Because I Am Surtr

Her foot, halfway through a step, froze in midair.

She was indeed somewhat worried, but beyond that concern, she had met W in this world, worked alongside her, and had even faced life and death together with her.

She still remembered an investigation mission back when Sarkaz Babel Tower still stood. At the time, she had yet to master "Twilight" and could barely be considered a first-rate fighter. During that mission, W had run into certain monsters from the deep sea. Although she had successfully rescued W, she herself had suffered severe injuries. Before the support team arrived, the two of them, both badly wounded, had no choice but to support and care for each other within an enclosed space.

Her body was stronger, and she recovered faster. Of the seven days they were trapped, she had spent five taking care of W. Yet despite needing care, W had never once become a burden to her.

—I know what W is capable of, and I know how she operates. She would not, and has no reason to, ignore a request I formally made. Yet I'm still looking at her through the eyes of my past life in Arknights...

—Perhaps I got something wrong again.

In the end, that step never came down.

Trust W. Trust that she could handle such an insignificant task...

...Consider it a test.

Section 19 · Maiden Dissection

—I have always been thinking about one thing: why I came to this world. And why I was granted this power.

As the tornado dispersed, the temporary camp outside Chernobog had already become a complete mess.

The strong survived; the weak were eliminated. And those Reunion Movement members whose hands were stained with blood received the special honor of being singled out amid this selective AOE.

It was not difficult.

Originium had a will, and the blood staining an Originium host would naturally cause the Originium fragments within them to emit a particular signal. With a few adjustments, Surtr's flames would become moths pursuing that blood debt, allowing those who deserved death to receive their due.

Surtr could do such a thing, just as she could precisely burn away the infected Originium regions within Frostnova and Patriot without harming their flesh, bones, or sinews. Without needing to consider control precision or the survival of the recipient, she could indeed divide her attention and accomplish this while fighting Patriot. In a sense, it also meant that sins had been repaid.

Not her sins, but the sins of the dead. She had always seen herself as an executor—or, to put it a little more harshly, a tool. She would seek justice for victims and punish in the name of righteousness. As for deciding which side was righteous, that was one of the few things she would take the initiative to do.

Ah, right. Just like those heroes in the games that filled the virtual world of Arknights in her previous life. If there was an exclamation mark, she accepted the quest; if it seemed fine, she did it. No matter how absurd or strange the request was, as long as she saw it, she would not ignore the hand reaching out to her.

Within the flames, she distorted the light around her and stepped upon waves of heat and sulfur into the air.

The clouds of the Catastrophe brewed several hundred meters above her head. She looked down upon the land, watching Chernobog struggle forward like a reanimated corpse, and the Reunion Movement gradually stabilize amid the chaos even as it further crumbled apart.

Bodegard's subordinates had found their weakened leader and taken him away from the battlefield. Several remaining organized units had likewise departed under their respective commanders, leaving behind only a few scattered stragglers. Even those stragglers were rapidly dwindling in number. Most changed their appearance and fled into the wilderness, while a small portion fled toward Chernobog with weapons in hand.

The resistance inside the city was weakening. Perhaps they had reached an agreement with the Infected and planned to face the terrifying Catastrophe together. Even so, the destruction of the Reunion Movement, an Infected organization, had become inevitable.

—As long as I deal with Talulah.

Miss Surtr glided through the air, unseen. She knew there was no longer any need to focus on the temporary camp below. Through the unique senses of the strong, she had also detected that blaze of lava-like wildfire within Chernobog's inner district, though she could not yet pinpoint its exact location.

Talulah. Talulah was the last target she needed to deal with.

During the earlier purge, she had not found Mephisto and Faust. Perhaps they had already escaped the Reunion Movement's gathering place during those thirty minutes. Perhaps they had entered Chernobog alongside FrostNova and the others. Of course, it was also possible that she had seen them, yet subconsciously ignored them and spared their lives.

No, to be precise, half their lives. Surtr could sense one particularly thick stream among the flames she had released heading toward a location within the gathering ground that she had marked. The area where Mephisto had been was exactly in that direction. Whether he lived or died would be decided by the blood that boy carried upon himself.

And so she left. Yet even as she did, her thoughts about W continued to echo in her mind.

—Why did I come to this world?

—Why did I become Surtr? Why was I chosen by Laevateinn?

—Was it because I was naturally blessed with immense fortune, some destined protagonist? Or because I possessed some extraordinary talent in my previous life in Arknights, and thus arrived here?

Neither.

A person should know their own worth. Miss Surtr knew perfectly well that in her previous life, she had merely been an ordinary mediocrity, barely useful. Achieving financial independence had already been her limit. Wanting to contribute to society or accomplish something great had been nothing more than a fool's dream. She had not even had a pretty friend of the opposite sex around her, much less any lofty ambitions or pursuits.

—I'm ordinary.

She told herself this as she landed lightly inside Chernobog's outer wall. Chaos reigned all around her. Disorderly citizens filled the streets, along with Reunion Movement members lurking within the city. Their masks had fallen to the ground and been trampled to pieces, leaving their faces and signs of infection exposed to the air.

Surtr chose an empty street, revealed herself, and picked up a cloak to conceal her figure. As she left, no one noticed the cloaked girl moving through the streets.

—I know I possess power. Part of it comes from Surtr's body, part from Laevateinn, and all the rest comes from the training and research I have done over these past few years. I drew upon the knowledge of countless worlds in my dreams and made it my own. Even if I returned to being the worthless person I was in my previous life, I am confident that I could recover some of my former strength in a short time.

—I know I am strong. I could do anything I wanted to anyone weaker than me simply because I have the ability to do so. I could pin Kal'tsit, who is always mouthing off at me, to a bed and fuck her into a slave who only knows obedience and flattery. I could lock all the female Reunion officers in a basement and torment them with whips and branding irons for my amusement. I could even, like in those erotic games I used to play, build a huge harem and establish a dominion of livestock ranches... I could do everything I had ever wanted to do in my most absurd fantasies, because I could do it, and no one could stop me.

—But I did not come here to do such things.

She reached out and steadied an Ursus girl hurrying past so quickly that she nearly fell. As the girl thanked her profusely and hurried away, Surtr watched her go. Ah, an acquaintance she had never met: Miss Misha, who occupied two whole chapters in the Rhodes Island story yet still had little presence. She seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere, and Surtr had no intention of stopping her.

Yet as she helped Misha up, she attached a wisp of flame to Misha's shoulder.

—Every gain must be accompanied by a price.

—Every victory must be accompanied by the cost paid for it.

—Only then can it be called "fair," even if the scales are not balanced.

Surtr knew that she was already completely different from that pay-to-win character in the game. Her power, her skills, and her combat experience had all come from adventure after adventure in the real world and exploration after exploration in dream worlds over the past five years. She had made the effort and gained the rewards; in that regard, she had a clear conscience and no hesitation. Yet beyond that, there were still things whose price she had not yet paid.

Why was she able to cross worlds? She did not know.

Why was she able to become Surtr? She did not know.

Why was she able to wield Laevateinn without suffering backlash? She did not know.

Why could she enter dream worlds when she dreamed, gaining growth through one dream-world life after another? She did not know.

The stronger she became, the heavier that doubt grew. Just like the angel investors so commonly seen in Arknights in her previous life, if she could receive such extraordinary opportunities, then the unknown existence that had arranged them surely expected an even greater return.

—I was bound to pay a price sooner or later. The only difference was when.

—Rather than suffer later after gaining something only to lose it again, it was better to politely lock everything away from the very beginning.

—But as a transmigrator, I had to do something worthwhile. I had no way to create a world where everyone could be happy. But at the very least, I could make the people within my reach happy... the happiness I believed in.

—So being a tool wasn't so bad. Even though I hated saying things like "it's for your own good" myself. But...

...In any case, it wasn't as if I had only done one or two things people hated. Could I really expect anyone to like me?

She thought this with some amusement, and the faint ripples W had stirred in her heart were silently and neatly smoothed away—Talulah's presence was somewhat blurred, and she could not precisely locate that white-haired Dragon Girl for the moment. However, since Misha had already appeared here, following the mark on Misha would surely lead her to that Draco before long.

Ah... it was only natural. In the game's story of Arknights, Misha held the key to "something" in Chernobog's core city district. And during their brief contact just now, Miss Surtr's flames had already detected something unusual hidden on Miss Misha—and placed a beacon upon it.

So it did not matter if she could not find Talulah for the time being. As long as she followed the beacon, Talulah would eventually enter her field of observation—after all, that white-haired Dragon Girl had been willing to abandon the Reunion Movement just to seize the core city. She was likely either after some secret within it or had designs on the Sarcophagus. The beacon on Misha could handle the former, while Miss Surtr had decided to deal with the latter.

She blinked. The street before her seemed to sway, and she suddenly, soundlessly returned to the street's entrance from the end she had just reached. The sensation was extremely familiar.