Arknights: The Life Inside

Yoren stuck his head out of the alley, scanning his surroundings. When he was sure no one was around, he slipped out, keeping his movements quick and silent.

He had been lucky—just a muscle-headed fool. If that Ursus man had pressed further, he might have been exposed.

Pulling the collar of his fur coat high to shield his face, Yoren avoided the crowds and made his way toward the outskirts of Qie City, where fewer people roamed.

As he moved, thoughts churned in his mind.

The safest option was to reach the outskirts and find a slum or abandoned district to hide out in until the search died down.

To be honest, he felt uneasy.

In his old world, he had faced countless dangers in video games. Whether it was saving the princess in a fantasy realm or taking down a demon king in a cursed castle, he never hesitated. After all, if you died, you could always try again.

But here? Here, there were no second chances.

The air was cold, the fear real. He was living inside the world of Arknights—but unlike before, he wasn't a player looking at pixels on a screen. He was a man with no power, no allies, and no way out.

It was the year 1093 of the Terra calendar. According to what he remembered from Arknights lore, Rhodes Island had only recently been established. Before Amiya turned it into a formidable paramilitary medical force, it had been just a small pharmaceutical company.

He had already met Kroos, and it seemed she and Beagle had yet to join Rhodes Island.

The major factions were still in their infancy—Penguin Logistics, Blacksteel International, Kjerag Trade, Rhine Lab. The power balance of the world was shifting, but nothing had solidified yet.

And as for the operators he knew so well? He had no idea where they were at this point in history.

Three years ago, when Talulah led Reunion's uprising in Chernobog… where were they?

Amiya was probably still just a young girl.

Texas was a rookie at Penguin Logistics.

Liskarm and Franka were fresh recruits at Blacksteel International.

And Eyjafjalla…

Yoren smirked at the thought.

A young Eyjafjalla, wearing a puffy skirt, speaking in that soft, sleepy voice.

["These lambs were left to me by my mother. Senior, aren't they cute? …Senior? I fell asleep..."]

"Heh… hehehe…" Yoren chuckled to himself like a complete idiot as he jogged through the cold streets, the fur coat billowing behind him.

Wiping away a bit of drool, he snapped back to reality.

"I'm not a lolicon… probably. When I meet her, I have to be the image of a cool, reliable senior."

Then again… who even was he in this world?

He wasn't a swordsman. He wasn't a hero. He was just a shut-in gamer who struggled to clear Arknights stages without looking up guides.

One moment, he was grinding through a Raid level. The next, he had been dragged into this world, barefoot in the snow, with only a vague mission: "Save Amiya."

But how? He had no skills, no weapons, no power.

Still, despite all the fear and uncertainty, something inside him burned with excitement.

Because this was Arknights.

He wasn't just watching his favorite operators on a screen anymore. He could meet them. Talk to them. Fight alongside them.

And if he couldn't pull them from a gacha banner?

Then he'd go find them himself.

—

An hour later.

Yoren's breath came in heavy gasps. His legs ached, his throat was dry. He slowed his pace.

The road had become rough, the buildings around him worn-down and abandoned. He hadn't seen another person in at least ten minutes.

No doubt about it—he had reached the deserted districts of Chernobog.

The wind had picked up, snowflakes swirling through the air. If this kept up, there'd be a full-blown snowstorm by nightfall.

He needed shelter. A place to rest. Somewhere to start a fire.

His gaze swept the area until he spotted four large warehouses in the distance. They looked abandoned, but still sturdy enough to block out the wind.

Perfect.

Yoren trudged toward them, stopping in front of one of the rusted iron doors. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the handle and pulled with all his strength.

Screeeech.

The heavy door groaned open just enough for him to slip inside.

The interior was dark and vast, crates stacked high in the corners. He had just begun searching for firewood when a pair of blood-red eyes glowed from behind the boxes.

His breath caught.

"Oh, shit!"

The dim lighting made the sight even more terrifying. Yoren stumbled back, heart pounding, his skin crawling with goosebumps.

A beast? A zombie? A ghost?

After a tense moment, a thin man emerged from the shadows, his movements stiff and unnatural.

He wasn't just anyone—he was a Filin. But something was wrong.

His bloodshot eyes were wide with paranoia. His body trembled. Veins bulged from his neck. And on his skin—

Yoren swallowed hard.

Black crystal formations.

Oh, hell.

"Infected," Yoren muttered under his breath.

The Filin man suddenly pointed at him, his voice breaking into a crazed scream.

"You're here to kill me, aren't you?! I won't let you catch me! Before I die, you'll all die! The natural disaster is coming! Everyone will die!"

Yoren raised his hands. "Hey, hey, calm down. I don't mean any harm. I'll just—"

"No one can escape! I've seen it! The rain of fire! The storm that will tear everything apart! Everyone will die! EVERYONE!"

Yoren's eyes darted to the man's outstretched hand.

Crystals. Growing on his skin.

A chill ran down his spine.

Before he could react, a deep, authoritative voice cut through the air.

"Bloodshot eyes, hallucinations, and crystallization on the skin. Early-stage oripathy symptoms. This man is infected."

Yoren whirled around.

Standing at the warehouse entrance was a petite Ursus girl, her fur-collared crimson coat billowing as she stepped inside. Dark red strands mixed with her brown hair, framing sharp blue eyes. Her face was fair, striking, but what stood out most was the unwavering confidence she carried.

A red armband sat on the sleeve of her coat.

Unlike the massive, brutish Ursus he had seen before, she was barely 1.6 meters tall. Yet her presence filled the room.

Yoren's breath hitched as realization struck him.

"You… you can't be… Winter?"

The girl gave him a single glance before scoffing.

"Pathetic. Get out of the warehouse. Now."

Looking at the bear-eared girl's defiant expression and hearing her sharp words, Yoren was absolutely certain.

That's right—she was a hot-blooded fighter through and through.

Dusting himself off and straightening his hair, he spoke with exaggerated calmness. "General Dong, save me!"

Winter raised an eyebrow. "You know me? Are you a student of the Ursus Student Autonomous Group?"

"Uh… yeah…"

"Which school?"

"No time for details! We're on the same side, right? Think of a solution quick—I don't want to get infected!"

Winter looked a little younger than her game portrait, still carrying traces of immaturity. Yet, to Yoren, she appeared radiant—almost like family.

After all, in his old world, Winter had been his very first five-star operator to reach E2.

She scoffed. "Pathetic. An infected person scared you this much? If you don't want to get infected, stay behind me."

"Got it!" Yoren dashed behind her, gripping the back of her coat like a chick clinging to its mother.

"Hey, don't cling to me."

"I… I'm just making sure you can protect me if he lunges."

Winter shot him a cold glare. "If you don't back off, I'll carve you into pieces."

"Huh?"

With a flick of her coat, she pulled out a short black axe. The blade gleamed as it traced a deadly arc through the air, nearly slicing off the tip of Yoren's nose.

"Stand back!" she roared.

Yoren was already ten steps away before she finished speaking.

The infected Filin crouched by the wooden boxes, his bloodshot eyes flickering with primal survival instinct. His ears flattened, and his muscles tensed like a cornered animal.

"I'm not from Ursus! You have no right to kill me!"

Winter regarded him with icy detachment. "I won't kill you. Ursus has laws for dealing with the infected. I'll hand you over to the military police. No matter where you're from, I won't allow infected to roam freely."

The Filin let out a bitter laugh. "Don't insult me with that lie. Everyone knows how Ursus treats the infected. If you hand me over, they'll strip away my identity, throw me in the mines, and leave me to die alone in the dark."

A flicker of sadness crossed Winter's face. "It's not up to me. Blame fate."

"Fate?" The infected spat, his voice rising with fury. "That's just an excuse for the selfishness of Ursus! Afraid of losing their power, they divide the world into black and white. Those who live in the light refuse to acknowledge the suffering of the infected! No matter what I was before, the moment I contracted this disease, I lost everything!" His fists clenched. "The Ursus aren't gods! Who gave you the right to make these rules?!"

Winter stood silently, letting him rage.

The words echoed in the warehouse, and something in Yoren's chest tightened.

At that moment, he understood.

The world wasn't split into good and evil. Justice was just another word for the victor's will.

The Reunion Movement hadn't emerged from nowhere. And three years from now, Tallulah's cause wouldn't be born in vain.

And Amiya—three years later, he finally understood what she wanted to save.

Winter took a slow breath and tightened her grip on her axe.

"I'm sorry. But for Ursus, I have to do this."

Her voice lacked its usual firmness. Perhaps, for the first time, she was questioning herself. Perhaps this very moment planted the seed of doubt that would later lead her to join Rhodes Island, alongside the friends who lost their homes.

But for now, she was an Ursus leader. And she had a duty to fulfill.

Her face steeled once more. "I don't want to hurt you. But if you resist, I won't hesitate to cut off your hands and feet."

The infected man bared his teeth in a twisted grin. "I won't let anyone oppress me. I will escape Ursus. I will live free!"

Winter smirked. "Oh? Then show me if you have the strength to make that happen. Let me warn you, I'm not like other Ursus."

There was no more need for words.

Yoren knew that despite her age, Winter was a formidable warrior. As the leader of the Ursus Student Autonomous Group, her combat prowess likely ranked near the top of all Ursus fighters.

But this wasn't a game—there were no stats to reference. Yoren had no idea how powerful she truly was.

Winter narrowed her eyes, and the air around her shifted.

Her aura was suffocating. Even Yoren—just a bystander—felt the overwhelming, primal pressure.

In that moment, she wasn't a girl.

She was a beast.

Bang!

Winter roared, the ground beneath her feet cracking as she launched forward, axe in hand, an unstoppable force.

Yoren yelped and darted to the corner, as far away from the battlefield as possible.

The infected Filin reacted with razor-sharp reflexes. As Winter's axe came crashing down, he leapt, his lithe body twisting through the air, landing gracefully atop a metal beam.

CRASH!

Winter's axe obliterated the wooden crate, sending a shockwave of splinters and dust exploding through the warehouse.

Above, the Filin balanced on the steel frame, peering warily into the haze below.

Then—

Winter moved.

With an explosive leap, she soared upward, grabbing onto the metal beam with one hand.

The Filin smirked. Speed and agility belonged to the Filin, not the Ursus. As long as he wasn't caught directly, he could always find a chance to escape.

But he had underestimated Winter.

Still hanging from the beam with one hand, Winter's gaze sharpened. A deep growl rumbled from her throat.

Then—

"RAAHH!!"

With a monstrous roar, her grip tightened.

Metal groaned. The beam in her hand buckled under the sheer force of her grip.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Under Yoren's and the infected man's horrified gazes, the steel rivets burst from their sockets. The entire metal frame contorted like paper in Winter's grip.

Then—

With one final, earth-shattering tear—

The entire beam came crashing down.

The infected Filin's body seized in shock. As the steel beneath his feet twisted and shattered, he plunged downward, along with the wreckage.

BOOM!

A deafening impact. The man hit the ground hard, blood spurting from his lips before his body went limp.

Silence.

Yoren, still pressed against the corner, gawked, his jaw practically unhinged.

Tearing through steel beams?! That… that wasn't human strength!

That wasn't just the power of a bear.

That was the power of an excavator!

The Ursus people weren't just monsters.

Winter was a monster.