Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

In this era, when people spoke of Kjerag, they thought of endless snow, mountains, and pine forests.

Rather than a nation, most imagined Kjerag as nothing more than scattered villages. Only a handful of travelers who had truly set foot here understood that such a view was not far from the truth.

By late May, the roads had grown treacherous. Tires sank into thick snow, making progress slow and exhausting. Even though Felix had swapped in anti-slip tires before the trip, this wilderness track was still nearly impassable.

"There's a town up ahead."

He recalled the drone hovering above the truck's roof. As the window rolled down, icy wind rushed in, jolting Mostima and Fiammetta awake in the back seat, both shivering as they shook off their drowsiness.

They had been driving across Kjerag's southern border for nearly two days now. No supply posts, no signs of life—only a straight road, stretching endlessly, punctuated by weather-beaten road signs promising that civilization lay ahead. At last, the road began to twist and curve.

Felix killed the engine and glanced at Degenbrecher in the passenger seat.

"Have you been to Kjerag before?"

"No. Only heard of it."

Degenbrecher shook her head. She had spent nearly her whole life in Kazimierz, never once leaving the country for travel. Her image of Kjerag came from gossip columns and travel pamphlets. "I didn't expect it to be this desolate."

"Because hardly anyone comes here," Felix replied calmly. He straightened his coat and stepped out into the snow. "Kjerag isn't closed off, but the great powers of this land know almost nothing about it. Its territory is small, not threatening. And there are no resources that inspire much greed… minerals, perhaps, but Kjerag isn't the only country with mines."

Breath steaming in the cold, Felix exhaled. "If the land were richer, if its resources were better developed, Kjerag could have easily become a feeding ground for a major nation. Think of nearby Victoria—its nobles are predators in all but name. If they learned of rare resources hidden here, they would take them without hesitation."

If it were him, he mused, he might act more gently—but the essence would be the same.

People said they fought for Terra, for the future, for coexistence between infected and uninfected. In truth, what Felix had been doing wasn't far from an arms dealer's trade—repeating the patterns of the past. It was simply the fastest way to gain a foothold. With Tomorrow's Development, though, his actions could be legitimized, made reasonable. His goals wouldn't just be talk anymore, but lived out in reality.

It wasn't enough to move the players—he needed their support. And he needed the support of Terrans too.

By now, Mostima and Fiammetta had climbed out of the truck, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Seeing Felix and Degenbrecher talking in the snow ahead, they joined them.

The town was close. The road was too rough to drive further, so they set out on foot.

Through dense forest, boots crunching in snow, they had barely gone any distance before a sound reached them.

The braying of pack beasts.

A short walk brought several into view. They wore harnesses and cloth, clearly domesticated rather than wild.

In this land, in this climate, pack beasts were far more practical than cars—whether for transport or travel.

It was the first time Mostima and Fiammetta had seen such sturdy, gentle-looking creatures. The two stepped forward to get a closer look. Curiously, the beasts showed no fear. Instead, they approached with cheerful calls, nudging their heads against Mostima's outstretched hand.

"Who are you?"

A middle-aged Terran in heavy furs emerged from the pines. At the sight of the four strangers, he stiffened in surprise. But when he noticed the two women stroking the pack beasts with such gentle hands, some of his suspicion eased. He stepped forward to ask.

"Hello," Felix greeted him with a smile, voice calm and polite. "We're travelers here to visit Kjerag. We've been driving through snow and wind for days and nights, and we'd like to find a town nearby—somewhere we can rest and take a hot bath."

The man relaxed slightly. That smile—warm, composed, tinged with intelligence—softened his guard, even if inwardly he was still puzzled. Tourists, in Kjerag? Really? He kept the doubt off his face.

"I can take you to Turicum. It's not far, just a short walk."

He introduced himself as Leitt, then offered a suggestion. "But instead of walking, why not ride the beasts? My herding work is finished anyway. I can bring you into town."

Felix thanked him and, following Leitt's lead, approached a nearby pack beast. Its small dark eyes blinked at him, and it let out a soft call. Felix reached out to rub its thick hide, its head pushing gently against his palm. With Leitt's help, he managed to mount—though the feeling was strange.

In his previous life, he had never ridden anything, not even the tourist horses or elephants one might try once for novelty. Now his body rocked unsteadily, yet beneath it all was a surprising sense of security, as if he wouldn't fall no matter how much he swayed. It was oddly reassuring.

Mostima let out a bright laugh like silver bells as she tried to steady herself on her own mount. Catching Felix's glance, she gave him a faint, serene smile.

So, with Leitt, the four travelers and a dozen beasts began their slow descent down the mountain. From this vantage, Felix finally saw Turicum in its entirety.

It was not a nomadic city. Yet to call it a "village" would be absurd. If one compared it to a "starter town" for beginners, Turicum was far larger—on the scale of a true mobile city, though rooted to the earth.

"…Not much foot traffic," Felix observed.

Leitt chuckled from atop his beast. "Heh, the snow hasn't melted yet. Whether for trade or for travel, everything is difficult in this season. Tourists like you are rare indeed—but precisely for that reason, you'll get to see Kjerag's winter in its purest form."

His voice carried a warmth of pride and love for his homeland. Broadly, confidently, he began to introduce Turicum. "This is the domain of the SilverAsh family. It's the only official gateway between Kjerag and the outside. We locals call it the Turicum Trade Zone. Summer is the most lively—crowds of visitors, our traditional food, our mountain scenery—nothing like it."

"Keep going north, and you'll reach Mount Karlan. That's where the great religious institute, the Monastery, lies, overseen by the three ruling families: the Browntail, the Paleroche, and the SilverAsh family—lords of the very land we're standing on now."

"The young master of the SilverAsh family—you know him?" Felix asked suddenly.

Leitt blinked, puzzled by the question, but answered anyway. "I heard he was studying abroad in Victoria. No one's heard a word of him in years."

Felix nodded silently.

After inspection at the gates, they were allowed into the city without trouble. Everything within carried the scent of devotion: redwood walls and white plaster, adorned with bright woven cloths and fluttering banners. The sight instinctively quieted the spirit, making smiles fade as if out of reverence, drawing one into a pilgrim's solemnity.

Once inside, Felix parted ways with Leitt, then found a local inn. A hot bath washed away the fatigue of the road.

But the real problem remained: how to find SilverAsh—Enciodes SilverAsh. That was the reason behind his earlier questions with Leitt. In theory, if the SilverAsh heir had returned, surely the people of their domain would know. Yet this time, Enciodes had stirred no waves at all.

Why Turicum? Why would Enciodes come here?

After returning to Kjerag, he couldn't possibly head for Mount Karlan. That was the seat of the religious institutions—without authority, without a voice, he would gain nothing there. Felix put himself in Enciodes's place: If it were me, why return to Turicum? What's the purpose?

By now, Karlan Trade had already been established, though it remained in its quiet, wealth-gathering phase. Before things settled, it was only natural that Enciodes would keep his movements hidden. At present, he wasn't strong enough to clash head-on with the religious powers.

---

"Felix, what's the plan now?"

Degenbrecher was drying her damp golden hair, a steaming cup of cocoa in hand. She passed it to him casually. "Looking for someone again?"

"More or less," Felix replied with a faint smile. "But think of it as sightseeing."

He took a sip, gazing out the window at the snow-veiled scenery. "We'll rest for a bit. Then we'll walk the city."

Degenbrecher nodded and went back to drying her hair. After washing up, Mostima draped herself lazily across Felix's back, her warm chest pressed against his shoulders and neck, basking in a brief, quiet warmth.

Fiammetta wasn't seeing this for the first time. By now she was almost used to their displays of intimacy, but knowing Mostima as long as she had, she couldn't help a twinge of surprise at the sight. Ever since they had become teammates, she had known that Mostima's heart was tied to a Sankta who had left Laterano. And now… it was clear Mostima's intentions had been set from the start.

As for Felix, Fiammetta had never been close to him at first. Their real interaction began only when he helped modify her gun. From there, she followed him and Mostima into the strange city of Lungmen. It was Mostima's first time setting foot outside Laterano—Fiammetta's as well.

Chosen Overseer, watcher, protector—Fiammetta knew she had to be the steady one. Their squad might have long since dissolved, but she still served as Mostima's anchor. And Mostima remained her pillar in return.

After washing up and resting, the four finally stepped out into Turicum proper. The city looked no different from a bustling tourist hub: narrow streets lined with restaurants and small shops, stalls selling souvenirs, amusements, and attractions. Most of the passersby were Feline and Liberi, their curious glances softening into polite smiles and greetings. Overzealous vendors leaned across their stands the moment the group paused, eager to pitch their wares.

At the foot of the icy mountains, this simple warmth of human contact carried its own kind of comfort.

As Kjerag's sole open city, Turicum showcased nearly everything the country wished the outside world to see.

At one stall, Felix inspected a compact stove. He remembered buying one in his previous life while on assignment in Kjerag—sturdy, reliable, though it required frequent manual tuning. Without hesitation, he purchased one again, planning to dismantle and study its structure later, perhaps turning it into a modular design.

Their walk eventually brought them to a monastery-like building.

The Kjerag people were steeped in religious devotion. Kjeragandr, their sacred text, was held as scripture. Kjeragandr himself had once been king, the pioneer who named this land Kjerag, led his people forward—and then vanished from their sight.

Felix leafed through one of the religious books as if it were a bedtime read. Upon entering the monastery, the first sight that greeted them was a great statue.

He focused, activating a scan. A system prompt appeared:

[Statue of Kjeragandr]

[A scaled-down likeness of Kjeragandr. The devout confess their faith before it.]

It was much like the statues he had seen in his previous life—dignified, solemn. The face was full, almost cherubic, carrying a trace of softness, like the gaze of a mother upon her child.

The group bowed quietly. Standing before the statue, Felix offered Kjeragandr a sincere blessing.

He was not without faith. To him, it was simple: better to believe than not. He respected every creed and custom. This time was no different. When in Rome… And if the system itself outlined the rite of worship, why not?

Inside, the monastery opened up into a spacious hall. They were far from the only "tourists." Many of Turicum's own residents were there, going about their daily prayers.

"In this season, visitors here are truly a rarity."

The voice came from a woman with short black hair, the roots tinged faint blue. Her attire marked her as a member of the monastery clergy. She approached Felix with a calm, gentle smile. Though youthful in appearance, there was a quiet maturity in her presence.

"Would you like me to explain Kjeragandr to you?" she asked warmly.

"Thank you. We only have a rough understanding of Kjeragandr," Felix replied, lifting the slim tourist guide in his hand. The text was abridged—barely more than a summary.

It wasn't just Felix. Degenbrecher, Mostima, and Fiammetta—who had all come here with the mindset of travelers—found themselves equally curious.

"You may call me Kjera," the woman said with a light nod and a smile. Turning gracefully, she gestured for the four to follow.