So this is the weight behind being a Liberator.
Watching the match, Felix felt satisfied with Dandao Dantart's performance. Training under Degenbrecher had clearly paid off. In that critical moment his mind hadn't reacted, but his body had—instinctively dodging the blade Creed hurled at him. If not for that slip of instinct, the victory would have gone to Creed instead.
The professional players had all been pushing themselves hard lately, and Felix was no exception. He didn't bother with secondary professions, but the reflexes and resilience forged through physical training were things no stat panel could grant.
Back in the late stage of 3.0, only pro players and top veterans managed to reach five-star rank. Felix had been among them.
The jump from five to six stars was enormous, a true watershed. At that stage, a player could either double down on their main profession—pushing it to entirely new heights—or unlock a second main profession, what the system called an Alter Promotion.
The choice was stark: gain overwhelming strength in the path you'd walked all along, or split your growth and gain two primary professions.
For most pro players, the decision was simple. Competition was everything. Investing in their core profession was the only way forward. Picking up a second main profession meant starting over from scratch—skills had to be relearned, experience points reallocated. Attributes carried over, sure, but progress slowed. Better to refine the blade you already had than to waste time forging another.
That was the philosophy of nearly all pros: mastery in one path until retirement. Only a handful—those craving change, or those stranded without a team—chose to gamble on a second profession to widen their opportunities.
For Felix, though, five stars was still far off. But this time, it was also a chance.
In his past life, when he heard about Alter Promotion through friends among the top players, he hadn't thought much of it. Had he survived longer, he likely would have stuck with his support role to the end—logistics, coordination, rarely frontline combat. That was his safe zone.
But this life was different. As the leader of Tomorrow's Development, as someone carving out his own place in Terra, he couldn't cling to the old ways. Change wasn't optional—it was inevitable.
Exhaling slowly, Felix set his hands back on the forge. There was no war in 2.0, but deals in the shadows were constant. The Sarkaz were already moving to seize Londinium's factories, ready to produce the finest weapons. He couldn't afford to fall behind.
A week had passed since the world championship, three weeks in Ark' internal time. In that span, Felix had spent most of his days drawing schematics and hammering gear. On top of that, the blueprint submissions for Horizon Ark Project were due; he didn't intend to keep Kristen waiting.
But today, his focus was elsewhere—using his stockpile of rare metals to restore the durability of Helena's Sorrow.
When he had first pulled the weapon free, its durability was nearly gone. After a hundred years exposed to wind and sand, the once-mighty lance had been corroded nearly to ruin. Without his intervention, it would have crumbled into worthless scrap within a few more years.
Sparks flew as the hammer fell, molten alloys merging with the ancient frame. Slowly, the weapon's durability ticked upward. Felix exhaled in relief—if Helena's Sorrow were lost, he had no idea how he'd recover.
Clang, clang, clang—each strike rhythmic, measured. He slipped back into the trance of crafting… until, without warning, a thin flame of cold azure flickered to life at the tip of the lance.
Felix froze, jerking upright. When he looked again, the flame was gone. As if it had never been there.
An illusion? Impossible. Strange phenomena existed in Arknights, yes, but they always traced back to Originium Arts in the end. Was this, too, Originium?
Yet from everything he'd seen of the Silent Knight's life, Helena's Sorrow had shown no such flame. Its power was sound—resonance and shockwaves—not fire.
"..."
Felix glanced toward the weapon's information panel.
[Gungnir der Harmonie — The Helena's Sorrow]
Quality: Orange
Stats: Melee Attack 500–580, Arts Attack 500–580
Durability: 3,550 / 9,850
…Nothing. No change, no flames.
Or maybe… was the problem with him? Was it tied to his own Originium Arts?
Originium Arts weren't something one could simply learn from a manual or systemized teaching. On Terra, most races—aside from a few exceptions—possessed some affinity for Arts. Players were no different. Professor Naumann once mentioned that a person could, in theory, hold multiple Arts affinities, though most specialized in just one.
The example that stuck most in Felix's mind was Carnelian. Her mastery over earth and sand was so refined she could stand toe-to-toe with Lin Yühsia. That was her specialized Art.
Then there was Yanfei, the player who had been famous even in his last life. She chose the Feline race back then, wielding two Arts: control over stone and control over wind. She became the most iconic dual-Arts professional player of her time.
But this life, Yanfei was born a Sankta. Her first, hidden racial Art was the innate mastery over firearms, like all Sankta. Felix had already noticed in the arena that she also retained her wind affinity, though she rarely used it. Understandable—last life she was a melee caster, this life a sniper.
There were only two paths to awakening an Art.
First: waiting until the Art revealed itself naturally in one's personal status. Felix glanced at his own profile—nothing. No listed Art. Sankta players' innate firearm mastery was always hidden, so nothing showed.
Second: completing a trial quest, usually handed out by "Arts Instructor" NPCs. After attending their classes, players could receive a "temper yourself" mission to stimulate their latent Art.
He remembered once asking Mandragora how she realized her affinity with stone. She told him about that night in Oak Grove County, when the whole district was burning. After hearing her parents had died, she tried to break down a locked door. In that moment of grief and desperation, she felt something—an inexplicable connection with the rock around her. It was vague, mystical.
She later confessed that she only survived because Felix had saved her that same night. Afterward, with a staff in hand and Carnelian's guidance, she trained until she rediscovered that connection with stone and turned it into strength.
Felix thought for a while, then rose and walked toward the dormitory wing.
That section was currently reserved for higher-ups. Apart from Degenbrecher and Loughshinny, the Pioneer squad members, Fiammetta, and Mostima also lived there.
He had considered seeking out Mostima, but she was already struggling to master the power of Lock and Key. Her situation was entirely different.
Mostima's current Arts weren't her own. They were borrowed—from the Lock and Key itself, an ancient relic whose inherent Art was tied to time. That didn't mean her natural affinity had anything to do with time. If she became Infected and lost the relic, her Arts might have nothing to do with temporal control at all.
For now, she was only borrowing the Lock and Key's embedded power, gradually molding it into her own. With enough years of use, perhaps she might be able to manipulate time even without the weapon. At least, that was what Professor Naumann's theory suggested.
Which left Felix only one real option.
If he wanted answers—he'd have to turn to Loughshinny.
Felix knocked, got Loughshinny's permission, and stepped into her room. The decor gave off a clean, warm feeling—like lying in the grass outside Oak Grove County long ago, soaking in the gentle sun.
"Teacher… you called me."
Loughshinny's lips curved in a soft smile.
Outside, the city lights glimmered like a sea of stars. Inside, the warm glow of a yellow lamp wrapped the room in quiet comfort.
At this hour, walking into a young student's dorm felt… questionable. Felix knew Loughshinny probably didn't even think about such things. Even if she did, she was too gentle to say anything.
"I'd like you to teach me the basics of Originium Arts."
"Huh… Teacher, you want to learn Arts?"
She nodded with a faintly puzzled look, then added, "I see… If you mean the same kind of lessons that Count Warwick's instructors once gave us, then the course should take about a month."
"So short?"
Felix was genuinely surprised. For players back then, the introductory course usually lasted two months—though many skipped ahead by grinding hard or hiring a booster, shaving it down to a couple of weeks.
"It's just the foundation, learning how to draw on Originium Arts," Loughshinny explained. "To really master it, you'll need practical training—just like what Mandragora and Susie are doing in school."
Felix nodded. Of course. The two were studying under a proper curriculum in an Arts academy. After all, a teacher could only open the door; the rest depended on the student. Across Terra, the most reliable way to learn was through expensive academy tuition. Those without means had to self-teach—like the Sarkaz Casters in Kazdel, who practically grew up immersed in it from birth.
"I understand. In this, Loughshinny, you'll be my teacher."
"I'd… actually like to hear you call me that."
Her voice dipped shyly. But after a moment she shook her head. "Um… Teacher, do you want to start right now?"
"Tomorrow. It's already late today. Rest well, Loughshinny."
"Alright then… goodnight, Teacher."
"Goodnight."
After exchanging farewells, Felix walked only a few steps before the world around him seemed to freeze. His body was suddenly lifted, as if carried upward. The next blink, he found himself lying on a soft bed.
The faintly sweet scent around him made everything clear.
"Mosti… could you not use your Arts to ambush me like this? I nearly had a heart attack."
"Really? You don't look all that surprised to me."
Mostima, in loose sleepwear, lounged beside him. She looked freshly washed, her hair damp, and on the nightstand rested Lock and Key—evidence she had been up to mischief.
"I just wanted you to stay here tonight… so I used a bit of force."
She slipped her arms around him, brushing her cheek against his ear before blowing softly. "You've been so busy lately… and between my work and the Overseer's, I haven't had much time to be close with you."
"Sorry… things have been hectic."
"I don't blame you."
Her voice was gentle. "I understand. Tomorrow's Development is still finding its footing. Both Lungmen and the adventurers need you to handle things yourself… I know. You have your own path to follow."
"I won't stop you. I'll be right here beside you, cheering you on—just like this."
Again, she blew softly against his ear, pressing herself closer, her smile carrying a hint of playful mischief.
"…Alright. Let me wash up first. I'll stay here tonight."
"Mhm~"
While changing clothes, Felix absentmindedly opened the forums, streaming the world championship's winners' bracket finals. The victor of this match would secure at least second place, while the loser would drop into the losers' bracket final—risking third.
The showdown: Dynasty versus Warrior. Rivals through and through.
Huang Tianhou and Cabus stood across from each other. In-game, they maintained cordial ties, but when honor and titles were on the line, they wanted nothing more than to crush the other.
Both wore their team uniforms. Huang Tianhou's expression was grim, while Cabus gave a cocky smirk and whistled. At the same time, they drew their weapons.
Twenty-four players in total entered the arena. The battlefield drawn: dense jungle.
Felix leaned in, ready to watch—when a soft, warm body wrapped around him again.
Fingers ran through blue hair, and he returned the affection of the woman beside him, answering her eager warmth with his own.