Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 17

Chapter 17: BloodkinYou'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.

After returning to the safehouse, Alina sat quietly by the hearth, her hands deftly weaving a coarse fabric. The moment she heard the familiar, light footsteps approaching the door, she deliberately turned her body away, feigning a cold shoulder.

“Big Sister Alina!” Flandre Scarlet chirped, pouncing forward to rub her cheek affectionately against the older girl’s back.

Hearing that sweet, innocent call, how could Alina possibly maintain her facade of anger? Her shoulders softened, and she turned around, wrapping Flandre in a warm, tight embrace.

“Welcome back.”

Meanwhile, far away beneath the overcast skies of Londinium, Victoria.

Theresis stood tall, his expression dark and unreadable as he stared down Duq’arael.

“The Ursus military has provided the most exhaustive evidence possible, short of actually capturing a photograph of her face,” the Regent of Kazdel stated, his voice a low rumble of suppressed authority. “And you are telling me, Duq’arael, that you know absolutely nothing about this?”

The Sanguinarch raised his hands in a rare display of exasperation, insisting he was being wrongly accused. He was indeed the Lord of the Sanguinarch’s Court, but that did not mean every single vampire scattered across Terra was a puppet tethered to his strings. If some rogue bloodsucker refused to follow the Court’s mandates and insisted on stirring up a geopolitical disaster, what was he supposed to do about it?

Besides, the Ursus intelligence report was utterly absurd.

According to their survivors, the attacker was a petite blonde vampire girl who looked no older than ten. She possessed bizarre bat wings adorned with crystalline, prismatic decorations. Her Originium Arts—or perhaps her weapon—manifested as a flaming greatsword capable of extending over ten meters, drawing immediate comparisons to the destructive anomalies of the Ifrit., she could somehow split her physical form into four identical copies, unleashing a relentless barrage of highly condensed magic bullets in all directions.

Reading over the parchment, Duq’arael squinted at the text with an expression of sheer, unadulterated bewilderment, staring at the military intelligence as if it were written in absolute gibberish.

Did the Sanguinarch’s Court harbor such a monster?

How could a genius of this magnitude appear among the vampires without his knowledge? This child had single-handedly suppressed the ground forces of the Ursus Fourth Legion, successfully pinning down the enemy’s main vanguard and creating an opening for infiltrators to breach the armory and detonate the explosives.

If his Court possessed such an apocalyptic weapon, why would he be out here fighting a grueling war of attrition instead of sitting comfortably at home while she leveled the battlefield?

Faced with Duq’arael’s genuine complaints, Theresis also found the situation entirely illogical. If Kazdel truly possessed such a devastatingly powerful youth, he would have brought her to his side long ago to nurture her as a supreme asset. Why would he ever deploy her to a godforsaken frozen wasteland in Ursus?

Yet, the Ursus diplomatic envoys spoke with absolute certainty, and the catastrophic losses suffered by the Fourth Legion at the hands of an unknown assailant were an obvious reality. Theresis could not help but suspect a traitor lurked within their ranks.

However, since even the Sanguinarch admitted he could not exert absolute control over every vampire, Theresis had his out. He was the Regent of Kazdel, but tracking the individual will of every Sarkaz on the continent was an impossible metric.

Maintaining his diplomatic composure, Theresis informed the Ursus representatives that the culprit was not acting under Kazdel’s banner. They were merely the administrators of the Sarkaz nation, incapable of policing rogue actors. If the girl was indeed a Sarkaz, he expressed his deepest, most formal apologies for the misfortune Ursus had suffered. But as for forcing the entire Sarkaz race to shoulder the blame and face military retaliation for one rogue child’s actions? That was a concession he would never make.

Hearing this polite deflection, the Ursus representative’s face twisted in sheer outrage. He declared that he had met shameless politicians in his time, but never anyone of this magnitude. He promised that the Sarkaz would soon face the full, unbridled wrath of the Ursus Empire.

To this threat, Theresis merely offered a calm, unyielding smile.

Far to the south, within the dusty borders of Rim Billiton.

After a grueling two-month journey, the Reunion Movement delegation finally laid eyes on the landship of Rhodes Island, a pharmaceutical company established less than half a year prior.

When Kal’tsit heard that the visitors represented an Infected organization operating deep within Ursus—and that among their ranks stood the last pure-blooded Wendigo in all of Terra—she decisively chose to host them in person.

“I wonder how your people learned of our company?” Kal’tsit finally asked, her tone measured and analytical, following a cautious but satisfactory exchange of pleasantries.

The current scale of Rhodes Island was a shadow of what it had been four years ago. Still reeling from the agonizing aftermath of Theresa’s death, the organization had barely stabilized its internal structure and was keeping a strictly low profile. The patients currently housed on the landship were mostly veterans and operators injured in past conflicts. Although they had managed to recruit a certain unscrupulous vampire named Warfarin, their medical research and development were still in their infancy.

For an Infected organization to travel thousands of miles across hostile territory specifically to seek them out for medical aid naturally put Kal’tsit on high alert.

“Ah, actually, we sought you out based on the recommendation of a Sarkaz companion from Kazdel,” the Reunion diplomat replied smoothly.

Before they departed, Flandre had strictly instructed them never to mention her name or her exact race. Thus, they only referred to a generic ‘Sarkaz’. It was the truth, so even the elite HR Director standing silently behind Kal’tsit—acting as a human lie detector—could find no deceit in his words.

After all, countless mercenaries and warriors had scattered from Kazdel following Theresa’s fall. It was entirely plausible that one had wandered into Ursus and allied with the Infected there. This realization eased the tight vigilance gripping Kal’tsit’s chest.

Crucially, the archaic incantations sealing the letters provided by the last Wendigo could not be forged. Kal’tsit knew Buldrokkas’tee well. In her eyes, his personal guarantee carried more weight than a thousand diplomatic promises.

The contents of the two letters were nearly identical. They detailed the unification of the local Infected into a coalition known as the Reunion Movement. Because their ranks were composed almost entirely of Oripathy sufferers, their demand for medicine, suppressants, and medical expertise was staggering. Therefore, they formally requested a cooperative alliance with Rhodes Island.

“Could you please rest in the guest quarters for a moment?” Kal’tsit requested, her posture professional. “We need to convene a brief internal meeting to discuss this proposal. Please forgive the delay. This is a critical decision that will impact the future trajectory of Rhodes Island, and we must proceed with caution.”

Shortly after, the Elite Operators and department managers gathered for an intense, rapid-fire consultation. While a few voiced concerns about overextending their fragile resources, a certain Banshee operator verified that the letters were authentically penned by Buldrokkas’tee. With that confirmation, the majority agreed to the alliance.

Rhodes Island was currently handling precarious waters. Establishing a mutual cooperation pact with an emerging organization like Reunion would not only secure a foothold in Ursus but also significantly boost the morale of their existing personnel.

The Reunion representatives were invited back into the conference room, and a consensus was swiftly reached.

Once the spring thaw arrived, Rhodes Island would dispatch a convoy of medical personnel and supplies into Ursus to assist the Reunion Movement, providing essential medical training and treatment. In exchange, Reunion would help the establishment of mobile clinics within Ursus territory and guarantee the absolute physical safety of all Rhodes Island staff operating there. The diplomat who led the delegation would remain aboard the landship as Reunion’s permanent ambassador.

Meanwhile, back in the bitter cold of Ursus.

Flandre lay comfortably in Alina’s lap, her eyes half-closed as she listened to the older girl recount gentle stories of the past. Back then, Alina had owned no land, and her entire livelihood had rested solely in her two calloused hands. Lulled by the soft, melodic cadence of Alina’s voice, Flandre drifted into a deep, sweet sleep.

In the weeks that followed, Talulah would take Flandre out every half month to ‘execute missions’.

Alina was not blind. She sensed the dark reality of these excursions. She no longer tried to stop them or deny the violence occurring beyond their camp, but every time Flandre returned, Alina would silently draw a warm basin of water. With a heart aching with quiet sorrow, she would use a soft handkerchief to carefully wash the dried blood from Flandre’s innocent face.

Spring arrived terribly late in Ursus; it was only in April that the thick layers of ice and snow finally began to weep and melt.

Whenever Alina looked at Flandre now, a deep sadness shadowed her eyes. She knew the time for the little vampire to leave was drawing near.

Flandre, despite her chaotic nature, could acutely feel Alina’s sorrow. The quiet, domestic moments they had shared over the past months had made Flandre grow deeply fond of this gentle, fragile woman. Alina was entirely ordinary, possessing no combat Arts or physical strength. Although Alina had shielded her during a past conflict, no one could guarantee she wouldn’t be slaughtered in the next inevitable skirmish.

Late one evening, a spark of inspiration lit up Flandre’s crimson eyes. She clapped her small hands together and looked up at Alina with a brilliant, clever smile.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.

“Big Sister Alina, why don’t you become Flandre’s Bloodkin!”

The atmosphere in the room instantly froze. Every pair of eyes snapped toward the blonde child.

“Bloodkin? A thrall to the vampires?” Buldrokkas’tee’s deep, resonant voice broke the silence, heavy with caution.

“No, no, no! Those normal vampires are the lowest kind of existence,” Flandre corrected, waving her hands dismissively. “What Flandre means is the Embrace! Flandre learned it from her sister, but Flandre hasn’t given anyone the Embrace yet. If Big Sister Alina receives the Embrace, she will be Flandre’s Bloodkin. Not only will she gain super strong power, but she can also talk to Flandre in her mind anytime!”

Flandre did not truly grasp the complex hierarchy between first-generation Progenitors and second-generation vampires. She only knew that as a supreme member of her bloodline, she possessed the innate ability of the Embrace. Having been locked away for most of her life, she had never had the opportunity to use it, nearly forgetting the skill entirely. She only remembered her sister’s stern warning never to grant the Embrace lightly, as it bestowed terrifying power upon the recipient.

“No. I absolutely forbid it,” Talulah stated, her voice sharp and uncompromising.

In the dark, twisted lessons Kashchey had forced upon her, the thralls of the Sanguinarch were described as mindless, bloodthirsty abominations—synonymous with pure terror. Talulah could not stomach the thought of looking at Alina’s gentle face and seeing a parasitic monster staring back.

Alina parted her lips, a silent protest forming on her tongue, but seeing the raw panic and tension in Talulah’s eyes, she swallowed her words and lowered her gaze.

Faced with Talulah’s fierce resistance, Flandre had no choice but to abandon her brilliant plan. Pouting slightly, she shifted the topic. She had lingered in Ursus for a long time, and there was no telling when the Rhodes Island medics would finally arrive. Since the Sanguinarch’s Court had officially allied with Theresis, Flandre decided she needed to leave the Reunion Movement within the next few days to prevent Kazdel’s hunters from tracking her here and causing a misunderstanding.

Her announcement plunged the room back into a suffocating silence.

“Flandre has indeed been here for a long time… and it was only ever a temporary stay. It’s normal to leave, right?” Alina murmured, her voice dry, forcing a fragile smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

No one else spoke. Unable to endure the crushing weight of the atmosphere, Frostnova turned on her heel and quietly exited the room. Eventually, Talulah and Alina followed suit, leaving Flandre alone in the quiet dark.

Hours later, in the dead of night, a soft, hesitant knock sounded at Flandre’s door.

“Big Sister Alina?” Flandre blinked in confusion as the older girl slipped into the room, closing the door without lighting a single lantern.

Alina stood in the shadows, her hands clasped tightly together. “Can you… tell me more about what it means to be Bloodkin?”

Flandre nodded eagerly, though her actual knowledge was purely theoretical, gleaned from old library tomes and her sister’s lectures. Her practical experience was absolute zero.

As Flandre explained the mechanics of the blood bond, Alina swallowed hard, her throat dry.

“Will turning into a Bloodkin… really not turn me into an ugly monster?”

“Of course not! Sister said that Bloodkin only become more and more beautiful,” Flandre replied, tilting her head as she recalled the exact phrasing.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Alina summoned every ounce of her courage. She looked down at the petite vampire and tremblingly extended her hand.

“Then… can Big Sister Alina ask little Flandre to turn her into a Bloodkin?”

Flandre blinked, genuinely dazed. Hadn’t Alina just silently agreed with Talulah’s rejection a few hours ago? Why sneak back in the dark to ask for it now? The minds of adults were so complicated and contradictory. But Flandre had no intention of denying her favorite person’s request.

“If it’s Big Sister Alina, of course!”

With a joyful giggle, Flandre floated upward, wrapping her small arms around Alina’s neck.

In the next second, a sharp, piercing pain erupted in Alina’s throat. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt her core body heat and physical strength rapidly draining away, siphoned out through the puncture wounds. Her knees buckled. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, the shadows of the room warped, and she thought she saw the faces of her long-deceased parents reaching out to her from the abyss.

‘Is this… what death feels like?’

Just as her consciousness began to sink into the absolute dark, a sudden, overwhelming surge of icy power flooded back into her veins through the very same wounds.

One drop. Two drops. Three drops.

The primordial blood of the Scarlet devil forced its way into her heart, kickstarting it with a violent, echoing thud. But this time, the blood pumping through her arteries was no longer warm; it was freezing, carrying the same abyssal chill as Flandre’s.

Alina’s physical form began to warp. Her gentle, gray-brown irises bled into a piercing, luminous crimson. Inside her mouth, her blunt, human teeth loosened and fell away, instantly replaced by a row of pristine, razor-sharp fangs.

Half an hour later, Flandre finally pulled back, wiping a stray drop of crimson from her lip.

“It’s done, Big Sister Alina!”

Alina slowly opened her eyes. The pitch-black room was no longer dark; the night had become crystal clear, every shadow and contour sharply defined. A torrential wave of ancient knowledge and dormant instincts carved its way into her consciousness, riding the current of her new blood.

She raised her hands. The skin, once rough and calloused from years of relentless manual labor and weaving, was now flawlessly smooth, pale, and slender.

Guided by a sudden, instinctual urge, Alina reached out and gently brushed her fingertip against a potted plant resting on the windowsill. The moment her skin made contact, the vibrant green leaves withered and turned to ash, and a fresh, intoxicating surge of life energy rushed up her arm and into her core.

“Pale Touch? That’s a super good ability!” Flandre cheered, instantly recognizing the trait Alina had awakened through the Embrace. “This way, if Big Sister Alina feels yucky about drinking blood, you can just use this to touch living things and eat their life force to stay full!”

The ability to drain a target’s vitality through physical contact bore a hauntingly elegant name: Pale Touch. For an ordinary human thrust into the existence of a vampire, the psychological barrier of drinking human blood was often impossible. Pale Touch was the perfect, bloodless substitute., the ability was entirely bound to the user’s will—she would not passively rot everything she brushed against.

Standing up smoothly, Alina turned to face the cracked mirror on the wall.

Framing her pale, flawless skin was a cascade of long, snow-white hair. Her new crimson eyes glowed with an eerie, stunning charm in the dark.

“You look super pretty! White hair and red eyes! A critical hit to the soul!” Flandre clapped her hands, gleefully extracting a slang phrase from the bizarre, otherworldly memories buried in her mind.

Then, Flandre’s smile faltered, her face scrunching up in sudden distress. “But… what if Big Sister Talulah gets super mad at Flandre tomorrow? Should Flandre just run away right now?”

Hearing Flandre voice the exact fear she had been suppressing, Alina’s newly transformed body went entirely rigid.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.