Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

The vast northern expanse of Ursus was just as Felix had expected—barren, snow-covered, and quiet. The farther northeast they traveled, the heavier the snowfall, the fewer the towns, and naturally, the sparser the population.

In such harsh weather and climate, the energy and resources needed to keep a mobile city running were absurdly high. So, some towns with fewer supplies simply chose to remain stationary. They'd only relocate if a Catastrophe struck. Staying put made it easier for people from different cities to converge and move between settlements.

Within just a few weeks, Felix had already encountered many infected wandering the wilderness—players and NPCs alike. The infected player settlements were much like

Mr. Han's: small, tightly-knit groups who supported one another.

But when it came to the infected Terran NPCs… they were a different story.

They looked at Felix like he didn't belong—an outsider who still had his health. To them, he was a walking insult. If not for the fact that Felix and Carnelian were visibly strong, these infected might have torn them apart on the spot.

Felix didn't blame them.

When your future is nothing but darkness, resentment becomes your only light. It's easy to spiral. Why should I suffer while you're still whole? That kind of thought sits at the bottom of every broken heart.

This was Terran nature's ugly side—simple, raw, and cruel. But Felix understood. When people lose all hope, they choose one of two paths: drag others down with them, or push forward alone.

Most Ursus citizens chose the first.

In Ursus, being infected meant a fate worse than death. People lived with fear, bitterness, rage, and hatred. Left in that state long enough, their minds warped. They stopped seeing others as fellow victims and started viewing them as targets. Innocents became enemies. Their blades didn't need reasons—just the word why.

History has shown: the most devastating wars often began with that one word.

That's why Felix kept his distance. He didn't linger near those groups. In fact, he didn't even see any players mixed among them. Maybe the atmosphere was too toxic, too hopeless, even for the players—and they died off quickly.

What he observed felt jarring to Terrans, but not to Felix.

Infected players were united. They worked together like survivors in a post-apocalyptic game. They hunted, mined, and explored with surprising coordination. As a group, they were loyal, driven, and purposeful.

In contrast, the infected Terrans were barely surviving. Their faces were hollow. Their routines robotic. They'd lost all sense of purpose.

Carnelian was surprised—but not entirely. After all, these were adventurers.

Players, no matter how reckless, didn't really die.

On the road, Felix read through a forum post where infected players had summarized the pros and cons of their infected status. He studied it carefully. After all, back in his previous life, he had never played as an infected character.

The first benefit was well known: infected players could use Originium Arts directly, without needing a medium. This was already confirmed during the closed beta. In combat, they wielded weapons more efficiently and could blend Originium Arts seamlessly into their attacks. On top of that, becoming infected slightly boosted player stats.

But then came the drawbacks.

The obvious one—once infected, you were barred from entering main cities or mobile cities. Worse, your HP would slowly drain during combat, and the infection level would increase depending on certain conditions—such as dying from an infection-related debuff. As infection deepened, the player's max HP gradually shrank, and attributes fluctuated unpredictably.

The most extreme case so far involved a foreign player from the closed beta. His infection rate had passed 40%. Though he could still move around, his agility had dropped dramatically due to the heavy Originium crystal buildup throughout his body. On top of that, he suffered from random dizziness debuffs—like a constant state of illness.

At that point, even entering battle required serious thought. His livestream lost traction—viewers weren't there to watch him stumble around like a terminal patient. He was now considering rerolling a new character.

It was a sobering reminder for all infected players.

Going all-out in every fight had a cost. Lessons from others' misfortune kept newer infected players from being too reckless.

Then, as Felix scrolled the forum lazily while driving, a system notification suddenly popped up.

[[Type-0 Rainy Night Knight]] – 100% Completion Achieved. New Challenge Unlocked.

Felix raised an eyebrow. Finally unlocked?

He had never bothered with this feature in the past. Intrigued, he moved his finger and tapped open the notification.

[Knight of the Night (Ultimate)] Unlocked

There are no "what ifs" in history—only victors get to write it.

But on that rainy night, some still wondered:

If all the hidden blades had come to light, would the ending have changed?

Listen to the song of the Sankta Pioneer.

Live through a second version of that long, freezing night.

[Mission Location: Blood Rain Arena]

[Time Limit: 120 minutes]

[Team Size: 8 players]

[Level Requirement: 30]

What the hell is this dungeon?

Felix's eyes widened. In his previous life, he had never even heard of an NPC giving out a dungeon like this. Desperate Battle? Only eight people allowed?

The level cap of 1.0... Just eight players? Would the DPS be enough for something this difficult?

Felix wasn't sure. He had no memory of anything like this from before. But if it came from the system itself, then it should be beatable... right?

Alright then, he thought. I'll hand it off to Dandao Dantart. Let them pick it apart first.

Unfortunately, as an NPC, Felix couldn't enter the dungeon himself. But he could still spectate the players' first-person runs—watching them blaze the trail was satisfying in its own way.

"Boss… that sign means there's a village nearby."

Avdotya, bundled in a thick winter coat and seated in the back seat, pointed ahead and whispered, "The smaller text below says…'не допускаются внешние лица', meaning 'No outsiders allowed.'"

"So strict?" Felix raised an eyebrow.

Avdotya nodded quietly. Though still soft-spoken, her mind had clearly begun to recover after those first few days of silence. She could never return to the life of a noble girl sipping tea in a sunlit garden, but she had at least resumed being Avdotya—someone still alive, still moving forward.

"Yes… In winter, villages have very little food," she explained. "Tourists may bring money, but money can't be eaten."

It was spoken softly, but with a clarity that lingered.

Maybe it was her personality, or maybe her love for books, but Avdotya's presence during the trip had become grounding. Most of the chatter came from Felix and Carnelian squabbling over random topics, but Avdotya would now and then chime in with quiet, thoughtful remarks.

What surprised Carnelian the most was how much Avdotya knew about Terra without ever leaving her home.

"I just like reading," the girl had shrugged once. "Most of it is useless knowledge."

But Felix felt a small wave of relief seeing her engage with others. This was how people connected—step by step. Compared to the withdrawn girl curled up in the hotel room, she had come a long way.

"No luck then. Looks like staying in the village is off the table," Felix said as he tapped the steering wheel. His tone shifted slightly. "Guess it's time for the tent. Good thing I packed the sleeping bags. In places like this, fuel's too precious—I'd rather not end up pushing the truck."

"I'll help," Carnelian offered without hesitation.

"Ah… I'll help too," Avdotya said quickly, eager to be useful. Guiding them through Ursus and translating signs weren't the only things she could offer—she wanted to show she could carry her weight.

They parked near a wooded area, letting the trees block out some of the brutal wind. Felix cut off the engine, hopped out, and opened the trunk. Along with the supplies he'd picked up in nearby towns for trading with infected players, there was also a full camping setup—just in case.

As someone who had binged countless episodes of Bear Grylls, Felix had a definite curiosity for wilderness survival. If he couldn't do it in real life, at least he could live it out here. That said, hunting in this weather—with two girls in tow—was a bit too much even for him.

While Carnelian and Avdotya busied themselves pitching the tent, Felix got to work preparing dinner. Normally, Senomi, Mandragora, or Susie would handle cooking, but that didn't mean he didn't know his way around a pan.

Well… sort of.

He pulled out his phone and started browsing for meat-cooking tutorials.

The best thing about having browser access in this world? You could check forums, watch videos, argue with your idiot friends in group chats, and when boredom hit... pull up old-school 7k7k mini-games.

Not a bad life.

Setting up a tent in the snowy wilderness required caution. Felix had no intention of waking up in the middle of the night to an infected person's sneak attack. So he deployed his drone early, scanning the surrounding forest for any signs of Terran activity. The trees made drone movement tricky, but even limited coverage was better than none.

Carnelian and Avdotya sat on small folding chairs, leaning toward the campfire. Lighting a fire in the forest was risky, but with snow still blanketing the ground and the air damp and heavy, there was no real danger of it spreading.

Avdotya's Lupo tail curled over her lap as she gazed into the flames, lost in thought.

She couldn't help but reflect on her past. It wasn't sadness or bitterness that filled her—she had accepted what had happened. But memories had a way of creeping in, especially in quiet moments like this. At sixteen, it was hard not to think about who she used to be and what she'd lost.

"Here."

Felix handed her a cup of hot soup.

She blinked, momentarily startled. Her Lupo ears twitched as she looked up at him. He stood there with a calm, almost casual smile, as if this act of kindness was just part of the routine.

Avdotya had been observing him quietly for some time now—after all, she didn't have much else to do. There was something about this Sankta from Laterano that fascinated her. He could joke and trade with infected like it was nothing, yet the next moment he'd pull a pistol and eliminate anything that posed a threat. He had a dry wit that occasionally made her smile, and a depth she couldn't fully grasp. His words sometimes felt heavy—too heavy for her to understand.

"Thank you…"

She took the soup gently, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. The heat seeped into her fingers, making her eyelids grow heavy. Drowsiness in cold weather was natural—and with how little rest she'd had lately, it was no wonder sleep was calling.

Felix handed another cup to Carnelian. The two clinked cups slightly and took a sip together.

Then Felix glanced at the screen on his wristband, set his cup down, and tapped a few commands. The drone returned, entering standby mode. If anything moved nearby, his sensor would buzz. If he didn't react fast enough, the drone's submachine gun would activate and eliminate the target automatically.

Standard protocol.

---

"…We've got movement," he said.

Felix took another sip of soup, wiped his mouth, and checked the display. Thermal images—several figures were moving through the woods in their direction.

"They're here."

Carnelian reached for her Sword Arts Unit and turned to Avdotya. "Get back. Stay hidden until we call you."

Avdotya bit her lip and quickly obeyed, retreating into the tent. But she couldn't stop watching, peeking from the flap, tension gripping her chest.

In the frozen wilderness, running into Terrans was often worse than running into beasts. At least wild animals showed their fangs up front. Terrans? They hid theirs.

Felix stood still, drones hovering behind him, hand resting on the gun strapped to his thigh.

The soft crunch of footsteps in the snow grew closer. A group of hooded men and women, dressed in uniform winter gear, emerged from the trees.

Leading them was a silver haired woman without a hood.

She is a Cautus.

Her expression was colder than Ursus Tundra.