Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 79

Chapter 79: The Enemy’s Trap

Count Miles gave a curt, approving nod as he surveyed the desolate terrain. Looking at the sprawling network of trenches carved into the frozen earth, it was obvious the enemy had begun fortifying this position at least half a month ago. Had they started any later, they never would have been able to extend their defensive line this far across the tundra.

He was a true Count of Ursus, a man whose nobility was forged in military merit rather than inherited wealth. He had survived countless brutal campaigns throughout his life, his chest heavy with medals and his skin mapped with scars.

Originally, Miles had intended to retire this winter, ready to hand over his command and his legacy to his eldest son. Instead, he received a casket. The tragic news had shattered his world: his son, stationed at the central army headquarters, had been incinerated in a catastrophic attack initiated by a single Vampire who had detonated the main ammunition depot. Grief-stricken and hollowed out by rage, the Count had spent every waking moment since desperately searching for the culprit.

As for the official military narrative, he didn’t believe a single word of it. If the Sarkaz truly wanted to wage a shadow war against Ursus, they wouldn’t have sent a lone operative to strike a depot without any coordinated follow-up. It was an insult to his intelligence.

Later, whispers reached his ears that a bizarre Vampire had surfaced in Lungmen—a girl whose description perfectly matched the phantom who had raided the military camp. He had nearly crushed his own desk in frustration at the time, knowing that seeking unsanctioned revenge across the border in Lungmen would be a political nightmare.

But now, the heavens had answered his prayers. He had abruptly received intelligence that his target had crossed into Ursus territory, embedding herself within a radical Infected organization known as the Reunion Movement. The news left him ecstatic, his blood boiling with the promise of vengeance.

Without a second thought, Miles summoned the elites of the Fourth Regiment of the Fourth Army Group, a hardened force that had once served directly under his command. He prepared to crush the Reunion Movement in one fell swoop, intending to slaughter the Vampire who murdered his son in the crossfire.

The high command of the Army Group chose to turn a blind eye to his rogue mobilization.

They had their own ulterior motives. If Miles succeeded, they could use this military friction as a convenient excuse to openly challenge Lungmen. The Old Nobility hungered for foreign conquest, but they were constantly held back by the current young Emperor, who used the fragile peace as a shield to prevent the military from amassing too much glory and power outside the borders.

Now, a perfectly legitimate casus belli was being handed to them on a silver platter. As long as Count Miles succeeded, the military elite could seize the momentum, strike at Lungmen, and eventually launch a full-scale invasion into Yan—a rich land they had coveted for generations.

Looking through his binoculars toward the distant battlefield, Miles immediately recognized the structural style of the fortifications. The reinforced angles and firing lines were distinctly Ursus in design.

“Is our opponent still that Patriot?” Count Miles asked, lowering his hand.

“Correct, sir,” his staff officer replied smoothly. “But the number of Shieldguards under his command is pitifully small. Even with his legendary personal strength, it won’t change the outcome. Just like the Witch King Herkunftshorn who died in his high tower, it doesn’t matter how terrifying a single person’s Originium Arts might be. When faced with a synchronized human wave several times their size, they will still be ground into dust.”

There was not a shred of fear in the young staff officer’s eyes when he spoke of Patriot Buldrokkas’tee. Instead, there was only a chilling sense of disdain.

In the young man’s view, the Wendigo was nothing special. Buldrokkas’tee might have been a towering legend among the older generation, but that was exactly the point—he belonged to the past. To the rising stars of the Ursus military, once the time of the old relics had passed, they deserved to be swept into the dustbin of history.

Miles observed the staff officer’s arrogant expression but kept his face impassive. Young men needed a bit of arrogance; otherwise, they wouldn’t have the drive to be young. As far as staff officers were concerned, as long as they were clever enough to draft flawless tactical plans when the cannons started firing, their personal hubris didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Then what exactly have you prepared for that one?” Miles pointed a gloved finger at a photograph resting on the tactical map.

The image was crystal clear, depicting a young, blonde girl giving a bizarre lecture on a massive screen nestled among skyscrapers. The photo had been taken in Lungmen, and the survivors of the winter headquarters massacre had positively identified the child in the picture as the true culprit.

One might wonder: since the true culprit had appeared here in Ursus, why was the Fourth Army Group still fighting a meat-grinder war against the Sarkaz in Kazdel? Why not pull those forces back to support this operation?

The answer was simple, cold logic. War was never the ultimate goal for Ursus; it was merely a necessary industrial mechanism to achieve a goal.

After a brutal campaign, the Old Nobility would mint a few more military aristocrats, the green recruits would be forged into hardened veterans, and the highly unstable, dangerous Infected soldiers would be conveniently consumed on the front lines. For the high command, this was a massive, bloody profit.

, the young Emperor couldn’t politically interfere with a war fought under the banner of a father’s revenge, even if he wanted to. Even an Emperor could not publicly deny a decorated Count his right to avenge his murdered son.

As for the target of that revenge… between the options of provoking Kazdel or provoking Yan, the Emperor’s choice was obvious. He would turn a blind eye to the Old Nobility’s actions here. If they fought Kazdel, the Emperor didn’t have to worry; whether the army won or lost, the Sarkaz wouldn’t launch a counter-invasion all the way into Ursus territory.

But Yan was a different beast entirely. Yan truly possessed the terrifying strength to fight back. If the military provoked an invasion from Yan, the Emperor would be forced by the Old Nobility to deploy his own personal royal armies to the meat grinder, weakening his grip on the throne.

“Count, in our tactical assessment, there is only one viable way for the opponent to defeat a force of our size, and that is a decapitation strike,” the staff officer explained, tapping the map. “The enemy will inevitably search for your command post and arrange for that Vampire girl to launch a high-speed surprise attack on you directly. And in their eyes, the most logical place for a commanding officer to be is safely entrenched inside the mobile power ship.”

The officer smiled thinly. “Therefore, we plan to use the high-speed battleship as bait to lure her deep inside, and then we will exterminate her. No matter how strong that Vampire’s Originium Arts are, she won’t be able to display much power when locked inside a sealed tomb of solid steel.”

A predatory glint flashed in the staff officer’s eyes, looking entirely convinced that he had seen through the Reunion Movement’s entire playbook.

“Very well,” Miles rumbled. “Then where do you plan to place me? You know my nature. I will never stand at the very back, safely out of sight, while my frontline soldiers fight to the death.”

“Of course, sir. That is exactly why the men are willing to follow you into hell, Mr. Miles,” the officer said with a respectful bow. “If you wish to witness the destruction of the Reunion Movement with your own eyes, how about this position?”

He pointed to a specific elevation on the topographical map.

“Interesting. Fine, let’s go with your plan.”

Miles stared at the spot. It was the designated staging ground for the legion’s Caster phalanx. The defensive perimeter there was absolute, and they would occupy a commanding hilltop not far from the Reunion defensive line. From that height, the Casters would conduct devastating long-range Originium bombardment on the enemy’s gathering place. He would have a perfect, unobstructed view of Reunion’s annihilation.

The very next day, Miles’s Fourth Regiment began their slow, crushing advance toward the designated sector.

Across the frozen wasteland, the Reunion Movement stood in tense formation, holding their ground while waiting for the promised good news from Flandre Scarlet.

As for Flandre herself, she had departed from the Reunion camp hours early, taking to the sky and flying directly toward the towering Ursus high-speed battleship.

Just as the vanguard of the Ursus army stepped into the range of Reunion’s defensive line, Flandre arrived in the airspace directly above the massive steel vessel.

“Wow, geez, you’re so tall!”

Flandre, having transformed her body into a swirling, shrieking storm of blood bats, descended rapidly toward the main deck.

Seeing hundreds of crimson bats swarming out of the clouds and blotting out the pale winter sun, the Ursus soldiers guarding the deck immediately roared, “Enemy attack!” They swung their heavy battleaxes and readied their halberds, attempting to swat the creatures from the air.

These deck guards were no ordinary conscripts; they were hand-picked elites. The edges of their weapons were sharp beyond compare, and the thick, layered armor plating on their bodies was designed to shrug off heavy Caster fire.

But this time, they were facing the blood bats born from Flandre’s sheer, unadulterated power.

The razor-sharp claws of the crimson bats tore through the Ursus steel as easily as wet paper. Their unnatural, agile speed allowed them to effortlessly dodge the desperate, sweeping strikes the soldiers believed were fatal.

Worse still, the bats possessed a terrifying, gruesome trait. After tearing a jagged wound into an enemy’s flesh, the bats didn’t just bite—they forcefully burrowed into the soldier’s body through the open gash.

The deck devolved into a chorus of muffled screams. Ten or so seconds later, the infected soldiers would violently convulse before their bodies exploded outward in a horrific shower of gore, releasing dozens more blood bats from their ruptured ribcages to join the feeding frenzy.

Deep within the battleship, the scene playing out on the monitors made the scalps of the command room staff tingle with primal dread.

The target hadn’t displayed this kind of visceral, infectious ability during her last recorded assault. Their tactical model of Flandre’s combat capabilities was entirely based on the winter raid against the Fourth Army Group’s headquarters, and it was already proving fatally outdated.

“Don’t panic! Hold your nerve!” the staff officer barked, though a cold bead of sweat was tracing its way down his own forehead. “Continue to lure the target into the interior of the battleship as planned!”

Despite his anxiety, his eyes burned with a mixture of ferocity and madness. In his mind, it didn’t matter how bizarre or powerful the opponent’s biological abilities were. Flesh and blood would always be crushed when trapped within a true, inescapable forest of steel.

Back on the blood-slicked deck, Flandre reformed her body, her little black shoes touching down lightly amidst the carnage. She looked at the massive, open blast door leading into the ship’s interior, a wide, innocent smile curling the corners of her mouth.

“Do you want to play a game with Flan?” she called out to the empty corridor. “Well then, Flan’s coming in!”

She gave a cheerful little skip and hopped right through the massive doorway.

Just as she crossed the threshold, a heavy, mechanical thud echoed behind her. She paused and looked back over her shoulder. The massive steel bulkhead had slammed down from the ceiling, completely sealing her off from the outside world like a vault door.

“Hehe, do you really think this ugly thing can stop Flan?”

Flandre reached out a delicate hand. Her crimson eyes naturally drifted toward the structural ‘eye’ of the heavy door—the absolute focal point of its tension and existence. All she had to do was clench her fist, and the impenetrable steel would instantly crush itself into a ball of scrap.

But then she tilted her head, thinking it over. Since the adults inside had gone through all the trouble of preparing a fun game for her, it would be a waste to just break the board right away. Pouting slightly, she withdrew her little hand.

“Hey, can you turn on some lights?” Flandre shouted, her voice echoing down the dark, metallic corridor as she strolled deeper inside. “Even though I have night vision, I’m still used to the feeling of things being bright and pretty!”

Unfortunately, either there were no audio receivers in the hallway, or the people watching her had absolutely no intention of engaging in conversation. A long, heavy silence followed her demand.

“Stingy adults!” Flandre huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance as she continued her walk.

Suddenly, heavy wire mesh slammed down from the ceiling, violently blocking both her forward path and her retreat. A second later, thick, pungent oil began flooding into the enclosed space from hidden vents along the floorboards.

“Wow, are you planning to burn Flan to death?” Flandre asked, her eyes widening in mock surprise as heavy gun barrels mechanically extended from the walls—front, back, left, and right.

In the very next second, the air rippled. Flandre casually split into four identical Flandres.

Before the automated turrets could puff out a single spark of flame, the four Flandres dashed in four different directions, their tiny hands grabbing the heavy steel gun barrels. With a sickening screech of tearing metal, the barrels were effortlessly crushed into mangled, useless dough.

“Damn it! The turrets are down! Go to Plan B! Flamethrowers, move in!”

In the command room, the staff officer slammed his fist onto the tactical table, roaring into his microphone. He hadn’t expected the heavy automated defenses to be instantly disabled the moment they extended, let alone in such a bizarre, physics-defying manner.

Coupled with the fact that she had just slaughtered the elite deck squad without breaking a sweat, her physical strength was magnitudes higher than his worst-case projections.

Hearing his frantic orders, the heavy infantry hidden in the adjacent compartments immediately kicked open the side access panels. Armored soldiers wielding military-grade flamethrowers charged into the corridor, flanking the wire-mesh cage from both sides.

They pulled the triggers. Roaring torrents of liquid fire sprayed into the cage, completely engulfing the space in a blinding, superheated inferno.

Almost instantly, bursts of high-pitched screams echoed from within the blazing mesh.

“Ah! Fire! So scary!”

“Help me…”

“It’s so hot!”

Watching the monitors, the staff officer felt a surge of euphoric relief. He thought the plan had perfectly succeeded, convinced that the bizarre Vampire girl was currently being incinerated to ash inside the steel cage.

But as the seconds ticked by, his smile began to falter. The shouting from inside the inferno continued for more than a minute. And worse… rather than fading into the weak, dying gasps of a burning victim, the voices were becoming increasingly energetic, bubbling with an unmistakable, cheerful laughter that showed absolutely no sign of stopping.