Arknights, I'm going to beat Kal'tsit, really?

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Arknights, I'm going to beat Kal'tsit, really? (Author: Numerous bubbles are generated)

You are a time traveler.

Good news: I've been transported to Terra, a land teeming with animal friends.

Excellent! As the Doctor of Rhodes Island, I will surely save this land from suffering. As for my leisure time, I can also chat about things like having four girlfriends outside of work or being number one on the vanilla betting list.

What do you mean by "I am Priscilla's dog"?

Ama-9, the predecessor to Ama-10, is, in terms of kinship, my brother Kal'tsit.

And now, my assigned task is to help Prisus achieve the Originium Project?

King against king, against general.

Precys vs. Doctor, Hilda vs. Amiya.

So my task is to go and get Kal'tsit?

Volume: Volume 1

Chapter 1 Initially

Cold, synthesized sound effects echoed in the silence. The smell of disinfectant, though not strong, outlined the hospital's silhouette. Sophisticated electronic instruments and spiderweb-like wiring tightly connected the data-flashing displays to the central life support pod. Two researchers stood before the screens, their gazes sweeping over the lines of fluctuating vital signs.

"Unfortunately, Precyth, while his physical indicators met our expectations, his subsequent stability has not been ideal. He still hasn't reached our anticipated goals."

"It seems that the construction of Ama-9 has also failed... It's okay, we still have a chance to learn from our mistakes and design Ama-10 in a better way."

The female researcher's voice was calm and gentle. She was not discouraged by yet another failure of the plan. On the contrary, the increasingly perfect data indicated that they were moving closer and closer to success.

"Yes, I'm going to try some new ideas. Maybe we're being too fixated on individual cases."

The male researcher's eyes were full of thought. He recalled the specific details and parameters of the experiment one by one, and accurately deduced the problems. He repeatedly dissected and deduced the failed experimental data in his mind, and a series of wonderful ideas were brewing in his mind, but they still needed to be put into practice.

“Prophet, you don’t need to be so hard on yourself. We still have time.”

"Time is the easiest thing to waste."

After the two researchers finished recording and analyzing, they left, leaving behind only the room full of state-of-the-art equipment and a life that was born only to be told it was over.

Ama-9 is an artificial life form. What was the initial goal of artificial life forms? To replace humans as laborers? To accompany humans and alleviate the loneliness that social creatures fear most? For the Prophet and Prissis, their goal was simple—to assist in their work.

As the most advanced scientists in civilization, the projects they designed with their colleagues were the hope for the continuation of civilization's flame. However, whether it be flesh and blood or steel creations, they are as fragile as dust in the face of time spans of tens of thousands of years.

The passage of time can drive a wise man mad and turn the most exquisite machines into scrap metal, so maintainers are needed in this process, and artificial life becomes the best choice.

They are designed to not only achieve "immortality" but also to suppress emotions and prevent themselves from being swallowed up by tens of thousands of years of loneliness. Under certain conditions, they can even exist as biological computers, meticulously recording and preserving massive amounts of data even in the harshest environments.

If such life forms could be mass-produced, they could potentially transform the entire environment of a planet through their collaboration.

To achieve this goal, the Prophet and Precys have conducted several experiments and have succeeded in many targets and parameters; however, they have encountered a small obstacle only in terms of lifespan—it cannot achieve "immortality," and the time it faces is measured in tens of thousands of years, with a long lifespan being the cornerstone of its existence.

Logically, a failed technological product should be destroyed and recycled as soon as possible, which is the most efficient method. However, Priscilla and the Prophet are scientists with extremely high moral standards. Even if it is an artificial life that has not yet developed self-awareness, they cannot simply pour it down the drain like waste liquid in a test tube.

Therefore, Ama-9's future will likely be to be permanently sealed in its life support pod, its consciousness blocked, until its body reaches its limit and naturally disintegrates.

A turning point soon arrived. Project Ama was a success. On the tenth experimental sample, Ama-10, the efforts of the prophet and Precys paid off. The mechanical life form developed around the Twin Cycle System was successfully developed. As long as it is put into mass production, the survival of civilization will be guaranteed like never before.

But life is unpredictable; you can never know whether tomorrow or an accident will come first—that beam of light from deep space, which had been observed before, has been captured once again. It is hurtling towards this universe at a constant and unstoppable speed.

"The Deep Blue Tree," "Heaven's Pivot," "Project Originium," "Project Preserver"—several scholars standing at the forefront of civilization began their struggle against fate and the unknown.

In this collision, even a tiny mechanical life form becomes insignificant.

Yellow sand filled the sky, and desolation swallowed the horizon. A figure completely shrouded in a black protective suit trudged along. Beside him, an exquisitely crafted mechanical lifeform followed closely behind.

With the implementation of Project Originium, the Prophet and Prissis decided to land Rhodes Island on Terra. The two would awaken at a crucial juncture in the future to guide the project. However, this was only the initial blueprint—at this moment, ideological differences had already been sown between the two scholars. Countless heated debates failed to bridge the rift, instead making their respective paths increasingly clear.

"Even after tens of thousands of days, Terra has changed only slightly; I need to return to the sarcophagus and not waste any more of this body's lifespan."

The transfer of consciousness—this technology was extremely complex even when all of Rhodes Island's functions were intact. Under the current conditions, the Seer knows he has no more opportunities, so he must use his time with caution.

"But she probably guessed my plan to wake up early—I saw the scheme she had set up. AMa-10, no, that's just the name of a machine creation; I should give you a more suitable name."

Although the prophet was a scientist focused on research, he also had his own unique insights into romance and beauty—calcite refers to the phenomenon of light refracting into two different polarized light in a crystal, which is very beautiful; and he believed that this was very suitable to describe the exquisite creation in front of him.

"Kal'tsit, do you like this name?"

The mechanical lifeform expressed its love for the name through its actions.

Looking at the mechanical lifeforms cheering for their new names, the prophet felt a pang of shame—he knew very well what Kal'tsit would face next: the loneliness and desolation of tens of thousands of days and nights, and even if civilization were to emerge on Terra in the future, it would inevitably experience a long, barbaric, and ignorant age.

The prophet knew very well how much pressure it would put on Kal'tsit as the guide of civilization, so he did not force her to do so, but instead gave her the power of choice to find the true meaning of life herself.

Unfortunately, only Kal'tsit achieved success with the Ama series. Her predecessors had already collapsed during the tens of thousands of days of silence on Rhodes Island. Otherwise, the Prophet would have had more options.

"Let's go back."

The scholar and his creations wandered the barren land, exploring the boundaries of civilization.

Chapter 2 First Awakening

"Signal source confirmed, the core reaction is right below us." The team leader's voice sounded somewhat muffled through his dust mask.

“Unbelievable…” a team member exclaimed in a low voice, his searchlight sweeping across the bottomless vertical passage beneath his feet. It was clearly an elevator shaft, but it was currently damaged and unusable.

"There really is a facility of this scale buried beneath the shifting sands of the desert."

Another team member tapped the exceptionally solid and rust-free metal floor beneath his feet; the feel and sound were no less than those of a high-speed warship's deck.

"The materials and facilities here are in no way inferior to the top laboratories in Colombia. What organization built this place?"

"Enough with the small talk, everyone be on your guard. There might be some danger ahead."

The well-equipped squad advanced cautiously. They found themselves neither in a blood-soaked battlefield nor in the abandoned mines typical of Terra, but in a technological graveyard slumbering beneath the yellow sand. The cold, smooth alloy walls reflected the glow of searchlights, and dust accumulated on the long-dormant electronic panels.

Any Colombian with a modicum of common sense can sense from this scene the most captivating term in pioneering legends—technological ruins.

Columbia, the youngest nation on Terra, occupies most of the land that was once controlled by Gaul and Victoria—the vast majority of the legacy left by these two nations has long been absorbed, but according to word of mouth among the pioneers:

Deep within the endless wasteland, the wind and sand occasionally reveal a glimpse of cold metal. Dig deeper, and you might discover a gateway to wealth—the ruins may contain cutting-edge technology that could revolutionize an industry, or perhaps bio-modified Originium monsters; after all, that's how it's portrayed in Bluewood movies.

This small team knew perfectly well that the legends weren't unfounded. Countless ruins did indeed lie dormant beneath the seemingly barren desert. However, they weren't explorers, but rather "cleaners"—hired by a wealthy company or organization to eliminate threats within the ruins, paving the way for the real "treasure hunters." As for the secrets buried deep within the ruins, that was something their employers cared about.

Compared to the ghostly places of Sargon, filled with deadly jungle traps and ancient curses, these technological ruins are relatively "mild".

The team leader pondered for a moment, gesturing to his team members to watch out for the forks in the road on either side. Years of experience had taught him that these kinds of ruins were mostly former scientific research facilities. The sophisticated instruments or hazardous reagents inside had long since become ineffective due to the erosion of time; what remained were mostly heavy and sturdy metal structures.

And the ruins of Sargon? Every step there could lead to a deadly poisoned arrow or an Originium Arts trap, and casualties were commonplace.

This time, the job was completed smoothly. From now on, all I need to do is tell the boys under me to keep their mouths shut.

"Sizzle—crack!" The ear-piercing sound of metal cutting broke the silence. The team members finally used their tools to cut open a heavy gate that was completely rusted shut. As the door collapsed with a crash, all the searchlights in the passageway instantly focused on the back of the door—a chill ran down everyone's spine.

There were lights on in that empty space near the entrance!

"High alert!!"

The leader's shout instantly tightened everyone's nerves. The lighting was still working? What did that mean? Did the ruins themselves still have a power source? Or... had someone gotten there first and set up an ambush? Either way, it meant huge unknown risks.

“John, Joe—you two, move forward.”

"Yes, sir."

At the captain's command, two of the most experienced operators, who had long since disregarded life and death, slowly stepped forward. They held their crossbows, their eyes darting rapidly between the environmental monitors on their wrists and the suspicious corners ahead. A suffocating few dozen seconds passed… no deadly energy beams sliced ​​through the air, no automated turrets emerged from the shadows, and no twisted, mutated Originium creatures pounced.

"Wow..."

"*Columbian profanity* Could it be that those guys at Blue Cardwood have actually seen something like this?!"

The two agents quickly reported what they had seen and heard to their captain, who, as a leader with decades of experience as an agent, couldn't help but widen his eyes – the glowing object was a life support pod, and according to the data displayed on its instruments, there was a humanoid creature inside, and it was showing signs of life.

"He's still alive?"

"Yes... It's unbelievable. Although his vital signs were weak, he is now steadily recovering."

"Status of consciousness? Are there any signs of awakening?"

"The brain activity signals are very strong, like..."

Opening his eyes, the light emitted by the LED lights pierced his vision, causing the "patient" to immediately close his eyes again. After a brief period of adjustment, he tried to slowly turn his stiff neck to look around.

His vision gradually cleared, and several figures in fully enclosed protective suits surrounded him. The pungent smell of disinfectant mixed with the faint whirring of the air circulators inside the suits assaulted his senses.

He was lying on a cold metal table, his body firmly restrained by tough straps, with countless IV tubes and patches connected to his arms and chest.

"Can you...understand my language?"

A steady voice came through the visor of the protective suit, carrying a hint of barely perceptible vigilance. Ama-9 instantly understood the meaning of the words—even though he had never studied Colombian.

"can."

Clear, crisp Colombian language echoed in the minds of those present as Ama-9 spoke using his vocal cords.

"Originium Arts?! Telepathy?!" a researcher exclaimed in shock. Even though his voice was muffled by his protective suit, it was still very loud.

"Quiet!"

The leader, his voice sharp and menacing, had a terrifying look in his eyes behind his mask. The "creature" before them possessed a human form and could communicate, but this did nothing to lessen the danger level. They knew perfectly well that this was something unearthed from the core area of ​​a technological ruin, and any ability beyond the realm of reason was possible.

"Do you have a concept of a name or code name?" the person in charge asked again, his tone returning to its previous calm and evenness, attempting to establish basic communication.

"My code name is...Ama-9."

As soon as the answer was given, without any prompting from the person in charge, the recorder beside him had already scribbled it down on the data board and marked the key inference: "Ama" is suspected to be a sequence prefix for the project; there may be individuals Ama-1 to Ama-8 within the ruins, which require further investigation.

"Ama-9, do you know the meaning of the word Terra?"

"...Terra?"

Only the voices of the person in charge and Ama-9 could be heard at the scene, while the rest of the personnel performed their duties. Some were monitoring Ama-9's various data to ensure his health; others were recording everything for later analysis; and the security personnel further away gripped their weapons tightly, not daring to make any rash moves.

The person under the most pressure is undoubtedly the person in charge, whose brilliant mind, which has earned eight doctoral degrees, is rapidly thinking and filtering the next critical question.

"So, do you remember... your origins? Where did you come from?"

"I"

Ama-9 began to ponder, his newly awakened mind quickly processing the information about origins. But as an artificial life form, how could he possibly have the concept of a birth point? It was already quite remarkable that he could even state the number of the life support pod that nurtured him.

So he intended to answer that he didn't know, but in that instant, something deeper and more chaotic was triggered in his thoughts. In the empty, dark core of his mind, it was as if Originium crystals shattered, bursting forth countless incomprehensible fragments of memory—a blue planet, a unique ecosystem, a complex history of civilization... This information washed over him like a torrent.

Ultimately, they all lead to the same word.

"I come from Earth."

The word came out of his mouth with an odd certainty. However, the researchers surrounding him exchanged bewildered glances, their faces behind their protective masks etched with confusion. They could only transcribe the pronunciation and jot down their deductions—"Earth" could be the name of that laboratory site, or perhaps the code name of its organizational group.

As for the region name? At least... there's never been such a place on the map of Terra.

Chapter 3 Originium

Ama-9 lay supine on the cold bed, the glaring light overhead illuminating the room, leaving no room for concealment. On the ceiling, the monitor's camera silently rotated, precisely capturing his every movement.

Three days have passed since the “excavation” began, and his health is gradually improving from its initial weakness. However, the person in charge who has been observing him says that this pace is not fast—at least compared to the Terrans.

Ama-9 rolled over, carefully untying her previously trapped gray wolf tail, the tip swaying slightly unconsciously. This was one of the inconveniences of the Terrans; these prominent animalistic features always made them put extra effort into their clothing and daily life.

The Lupo are one of the most common races on Terra, widely distributed and numerous. Their distinguishing features are those of wolves: erect ears, a drooping tail, and an ingrained instinct for pack cooperation.

Ama-9 was unclear why the Creator had shaped him in this way. But the physical foundation of the Lupo race was indeed excellent among the Terra races. Although they could not compare with races with divine bloodlines, at least they did not have to rely on gastroliths to aid digestion like some Liberians.

As for how Ama-9 learned so much information, aside from the teachings of the researchers around him, it was mostly from the information in his mind. Ama-9 calmed down and carefully felt it. Thanks to the characteristics of artificial life, his brain's calculations had logic and efficiency comparable to electronic products.

In computer terms, his "storage space" is clearly divided into two main areas: one belongs to the "artificial life form Ama-9," which contains the nearly blank original information that came with it at the factory; the other belongs to the "transmigrator," which is filled with bizarre and wonderful fragments of memory.

Compared to the barren "Ama-9" folder, the colorful memories of the "transmigrator" were naturally more attractive. For the past three days, aside from cooperating with the researchers for various examinations and tests, Ama-9 spent all his time sorting through these memories. Thus, he became certain that he had "transmigrated" into a game world called *Arknights*, a land that wasn't exactly gentle.

"Originium," "Originium Disease," "Natural Disasters," "Demons," "Behemoths"... In short, this land is stained with blood and tears.

More importantly... Columbia's tech companies? I don't think they're any good people.

Ama-9 is no longer an uninformed android, but a knowledgeable individual who can be described as a "prophet".

Both the "Flame Demon Project" and the "Loken Water Tank" are research projects that the Colombian government has heavily supported. So what's so strange about adding another secretive project, the "Ama" project?

The organization behind the researchers had explored the scientific site, but they found no other products from Project Ama. Ama-9 had clearly become a unique item in their possession.

With this foundation in place, they at least dared not conduct overly destructive experiments on him, such as slicing or dissecting him.

But being kept in captivity and used as a lab rat for observation and experimentation is clearly something no intelligent life can accept; Ama-9 wants freedom, he wants to explore Terra himself, not be confined to this transparent glass house; he wants to try the unique cuisines of different parts of Terra, instead of consuming nutrient solutions and energy blocks day after day; and most importantly—he must find a way to survive.

[The Ama-9 design is not yet perfect and lacks a decisive means of longevity, thus it cannot achieve immortality. Current estimated normal lifespan: 7400 (±200) days.]