Arknights: The Life Inside-Chapter 76

Following the crew members as they moved through the cabin, Yoren couldn't help but ask ACE, who was walking beside him.

"Brother ACE, I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"Does Columbia have a navy at all?"

"A navy?"

"An army that fights on the ocean. Like warships."

ACE thought for a moment before replying. "Navy... at least, I've never heard of such a thing. Not just in Columbia—there shouldn't be one anywhere in the world."

"Why not?"

ACE looked troubled. "If you ask me why, I don't really know how to answer. The ocean is a place that people rarely touch, no matter the country."

"Huh? Why?"

The crew member leading the way suddenly interrupted Yoren. "Why? Because you'll die, that's why. Do you understand?"

He held a half-burned cigarette in his mouth, his expression irritated. "You don't know anything, and yet here you are, boarding a ship heading for the high seas. If you hadn't paid such a hefty price, I'd have tossed you ignorant stowaways overboard myself."

Ifrit rolled up her sleeves. "How dare you talk to me like that? Are you tired of living? Let me teach you some manners."

Yoren quickly caught Ifrit before she could explode, flashing a polite smile at the crew member. "Sorry, sorry. We'll stay put and follow orders. Please, lead the way."

He was genuinely worried. At such a critical moment, the last thing he needed was trouble. The crew could scream at him, shove him, even kick him, and he would endure it—for Ifrit's sake, for their escape. His pride didn't matter. His friends' safety did.

As they walked toward the warehouse, ACE leaned in and began explaining in a hushed voice.

From his words, Yoren pieced together why people rarely ventured into the ocean.

Near the shore, the sea was no different from his original world. The moon waxed and waned, the tides ebbed and flowed, and the waters teemed with marine life. But the open ocean—the high seas—was another story.

Decades ago, the rapid development of Originium technology propelled civilization forward. People abandoned their primitive ways and threw themselves into industrialization. Nations poured their resources into progress, and with new advancements, they inevitably turned their eyes to the ocean's untapped wealth.

At first, it was a boon. The nearshore waters provided an abundance of resources. Encouraged by success, countries expanded their reach, pushing farther into the deep sea. Maritime trade and transportation flourished.

Then, something went horribly wrong.

A mid-sized 50,000-ton cruise ship from Columbia vanished near Agor's waters. It carried over 600 crew members and passengers, along with valuable cargo. Seven days after its disappearance, Columbia sent a search team—seven ships in total—to find it. But they, too, vanished without a trace.

A month later, the missing cruise ship reappeared off the coast of a remote Casimirian city.

The local military and police boarded the ship, only to be met with a horrific sight.

Hundreds of corpses lay scattered throughout the vessel, their faces twisted in agony. Some were in an advanced state of decay. Signs of violent struggle covered every surface, but despite thorough investigations, no traces of any external attackers were found. The only conclusion? The passengers and crew had turned on each other.

It wasn't an organized mutiny or a desperate battle for survival—it was madness. A sudden, inexplicable bloodlust had seized them all, turning friends and family into murderers in an instant. The ship was a floating nightmare.

But that wasn't the most disturbing part.

When the authorities towed the vessel back to shore, they noticed something unnatural. The center of the ship had caved inward, compressed as though an immense force had constricted it. If the ship were a banana, it looked as if a tight rubber band had squeezed its middle, thinning it unnaturally while the ends remained intact. This was a steel-built, 50,000-ton cruise liner—what kind of force could do that?

News of the disaster spread worldwide.

Columbia retrieved the ship for further investigation, but the seven search ships remained missing.

Then, half a month later, a Victorian merchant ship disappeared in the same waters. More vessels followed. The vanishings were no longer confined to Agor's sea. Months later, some missing ships would reappear near distant shores, their decks strewn with corpses, their hulls showing eerie signs of compression. No one could explain what had happened to them.

It became clear: something lurked in the ocean—something that did not welcome human intrusion.

With no means to fight back, nations retreated from the deep sea. Shipbuilding halted. Seafaring was restricted. The open ocean became a forbidden zone.

Years passed. Trade and greed pushed humanity to test the waters again, but the warnings of the past loomed over every venture. Countries controlled the number of ocean-bound ships. Fishing in certain areas was absolutely prohibited. Official statements claimed that ship disappearances had drastically declined, though accidents still happened—storms, mechanical failures, the usual excuses.

Yet, according to those in the know, the disappearances never stopped. They were simply hidden.

Yoren absorbed the information in silence, his thoughts heavy.

Soon, the crew led them to a small room at the far end of the warehouse.

"You'll stay here for now," the crewman said. "The ship leaves port in an hour and a half. In four hours, we'll reach the high seas. Until then, you stay put. Our people will come for you. If you don't want trouble, don't step foot outside this room. Understood?"

Yoren could only half-believe the explanation ACE had given him. It wasn't that he doubted ACE's words—rather, ACE himself wasn't sure if these decades-old rumors had been exaggerated or twisted over time.

But one thing was certain: across every nation in the world, the ocean remained largely unexplored.

"Click!" fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

The crew member unlocked the heavy iron door before them and motioned for Yoren and the others to enter.

"Go in."

They had no choice but to comply. This wasn't their ship, and they had to follow its rules. Besides, the crew had been clear—after four hours, once they reached the high seas, they could leave. The wait was mainly to avoid military inspections before departure. If the ship was too close to port and any passengers recognized them, they might report them to the authorities. In such a case, the ship could be forced to turn back, or worse, military police could be waiting for them at the next stop.

But once they hit international waters, they'd be safe. The ocean was vast, and no one would be able to track them down quickly. Passengers wouldn't dare to cause trouble either. Even if someone recognized a wanted criminal, there'd be no way to act on it. And once they reached Victoria, their contacts would handle the rest.

Four hours would pass quickly. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it was bearable.

Yoren nodded and stepped inside, following ACE, Snowsant, and Ifrit into the concealed room.

The dim light overhead flickered, casting uneven shadows. The air was thick with an unsettling mix of rust, dampness, and something else—something stale and unclean.

Yoren had expected a cramped, dark hideout, but the room was larger than he had thought. Roughly 50 square meters, it had the feel of an old storage area. But despite the space, it was far from reassuring.

More than twenty people were already inside.

Most were men, though a few women were scattered among them. They varied in age, race, and clothing, but they all shared the same hardened expressions—the same guarded, wary glances. Clearly, they were in the same situation as Yoren and his group. Stowaways.

Yoren wasn't fazed. As long as they made it to Victoria, he couldn't care less whether he was crammed into a room with fugitives or sleeping next to a circus monkey.

He turned to Snowsant and Ifrit.

"Sit here and don't move," he instructed.

"Okay."

Snowsant nodded, pulling a few old newspapers from her backpack and spreading them on the floor before tugging Ifrit down beside her.

ACE, meanwhile, remained standing, arms crossed, his presence imposing as ever.

If Yoren had been alone with the two girls, he wouldn't have been able to relax. Just from the looks in the eyes of the other stowaways, he could tell there wasn't a single decent person among them. But with ACE here, the situation changed completely.

A towering man with sharp eyes, combined with two delicate, fair-skinned girls—it was easy to assume they were a wealthy young lady and her bodyguard. Yoren's presence didn't fit either category, but that didn't matter. In the eyes of others, he was just a tagalong.

The room was mostly silent, save for the occasional murmur of hushed conversation. Seeing no immediate trouble, Yoren turned to ACE.

"Brother ACE, why don't you sit against the wall and get some rest?"

ACE shook his head, his face unreadable.

"No need. I've had combat training. You all rest—I'll take care of the rest."

"Alright."

ACE's reliability was reassuring. It was clear that he saw Yoren and Snowsant as younger siblings he needed to protect.

Nearby, two men sat next to Snowsant and Ifrit. Yoren stepped closer and nudged one of them lightly with his foot. It wasn't the politest move, but in this situation, who cared about etiquette?

"Hey, move over."

The man, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looked up at Yoren, his eyes narrowing. He didn't speak, but his expression said it all: Who the hell are you?

Yoren didn't back down. He met the man's gaze evenly.

"Didn't you hear me? I said move. I want to sit next to Aina. There's not much space, so we all have to squeeze in, right?"

It was a reasonable request, delivered in a tone that wasn't overly aggressive but also wasn't meek.

The man was around thirty, of medium build, and wore a hat that obscured his features. The man beside him, however, was younger and noticeably bulkier.

The younger one rolled up his sleeves, revealing tattooed arms, and sneered.

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

It was clear he wasn't used to being questioned. He wasn't outright picking a fight, but he wasn't about to back down either. In his mind, if his older brother moved just because some random kid told him to, it would be humiliating.

Yoren sighed internally. Why does this always happen? He was just making a normal request, not looking for trouble.

"I just asked him to move a little. Is that so unreasonable?"

"This room is big enough. You have to sit here?"

"Aina's sitting here. I want to sit next to her. You stick with your own brother, alright?"

"You—"

"What? We're all in the same boat—literally. What, you expect kindness and patience from a room full of stowaways?"

The older man—clearly the "big brother" of the pair—glanced at Yoren, then at ACE, standing like a stone wall behind him. With a quiet sigh, he shook his head.

"Forget it. I'll move."

He reached behind him, grabbed a cane, and shifted half a meter to the side.

Yoren hadn't expected him to have trouble walking, which left him feeling a little awkward, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.

Snowsant pulled out another newspaper and spread it beside her. Yoren dusted off his pants and sat down.

Time passed slowly. Out of boredom, Yoren found himself observing the two men beside him.

Noticing Yoren's gaze, the younger one glared.

"What are you looking at, kid?"

Yoren peeled a banana from Snowsant's bag and took a casual bite.

"There are only twenty-something people in this room. Everyone's just sitting in silence. What else am I supposed to look at?"

"Tch. Don't go looking for trouble."

Yoren smirked.

"Relax, big guy. You're way too tense. Look at your brother—he's got a much better attitude."

He pulled another banana from the bag and handed it to the older man.

"Here. We're all just trying to get through this, yeah? Have a banana."