It was total anarchy.
Swords clashed. Shields slammed. The air was thick with the shouts of armored guards, their crusader-like tabards whipping behind them as they charged down narrow stone corridors like hordes of beasts clad in steel.
The kidnappers never stood a chance.
They weren't trained. They weren't equipped. And more importantly, they were already losing before it began.
Kiana ducked as a body flew past her—one of the thieves, tossed like a ragdoll into a pillar, groaning as he slid to the floor. Two guards approached with swords raised, their steps heavy, merciless, unstoppable.
The man whimpered, lifting a shaking hand.
They weren't stopping.
Kiana's eyes widened.
"HEY!!"
She didn't think—just moved.
She grabbed the first thing she could find: a discarded wooden beam, half-broken, half-rotten.
She leapt in front of the downed thief, arms swinging wide as she shouted, "GET UP!!"
CRACK!
The beam slammed into one of the guard's breastplates, knocking him slightly off balance. The other swung—and she twisted, ducking low as the edge of his blade scraped along the wall.
She shoved the beam forward like a battering ram, pushing both men back with an awkward yell before one of them tripped, his sword clattering from his hand.
"Mine now," Kiana muttered, dropping the beam and scooping up the sword.
She stared at it. Heavy. Cold. Sharp.
"…Uhhh… how does Yuzu use one of these again?"
She gave it a practice swing—like a baseball bat. Nodded.
"Yeah, okay. I got this."
A shout behind her.
She spun.
One of the guards was aiming straight for the back of the man she headbutted earlier—his sword already halfway down.
"NOPE."
Kiana lunged, intercepting the swing with a heavy clang of metal. Her arms trembled from the impact, but she didn't budge.
She grinned, pushing forward with a snarl. "BACK OFF!!"
The guard stumbled back, stunned.
The thief blinked, then whistled low. "Hey… you're good."
Kiana winked, smug. "I know."
Then she sprinted after the guard she'd just disarmed, swinging the blade like she was trying to hit a home run.
"GET OUTTA OUR HOUSE!!"
The kidnappers—with Kiana leading the charge—rallied.
They grabbed what weapons they could. Broken furniture. Kitchen knives. A pipe.
Together, they charged.
Kiana kicked down the door leading to the front chamber, her sword raised high as she yelled, "ALL RIGHT, LET'S GO!"
The guards turned.
And then she moved.
Like fire given shape, she charged forward—blade in hand, fury in her eyes. Her stance dropped low, just like Yuzuki had taught her, knees bent and blade trailing like a comet's tail. One of the guards raised his shield—
CLANG!
She spun, bringing the blade up with the momentum of a pirouette—Victor's reverse arc—and shattered the guard's defense with one clean hit. His shield split, the force throwing him into the wall with a grunt.
Another guard lunged.
Kiana stepped inward, too close for a full swing—so she twisted, elbow to the ribs, a brutal little jab she remembered Victor drilling into her with a smirk. The guard reeled, and she disarmed him in a heartbeat, snatching his weapon mid-air and tossing it to the nearest thief behind her.
"Borrow that!"
They surged forward—Kiana at the helm, her movements wild but honed. It was an actual battle now.
Guards advanced in formation, blades high and heavy—but the thieves struck fast and low. A makeshift spear jabbed into a thigh, a chair splintered over a helmet. Blood hit the floor.
Kiana ducked under a cleaving swing, rolled across the stone, and kicked up to her feet. She spotted one of the thieves in danger—a young boy—pinned down by two guards.
She launched herself.
One foot on the table, the next off the wall—then she slammed down between them, her blade flashing. One went down with a scream. The other backed off, bleeding from his arm.
The air was thick with smoke and screams now. The house creaked under the weight of the clash.
"Kiana!" one of the thieves shouted. "Behind you!"
She pivoted—parried. Steel scraped against steel as she locked blades with a heavy-set guard, her arms straining.
"Yuzu would've told me to wait for an opening…" she growled.
She headbutted him instead.
The man staggered.
"…But I'm not that patient!"
She kicked him through the front door.
The other guards, bloodied and breathless, stumbled after him, desperation in their eyes. "FALL BACK!" they shouted, retreating through the alley like broken armor.
Panting, soaked in sweat, Kiana held her sword high.
They'd done it.
The thieves behind her erupted in ragged cheers, clapping each other on the back. Someone raised a chair like a trophy. Another pulled out food to offer the rescued prisoners. She lowered her sword slowly, breathing hard, her eyes never leaving the door.
And then—
Boom.
The entire front of the house—the wall, the frame, the supports—exploded.
Wood splintered. Dust choked the air. The cheer died in every throat. Kiana was thrown back a step by the sheer pressure of it.
A single figure walked through the drifting debris.
He wore long priestly robes, black and silver, pristine even as the rubble gave way beneath his feet. Dark curly hair shaped like a boulder stood on top of his head, a neatly kept mustache framing his frown. Around his neck hung a cross, scorched at the edges.
And in his hand—
A hammer too beautiful for a battlefield.
He didn't look angry. Or sad.
Just... resolved.
Kiana's breath hitched.
Her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword.
Her eyes widened.
"No way…" she whispered, her voice barely heard over the wind and ash.
"Is that—"
The silence hit like a wave, thick and uncertain, as the projection screen pulsed softly—trailing static along the edges where the simulation feed had been abruptly cut.
Raiden Mei leaned in, brows furrowed, her voice barely more than a breath.
"...Professor Chris?"
Every student turned in unison, eyes locking onto the man in question—still standing with arms crossed at the corner of the control room, bathed in pale blue light from the monitors.
Chris didn't flinch.
He didn't even blink.
He just nodded once, slow and calm.
"It is."
Yuzuki's gaze sharpened, his hand folding across his chest. "You said this was a recreation of a real event… didn't you, Professor?"
Before Chris could answer, Mobius spun in her seat, legs casually propped on the console. "Mhm. Straight from the archives," she said, popping her lips. "Happened during the 15th century. Or was it the tail-end of the 14th? Timeline's fuzzy."
Mei gasped—quiet, but audible. Her voice trembled slightly.
"Wait… if that's true…" she whispered, "...how old is Professor Chris?"
Chris let out a full laugh—deep and smooth, but tinged with something weightier.
"Hey now," he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not the oldest person in this room."
The students blinked. All of them.
Even Victor turned sharply, eyes wide in alarm as they locked onto Chris's.
Mobius just grinned, eyes narrowing with interest. "Oho? You're really gonna play that card here?"
Chris smirked but didn't say another word.
Meanwhile, behind them all, Otto had taken a step back from the console.
He crossed his arms in front of himself—slowly, almost protectively. His fingers gripped at his sleeves, knuckles whitening.
And his jaded eyes… they trembled.
"…Of all events," Otto whispered, barely audible beneath the hum of the room. His gaze never left the screen.
"Professor Gorilla!!"
The words shot out of Kiana's mouth before she could stop them, echoing over the rubble and ringing out across the battlefield like a war horn laced in confusion.
The man in black—clad in pristine robes lined with silver, a massive warhammer slung across his back like it weighed nothing—raised an eyebrow.
He exhaled—long and disappointed.
"I was wondering why it was taking so long," he muttered, stepping forward. "I didn't expect the delay to be caused by… a civilian."
Kiana instinctively stepped back, her hands tightening around the stolen sword. The blade wobbled slightly, her knuckles white.
She pointed it toward him.
" I'm not letting you hurt them!"
Chris didn't even flinch.
"There's no need for violence," he said coolly. "We're only here to capture them."
Kiana blinked. "...Really?"
"Of course."
A beat.
"Then what?"
Chris didn't hesitate.
"Execute them."
The air turned still.
Kiana's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"
Chris's voice didn't raise. His expression didn't change. He spoke with the same ease one might discuss the weather.
"The peace of this country is paramount. I cannot allow those who willingly disrupt order to go unpunished. If I do, I give others a reason to believe they can do the same."
"But—!" Kiana's voice cracked, her feet stumbling forward. "What about their families?! Don't you care?! They're doing it to survive, not to hurt anyone! You're just gonna punish everyone because they're desperate?!"
Chris tilted his head slightly, regarding her the way a priest might regard a sinner who didn't understand the weight of their confession.
"Every action has a price," he said, calm as ever. "Nothing can be done about that."
"They're kind people!" Kiana shouted, her voice shaking. "They're trying their best!"
"If they were," he said without pause, "we wouldn't be here."
Thud.
He took another step forward—and this time, he reached for the hammer.
It came off his back with a sound like metal grinding against bone. A low hum rippled through the air, the very weight of it pulling dust from the floorboards.
The expression on his face didn't change.
But his presence did.
Kiana's eyes widened as her instincts screamed. Her stomach flipped. Her legs trembled.
Fear.
Real fear.
"DUCK!" she yelled—half to herself, half to everyone else.
They hit the ground just in time.
BOOOOOOM!
The hammer came down once.
Once.
And half the house simply ceased to exist.
Splinters and stone screamed into the sky as the front wall detonated in a pillar of debris, dust, and white light. The ground cracked. The support beams buckled. The air itself seemed to pull away from the shockwave that followed.
Silence.
Chris stood there, his hammer glowing faintly. An aftermath of how much energy that one swing produced.
Unbothered. Unmoving.
Kiana slowly rose from the ground, eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest.
She swallowed hard.
"…what the hell…"
"Please…" Chris's voice rang out like a tolling bell—steady, calm, final. "Take that as a warning. I do not wish to harm those who are merely misguided by their goodwill."
He took another step forward.
The very earth beneath him cracked.
But Kiana didn't flinch.
Her breath hitched. Her legs trembled—but she stood her ground, blade in hand, fury in her eyes.
"Run!" she shouted to the others behind her, her voice raw with urgency. "Get out of here—NOW!"
Then she turned and charged.
Her grip tightened. Her foot slammed against the broken floorboards. With a cry that cracked the silence wide open, she swung the blade with all the strength her arms could muster.
A perfect diagonal arc.
Steel met flesh.
It hit.
The blade buried deep into Chris's shoulder with a sickening crack—like steel biting into a marble pillar. His robes tore, blood splattering in a sharp line as the blade lodged itself into him, nearly halfway to the hilt.
Kiana's breath caught in her throat.
She smiled. Just a little. Just for a second.
And then she pulled.
And it moved.
Clean. Effortless.
And beneath it…
No wound.
The muscle beneath the torn fabric reformed with a sound like whispers in reverse. Sinew twisted. Skin closed. The blood evaporated into steam, leaving behind not even a scar.
The wound was gone.
Kiana froze.
Her lips trembled.
"W-what…"
Chris tilted his head—not unkindly. There was no malice in his eyes.
"You swing well," he said. "And without hesitation, to protect what you believe in. That is a gift. One I welcome."
He stepped forward once more. The air bent around him.
"But understand this… I will only forgive you once."
She stood her ground.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't move.
And he frowned.
"…A pity."
His warhammer rose.
High.
Above his shoulders. Over his head.
A cathedral of destruction waiting to fall.
And he brought it down—
"Please wait!"
The voice was soft.
But it split the moment like thunder.
Chris stopped.
Not just the hammer—everything.
Kiana gasped, turning her head toward the source of the voice. Her heartbeat was a war drum in her ears.
And there—
Walking past the shattered beams and falling ash—
A woman stepped through the rubble.
Her presence calmed the very air. Her silver hair swayed like drawn silk, catching the light with every step. The glint of her armor reflected not just the chaos—but something gentler. Something sorrowful.
The screen shimmered slightly, catching the glow of the paused moment—Kallen's face still serene, her presence etched like a statue of grace amidst the ruins.
No one spoke.
Not at first.
Then—
"...Kallen…" Otto whispered.
It wasn't loud.
But it cracked in the silence like glass.
His voice quivered. His shoulders trembled, just slightly. Fingers curled into his sleeves where they crossed in front of him. His usual polished composure bent under weight he didn't let them see—except for now.
Chris said nothing.
His eyes remained closed, brow faintly furrowed, as though shielding himself from the memory.
And Victor—
He stared.
At her.
At Kallen.
His lips parted, the words slipping out in a breath quieter than the hum of the monitors.
"...Beautiful."
The silence that followed was instant.
Raiden Mei slowly turned, her purple eyes narrowed.
Eden glanced up from the controls, brow lifted.
Mobius blinked, then snickered faintly under her breath.
And Elysia—
Elysia tilted her head with a teasing grin, arms crossed loosely under her chest.
"Oh?" she chimed softly.
Victor blinked.
And promptly looked away.
"…Don't start," he muttered.
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Heya Everyone! HundredMasks-chan here! The latest chapter made by dear Author, and Here it is! Arknights: Weig