Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

"My lord."

The handsome knight knelt on one knee, a recorder affixed to his waist. With solemn grace, he offered the most respectful bow known on the land of Terra to the black-robed young man standing before him.

"We still have a long way to go."

The young man in black robes gazed into the distance, his eyes fixed on the moving city ahead. The towering spires built by the nobles of Leithanien shimmered in his vision. "Leithanien still has a long road ahead of her."

"This Lance—" he continued, turning toward the knight, "—was recovered from the ruins. Now I bestow it upon you. From this moment on, your knightly title shall be the Silent Knight. It runs contrary to your battle style, but that contradiction, I believe, will confound your enemies."

The young man's expression was calm, his smile laced with elegance and ambition.

"Yes." The knight bowed his head and accepted the Lance with both hands.

Only the soft rustling of the breeze answered them.

---

"Siracusa's independence is also the will of our Lord."

The knight now appeared a few years older, though still striking in his bearing. He stood firmly before the Casters, a quiet warning in his eyes.

"No one may enter the tower without my Lord's permission."

"The wicked little wolves of Siracusa cry out for independence," one Caster said bitterly. "But the king refuses to raise arms against them. Why? Are we to stand by as Leithanien is slowly devoured by the petty nations at her borders?"

The knight tightened his grip on his spear and staff.

"Leave now. I will act as though I heard nothing."

Silenced by his presence, the Casters turned away, their frustration evident, but their tongues held still.

---

The knight was now middle-aged. In the heat of battle, he wielded his lance-staff in his right hand, cleaving through enemy ranks. With a fierce cry, a shockwave rippled outward, sending attackers flying from the backs of their beasts. He drew his sword with his left hand and finished the job.

His armor remained polished, though his face was splattered with blood. With his soldiers beside him, he knelt before the towering spire.

"My king, we've lost hundreds… but we've captured the Gallic vanguard."

"Well done."

The king's voice echoed faintly from the distant throne. The knight looked upward but could no longer make out his ruler's form.

Was his vision failing?

"If they desire war, then war is what they shall have."

The hall below remained silent.

---

The knight had grown old. Leaning heavily on his lance, he stood watch before the tower, day after day.

The king had not appeared in public for some time. Across Zwillingstürme, reports of disaster and unrest arrived like falling snow. In the heart of politics, a new rival had emerged—one of twins, one clad in white, the other in black.

"What is it that you truly desire, my king?"

His question drifted upward, swallowed by the cold wind.

He sheathed his sword.

Alone on that snowy night, he turned and walked toward the distant village.

No one noticed the absence of a loyal guard from the tower.

He began his silent journey home.

---

The people and animals of the knight's hometown had vanished overnight.

All that remained was a thick, foul-smelling flood of blood and rot—rain turned crimson, earth soaked in murk.

The knight fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he touched the ground.

He recognized the Arts.

It was the very same spell that once led him to knighthood.

The same Arts that had once marked the final word in war.

That Arts… that Arts.

"My king… why… why has it come to this?"

The old knight knelt before the blackened waters, a howl of grief and fury tearing from his throat and echoing into the sky.

His wife and children had long since returned to the sea of stars. The people he once knew—gone, like dust in time.

He slowly stood, his body swaying.

The tears stopped.

He sheathed his sword once more.

And in that moment, his once gray hair turned completely white.

He said nothing.

---

"The Witch King… has fallen?"

"Leithanien is ruled now by… the Twin Empress?"

The old man whispered, confusion flickering through his clouded eyes.

A child nearby, thinking the old man simply didn't understand, laughed and ran off to share the good news.

"King… Witch King…"

The old man rose to his feet slowly, removing the lance from his back.

He had lived long enough.

And now, he would begin his final journey.

In the end… he was the last one left.

---

Somehow, word had spread: the old man was once a knight of the Witch King.

Now, he was being hunted.

Agents of the Twin Empress tracked him across the road.

The old knight struggled to wield his lance. His body could no longer bear the weight of Originium arts.

Outnumbered and overpowered, the old man fell again and again, each blow more punishing than the last. The ink-black lance in his hands quivered, as if it remembered.

As he collapsed to the ground, someone stepped forward to seize the weapon.

A long sigh escaped him.

Then, from the lance, black mist began to rise.

A strange music filled the air.

The Twin Empress' agents suddenly turned on one another, slaughtering their own in a fit of uncontrollable madness.

"Impossible… You are…"

Dark shadows floated into view.

And in the final moment before his death, he saw several indistinct figures—and heard the hoarse, irritated voice of a middle-aged man.

"…Always me, cleaning up the mess in the end…"

My King… I admired you. I hated you.

But I could never bring myself to kill you.

I, Silent Knight… In the end, I am the closest of your ministers—the one who most longed to shout at you, to question you.

---

Felix felt dizzy, as if his head had been struck by a sledgehammer. A deep, throbbing ache swelled in his skull. When he came to, he found himself slumped against a corner of the hall.

"Are you okay? You passed out the moment you stepped in. Didn't get enough sleep this morning?" Carnelian was sitting on a broken stone pier nearby. Seeing him stir, she let out a breath and jumped down. "You looked like you were having a nightmare. What happened?"

Felix raised a hand to his forehead, his expression clouded. Just moments ago, it felt like an avalanche of memories had been forcibly poured into his mind—like being strapped down and made to watch a century-long film in fast forward. Only a few key moments flashed through, but even that left him nauseous.

He glanced at his status bar.

A debuff blinked back at him: [Mental Asthenia].

He tapped open the system log and saw a message from earlier:

[Resonance has been triggered. Intelligence Check: Great Success. Spirit Check: Success.]

Really? This was a successful Spirit Check? What would failure look like—complete mental collapse?

He waved Carnelian over and asked, frowning, "Did you see anything just now? Or hear anything strange?"

"Nope. Just saw you hit the floor like a sack of bricks. Thought it was an ambush—almost blasted the whole hall apart." Carnelian gave a snort, crossing her arms with an unimpressed shrug.

"I need to rest. My head's killing me."

The debuff had about an hour left. Carnelian didn't argue. She stretched out, then sat back down to continue maintaining her gear.

If only a medic-class player or a chef were nearby. Medics with purification skills could dispel the mental weakness debuff, but they were rare. A chef, meanwhile, could have prepared a dish to help counteract the effect.

Left with no choice, Felix sat there in a daze for the next hour. Eventually, the fog in his mind lifted and clarity returned. He stood, stretching his stiff limbs, and cast his eyes toward the spear embedded in the stone not far off.

"I didn't touch the weapon," Carnelian said, stretching with a sly grin. "That one's all yours."

"I'm going to scout the area. Call me if anything comes up."

"Got it."

Felix waited for her to leave, then slowly approached the spear.

Don't expect a King Arthur moment, he warned himself as he eyed the weapon jutting from the stone.

But something puzzled him.

The spear's shaft gleamed white.

He remembered it differently.

In the visions forced into his mind, the knight's spear..no, the lance had been black—dark as ink.

Those memories didn't belong to him. They belonged to a knight who had died decades ago—one who had followed his king to the very end. That knight had witnessed the rise and fall of Leithanian , the civil wars, the bloodshed brought by the Witch King.

And finally, he had come to rest here.

This was his weapon.

Among players, such items were known as divine weapons, or ancient weapons. The U.S. team had retrieved similar relics during the Singularity event. In his past life, Felix had seen records of Mostima's twin staves—also classified as ancient weapons.

Fortunately, he had remained alert—otherwise, that resonance might have killed him on the spot.

This type of weapon was a lance-staff—a hybrid between a lance and a staff. There weren't many people on this continent who could wield such a thing effectively. Felix still remembered watching the Kazimierz Knight Tournament two years ago, where several knights in the elimination rounds brandished similar lance-staffs, all sponsored by major companies.

The central shaft of this weapon was made of pure white alloy, intricately engraved with delicate patterns. The part embedded into the stone was a massive, broad spearhead.

"..."

So, was this thing a lance or a staff?

Felix frowned. While auxiliary classes could equip staffs, he wasn't about to rely on support stats to fight in melee combat.

Stepping forward, he placed both hands on the lance-staff and began to pull with effort.

"Come on… isn't this just like King Arthur's sword in the stone? 'Whoso pulleth this sword from this stone is rightwise king of all the land'—rise up, hero!"

—My son… on the day you were born, the forests of Laterano whispered the name... 'Felix'...

—My child, the day you were born, the fae of Rutland murmured your name... 'Felix.'

Wait a second—wasn't this the wrong script?

[Strength Check: Success]

Puff!

With a crisp sound, Felix pulled the Lance-staff free from the stone. But instead of triumph, a complicated look appeared on his face. So much for destiny. If he didn't have the stats for it, there's no way he could've pulled this thing out. Forget legendary fate—this was pure numbers.

Still deep in thought, Felix began to examine the weapon.

---

[Helena's Sorrow (Gangnir der Harmonie)]

[Description]:

We listen closely—

To the harmony between sky and earth,

To the symphony above the stars.

With the ears of our hearts,

We grasp the moments when notes echo through emptiness.

We travel between dimensions,

Accompanied by silence.

We drift across the sea of stars,

Entwined with the threads of time.

Just as notes compose melodies

And music praises the sonata,

Our ancestors once used simple language

To share beauty and sorrow.

From their minds, the notes were born—

A language like the music of the cosmos,

Telling of life and civilization.

—Civilizo I

[Quality]: Orange

[Stats]:

Melee ATK: 500–580

Originium Skill ATK: 500–580

Durability: 545 / 9850

[Requirements]:

Eligible Classes: Vanguard, Guard, Caster, Defender, Special, Auxiliary

Level: 7

STR: 240

DEX: 220

END: 200

INT: 100

SPIRIT: 80

---

[Additional Abilities]:

Rondo: Converts sound waves into explosive shockwaves, dealing true damage.

March: Amplifies the attributes of all allied units within range.

Requiem: Provides healing via magical resonance.

Broken Army Solo: Debuffs a single enemy's stats.

King's Prelude: Grants 5% lifesteal.

---

"F*ck!"

Felix cursed under his breath.

Shouldn't this be knight's weapon or something!?

Wait a minute—what exactly does "seventh level" mean? Even his best secondary professions—Apprentice Gunsmith and Apprentice Mechanic—were only at level three. Levels four and five unlock at character level 20, while levels six and seven become available at level 25. And leveling up wasn't cheap—later stages required hundreds of thousands of experience points just to gain a single level.

Sure, orange-quality weapons look amazing… but the equipment requirements were just outrageous. Weren't five different high-tier attributes a bit too much?

And just look at those additional abilities—five in total, all built directly into the weapon. Normally, a staff was just a medium, a conduit for spells. In the past, only a few Casters would go so far as to inscribe Originium skills onto their staffs, allowing them to cast without chanting.

Apparently, this lance-staff did the same—housing five powerful Originium abilities right inside it.

Of course, he couldn't use them now… and that made sense. After all, a game needed balance. If players could just equip mythical artifacts early on, what would be the point of progression?

Right now, he couldn't equip the weapon at all. He could pull it out, carry it, maybe show it off—but it couldn't be used in combat or cast any skills. In other words, this thing was basically a prop for now. A real, usable weapon? That day might not come until many years later.

"Hm? You got it done?"

Carnelian turned back with a smile, tossing a stone lightly in her hand.

"Looks pretty cool… The lobby here is too spacious. I might've stumbled on some Originium skills, like sheet music or something."

"Let's go."

Felix slung Helena's Sorrow diagonally across his back. As expected, he couldn't attack or cast with it—but nothing stopped him from carrying it around like a stylish accessory.

Still, the durability had dropped significantly. He wasn't even sure what kind of materials would be needed to repair or replenish it.

"Where are we going next?" Carnelian asked as she slid back into the vehicle, her face glowing with satisfaction. "This adventure's been a blast. Should we call that place we just explored a ruin or a mausoleum?"

"It was just the burial site of an ordinary knight."

Felix smiled, glancing over at her. "I've been gone for a few days already. Time to head back to Leipzig."

"When are you leaving for Columbia?"

"There's still a few days left. No rush."

Carnelian didn't press further. She just hummed along with the songs playing on the radio, enjoying the ride. Felix joined in, singing softly.

---

[You have completed the B-rank continuous quest: [Lingering Echoes]]

[Reward: 13,000 EXP]

[Special Reward: Helena's Sorrow]

---

Felix laughed aloud, his smile stretching all the way to the gates of Leipzig—

—until he saw the tearful little faces of Senomi and Mandragora.

Just like that, the smile vanished.

"Huu... Master, where have you been? I missed you so much!"

"Brother, you've been gone for half a month. I was so worried about you!"

The two little girls threw themselves into Felix's arms, crying and clinging to him. Flustered, Felix hurried to comfort them, gently patting their backs and murmuring reassurances.

In the midst of the commotion, he glanced over at Degenbrecher, silently pleading for help.

But to his dismay, Degenbrecher averted her gaze just at that moment, deliberately ignoring him—as if they were completely out of sync.

Degenbrecher understood that the boss had been working hard for their future. But what truly irked her was that he hadn't said a word about being gone for so long. Naturally, she had no intention of helping him out of this situation.

"So lively."

Carnelian sighed, hopping down from the military pickup truck. As she watched the two girls clinging to Felix and crying, she couldn't help but burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the scene.

Degenbrecher's golden eyes turned toward Carnelian. Carnelian's red eyes flicked sideways. The two Caprinae locked eyes in a brief, unreadable exchange.