Arknights: The Life Inside-Chapter 85

Turtle timidly held out an apple toward Skadi.

"Skadi, want an apple?"

Skadi blinked, confused.

"Is this... land food?"

"It's fruit. Really sweet," Turtle replied, pulling another apple from her pack and chomping into it happily.

Skadi eyed the shiny red orb in her hand, then opened her mouth in an oddly mechanical way.

"Kakaka~"

Five seconds later, the apple was gone—completely devoured.

Turtle stared at the apple she'd barely started eating, dumbfounded.

"Um... do you want another one? I still have more."

Skadi shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No. It's tasty, but it doesn't replenish energy the way I need. Don't you eat meat, little one?"

"I eat meat too."

Leaning against the edge of the deck, Yoren couldn't help but click his tongue. Of course she eats meat. How else does a killer whale get so big? Didi's mouth isn't just for show. That apple was practically inhaled—skin, core, everything.

His mind, uninvited, conjured up a scene: dozens of Didi lookalikes swarming some massive fish, tearing it apart with sharp teeth, swallowing chunks of raw meat like cotton candy. Then, blood on their lips, they'd sigh and declare it delicious.

Oh, no, no, no—

Yoren shook his head violently, banishing the image. He'd never seen the deep-sea hunters' world, but he was convinced they weren't just aimlessly drifting like sea creatures. They had a base, a hidden island maybe, or even a city beneath the waves. A civilization with order, structure—culture.

Sure, they were strong. Monstrous, even. But that didn't mean they were savages. They had language, intelligence, purpose. Surely they didn't just munch raw fish like beasts. His Didi wouldn't.

He thought about Amiya—if she were starving, she still wouldn't just drop on a lawn and chew grass. That would be... too grassy.

Food should be cooked. Fried, even. With spices. Sauce. Flavor. Lobster, abalone, crab—he bet the deep-sea cuisine was a treasure trove Terra hadn't even dreamed of.

He didn't have time to taste those underwater wonders now. But he did have questions. And Didi—Skadi—was here.

Yoren took a breath, gathered his thoughts, and looked up.

"Hey, I wanted to ask—"

"Crack!"

Blood splashed across the deck. Skadi had already caught a sea fish as thick as her forearm and, without hesitation, bit its head clean off. The tail thrashed wildly in the air.

Turtle clapped like it was a magic trick.

"Wow! You're so cool, Skadi!"

With smooth efficiency, Skadi devoured the rest of the fish, bones and all, then wiped her mouth.

"Any more?"

Yoren's eyes twitched. He ignored the pain in his bandaged shoulder and stood up.

"Hold it! What are you doing?!"

Turtle blinked innocently. "She said she likes live fish, so I brought her some from the kitchen..."

"Stop that nonsense!"

Yoren snatched the wriggling fish from Turtle's hands and chucked it back into the sea.

"Enough. No raw fish. I'll ask the captain to cook some later. Braised. Seasoned. Proper food."

"Braised fish!" Skadi repeated with faint curiosity.

"Yeah. We'll eat soon. But first, I've got questions."

The crew had patched the gaping hole on the deck with makeshift wooden planks. Afternoon sunlight was now soft and golden, its shimmer on the sea no longer harsh.

Skadi sat quietly nearby, her silver hair moving gently in the breeze. There was something timeless about her. Her eyes cold, her face unreadable. A beauty that didn't invite admiration—it commanded it.

Yoren sat down beside her. Compared to her ethereal presence, he felt like a washed-up wreck. His clothes were torn, wounds still raw, hair ragged. He looked like someone out of a sad book of poetry. But that was fine. He'd made it this far.

A quiet peace settled over the deck. The waves lapped gently, the sky was wide and golden, and the moment had something delicate about it.

"Titi."

"Hmm?"

"I—"

A large, squirming fish slapped against his cheek, flinging cold seawater into his face.

"Oh, come on—seriously?!"

Turtle had returned, proudly holding another fish.

"Skadi, look! I brought another one. Show me how you eat it again!"

Before she could say a word, Yoren yelled at full volume.

"For the love of—take it and GO!"

Turtle flinched, then dragged the fish away, mumbling.

He'd shouted so hard, his bandages pulled painfully against his wounds. His composed, poetic expression collapsed into a grimace.

"This kid... completely ruins the mood."

And then—he heard it.

A laugh.

A small, soft breath of amusement. Like an ice-covered river cracking in spring.

He turned his head sharply. Skadi had just laughed.

"You laughed," he said, still stunned.

She looked away, back to her usual indifference.

"Maybe. I've forgotten how to really laugh."

For a long second, Yoren just stared at her. Part of him wanted to say it—to promise that he'd protect that rare smile. The old him, full of hot-blooded promises and middle-school energy, would've blurted it out.

But not now.

Now he knew: protecting someone's smile wasn't just a slogan. It came with weight. Pain. Sacrifice. You had to be strong enough to carry that responsibility.

He wasn't there yet. Not quite.

"Miss Orca. Question."

"Hmm?"

Yoren's tone changed. Calm, firm, clear.

"What exactly did we face earlier? That thing in the sea—was it one of the deep-sea disasters from the legends?"

Skadi's gaze sharpened, the lazy wind between them suddenly stilled.

The sea beyond the deck sparkled innocently, as if it hadn't just almost swallowed them whole. But Yoren knew better. They all did.

Something had risen from the depths. And he needed to know if it was only the beginning.

Yoren knew the truth about Skadi wasn't something even Rhodes Island would uncover—not three years from now, not even with all their resources. Because the truth didn't live on land. It slumbered in the deep sea, a place no one dared to explore in the world of Terra.

Just as birds in the sky can't comprehend the pitch-dark silence of a cave, and a pangolin can't see the horizon from underground, the land and the deep sea were opposites—two realms that rarely, if ever, touched.

But Skadi stood in front of him.

And in some strange, undeniable way, she was the bridge.

Yoren wanted to know. He needed to know.

What was down there?

He looked at her, eyes steady, voice low.

"Can you tell me what that thing was—the one we ran into earlier? Was it... one of the deep sea disasters?"

Skadi's face was unreadable. Her silence made Yoren wish for a simple "yes." Because if that thing was the disaster, then at least it had shape. He could fight shape. He could defend against it. But if it wasn't... then what they saw was just a shadow.

Something worse might be coming.

Skadi finally spoke, voice distant as waves pulling away from shore.

"No. That wasn't the disaster itself. Just a servant. A dependent."

Yoren felt something drop in his chest. He'd guessed as much. But it still hit like a punch.

"Then what are they?" he asked. "Where do they come from? Why are they attacking us?"

Skadi hesitated.

"This..."

"Please," Yoren pressed. "It's important to me. I swear I won't interfere with your clan or your hunts."

Her expression changed.

"You know about the Deep Sea Clan?"

Yoren paused. That reaction told him everything—this wasn't public knowledge. Not even close.

He nodded slowly. "I know... a little."

Her eyes narrowed. "What else?"

He took a breath.

"I know about the Deep Sea Hunters. But listen, I'm not investigating you. I came across the name by accident. I don't know anything else."

Skadi stepped closer. "Where did you hear it?"

"I can't say." He raised his hands slightly, not in defense, but honesty. "Not because I'm hiding something. It's just... if I told you, it'd sound like a story. A record. Something written down, not experienced."

Skadi studied him in silence.

"Then why?" she asked. "Why do you want to know what's in the deep sea?"

Yoren looked down.

"Maybe... because there's something I want to protect."

Something in Skadi shifted. Her gaze turned softer, less guarded. She looked at him not like a stranger—but like a puzzle she was almost starting to remember.

Then, in a quiet, almost dreamlike voice, she spoke.

"Once, a long time ago... I met someone. Out on the sea. I don't remember his face anymore, or his voice. Just what he said."

Her crimson eyes flickered like distant stars.

"He told me... one day, he'd stand in front of me. Bear what I face, so I wouldn't have to. But I didn't know him. He said he wanted to protect something. To save something. And I remember... there was deep regret in his eyes."

The sea was still. The sun sank lower, casting long golden streaks over the water.

Skadi's voice dropped to a whisper.

"He asked the same question you just asked—'What is the disaster of the deep sea?' Isn't that strange? Isn't it absurd? He didn't even know what it was. And still, he said he'd take it on. What kind of person does that?"

Yoren's voice trembled, even as he tried to hold it steady.

"A hopelessly idealistic kid."

He looked away. His thoughts tangled, confused.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Kroos. Chernobog. Pieces of a past he didn't remember showing up in front of him like ghosts. But this one felt closer. Too close.

Who was the person Skadi remembered?

By logic, it had to be someone else. Coincidence. Maybe just a wandering sailor, overcome with emotion. Or a tired old captain clinging to heroism.

Skadi continued, as if she hadn't noticed his shaken state.

"I'm sorry I haven't answered your question. I just... remembered him. The strange thing is, I can't even remember when it happened. And that's not normal for us. My people—we remember every face. Even a relative seen once in childhood, we'd still know them decades later. But him... nothing. Just a blur."

"Why?" Yoren asked.

She blinked. "What?"

"Why do you remember it now?"

"I don't know. Maybe... because I met you. Your face. Your voice. Something about you made me think of him."

Yoren swallowed hard.

"Do you think... it was me?"

Skadi smiled faintly, almost sadly.

"No. You're too young. That was years ago."

"Do you remember his name?"

"He said it, I think. But it's like fire in a fog. I can't grab it."

They both fell quiet.

Then Yoren asked one more question.

"Miss Skadi... that song you were humming earlier. Where did it come from?"

"Oh, that? It's an old song passed down in our family. We have many. But that one's my favorite."

"Do you know what it means?"

She nodded. "It tells our story. The things we've lost. The things we remember. And the things we still carry."

But she didn't catch the real meaning behind Yoren's question.

He didn't press it. Didn't mention the last line—the one that hit him like a whisper from somewhere else.

The cold crept back into him, not from wind or blood loss, but from something deeper.

He remembered the melody.

"Hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ Wandering in the blue...

Well~ well~ well~ well~ Echoing in the deep sea...

Hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ Wandering on an isolated island...

Hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ hmm~ Traveling through time and space..."

He didn't understand the last line.

And maybe—just maybe—Skadi didn't either.