Arknights: Mobile City

"This thing can really get us through to the Aegir?"

Obsidian glanced at the radio in Laurentina's hands, his tone measured as he voiced his doubts.

Laurentina shot him a look, set the radio on the table, and replied calmly,

"I can't say for sure who'll pick up on this frequency, but if anyone can recognize the signal, it'll be the Aegir..."

"As for who, exactly? Who knows."

"Are you sure we'll be able to negotiate directly with someone who actually has decision-making power?"

Obsidian frowned, pressing further.

"No guarantees. But the more we try, the more likely we'll eventually reach someone important. Just have a little patience."

"...Then let's give it a try."

Listening to Laurentina's laid-back answer, Obsidian let out a quiet sigh. He'd hoped it would work on the first attempt—after all, time was a precious commodity for him.

Every bit saved is worth it...

The ticking time bomb of the Food Chain still loomed overhead. Any moment now, he might have to deal with a massive invasion. At the same time, Don Quixote's presence was like another bomb waiting to go off—if Obsidian's preparations lagged behind, disaster could strike at any time.

A trace of hope glimmered in his eyes as he silently watched Laurentina operate the radio. After some adjustment, she tuned it to a transmission frequency and waited in absolute silence for a response.

This contact was just as important to Laurentina as it was to him.

So, once the signal was sent, the two of them settled into a tense, silent wait. The minutes dragged on until, finally, the static on the radio began to shift...

"Second Team Captain Goredia of the Deepsea Hunters. If you can hear this, respond. Please respond, state your codename."

"Deepsea Hunter, Specter, received."

The moment Laurentina heard the voice, a subtle but unmistakable joy flickered across her face. The person on the other end paused, then spoke more softly,

"Specter...? You got through? After the Ishamara decapitation operation, I returned to Aegir, but I haven't seen you since..."

"Yeah... I was rescued. To be precise, I'm in a new city on the surface now, working with its leader."

Laurentina shrugged, glanced at Obsidian—who was watching her with narrowed eyes—and added,

"More accurately, he was the one who saved me."

"...Understood. Do you need me to send someone to pick you up right now?"

"How's the battle against the Seaborne going?"

"For now, we're holding steady."

"Then there's no need. I'm doing fine here—he's treated me well. Plus, there are things here I'm curious about, things I want to get to the bottom of... Oh, and there's something the city leader wants to ask you as well..."

"Seeking Aegir's protection?"

Goredia's voice carried through the radio, steady and matter-of-fact.

"A basic set of industrial equipment. I'll handle the installation—he's just hoping for official permission."

"Mhm. You can decide that on your own. Frankly, surface-level industrial gear isn't even as valuable as a Deepsea Hunter to us."

Goredia's calm response was final. Obsidian, hearing this, quietly exhaled and found his mind wandering.

So this is Aegir... For them, surface industrial equipment is nothing special—maybe even considered "civilian tech." No wonder it's not worth as much as a Deepsea Hunter...

Suddenly, Obsidian spoke up,

"Wait a moment—I have one more, rather presumptuous, request."

"What is it?"

"Could you provide me with some combat footage from your fights against the Seaborne?"

"...What do you want that for?"

"I'd like to use it to train a group of my own fighters."

Obsidian's voice was perfectly calm.

He had his reasons. Deepsea Hunter combat footage... there would surely be more than a few tragic stories there.

Disaster, catastrophe—some of it was on Aegir, but the Seaborne had brought plenty of calamity as well.

If that's the case... why not show some of it to the Tearful Thing?

A faint smile curled Obsidian's lips.

"...Specter, what do you think?"

Goredia fell silent for a moment—her first time actually seeking Laurentina's opinion. Laurentina hesitated, met Obsidian's gaze, seemed to struggle internally, and finally answered with resolve,

"Captain, I have no objections."

"All right... We'll send over some battle records when we can. Laurentina, give us the address."

With Goredia's agreement, Obsidian finally let himself relax, pacing slowly out of the room. He'd achieved everything he'd hoped for—now it was time to continue building the City.

Still, during the conversation with Goredia, thoughts of the Seaborne lingered at the back of Obsidian's mind... and a strange curiosity took root—

What would happen if undiluted ampoule fluid were dripped onto a Seaborne?

The ampoule was said to push its subject to the best state their subconscious could conceive, and the Seaborne had a hive mind... So, whose subconscious would the ampoule read?

Would every Seaborne collapse and revert to their origin—or would they all ascend together?

Obsidian shook his head. Unverified things like that were best left alone. Still, if he ever ran out of options, it might be a threat worth keeping in his back pocket...

He paced outside the door for a while, until the sound of the door latch clicking behind him made him turn. Laurentina stepped out, flashed him an "OK" sign—everything was settled.

"So, the next part's up to you?"

Laurentina nodded.

...

Very soon, Laurentina was already busy, rallying a group of refugees to tackle the foundations of industrial development.

Production lines of all kinds were immediately mapped out; even blueprints for the mines and related sites were handed over to Goredia during their communications. The construction of production and processing lines happened almost in parallel, taking shape at a breakneck pace.

By Obsidian's estimate, in another month, his City—with its two hundred-odd residents—would be able to meet their basic living needs.

Water, food, shelter, daily necessities, industrial goods—even weapons—the City would soon be able to produce it all.

In other words, after all this time laying the groundwork, the City was finally completing the foundation it needed to truly exist.

And as all this went on, a lone figure slowly made her way down from the City, gazing out at the endless wilds on the horizon.

A woman with long silver hair, dressed in a traveler's garb, her face utterly expressionless. She pulled her hat brim low, the ampoule vials at her waist clinking softly together.

"Time to move on..."

She muttered quietly, setting off at a steady pace toward her next destination.

Her path led to Kazdel.

Next target: Kazdel, the Military Commission... and Babel.