Originium mines to rot?

When dealing with small, isolated groups, such ruthless methods worked perfectly.

But this was a unified force of over fifty thousand armed veterans.

If the leadership dared to issue an execution order, the entire military infrastructure would fracture and collapse before the young Emperor even had a chance to intervene.

After all, who could guarantee that these condemned soldiers did not have brothers, sisters, and comrades still serving on other mobile landships?

, fifty thousand trained killers, even without the heavy fire support of high-speed warships, remained an apocalyptic threat.

This was especially dangerous when the Emperor was already fighting tooth and nail to promote reformist policies aimed at easing tensions with the Infected populace.

Pushing these soldiers to the brink would be the equivalent of handing them straight over to the Emperor’s political camp.

The reformist faction would likely jump for joy at the sudden influx of military backing.

Flandre Scarlet, of course, remained blissfully unaware of the geopolitical earthquake her little game had triggered across the Ursus Empire.

Having just finished recounting the details of her mission to the leadership, the petite vampire skipped back to her personal quarters.

“Sister Alina!”

Flandre blinked in surprise, not expecting the gentle Elafia to be waiting inside her room.

The moment Alina saw the girl, she rushed forward, gripping Flandre’s small shoulders with soft hands as her eyes widened with frantic concern.

“Why are you back so late?”

“Uh, the snowstorm was too heavy. Flandre couldn’t find her way back…”

The excuse was not a complete lie, as the blinding whiteout conditions had genuinely disoriented her for a good while as she searched for the Reunion camp’s hidden coordinates.

“It is good that you are back. It is so good that you are back.”

Though Alina did not know the gruesome specifics of the operation, the heavy, conflicted look in Talulah’s eyes earlier had been impossible to miss.

Flandre had clearly been sent into the jaws of extreme danger.

Powerless to stop the machinations of the movement’s leaders, she could only suppress her agonizing worry and pace the room, waiting for the girl to return.

Only now, feeling the small, cold frame of the girl in her arms, did her anxiety finally melt away.

“Do not worry about Flandre. Flandre is strong!”

The vampire giggled, happily leaning into the Elafia’s gentle, comforting strokes.

The adrenaline of the day finally faded, and she went limp, falling into a deep, peaceful sleep right there in Alina’s embrace.

Alina, still caught in a moment of quiet self-pity, suddenly felt a strange, warm dampness spreading across her sleeve.

Looking down, she found that the little terror was dead to the world, her mouth slightly open and drooling shamelessly onto the fabric.

With a helpless, affectionate smile, Alina lifted the sleeping girl, tucked her beneath the thick woolen blankets of the bed, and quietly slipped out of the room.

“Goodnight, Flandre.”

In the hazy world of dreams, Flandre found herself back in the sprawling halls of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, seeing her older sister once again. This time, the suffocating distance between them felt a little smaller, and standing faithfully by her sister’s side was Sakuya Izayoi, the elegant head maid who always seemed to know exactly when Flandre wanted a sweet pastry.

She waved at them, spinning and dancing joyfully under the crimson moonlight.

When her ruby eyes fluttered open again, pale morning light was already filtering through the frosted windowpane.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Flandre hopped out of bed as usual and trotted outside.

A sizable crowd had already gathered in the clearing, their breaths pluming in the freezing air as they waited for Flandre to lead the morning exercises.

This bizarre routine had become one of the few genuine moments of collective joy and recreation available at the dreary base.

Flandre beamed, waving enthusiastically before taking her place at the very front of the formation.

Seeing their tiny instructor in position, the hardened fighters of Reunion quickly snapped to attention.

Led by the vampire, the troops shouted in unison over the howling wind.

“One, two, three, four; two, two, three, four… Change positions, do it again!”

A short distance away, Talulah and Buldrokkas’tee stood watching the spectacle.

“Patriot, do you still think my decision to keep Flandre was a mistake?”

Hearing the Draco’s slightly smug question, the towering Wendigo remained stoically silent, his glowing red eyes fixed on the exercising troops.

Though he would never admit that Reunion would crumble without the vampire, facts were facts; since Flandre’s arrival, her chaotic, seemingly random interventions had miraculously dismantled the movement’s greatest existential threats.

Her terrifying power had preserved countless lives within their ranks.

Because of the brutal winter isolating the tundra, the full extent of the Fourth Army Group’s annihilation had not yet reached the general populace, otherwise her name would already be spoken with reverent awe across every camp.

Terra Calendar, Year 1095, January.

Logically, January in the northern tundra should have been far more punishing than the bitter cold of November and December, which had initially left everyone paralyzed.

Yet, the human spirit was remarkably adaptable, and the biting frost no longer felt like an unbearable death sentence.

Despite the relentless snowfall, more and more people ventured out of their tents during the day, braving the whiteouts simply to stretch their legs.

After two months of claustrophobic confinement, cabin fever was proving to be a far greater enemy than the chill.

High above the camp, Flandre was currently hovering in mid-air, clutching a straw broom and sweeping thick layers of accumulated snow off the rooftops under Alina’s strict supervision.

“Slow down, slow down! Do not fly so fast, you will bump into something!” Alina called out from the ground, her hands cupped around her mouth.

“Ouch!” Right on cue, the reckless vampire misjudged her trajectory and smacked her forehead squarely against a protruding wooden eave.

Teary-eyed and pouting, she floated down to the ground and buried her face into Alina’s coat, whining for comfort.

Alina sighed, shaking her head as she gently rubbed the girl’s forehead, blowing softly on the bruised skin.

“Let me blow the pain away. There, there. Flandre, do not cry.”

A few seconds later, she stepped back, adopting the stern but gentle tone of a mother scolding a toddler.

“From now on, Flandre must look where she is flying. Understand?”

Flandre rubbed her eyes, nodding with fierce determination before gripping her broom, launching herself back into the air, and resuming her sweeping with exaggerated caution.

Once the chores were finished, the two retreated into the warmth of the cabin, where Alina immediately busied herself pouring a steaming cup of hot water.

“Drink this to chase the chill away. You were up there in the wind for so long, you must be exhausted.”

Flandre accepted the mug, even though she had tried on multiple occasions to explain that her undead physiology made her completely immune to the cold; the freezing temperatures that threatened to kill ordinary humans felt like nothing more than a cool breeze to her.

But Alina refused to listen, insisting on treating her like a fragile human child and preparing hot water every single time she returned from the snow.

Eventually, Flandre simply gave up trying to correct her; if Alina wanted to give her hot water, she would happily drink it.

As Flandre sipped the water, Alina pulled a worn, leather-bound storybook from her bag and settled into a chair to read aloud.

The cozy atmosphere was just settling in when the heavy wooden door creaked open, and Talulah stepped inside with a deeply apologetic look on her face.

“Sorry, Alina. We might need to borrow Flandre for a bit.”

“But you promised…” Alina’s grip on the storybook tightened, her eyes instantly flashing with defensive anger.

After the last disastrously dangerous mission, Alina had forced Talulah into a strict agreement: unless the camp was facing absolute annihilation, Flandre was not to be used as a weapon.

“Flandre is not a soldier of Reunion, she is a guest. How can you repeatedly throw a child into the line of fire? Can you really live with your conscience, Talulah?” Alina had snapped at the time, leaving the Draco utterly speechless.

“I am sorry. Truly,” Talulah murmured, gesturing for Flandre to follow her out into the cold.

As soon as the heavy door clicked shut behind them, Talulah’s sharp ears caught a distinct, hollow rumbling sound.

“How long has it been since you last fed?” Talulah asked, her brow furrowing with genuine concern.

“Since Flandre came back last time!” the vampire chirped, patting her flat belly, as Alina had practically glued herself to Flandre’s side ever since her return from the explosive depot.

Talulah, still stinging from Alina’s fierce scolding, had been too guilty to approach the girl, leaving Flandre without a single drop of blood for weeks.

And she certainly was not going to tell Alina about her gruesome dietary requirements.

Talulah dragged a hand down her face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It has been a month and a half. Alina does not understand your condition, so I suppose I will have to play the villain today.”

She guided Flandre through the biting wind toward the makeshift command center.

“The target is a small, abandoned Originium mine thirty kilometers from here.

Our scouts intercepted a distress signal indicating a group of Infected refugees is trapped inside, pursued by an Ursus Patrol squad. Given the timeline, the refugees have likely already been captured, but the sudden blizzard over the past two days has trapped the soldiers in the area, preventing their extraction.

Find the mine, eradicate the Ursus Patrol, and bring our Infected brothers and sisters back safely.”

Talulah pointed a clawed finger at a marked coordinate on the topographical map.

Flandre nodded, her crimson eyes locking onto the coordinates before she dissolved into a blur of motion, launching herself into the stormy sky.

For a being of her terrifying speed, thirty kilometers was a trivial ten-minute flight.

Locating the camouflaged mine shaft hidden beneath the snowdrifts, however, took a bit more effort.

When she finally touched down at the jagged entrance of the cavern, Flandre’s delicate brows knitted together, and she swallowed hard.

The metallic, intoxicating stench of fresh blood pouring from the darkness was overwhelming.

Stepping into the gloom, the horrific aftermath of a desperate, close-quarters struggle revealed itself.

The Infected refugees had clearly refused to be taken alive; armed with nothing but rocks, rusted mining tools, and their bare hands, they had thrown themselves at the fully armored Ursus Patrol in a suicidal frenzy.

The soldiers, expecting a routine roundup of terrified civilians, had been caught entirely off guard by the sheer savagery of the cornered Infected, turning the skirmish into a blood-soaked meat grinder.

By the time the last Infected refugee was put down, nearly half of the heavily armed Ursus Patrol lay dead on the cavern floor, their throats torn out or their armor caved in by desperate strikes.

The surviving soldiers were currently slumped against the rocky walls, panting heavily, cursing the biting cold, and bitterly complaining about this cursed assignment.

Then, the soft crunch of boots on gravel echoed through the cave, and a tiny girl dressed in a pristine red dress strolled out of the shadows.

For a split second, the soldiers felt a surge of cruel relief at the prospect of capturing a stray child to salvage the mission, but as the cavern’s dim light caught the crystal wings hovering behind her back, their blood turned to ice.

A Blood Fiend.

The classified military reports regarding the total annihilation of the Fourth Army Group’s supply lines by a monstrous Blood Fiend had circulated through the ranks like a plague.

They had assumed the monster had moved on, leaving Ursus territory entirely, making her presence in this isolated cave a waking nightmare.

Despair twisted their faces into masks of absolute terror.

Trembling violently, the soldiers scrambled to their feet, raising their heavy crossbows and halberds toward the floating girl.

“What a pity, they are all dead. Then… you can use your lives to keep them company in death!”

Flandre tilted her head, her ruby eyes sweeping over the mangled corpses of the Infected with genuine regret.

She listened closely to the rhythmic thumping echoing in the cavern, finding no other heartbeats aside from the frantic, racing pulses of the armored men standing before her.

She had arrived too late.

She slowly raised her gaze to the surviving Ursus Patrol, the childish warmth vanishing from her eyes, replaced by a bottomless, predatory void.

“Kill her!” Realizing the monster had come for the Infected they had just slaughtered, they knew there would be no negotiation; with a desperate, roaring war cry to boost their shattered morale, they charged forward, firing blindly into the gloom.

Flandre did not even blink; her small figure blurred, shimmering like a mirage before violently fracturing into four identical copies.

The four Flandres smiled, baring their razor-sharp fangs, and launched themselves into the screaming ranks of the Ursus Patrol.

A few minutes later, the cavern fell deathly silent as several freshly drained, mummified corpses were unceremoniously dropped onto the blood-stained rocks.

Refusing to accept failure, Flandre carefully combed through the cavern, turning over the bodies of the fallen Infected in the desperate hope of finding a single faint heartbeat to bring back to Talulah.

But there were no survivors; the refugees had fought to their very last breath.

Shoulders slumped in disappointment, Flandre finally abandoned the mine and took to the sky.

Even though her gnawing hunger was fully satiated, failing to complete the task left a bitter taste in her mouth; returning to the camp, she marched straight into the command center, her cheeks puffed out in a deep pout as she reported the grim outcome.

“Flandre is sorry, Sister Talulah. When Flandre got there, there were no survivors. Only the bad guys.”

Talulah closed her eyes, letting out a slow, heavy sigh at the tragically common outcome she had seen play out countless times in the harsh tundra.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the sullen little vampire.

“It is not your fault, Flandre. It is just a tragedy for those Infected brothers and sisters. They fought tooth and nail against a superior enemy. If that kind of bravery could have joined our ranks, they would have been a formidable force.”

Talulah gently patted the girl’s head, smoothing out her blonde hair.

“So… are you full?”

“Flandre is full! Flandre drank all the blood of those bad guys!” The vampire’s eyes finally lit up, a bright smile breaking through her gloom.

“Good. Then go back and play with Sister Alina,” Talulah said softly. “And remember, not a word about today’s events to her.”

Talulah gave the girl an affectionate pat on the back, and Flandre nodded eagerly, skipping out of the room with her crystal wings chiming softly.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut, the warm smile vanished from Talulah’s face, replaced by a weary sorrow. “Sigh… what a damn shame.”

“Indeed. To fight against a fully armed Ursus Patrol and take half of them down to the grave shows that group of Infected was incredibly capable. It is a bitter pity they could not hold out just a little longer for support.”

“But… we are used to this kind of tragedy by now, are we not?”

Frostnova stepped into the dim light of the lantern from the shadows of the room; the Cautus had overheard the entire exchange from outside the door, but knowing her icy presence would not have helped Flandre’s foul mood, she had chosen to remain hidden until now.