Some say that death is the ultimate teacher, revealing all the answers like the results of an exam. But that revelation comes too late.
Yoren did not die, but at this moment, something far worse had taken hold of him—despair. It coiled around him, suffocating, inescapable.
Once upon a time, Yoren had walked home from school, staring at the dark clouds overhead, daydreaming about an oncoming storm.
If the world of Terra truly existed, would the people there witness the same ominous sky before a catastrophe? Would their storms dwarf this one in sheer magnitude, consuming everything in their path?
Once upon a time, Yoren had lain in bed, lost in thought, his mind drifting beyond reason.
If the world of Terra were real, could we still treat Arknights as mere entertainment?
War. Ruin. Freedom. Death.
We, who live in comfort, will never understand the despair of those stripped of identity and home—because we are not Infected.
Now, he would receive his answers.
The ice, laced with rubble, began to crack and crumble, fine powder dusting the broken streets.
Yoren lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for air. His vision blurred as crimson tendrils spread across his eyes, his limbs numb, his body wracked with a searing pain that felt like a thousand needles burrowing into his flesh.
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
Then, something hot and thick trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Blood.
He knew this feeling well. In his world, he had suffered through acute gastroenteritis, battled relentless fevers, and once shattered his ankle during a game of soccer as a child.
Pain, no matter how excruciating, always faded. Like a cold, like sorrow—it always healed in time.
But this?
This was different.
This was despair.
Ah.
So that's how it is.
He had won the prize, after all.
With great effort, Yoren lifted his head. His gaze fell upon Vina, still locked in combat, her hammer crashing against their foes. Beside her, Snowsant stood tense, speaking urgently to him—but her words were lost in the void.
Three words surfaced in his mind.
Mineral Disease.
Even without experience, Yoren knew. The symptoms were unmistakable.
He had always known that ordinary people, even with suppressants and protective masks, could still fall prey to infection in a disaster zone. And his mask had been gone for over ten minutes.
The Infected's plan had begun. The air of Mandel City now swirled with lethal Originium particles, stronger than ever. His body—unlike the natives of Terra—had even less resistance.
This outcome wasn't surprising.
A sudden movement caught his eye.
A wave of figures appeared at the far end of the street—Infected, armed and advancing. Their eyes landed on Yoren, on Vina, on the others still locked in battle.
Without hesitation, they charged.
Snowsant turned sharply.
Bang!
A massive ice wall erupted between them and the approaching Infected, sealing off the street. The barrier loomed high, isolating the threat beyond.
She turned back, her gaze landing on Yoren.
"Kid, what's wrong with you? Get up. Now."
Yoren flexed his fingers, testing his strength. The burning pain had dulled to a distant throb. The sky above regained its color, but his skull felt like it was being split in two.
Planting his hands against the cold ground, he pushed himself up.
He barely made it halfway before a violent cough wracked his body.
Splatter.
A mouthful of blood stained the pavement.
As an ordinary human, the Originium now coursing through his body was tearing him apart.
Back in Chernobog, members of the Glasgow Gang—freshly Infected—had still managed to evade the military and escape.
Yet here he was, struggling just to stand.
Snowsant narrowed her eyes.
The debris should have been blocked by her ice wall. Nothing had touched him.
"Hey. What's wrong with you?"
Yoren didn't answer.
She stepped forward, crouching beside him. Reaching out, she lifted one of his eyelids, her expression unreadable as she examined the bloodshot veins. Then, swiping a finger through the blood he had coughed up, she studied it closely.
Her voice was quiet but firm.
"You..."
Yoren forced his eyes open, offering a bitter smile.
"I know."
Across the battlefield, Vina froze.
Something about Yoren's movements sent ice through her veins. Ignoring the blade swinging toward her, she crushed the last enemy with a single, brutal strike—earning a deep gash in return.
She didn't even flinch.
Instead, she turned and ran.
She skidded to a stop beside him, shoving Snowsant away.
"What did you do to Yoren?!"
Snowsant sighed. "I did nothing."
Yoren weakly waved a hand. "Vina… calm down."
Then came Snowsant's cold, unwavering statement:
"He has oripathy."
Vina's heart dropped.
"What?!"
Her eyes darted to his face, his fevered skin, the blood at the corner of his lips—
The missing mask.
Panic surged through her veins. Without a second thought, she ripped off her own mask and pressed it against Yoren's face.
Snowsant's voice remained detached. "It's useless. Once the symptoms appear, protective measures lose their meaning. Nothing will change the fact that he's Infected now."
Vina's breath hitched. She looked into Yoren's eyes, now red with ruptured veins. The sight made her want to scream.
No.
No, no, no.
Then she remembered.
The inhibitor!
The syringe Yoren had given her earlier—it was still in her pocket. Her hands fumbled as she pulled it out, inspecting it for damage. Intact.
She didn't waste a second.
Pulling him into her arms, she let him lean against her shoulder.
Yoren didn't resist. His gaze, locked onto her face, was unreadable—complex and heavy with unspoken emotion.
Vina rolled up his sleeve. Popping the cap off the syringe, she positioned the needle over his arm—
Bang!
A hand shot out, gripping her wrist.
The needle halted barely a millimeter from his skin.
"Yoren—?!"
Her voice trembled. "What are you doing?! It's too late for this. Stop being stubborn, we need to—"
He held her hand firmly, preventing the syringe from moving closer.
Vina saw it then.
Tears welled in her eyes, raw and real. A warrior's heart laid bare, her fear not for herself—but for him.
But she saw something else too.
Something that froze her to her very core.
Her breath hitched.
Yoren's voice was hoarse as he whispered:
"Vina… why are your eyes red?"
"Vina, why are your eyes red?"
Vina froze, instinctively wiping her eyes with her trembling hands. They were wet.
She thought Yoren was talking about her tears. As the leader of the Glasgow Gang, almost no one had ever seen her cry.
Quickly, she wiped them away, trying to steady herself. She had been too anxious—too shaken. The mere mention of oripathy had thrown her into turmoil.
Vina knew Yoren had been aware of the infected group's plan all along. He and she had been separated for an entire day. With no means of contact, he could have taken Snowsant and fled the city to seek refuge. But instead, Yoren had risked everything, braving the chaos to find her, to warn her. His fragile body had endured the relentless search, and the moment he discovered that she might be infected, he had rushed to her side without hesitation.
And yet, despite everything he had done, she had blamed him for not being able to change anything.
Now, she realized the truth—Yoren had done everything an ordinary person could do for her.
Gritting her teeth, Vina pulled out her communicator.
[Indra, I'm at the center of 5th Street in City C. Get here immediately.]
[I'm on my way.]
Shutting it off, she forced a shaky smile at Yoren.
"My eyes are fine. I just panicked a little. Don't worry, you won't become infected. We have the inhibitor. I'll inject you right away. It will put your organs into dormancy, and your blood will coagulate, but don't worry—I'll get you out of Mandel City safely. When you wake up, we'll already be on our way back to Victoria."
She raised the syringe again, aiming for his arm.
"No."
Yoren's weak hand caught her wrist, his grip firm despite his failing body.
"Vina… your eyes…"
Vina's heart pounded. "Yoren, what are you doing? We don't have time for this! If we don't inject you now, no one will be able to save you!"
"No."
"Why?!"
Yoren reached up, his fingers trembling as they brushed against her face.
Time seemed to freeze.
Vina's tears spilled freely, dripping onto his hand like tiny drops of sorrow.
"Why…?"
Yoren gazed at her with quiet intensity. "Vina, you don't have to lie to me. You've felt it too, haven't you?"
In mere moments, her eyes had turned bloodshot, the whites now streaked with deep red. Even her tears had begun to stain with blood.
She had noticed. The world around her had become unbalanced, colors blending together, her breath burning in her lungs like fire. She had tried to suppress it with sheer willpower, but Yoren had seen right through her.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the syringe tighter. "Don't worry about me. Just listen to me. Inject the inhibitor, now!"
Yoren's bloodshot eyes softened. His voice was almost a whisper.
"You've never been good at lying, little lion…"
At that moment, the ice wall behind them cracked. A flaming sword struck through, shattering the frozen barricade. A figure emerged from the destruction—Redblade.
Frost Nova turned, her icy gaze fixed on the enemy. "You two don't have time to waste. Even if you're infected, it'll take years before it kills you. Get out of this city now!"
With those words, she summoned her Ice Sword and charged at Redblade.
Vina clenched her jaw, her grip on the syringe tightening. "Yoren, I am the leader of the Glasgow Gang. This is an order—inject the inhibitor!"
She pressed forward, forcing the needle toward his arm.
But Yoren didn't yield. With the last of his strength, he held her hands still.
His face was pale, and the oripathy symptoms were taking hold. Blood vessels darkened his skin, but his eyes remained calm—determined.
"Vina… from the beginning, I knew this might happen. To be honest, I was terrified. This disease… it's a death sentence."
"Then why?!" Vina's voice cracked with anguish.
"Because… I was more afraid of watching the one I love suffer in front of me. Maybe that's selfish of me."
Vina's breath hitched. The Yoren she knew—hesitant, cautious, always afraid—was gone. In his place stood a man with unwavering resolve.
He studied her face intently, as if trying to memorize every detail.
"Vina… promise me. Promise me you'll live a long, healthy life. Please… this is my last wish."
"No…"
A flicker of light passed through Yoren's eyes. In an instant, he flipped their positions, pinning her to the ground.
With a swift motion, the syringe was in his hand.
Vina gasped, realization dawning too late. Her body had grown weak—her strength already fading. No matter how much she struggled, Yoren didn't let go.
He looked at her one last time, his voice filled with warmth.
"I'm sorry… I won't be able to return to Victoria with you. I won't get to attend your parties anymore. When you wake up… don't blame yourself. This was my choice."
Tears streamed down Vina's face, her sobs silent and broken.
"Why…? Why go so far when you can't change anything…?"
Yoren's lips curled into a soft, genuine smile—the brightest she had ever seen from him.
"Because… in another world parallel to Terra, you and everyone in Rhodes Island helped me clear countless levels. So this time… it's my turn to protect you."
The needle pierced her skin.
Vina's crimson-stained pupils faded back to their original hue. Her body grew limp, her consciousness slipping away.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Yoren's lips moving—saying something she could no longer hear.
A tall figure rushed toward them, weaving through the chaos in mere moments.
Indra's voice was frantic. "What happened to Vina?!"
Yoren exhaled softly, gently stroking Vina's cheek one last time before forcing himself to his feet.
"She's been infected… but I injected her with the inhibitor in time. She's only in shock now. Indra, everyone should have already escaped. Take Vina and reunite with them."
Indra hesitated, then nodded, lifting Vina into her arms. "What about you?"
Yoren glanced at Frost Nova, who was barely holding the infected at bay. There was no time left.
He turned back, smiling lightly.
"You take Vina and go. Don't wait for me. Once you meet up with the others, leave Mandel City immediately. Oh—and tell Snowsant I'm sorry."
Indra hesitated, her grip tightening. "But—"
"This is my choice. Take care of her."
Yoren grinned, lifting a trembling thumb in farewell.
"My friends… I wish you a safe journey."