After hearing what Shuangyue said, Yoren's brows furrowed tightly.
If he had to sum up Shimotsuki's words in three words, it would be:
I don't understand.
Time-space exploration, merging technology with magic, consuming golden stones to summon beings from another world—it all sounded like some kind of gacha game. Was he just a failed SSR pull? Had someone summoned him, realized he was useless, and abandoned him out of disappointment?
That didn't seem right. If someone had invested in bringing him here, they should have known his worth.
In short, Shuangyue's explanation left him more confused than before. With his current understanding of this world, he couldn't extract anything useful from it. More importantly, he didn't care how he had arrived—he only wanted to know how he had disappeared.
Shimotsuki clearly placed great importance on his identity, which made sense. Sorcerers were similar to magicians; even if they became infected, they remained obsessed with studying the inexplicable. Shuangyue was no exception.
And then there was that final question.
What was he? Where was he from? Who was he?
A question both simple and complicated.
He was human. He came from Earth. As for who he was... well, that was harder to define.
He had been an Onmyoji, a Master, a commander, a captain, even a summoner. Eventually, he had become an irrational Blademaster. Beyond all that, he was once just the administrator of a fan fiction sharing group.
If he answered truthfully, he had no doubt that Shuangyue's massive ice blade would make another appearance.
Yoren sighed, looking at Shuangyue's cold, unreadable expression.
"I admit my life is in your hands right now, but if you put aside your hostility, we could actually have a meaningful conversation. I can tell you everything I know."
Shuangyue's icy gaze didn't waver. "Fine."
Yoren pulled Guigui closer, then sat cross-legged on the ground, adopting a relaxed posture.
"My race is human. I come from a world called Earth. As for my identity—believe it or not—I'm just an ordinary person, nothing special."
Then, in the most concise terms possible, he recounted his experiences in a way that Shimotsuki could understand.
Of course, he omitted anything that would damage his own image, threw in a few embellishments, and portrayed himself as a wise, resolute, and resourceful traveler—a hero rather than a mere survivor.
After listening, Shimotsuki's expression turned pensive. "So, your mission is to save the world?"
"No, no, no. This world is already doomed. I don't have the power to save it, and I don't intend to. But there's someone—someone who wants to save everyone. My mission is simply to save her. And, along the way, to protect the people I care about, including the girl with the hammer from earlier today."
Shuangyue lowered her head, her long ice-blue hair veiling her expression.
"Do you truly believe she can save everyone?"
"Maybe."
"Impossible."
Shuangyue's head snapped up, her face shrouded in darkness and grief.
"Save everyone? That's a lie. Once, I had that same dream. But I didn't want to save everyone—I only wanted to save one person. Just one. And I couldn't. In this world, as long as ordinary people and infected exist, destruction is inevitable. The infected aren't at fault—no one chooses this fate. But ordinary people, blessed by luck and untouched by disaster, show no mercy. For their own safety and interests, they exile and exterminate us. There's only one way to create stability—not by erasing ordinary people, but by turning everyone into infected. This world needs integration."
Her voice echoed through the ruins, sharp as ice.
In that moment, Yoren understood.
This was the precursor to the Integration Movement.
Like Rhodes Island, Tallulah should not have surfaced until three years after the Che Castle riot. According to Arknights' records, the "Reunion Movement" had barely begun before that event. Their first real battle was still years away.
But here, in this moment, Yoren was hearing the word "integration."
Shimotsuki's ideology was more extreme than Tallulah's.
Three years later, Tallulah would rally powerful infected, forming an army to stand against ordinary people. She would embrace the strength of the infected, wielding it as a weapon to carve out justice in the world. It was a battle for equality, not annihilation.
But here, now, Shimotsuki and her followers weren't fighting for justice—they were consumed by self-loathing. They weren't looking to build a future. They were seeking destruction, dragging the entire world down with them.
Before Tallulah, there must have been many such fractured groups—scattered across the world, driven by despair, waging an unwinnable war against ordinary people.
Yoren could only imagine how much effort Tallulah had spent uniting them. Perhaps that was the true meaning behind the name "Integration Movement."
From an outsider's perspective, he didn't see the infected as villains. If anything, the greed and cruelty of ordinary people were more repulsive. The infected's thirst for vengeance wasn't born of evil—it was a tragic inevitability.
But Yoren wasn't a hero. As Vina had told him, he didn't distinguish between ordinary people and infected—only between enemies and allies. He wasn't here to fight a war. He was here to protect the people who mattered to him.
Yoren met Shuangyue's gaze steadily.
"I don't doubt you've suffered. But this plan of yours won't change anything. In the end, both ordinary people and infected will be wiped out."
"Shut up! What do you know?!"
Shimotsuki's voice cracked as she roared, eyes wild with fury.
"Everyone will disappear? Good! I've already lost everything. I couldn't even protect the person who mattered most to me. If that's the case, then this world doesn't deserve to exist!"
Her hands clenched into fists, and the air around her turned frigid. Her long blue hair stirred as frost crackled in the ruins.
"I couldn't save her. I don't even know what horrors she suffered after she was taken from me. She's gone. If she's gone, then the world should be buried with her."
Shuangyue trembled, her breath unsteady. But Yoren remained calm.
From the moment he had seen her, something about her had seemed familiar. Now, he finally understood.
He watched her quietly, then spoke her name with certainty.
"Shuangyue... do you know a girl named Frost Nova?"
Ever since meeting Shuangyue earlier that day, Yoren couldn't shake off a nagging thought.
He had gone through every bit of knowledge he had about the world of Terra, searching for any mention of someone like Shuangyue. But no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing—no records, no legends, not even a whisper of her name in anything he had ever known about Arknights.
However, her appearance and abilities reminded him of someone else.
Silver-white hair. Carter ears. Devastating ice magic.
There was only one person who fit that description: Frost Nova, the formidable warlock of the Reunion Movement—the leader of the Infected Warlock Team, feared and respected alike.
Yoren's heart pounded as the pieces of the puzzle fit together. If his speculation was correct, then Shuangyue and Frost Nova were connected in a way that even she might not fully realize. And if that was the case…
He hesitated for a moment before finally breaking the silence.
"Shuangyue… do you know a girl named Frost Nova?"
The air between them turned to ice.
Shuangyue's expression froze, and her piercing gaze locked onto him, wide with shock. The name had clearly struck a nerve.
"You…" her voice wavered slightly. "Why do you know that name?"
Yoren exhaled slowly. That reaction confirmed it—he was right.
There was no more point in hiding things from her.
"I told you before that I come from another world. I know that's hard to believe, but you need to listen. In my world, we know about what happens in Terra. We've seen it unfold—your history, your people, your battles. And three years from now… Frost Nova will play a pivotal role."
Shuangyue grabbed his shoulders, her grip tight, desperate.
"Tell me!" she demanded. "What happens in three years? Is her name recorded as a casualty? Is she… on a death list?"
Yoren swallowed hard. He had seen the fate that awaited Frost Nova, and the weight of that knowledge made his chest tighten. He didn't want to lie to Shuangyue, but the truth was too cruel to say outright.
"I'll tell you everything I know," he said. "But first, I need to understand something. What is your connection to Frost Nova?"
Shuangyue's icy demeanor cracked. For a long moment, she simply stood there, her lips pressed together as if struggling with the words she was about to say. Finally, she spoke.
"Frost Nova… is my daughter."
The revelation hit Yoren like a thunderclap.
So it was true.
He had suspected they were related, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill down his spine.
Frost Nova, the girl who would become a legendary figure in Terra's history—the beacon of hope for the Infected, the one who would defy fate itself—was standing on the path her mother had once walked.
"Tell me what you know about her," Shuangyue pleaded. "Please."
Yoren nodded solemnly. "I will. But first, tell me—what happened between you and Frost Nova? Why do you think she's gone?"
A shadow fell over Shuangyue's face. Her gaze drifted into the distance as if looking into the past, reliving the memories she had tried to bury.
"Fine," she whispered. "I'll tell you. But after that… you must keep your promise."
Yoren remained silent, giving her the space she needed to begin.
Years ago, Shuangyue's family was once a powerful lineage of mages, their name whispered with reverence throughout the land. But they had violated the laws of Ursus—had stepped on a forbidden path. And for that crime, they were stripped of everything. Their names, their status, their very existence was erased.
They were cast into the abyss.
Stripped of their rights, they were taken to the mines, where they were condemned to endless servitude. Beaten, starved, forced to work until their bodies collapsed from exhaustion.
It was in that endless darkness that Frost Nova was born.
A tiny, fragile life in a world of despair.
Shuangyue named her daughter after the stars that glittered coldly in the night sky, hoping that she could at least shine brightly, even in the cruelest of worlds.
Life in the mines was hell. People died every day, their bodies discarded like trash. The Ursus soldiers who guarded the mines never interfered, never helped—if anything, they encouraged the slaughter. The weak had no place in Ursus.
It was there, in that place of misery, that the sickness took them.
Oripathy.
Marked by blackened veins and crystalline growths, it spread like a slow death through the Infected, branding them as cursed beings, less than human.
Years passed in suffering, until one day—an explosion rocked the mines.
A guerrilla force attacked, their assault sending Ursus soldiers into chaos. Slaves broke free in the commotion, running, screaming, dying in the crossfire.
Shuangyue had been wounded in the escape. She had no choice but to flee, but in the chaos, she lost sight of Frost Nova.
She searched. Desperately, she searched. But the battle had swallowed them both, and by the time she regained her strength, she had been taken far away to Kjerag.
There, she was forced into servitude once more. But this time, at least, she wasn't treated like an animal. Her captors saw her as a tool, a source of power. And for that reason, they allowed her to live.
Still, every night, she prayed for Frost Nova. That her daughter had survived. That she wasn't alone. That she hadn't given up hope.
Years passed before she was finally freed.
And the first thing she did was return to Ursus.
But what she found wasn't salvation.
The mine had collapsed. The place where she had last seen her daughter was nothing but ruins and frozen corpses.
She knew—she had always known—that the world was cruel. But seeing the grave of her past with her own eyes broke something inside her.
Yet, she refused to give up.
She spent years searching, tracing every whisper of survivors, every rumor of escapees. And finally, she found one.
The only one.
A former slave, a man who had survived the mine collapse.
When she asked about Frost Nova, his answer was clear.
"No one survived."
Shuangyue had felt her soul shatter in that moment.
Everything—everything she had fought for, every moment she had endured, every prayer she had whispered—had been for nothing. Her daughter, her Frost Nova, was gone.
She was truly alone.
And yet, here was Yoren, a stranger from another world, speaking her daughter's name as if she were still alive.
Her eyes burned as she looked at him, her voice trembling with a desperate hope she was afraid to believe in.
"Tell me, Yoren… tell me everything you know about my daughter."
Yoren clenched his fists, the weight of his knowledge suffocating him. He had seen the future. He knew where Frost Nova's path led. He knew the battles she would fight, the enemies she would face. He knew of the Reunion, of the war, of the sacrifices she would make.
And most of all… he knew how her story ended.
But looking into Shuangyue's pleading eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Not yet.
"Shuangyue… your daughter is alive."
Her breath caught. Her entire body tensed, as if afraid to move, afraid that the slightest motion would shatter the fragile dream.
"Alive?" she whispered, barely able to speak the word.
Yoren nodded.
"And I promise you—I will tell you everything."
But not yet.
Not until he found a way to change fate itself.