Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

The time was early February.

During this stretch, Felix kept to a simple routine, no different from his days in Columbia—a life split between home and his workshop. With plenty of new materials on hand, he was able to forge equipment and weapons, steadily building up his experience.

It had been a long time since he last worked with such focus, hammering away without distraction just to accumulate skill. At some point, he had grown used to gathering experience in Columbia by diving into research—studying scientific fields and exploring blueprints tied to Horizon Ark Project materials—so much so that he'd nearly forgotten his original craft.

Lemuen had commissioned a sniper rifle. Fiammetta had requested a hand cannon. Between working on their orders, Felix was also busy forging equipment he himself would need in the future.

Plume and Federico, both recovering from internal injuries, had been discharged a few days before him. Even so, they couldn't exert themselves yet—any strain would only land them back in the hospital. Federico spent most of his days buried in the notary's library, while Plume acted as Felix's guard, often sitting nearby to rest or reading messages on his terminal while Felix worked the forge.

As for Andoain's squad, it was squad in name only now—officially disbanded by the notary office. Publicly, the story was that Andoain had gone missing during a mission. He'd always carried himself with warmth and courtesy, never letting anything negative slip onto his face. Many of his colleagues at the office worried over his disappearance.

He had associates, yes, but few close friends—none beyond his own squadmates. Only with them had he shared the kind of trust where you'd put your life in another's hands.

After leaving the squad, Mostima became effectively idle. When she wasn't at Felix's house, keeping him company while he worked, she'd be with Fiammetta visiting Lemuen. She'd already submitted an application for travel outside Laterano. The office hadn't approved it yet, but such requests were usually granted.

Lemuen, freed from squad duties as well, found herself with time on her hands. With her experience, skills, and talent for paperwork, she could have easily landed another position within the office. But instead, she chose to rest for a while. Her days were split between spending time with Mostima and Fiammetta, and, once her younger sister Lemuel had finished her homework, bringing her along to Felix's workshop to watch him hammer away at steel.

Fiammetta, meanwhile, pushed herself relentlessly. Every day she trained, testing new guns, working to master the upgraded hand cannon Felix had made her. She had sworn to him that the next time she faced Andoain, she would take vengeance—that was the only right thing she could still do as a former member of his squad.

The damaged "Lost Equipment" set they had once relied on had been patched and reinforced under Felix's hammer. Its durability was restored, and both its defenses were improved.

Even so, the Lost Equipment set was far too weak. Felix's eyes were already on the upcoming 2.0. In that era, the strongest gear most players could expect was blue-tier; only a handful of people would manage to obtain purple-tier equipment by clearing hidden quests tied to certain NPCs.

By mid-to-late 2.0, green gear would be practically everywhere. Players would gain access to mobile cities, making it far easier for production specialists to gather the materials they needed. Trade between players would thrive, pushing the in-game economy forward and fueling a golden age for crafting professions.

Version 2.0 was when production players truly exploded in number. Since experience could be gained outside of combat, many who disliked fighting simply turned to production instead—gaining levels by crafting, then selling their creations for profit. A clean and self-sustaining loop.

At the very least, crafted gear could always be sold to NPCs. Merchants would usually offer a fair price based on the materials and quality… though there were always shady dealers out to cheat you.

Felix still hadn't rolled a guaranteed drop or managed to craft a blueprint that could produce blue-grade gear. By rights, his secondary profession—Apprentice Machinist—should have been capable of it. He had once rolled a rare "Clever" blueprint, proof enough it was possible. But since then, no matter how many times he tried, nothing. Looked like his luck had run dry.

Not that he was in a hurry. His next stop was Lungmen, a hub of trade where money could buy almost anything. When the time came, picking up a blue-grade mechanical blueprint would be as easy as breathing.

"Felix, someone's here for you."

A colleague from the Notarial Hall knocked on the workshop door. Felix, who had been absentmindedly hammering while browsing silly posts from netizens, looked up.

"The Cardinal from the Papal Hall wants to see you," the colleague said when the door opened.

The Papal Hall? What business did they have with him now?

They couldn't possibly think he'd been holed up too long and wanted to push him back out on missions, could they?

Even so, whatever the reason, he couldn't refuse. Felix changed clothes and took the tram to the Papal Hall.

The same Cardinal who had visited him earlier received him at the entrance and led him up the stairs into the upper levels.

Felix had never set foot here before—not in this life, nor in the last. In the game, players could earn status and join the Notarial Hall, but never the Papal Hall. The simplest explanation was loyalty—or the lack of it.

Even Sankta players were barred for the same reason. Perhaps, in the eyes of Laterano's laws, players weren't truly "legal" Sankta at all.

Why? The reason was simple. For a Sankta, shooting another Sankta meant falling, becoming a Fallen Angel. Yet among players, Sankta could shoot Sankta all day long and none ever fell. Maybe it was because they weren't covered under the laws of Laterano. Or maybe it was because their avatars were only projections within the game world. Whatever the case, players simply didn't have the ability to fall of their own accord.

Or perhaps—falling required other strange and hidden conditions.

Inside the open-plan office, Felix finally met the Pope. Yvangelista XI still wore his warm, approachable smile. When he saw Felix, he rose from behind his desk.

"I had intended for you to take your holiday in rest, yet you've been locked away in the Notarial Hall's workshop this whole time. The Cardinal even suspected I'd given you special instructions."

"This is just my personal hobby," Felix replied.

"I thought as much. Hobbies can make even dull work feel enjoyable. But in the harshness of reality, we cannot always escape the dull parts."

Yvangelista XI chuckled, stroking his white beard. "How did you find the cactus tart?"

He looked, in that moment, like Dumbledore smiling as he asked Harry Potter if a pile of cockroaches was tasty.

Felix nodded. "Its flavor was… intense. Perhaps that's why cactus tart isn't very popular."

"I only hope that in growing accustomed to sweets, the people of Laterano won't forget to taste other flavors now and then."

The Pope narrowed his eyes in a smile, his tone carrying a curious weight.

Again, very Dumbledore.

Felix didn't bother reading into his riddles. Truth be told, if he wanted to, he could just as easily reply with a cryptic riddle of his own to play along. But trading riddles with a bearded old man had far less appeal than doing the same with Kal'tsit.

Honestly, it had been a while since he'd seen her. He found himself missing her—not because she had gotten into his head, but simply because he missed her brand of riddles.

"Your Holiness, may I ask why you summoned me?"

"There is indeed a matter—neither too big, nor too small."

Yvangelista XI paused in thought before speaking again. "The weapons you brought back. The Cardinals have completed their research."

Seeing Felix's expression turn serious, the Pope continued:

"These two staves come from a certain ruin. Our preliminary assessment places them at least a century old, perhaps even dating back to the era of the earlier Sarkaz Demon Kings… It may well tie into a long stretch of history. You'll be able to find some fragments of Kazdel's early past in Laterano's public archives."

"As for the strange whispers you reported," the Pope said gravely, "the Cardinals did find records of such things. But according to those records, the phenomenon has grown weaker over time. The magical reaction is no longer as intense as before. Our theory is that once removed from the ruins, the staves' inherent sorcery gradually waned. Still, this requires further observation."

Felix only had a vague impression of the staves' Arts—the most striking aspect being their connection to time itself. But beyond that, he knew very little. In his previous life, he had never been close with Mostima, and she had been constantly wandering as a messenger, impossible to track down.

As for "the Lock and the Key," he knew almost nothing.

"Can these staves be used now?" he asked.

Yvangelista XI nodded. "The Cardinals have already tested them. They indeed carry Originium Arts tied to time. Highly dangerous. But in use, they showed no backlash, nor did they produce any whispering voices."

"Your Holiness, would it be possible for me to take one of these weapons into my custody, at least temporarily?"

"Oh?"

The Pope's interest sharpened as he looked at Felix. "Go on."

"In the future, I will return to that land. Inevitably, I will set foot in Kazdel once more. There, I may uncover more about this weapon, perhaps even about the Demon King himself. It's possible I could discover its secrets."

Felix clasped his hands together. "And I won't give up on pursuing Andoain."

At that name, Yvangelista XI fell silent for a moment, then gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment.

"These two staves are extremely dangerous. The most likely outcome is that they sit gathering dust in the Papal Hall's armory."

The Pope nodded. "So I hope you will use them carefully—and with great caution."

"I understand, Your Holiness."

Once business was settled, the mood eased. The Pope slid a cup of hot cocoa across the desk toward Felix. "Tell me, when do you plan to leave Laterano?"

"Mid-February. Once I've finished forging weapons for Lemuen and Fiammetta, I'll depart."

"And the Pioneer Squad?"

"I'll speak to them, see if they'll join me," Felix said honestly. "I also intend to continue serving as a messenger, delivering communications along the way."

"Federico must remain," the Pope countered, his tone shifting into negotiation. "If you take him with you, those old men in the Notarial Hall will raise hell."

"…Alright."

Felix couldn't help feeling disappointed. He and Federico had built trust as comrades-in-arms; they understood each other. If they parted now, who knew when they might meet again.

"Son, you're even taking Mostima with you. Can't you spare a little pity for us lonely old men?"

Hearing Yvangelista XI's wistful, almost sulky words, Felix felt a cartoonish waterfall of sweat roll down his back.

Their conversation ended there. The Pope walked him to the door and sent him off with quiet words of blessing:

"I hope you find what you seek on that land of suffering, Felix."

"Thank you for your blessing."

Felix returned the gesture with a flawless bow.

Following the Cardinals, he entered the research institute, where he saw the "Lock and Key" under study.

The first time he encountered them, the weapons had felt eerie, wrapped in whispers and a chilling aura. Now, however, they seemed no different from ordinary staves. Just like when he had drawn "Helena's Sorrow," it was as if their sharp edge had been dulled—or deliberately hidden.

With the Pope's permission, Felix easily obtained the right to use them. When he grasped the staves, no visions appeared, no voices whispered.

But the Lock and Key were never meant for him. They were for Mostima. Wielding them required a higher main-class rank, and Felix was still only first tier—bottom of the barrel. He couldn't use them even if he wanted to.

Mostima, however, would continue to travel the land by his side. With these twin staves, their group's strength would grow, and Mostima herself would gain far greater offensive power.

Carrying the Lock and Key, Felix stepped out.

Soon after, he received answers from his squad members.

Federico, ordered by superiors to remain, took the news without surprise. He felt no regret—only voiced his hope that someday he could fight alongside Felix again. Honestly, that was more than enough.

Plume would serve as Felix's guard in future operations. Patia had long dreamed of seeing more of the world. Spuria wanted to continue working with Felix on drones and mechanical tech. The three of them had already decided—they would follow him without hesitation.

Mostima accepted the Lock and Key from Felix, studying the weapon with a complicated expression.

This was the staff that had shown Andoain something—something that led to his betrayal.

Now, she was its wielder.

Her application was approved by the Notarial Hall. In the days ahead, she would accompany Felix as a messenger.

And with her came Fiammetta. She had been assigned by the Notarial Hall as well: since Mostima now carried a weapon officially deemed highly dangerous, someone had to stay close, record, monitor, and report all data back.

In Felix's previous life, those two had traveled together. He hadn't expected that even in this altered timeline, their entanglement remained unbroken.

Lemuen never filed an application. Instead, she often dropped by Felix's place with supplies and gifts. There, she would find Mostima lounging in loungewear, staying overnight as though it were her home. The two close friends would sit in the living room, quietly facing each other. Neither spoke a word aloud—yet it felt as if they were speaking all the same, through silent resonance.