Arknights: Mobile City

If there was one thing Kazdel didn't lack, it was refugees.

This first batch was proof of that.

Obsidian did a quick headcount: over two hundred Sarkaz, ordinary people fleeing the fires of war, now stepped onto City soil seeking survival. Almost every last one was infected.

At first, Laurentina had peppered Obsidian with questions about the arriving refugees, hoping Skadi might be among them. But she quickly lost interest and returned to fixing her radio. She knew, after all, the chances were slim.

The Twin Kings' War… Who knows how many more refugees will make it to the City, fueling this great engine…

Obsidian murmured to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. Yet he knew: he couldn't take in too many, too fast.

The City was already full of internal troubles. Take on too many outsiders, and Kazdel's authorities would notice. That would be the end.

Right now, the City couldn't afford outside threats.

These Sarkaz had come for supplies—always drifting, never staying. Obsidian sent Pioneer to meet them.

As expected, the refugees treated Pioneer as the local lord of some territory, and themselves as accidental trespassers.

So, naturally, they accepted becoming the first "official" residents of this City-territory. Among Sarkaz, this sort of arrangement wasn't rare—but it surprised Obsidian just how smoothly it went.

Still, that smoothness worried him.

Refugees like these rarely had motivation. He'd need a plan to address that.

For now, food and shelter would have to do.

Obsidian exhaled quietly, already plotting his next moves.

The next step: put these people to work.

At present, their usefulness was limited. For construction and mining, Doubts were leagues ahead. But there'd soon be jobs machines couldn't do—much of the City's future tech was fundamentally "human-centered."

Regardless, he couldn't let the Sarkaz idle. Unoccupied refugees were a disaster waiting to happen.

With that, Obsidian decided to have them explore the City—a move with its own ulterior motives…

...

With the arrival of the first immigrants, the City's previously orderly rhythm turned to chaos.

The next day, when Pioneer entered the area that now served as a refugee camp, this was what he saw:

The place was a mess. Infected Sarkaz lay sprawled everywhere, some snoring, others staring at Pioneer with listless, defeated eyes. Almost none had gone out to explore, just as Obsidian had expected.

Still, three or four had at least made an attempt.

Pioneer looked around, taking stock. He hadn't given out food or shelter yet—just issued orders. The result was hardly surprising.

"Look! The big boss from Company A's here!"

A sharp, mocking voice rang out among the refugees. Pioneer didn't react—just lifted his chin with pride. He swept his gaze across the crowd, making it clear he was here to inspect.

Then, not far away, two infected were carrying another between them. The wounded man was covered in blood, Oripathy crystals visible all over his body. The others barely glanced his way—some with schadenfreude, some with faint regret.

Right on time, Pioneer thought.

The two carriers gently laid their friend down; he was still breathing. They looked around in confusion, clearly clinging to some sense of friendship. At last, they spotted Pioneer and shouted:

"Help him! Please, help him! Wasn't it you who sent us out there?! Don't you owe it to him to take responsibility?!"

The little drama caught everyone's attention. The other Sarkaz jeered—it was obvious these newcomers were green, panicking over nothing, foolish enough to follow the so-called "boss's" orders.

Still, everyone wanted to see how Pioneer would handle this embarrassment.

Unexpectedly, Pioneer knelt calmly beside them and asked:

"What happened? How bad are the injuries?"

"…The three of us went out exploring, walked for more than ten kilometers. We found what looked like the ruins of a lab, and suddenly a monster attacked us. That's how he ended up like this…"

Pioneer showed no reaction outwardly, but inwardly he was a bit surprised.

A little bonus, huh? Well, let's settle this first…

Now's the time to establish the rules.

"Hmm… Not bad. According to the new laws I'm about to announce, this reward is yours."

Pioneer said flatly, pulling a small vial from his belt. Inside was a few drops of shimmering, deep green fluid.

The two infected stared, confused—then, before they could react, Pioneer smashed the vial over the wounded man's face.

"What are you doing?!"

"Wait and see. Don't jump to conclusions."

Pioneer stood, his tone cold and unyielding.

The two looked at their friend, grumbling—but their complaints died as their eyes widened in shock.

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle.

Moments before, he'd been bleeding out, his Oripathy spiraling out of control. Now, his wounds were closing at an incredible speed, golden liquid—high-purity liquid Originium—poured from beneath him, and the crystals across his skin began to vanish…

With a groggy moan, the man sat up, eyes wide and confused.

"Where am I…? Am I alive…? Huh?!"

Suddenly, his eyes flew open in realization and he shouted:

"My Oripathy—it's gone?!"

In that instant, every refugee's expression changed.

Greedy eyes locked on Pioneer, as if wishing they could strip him clean. But Pioneer stood firm, unmoved. With a snap of his fingers, over a hundred Doubts stood up in the distance, striding toward him. A handful flanked him immediately, forming a defensive wall. At the sight, the infected Sarkaz all lowered their heads, cowed.

Pioneer nodded and spoke, slow and clear:

"I assume, now, you'll be interested in what I have to say about rewards and punishments?"