Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 82

Chapter 82: High-speed Warship

“Don’t forget our purpose for coming here!”

Seeing the atmosphere grow a little too heavy, Yukari Yakumo gently reminded them from the sidelines.

Remilia nodded. She looked down at Flandre Scarlet, reaching into her dress to pull out a delicate, droplet-shaped necklace. The gem caught the dim light of the room, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic magical signature.

“Wear this well,” Remilia instructed, carefully fastening it around her sister’s neck. “We’ll be able to contact each other anytime, and it will track your location.”

“Are you going back?” Flandre looked up at Remilia, her small hands reluctantly gripping her older sister’s fingers, refusing to let go.

Remilia reached out, her crimson eyes softening as she gently rubbed Flandre’s cheek.

“We were teleported here using Great Magic. Once the time limit expires, the spatial laws will force us back. But don’t worry, Patchy is already updating the magic circle back home. This necklace is a locator to help us find you again, and with it, we can talk every single day.”

At that moment, Flandre noticed Yukari standing a short distance away. The gap yokai was holding a rather familiar-looking camera, chatting casually with Talulah and the others.

After the group exchanged nods, the heavy doors opened, and a dozen or so people filed in from the outside. It was a diverse crowd—men and women, the young and the elderly. Beyond the native Ursus, there were Cautus, Felines, Lupos, and Fortes, all looking at the otherworldly visitors with a mix of awe and trepidation.

Yukari raised the camera, the flash blindingly bright as she snapped a few photos of the gathered crowd before tucking the device away into a small rift in space.

“What is she doing?” Flandre asked quietly.

“It’s because of the news you shared. Quite a few yokai back in Gensokyo have become highly interested in this world,” Remilia explained, a faint, amused smile touching her lips. “But often, mere words aren’t enough to convince those stubborn old fools; we need hard proof to show that what you said is true. Photos taken by Yukari Yakumo herself, using Aya Shameimaru’s personal camera—such evidence naturally carries an immense amount of weight.”

Remilia then took Flandre’s hand, pulling her toward the gap sage. “By the way, sister, come take a photo with Miss Talulah and Alina.”

Flandre obediently stood between the Draco and the Elafia. Talulah offered a rare, genuine smile, while Alina gently rested a hand on Flandre’s shoulder. After the flash faded, Yukari turned the lens toward the vampire sisters.

“Sister, Flandre wants to take a photo with you too!”

“Of course, my dear sister!”

The two vampires leaned their faces together, striking a picture-perfect pose.

Lowering the camera, Yukari sighed in a tone of mock helplessness. “I think I’ll go for a stroll outside. You sisters haven’t seen each other in a long time, so you must have a great deal to discuss in private.”

With a graceful step, Yukari slipped into a tear in reality adorned with eerie, staring eyes, vanishing from their sight entirely.

Seeing this, Talulah and the other Reunion members took the hint. They respectfully excused themselves, stating that the battlefield still required their attention for the cleanup operations, leaving the quiet room entirely to the Scarlet sisters.

Once they were alone, Remilia carefully interrogated Flandre about her current situation, her health, and exactly why she had ended up leading a rebellion in this bleak world.

Upon learning that Flandre’s historically volatile mental state had stabilized due to merging with another person’s memories, Remilia held her sister’s small face in both hands. She studied Flandre’s eyes for a long, silent minute, searching for any trace of foreign corruption or instability, but found nothing amiss.

“Forget it,” Remilia finally sighed, releasing her. “Next time I come, I’ll drag that sage from Eientei over here to give you a proper examination.”

She asked a dozen more questions, and after confirming that this was undeniably her beloved sister in both mind and soul, Remilia didn’t dwell on the anomaly. In her eyes, despite Flandre’s small stature, she was a true, pure-blooded devil of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The foreign soul was just an ordinary mortal; it could never hope to usurp dominance over Flandre’s overwhelming will.

, this soul fusion had indirectly cured her sister’s “frenzied state”—the terrifying, uncontrollable destructive urges that had forced Remilia to keep her locked in the basement for centuries. This outcome could only be considered a massive blessing in disguise.

Flandre then recounted everything regarding the Reunion Movement, from the snow-covered forests to the battles against the Ursus army.

“So, you actually didn’t have to come here at all, right?” Remilia asked, tilting her head curiously. Her sister wasn’t exactly the philanthropic type who enjoyed playing savior to the weak.

“But they are the first friends Flandre has made in this world,” the younger vampire answered simply.

Those words made Remilia pause, a pang of understanding striking her heart. Since childhood, Flandre had lived isolated with her in the old castle, rarely interacting with anyone outside their immediate household. While the yokai in Gensokyo would occasionally visit, their immortal lifespans meant that dropping by once a year was considered frequent. This resulted in Flandre spending centuries either confined indoors or chasing the gatekeeper around the courtyard out of sheer boredom.

The people of this world were incredibly fragile, yes. But it was precisely because of their weakness that they desperately needed Flandre’s strength, giving the little vampire a deep sense of accomplishment and purpose.

Combined with the fact that these infected fighters were mediocre in power—only that towering Wendigo seemed to possess any real martial skill—Flandre could naturally gather many “friends” who looked up to her. Although there were obvious political interests involved, Remilia had to admit that these mortals managed their boundaries well and harbored no ill intentions toward her sister.

also, the Elafia whom Flandre had personally turned into a blood relative was indeed a trustworthy, gentle soul. Knowing Alina was by her side meant that even if Remilia couldn’t bring Flandre back to Gensokyo today, she no longer felt the crushing anxiety that had plagued her since Flandre’s disappearance.

The two chatted for what felt like hours, making up for lost time.

Suddenly, Remilia gripped Flandre’s hand tightly. “I have to go back now. Sister, you must take good care of yourself!”

“So soon?” Flandre held onto Remilia’s hand, her crimson eyes wide and reluctant.

“Don’t worry, my sister. We will meet again very soon!”

Remilia’s body began to shimmer, her physical form gradually becoming transparent as the world’s rejection took hold. Just then, a Gap tore open nearby, and Yukari’s urgent voice echoed from the void.

“Quickly, enter the Gap! If you encounter spatial turbulence on the way back, even I won’t be able to fish you out!”

Remilia offered one last, reassuring wave to Flandre before diving headfirst into the rift. The Gap snapped shut, leaving the room in absolute silence.

Flandre sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the empty space where her sister had just been, a hollow sense of loss settling in her chest.

Knock, knock, knock!

A gentle tapping sounded from the heavy wooden door.

“Flandre, are you okay?”

It was Alina. The Elafia naturally knew Flandre was still inside, but sensing the prolonged silence, she had grown worried and come to check on her.

Flandre stood up, shaking her head vigorously to toss the lingering gloom to the back of her mind. A bright smile returned to her face.

“Flandre is fine, Sister Alina! Let’s go to the front line and take a look together!”

The Ursus army on this front had routed with humiliating speed.

In their desperate bid to escape the terrifying Originium Arts and the overwhelming might of the Reunion forces, they had not only abandoned thousands of standard-issue weapons and armor sets, but they had also left behind a true behemoth.

Resting heavily on the frozen tundra was a High-speed Warship—a massive, tread-driven mobile landship that served as the pinnacle of Terran military engineering.

Standing in the shadow of this steel leviathan, even Buldrokkas’tee found himself scratching his helmet in sheer disbelief.

If the Reunion Movement possessed a fully operational warship of this caliber, they could legitimately go toe-to-toe with a standard Ursus Army Group in open warfare. The entire Fourth Army Group possessed fewer than five of these strategic assets. Three were currently deployed on the brutal northern tundra, holding the line against the encroaching Demons. Another was stationed far to the south, maintaining a military presence near the Kazdel border.

This specific vessel had only recently undergone a massive overhaul in the capital’s drydocks. Because it hadn’t yet been deployed to the front lines, the arrogant Count Miles had requisitioned it as his personal command vessel for this suppression mission.

No one in the Ursus military high command could have ever predicted that a battle considered an absolute, guaranteed victory would end in such a catastrophic, one-sided slaughter. They hadn’t just lost thousands of elite troops; they had handed over an intact High-speed Warship to a band of Infected rebels.

This was the strongest land combat unit available to the Terran nations. Once the noble lords backing the Fourth Army Group received this report, they would be so furious they would likely cough up blood.

The dilemma now crushing the Reunion leadership was simple: should they keep this behemoth?

Keeping it would instantly elevate Reunion’s military threat level to unmatched heights. It was a mobile fortress, capable of housing thousands, equipped with heavy artillery and thick armor plating.

But keeping it also meant painting a massive target on their backs. The Fourth Army Group would absolutely not tolerate their prized warship remaining in the hands of the Infected. They would throw everything they had to reclaim or destroy it.

As for the Emperor of Ursus, even if he had harbored secret intentions to support Reunion to weaken his political rivals, that support was strictly conditional on the rebels remaining a manageable nuisance. A High-speed Warship could directly threaten the safety of Sankt-Peterburg. The moment they kept it, the Emperor would cut all ties and label them a genuine national security threat.

, their current geographical location was a political powder keg, situated near the intersecting borders of Leithanien, Victoria, and Ursus. Neither Leithanien nor Victoria would sit idly by while a rogue military fortress capable of breaching their borders appeared on their doorstep.

Logistics presented an even crueler reality. A High-speed Warship was a bottomless pit of energy consumption. Reunion was currently struggling just to buy enough food to survive the winter; they possessed absolutely no surplus Originium to fuel the ship’s massive engines.

So, while keeping the warship might make Reunion look incredibly powerful on paper, the reality was that it would isolate them, bankrupt them, and draw the combined hostility of every surrounding superpower.

But if they didn’t keep it, what could they do with it?

Driving it to Leithanien or Victoria was out of the question. While those nations would gladly accept an active Ursus warship to reverse-engineer its technology and study its internal layout, doing so would unite the fractured Ursus Empire in pure, unadulterated rage against Reunion.

Returning it to the Old Nobility was a fool’s errand. Given the vindictive temperament of those aristocrats, if Reunion handed the ship back in the morning, the nobles would have its cannons aimed at Reunion’s camps by the afternoon.

Thus, there was only one faction left on the board they could safely trade with.

His Majesty, the Emperor of Ursus.

As the actual ruler of the empire, he was locked in a bitter, silent war for power against the Old Nobility. Acquiring one of his political opponents’ prized warships would not only massively bolster his own loyalist forces but also severely cripple the Fourth Army Group’s influence. For the Emperor, it was a flawless victory.

By helping this trade, Reunion could extract vital supplies, funding, and secret political backing from the Emperor. More, once the warship was in the Emperor’s hands, the Old Nobility’s fury would be forced to redirect toward the throne. The two Ursus factions would be far too busy tearing at each other’s throats to worry about a band of Infected rebels in the tundra, granting Reunion the precious time they needed to develop in peace.

The strategy was sound, but a massive logistical hurdle remained: how were they supposed to contact the Emperor to broker this deal? Every single day this steel mountain sat in their camp, the invisible noose around Reunion’s neck grew tighter.

Fortunately, time quickly delivered the answer.

Buldrokkas’tee, who had taken personal responsibility for guarding the captured warship, approached the command tent with unexpected news. An Emperor’s Blade—one of the Emperor’s terrifying, masked royal guards—had intercepted their patrols and passed on a direct message.

The Emperor’s loyalists would arrive to sail the ship away in exactly two days.

In exchange, Reunion would not only earn the Emperor’s silent goodwill, but the royal faction would also provide a staggering sum of resources and Originium as payment for the vessel.

It was only a day later that the Fourth Army Group finally received the delayed battle reports.

Back in the capital, several high-ranking aristocrats literally fainted upon reading the dispatch. Several thousand elite soldiers, heavily armed Casters, and a state-of-art High-speed Warship had been sent to wipe out a ragtag organization of fewer than five hundred Infected peasants. Not only had the army been annihilated, but the warship had been captured intact?

It was a very good thing Count Miles had died on the battlefield. Had he somehow survived and returned, the furious noble lords would have undoubtedly skinned him alive in the public square.

“Where is the warship?! Send someone to take it back immediately!” one of the dukes roared, slamming his fist onto the war table.

The messenger trembling before him swallowed hard, his face pale.

“But, My Lord… we have no troops left in the sector to send!”