Arknights: Mobile City

"There's more to the Thumb and Fixers?"

Obsidian turned his head and looked at Texas, only to meet the curiosity glowing in her eyes.

She now regarded him as some kind of sage—or at the very least, someone worth listening to.

"Heh… You know, this mobile city once had its own civilization."

He paused for a beat before finally speaking. Texas blinked at that—but then, she accepted it calmly.

After all, in Terra, the ruins of past civilizations weren't exactly rare.

"I've been investigating this place for a while now. Eventually, I uncovered some truth about the City's former civilization. 'Fixer' was once an official profession here—more or less like a mercenary. You got paid to get things done. Some Fixers even banded together into syndicates."

"There were five major syndicates, the strongest of them all, known as the Five Fingers. The Thumb was one of them—an organization built around absolute discipline. Once you've spent more time synced with that identity, you'll probably know more about it than I do."

Obsidian waved his hand dismissively. Texas, however, nodded seriously.

"Anything else I should know?"

Obsidian looked back at her. Before she could answer, her stomach let out a low, audible growl—and her face flushed slightly.

A little embarrassing. But yeah… she was starving.

Truthfully, she'd been hungry for a while. It was just that everything happening since her arrival had kept her distracted. Now that Obsidian had asked, the sensation came roaring back.

He just laughed quietly at the sight.

"Let's bring the bodies back. There's not much here that's edible… so you'll probably have to rough it for a while."

"Oh, right. Got any plans for when you're leaving the City?"

Obsidian asked the question casually, glancing over at her.

Texas hesitated.

There was no question—she couldn't leave. Not yet.

If she left now, she'd have no way to restock supplies. But staying didn't exactly guarantee resources either. It would take time to build up a reliable stock.

And besides… there was something about this place that intrigued her.

Strange. Mysterious. That was her first impression of this City.

The well—what was it, really? What secrets had the civilization that built this place left behind? And those monsters roaming the Outskirts… what were they?

Curiosity stirred in her like water rippling beneath still ice.

She made her decision.

"I'm staying. At least for now."

She said it plainly.

"I want to restock, sure. But I also want to see… what kind of place this City really is."

She reached down, tucking the identity card safely against her body. Then she raised her hand to the sky, as if brushing against something just out of reach.

Of course, there was a third reason she didn't voice aloud.

This City—so cut off from the world, so far from any civilization—felt like the perfect place to escape her past.

She turned to look at Obsidian again—only to find him wearing a strange, almost mischievous smile.

"…What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something weird?"

"No, not at all. Just… hope you enjoy the scenery."

Obsidian chuckled softly, but he didn't elaborate. Deep down, though, he was screaming with laughter.

Enjoy the scenery?

Hope you're ready for what "human-centered" means in this City.jpg.

In this cesspit of a city, if you look around for a view, all you'll see is the sewer—and it'll probably come flooding in through your mouth and nose too.

He shook his head. He wasn't going to burst her curiosity bubble just yet.

After all, curiosity wasn't a bad thing.

Besides, this version of the City wasn't guaranteed to perfectly replicate the original. The original had decades—maybe centuries—of deeply rooted systems and horrors that even he didn't think could be reproduced. But some things… were hard to avoid.

He put those thoughts aside and had Texas carry a few of the Sweeper corpses. The rest he teleported away for storage, and the two of them returned to the wooden shack.

Once inside, Obsidian began teaching Texas how to process Sweeper bodies. Of course, without a physical body, he could only instruct her verbally—and it wasn't exactly easy.

His current form was already stretched to its limits just by maintaining light physical interaction. Interacting with complex objects or environments was impossible.

While he explained, his mind drifted to the golden-tier item he'd pulled from the gacha earlier.

Its name was: [Green Dawn · "Doubt" Prototype Formula].

It originated from a challenge in Lobotomy Corporation, pulled straight from the well. Its appearance? A crude robot, limbs ending in sharp spikes, draped in a torn cloth.

But—those "trials" in Lobotomy Corporation always had some kind of prototype source.

What Obsidian had obtained wasn't the trial itself—it was the technology to manufacture "Doubt".

According to some records, "Doubt" had once helped trigger a catastrophe that brought down the original City. It was said to be an evolved AI that eventually transcended into something known as Midnight—the Terminal Spiral—and brought about the City's destruction.

What Obsidian had gained, however, was not that end-stage horror, but the original template for building "Doubt."

Naturally, he couldn't recreate an autonomous, self-evolving AI. But he could produce rudimentary robots—ones with simple logical processors and a basic combat core. Units that he could control directly.

More importantly: they were cheap.

Each Doubt robot cost just 10 Lunacy to make. Or he could toss metal scraps into the well—or even use specific factory setups to mass-produce them. And best of all? Every unit was completely under his control.

In other words—Obsidian now had the power to mass-produce foot soldiers.

Even without trying, he could already think of a dozen applications for them.

So what did this tech mean?

It meant he could get an army of expendable mooks—for pocket change.

He could deploy them to clear the Outskirts, expand human-occupied territory. He could send them outside the City to interact with Terra's civilizations, spread the City's influence, and attract more people.

In short—this was Obsidian's first step toward actual development.

This was his breakthrough—his seed fund. His golden shovel for farming sim territory.

The realization almost brought tears to his eyes.

And in that moment of clarity, without hesitation, Obsidian spent his remaining 10 Lunacy—

—and created his first [Green Dawn · "Doubt"].