Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

The next morning, when Frostnova woke, the first thing she noticed was the cold.

Her oripathy wasn't terminal yet, but if she kept using Originium Arts recklessly, it wouldn't be long before it worsened. Her condition was slightly more advanced than that of the average infected. Because her Arts affinity was ice-based, her body temperature remained chronically below normal.

Over time, that caused irreversible damage to the body. Frostnova had heard that warning countless times, but she had already accepted her condition.

Normally, she didn't feel cold—she was the embodiment of it. Her body had adapted so much that she couldn't even stomach anything too hot. If she had drunk Felix's steaming broth last night, it would've upset her stomach. For now, she could still handle food at room temperature.

As she got up, the air felt colder than usual. At first, she thought it was her imagination. But when she pulled back the tent flap, the sharp wind that hit her face told her otherwise.

Inside the tent, Petrova sneezed from her sleeping bag and stirred awake. Frostnova quickly closed the flap, wrapped herself in her coat, and stepped outside.

"It's colder than usual."

Snow crunched softly underfoot as she stepped out. Fresh flakes crept into her boots, chilling her ankles. A light snowfall had dusted the trees and ground overnight, layering everything in silver. The campfire had long burned out, leaving behind wisps of pale blue smoke.

The last time she remembered feeling cold like this, she was only twelve or thirteen. As her condition worsened, she stopped noticing it. Her body simply stiffened with the chill, and she adapted—she had no choice.

"Good morning."

She greeted the young man who had just emerged from his tent, stretching and yawning as he started to rekindle the fire.

"Morning. How are you feeling today?" Say Felix while rekindle the fire. "The suppressant worked, right?"

"It worked better than expected. But... I doubt I can afford it."

"I never intended to charge you," Felix said simply. "That stuff doesn't work on me anyway. I just keep a few doses on hand in case I run into someone who might need it. Weapon maintenance, though—that's another story."

Frostnova allowed herself a faint smile. "You're unusually principled for someone wandering the snowy plains."

"I'm a businessman. Even in Ursus, ethics still count for something."

Felix started prepping dry rations for breakfast. "As for compensation—nothing expensive. But since the snowfields run on barter, I'll ask: what's your team offering in trade?"

"Well…" Frostnova looked genuinely thoughtful. "What exactly are you short on, Pioneer?"

Like most settlements out here, they followed strict bartering systems. There was no such thing as handing over goods in advance—it created imbalance, distrust, and loss of dignity. Even suggesting it made people uneasy.

Felix thought for a moment but came up blank. Infected settlements were poor by default. Rare equipment or valuables were out of the question. And for something as simple as a few weapons repaired, it seemed silly to demand much.

Seeing his hesitation, Frostnova spoke softly, "If you trust me, you could come back to our camp. You'll have more options to choose from there."

"Okay."

"You agreed without hesitation." Frostnova glanced at him.

"Trust goes both ways. No need to overthink it," Felix replied as he started prepping breakfast.

While he worked, Frostnova stretched and checked her condition. Her body temperature still hadn't returned to normal, but it was clearly better than the night before. Her limbs moved more freely.

As a warrior, maintaining control over her body was everything. But as her oripathy advanced, she could feel that control slipping. The sense of powerlessness was something she couldn't accept—not as a soldier.

But after taking the suppressant, she felt significantly better.

"How's your condition?" Felix asked without looking up. "Any side effects?"

"Temperature's a bit higher than yesterday. Not sure if it's the drug or just coincidence."

"Oh-ho, big sis is full of energy today," Petrova chimed in teasingly. "Looks like the meds are working!"

The other members of the Yeti Squad had risen by then and were already crowding around Frostnova, inspecting her condition with genuine concern. Seeing that she was clearly in better shape, they relaxed.

"Now we really owe that charming Sankta craftsman," Petrova said, stretching with a smirk. "So, sis, what now? Are we bringing him into the camp?"

Even though Petrova was older than Frostnova, she still referred to her as "big sister"—a sign of the team's deep respect for their leader.

"I plan to bring him in directly," Frostnova replied quietly.

The squad had no objections. Felix had helped them repair their gear, fed them, and provided medicine that visibly improved Frostnova's condition. They were more than happy to repay that kindness.

Still, some unease lingered. The camp wasn't run by Frostnova alone. There was someone else in charge—someone they would have to convince. Whether that person would accept Felix was uncertain. But considering Felix's profession as a craftsman, he might find his place easily enough.

After breakfast, Frostnova formally extended the invitation.

"We don't have the resources to pay you right now," she said, her tone steady and direct. "But if you trust me, I'll take you into our camp. I'll guarantee your safety."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Safe? You're starting to sound like the other infected settlements I've visited in Ursus. They either chase us away or try to rob us. Feels more like a bandit outpost than a community."

Frostnova went quiet. Then, with a faint sigh, she said, "Because we're infected."

"I know," Felix said softly, his tone devoid of blame. "Don't worry, I wasn't mad. Just venting."

He smiled faintly, as if to make light of it. "I won't say infected folks work harder—that depends on the person. But I've seen how bad things are for your people here. Compared to Ursus, the infected in Columbia might as well be living in paradise."

"…Columbia," Frostnova repeated.

"It's my base operation."

"I've only read about it in books. Tell me more. What's it like for the infected there?"

Felix nodded casually. He glanced back at Carnelian and Avdotya, who were folding up their tents.

"I don't mind sharing. But how far is your camp? How long will it take us to get there?"

"If we walk, we'll get there before dinner," Frostnova replied.

"What if we drive?"

"Who knows?" She shrugged. "Vehicles are rare in the Ursus snowfields. They're usually reserved for transporting supplies, not for field missions."

That slight grumble gave away a glimpse of her girlish side. But her attention shifted when she noticed Felix heading toward the Military truck. He opened the trunk and started rearranging the supplies. After a few minutes of tinkering, he managed to free up a surprising amount of space.

Frostnova walked over, watching curiously as he worked. Felix looked up and asked, "Want to ride?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted how it sounded. A bit too casual—too easy to misinterpret. If only someone like Feist were here. He'd laugh it off, maybe start chatting about car mods and tuning. Among all the companions Felix had known, Feist—despite being his student—was probably the one he clicked with most naturally.

Still, Frostnova didn't take offense. She wasn't naïve, and she trusted Sankta people's reputed sense of honor. She studied the vehicle's armor and setup with interest. "Can I really get on?"

"Well, who else is going to show me the way?"

Felix wiped his hands and gave her a half-smile. "Good thing your team's small. If there were any more of you, we'd all be walking."

The back seat of the pickup was just enough for the other three members of the Yeti Squad. Frostnova took the front passenger seat and gave Felix directions as they headed toward the camp.

Carnelian didn't question the arrangement. After spending this much time with Felix, nothing surprised her anymore. At first, she was stunned by how easily he could charm and negotiate—even joke—with infected adventurers. But eventually, she just got used to it.

She'd seen it with her own eyes: before they even arrived at some infected settlements, the locals were already rushing out to greet them.

That was the boss's influence.

In Laterano's Holy City, infected people were rejected outright. But Felix, who had left Laterano, somehow fit seamlessly into their world. He wasn't trying to be a savior. He didn't preach. He just treated people—infected or not—as people.

Not all settlements welcomed them, of course. Just recently, Carnelian had personally dealt with several hostile stalkers trying to track them. And Felix? He didn't hesitate. He made examples out of those who meant harm.

That part of him—ruthless when necessary—resonated deeply with Carnelian.

Felix wasn't some idealist trying to save the world. He didn't pretend to treat everyone equally. When it was time to strike, he struck hard. And that was exactly the kind of person worth following. Someone who could lead, protect, and keep moving forward—toward something better.

Now, she finally understood why Degenbrecher, someone older and more experienced, trusted this younger man so deeply. They had history. Degenbrecher must have seen Felix's potential from the beginning.

But now, Carnelian understood too.

Walking beside Felix, she was starting to see a kind of beauty in the world she'd never known before.

Frostnova adjusted her position and settled into the passenger seat. There was a muffled thump as she sat down on the leather cushion.

Felix glanced at the rearview mirror, catching the moment with a strange look, but he didn't stare directly at her. That would've been impolite.

"…It's because of my equipment," Frostnova said through clenched teeth, a faint blush rising to her face. "My Originium staff. Its shape is unique, and the weight's not like standard caster gear."

"Got it."

Felix coughed, brushing it off. Once everyone had climbed in, he stepped on the gas and moved out.

The route ahead would've taken an entire day on foot, but with the truck, they'd reach the camp by afternoon—though it was far from an easy drive. According to Frostnova, snow had been falling steadily in the northern region. Most vehicles in these parts couldn't handle the terrain. They'd sink into the slush or spin out in the ice.

The vehicles used by most settlements were small trucks—reliable on flat roads, but near-useless on frozen paths without a skilled driver. One wrong turn, and the whole thing could flip.

Around lunchtime, Frostnova cautiously took a sip of warm food—something she hadn't done since her oripathy worsened. But the sharp pain she expected never came. She held the cup of tea in both hands. The heat inside was fading, but she could still feel it.

By mid-afternoon, after a smooth stretch of driving, Felix finally pulled the pickup to a stop where Frostnova indicated.

Heavy snow blanketed the road ahead, obscuring the path.

Frostnova stepped out. As her boots sank into the snow, she walked toward a nearby tree stump, brushed off the snow, and revealed a carved marking on the wood. In a place like this, landmarks like these were the only way to navigate.

Soon, more Yeti Squad members appeared through the falling snow, dressed similarly to Frostnova. She spoke a few words with them before returning to the truck.

"Keep driving—they'll lead the way."

Felix gave the steering wheel a light tap. "Some formal team members, huh… Looks more like a guerrilla unit to me."

"Just a guerrilla force?... Maybe. But sometimes that's enough," Frostnova said softly. After a pause, she turned to the window and murmured, "It'd be nice if we could be like an army. Like Dad's."

Felix's hands tightened slightly on the wheel.

Frostnova noticed. "What is it? Do you know my father?"

"Your father? No, not at all." Felix shook his head, keeping his expression unreadable.

Frostnova didn't press. Maybe she assumed he'd just caught a chill from the cold wind coming in.

No idea who her father is? Felix thought. More like he knew him too well.

In his past life, Felix had learned to hate those shield units in Chernobog. Even from the rear lines, he remembered how bitter it felt watching those hulking NPCs with their shields plow through the gear crafted by players like him.

It was humiliating. Back then, the players on Rhodes Island tried to redeem themselves, tried to hold the line.

But then he appeared.

A tall, silent wendigo man. A black cloak. Armed with bulky armour. A heavy shield in one hand, a giant halberd in the other. His eyes glowing red. No expression, no hesitation.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

And then his giant halberd flying toward them.