Arknights story · Abnormal Spectrum
EG-8 Events of the Past
A sunken city resurfaces. An abandoned mining lamp is relit. Anything can happen in times like these.
1 scenes, 87 lines
1. Interlude
87 linesTh-The guns have stopped.
C-Can we go now? Not upwards, but down, before the bombs reach us—
Get up, Yuri, and the rest of you. We need to find Rankin and the place he was talking about.
You know the bravest ones of us have all left with Rankin, to take the outpost.
The bombing's stopped, and we don't know what's going on up there. The only way to find them is up.
Either we save them, or, as Rankin said, remember them. Crawl, pull yourselves on with your pickaxes, if you can't walk.
But Rankin gave us his mining lamp—
Do you remember what he said?
He... he didn't say anything...
That's right. He didn't say anything. This is no different from the supplies that they left behind.
Or we can choose to leave it here... as a reminder.
Yes, reminder. Leave the lamp in the mining cart, the one that we pushed all the way here.
If anyone ever comes through...
I remember that you can write, Yuri.
We've got some blank pages at the back of the logbook. We might as well not waste it.
Come here. I'll tell you what to write.
If anyone comes, at least they'll know what happened here.
Sir, where... where are we going?
I don't think the factory's this way—
Shut up and keep walking.
I said walk!
(Whisper) The mines have stopped again.
(Whisper) So, nothing for the processing plants to work with.
(Whisper) Where would they take us, if they don't need hands upstairs?
They dragged even the sickest ones out of their beds. Half the mine is here...
I don't want to keep walking. I don't want to die!
(Whisper) Shh!
......
Go through the forest, to the lake. That's where you'll meet your end.
Don't even think...
About running away.
Heavy military boots step on the snowy forest floor, moving forward, urging forward.
The miners are being escorted by far more than just a few men.
Here. Stop.
Let's begin.
Everyone, on the ice.
No, sir, please—
The saber cuts her throat, spilling hot blood on the soldier's armor.
For the glory of Ursus.
Bozhe moy...
Proceed.
N-Next! Fill the gap! Hurry!
Why do we have to be treated like this?
Shut up, you uyobok—
Were the Tsar's promises all a lie? Are our lives worth less than that of a burdenbeast?
Tell me—
......
As the soldier is about to raise his hand again, the rumbling of the ground becomes perceptible.
It starts with a tiny crack, from the surface, from deep below, before snowballing quickly.
The ground trembles, and the center of the lake collapses. The result of geological changes accumulated over time swallows the Infected on the ice, and their would-be executioners.
Run!
The miner shakes off the stunned soldier and runs in the direction they came from.
Catastrophe...
It's a Catastrophe!!!
Soldier, miner. Killer, victim. The vast Lake Angara accepts all and delivers all.
Beneath the ice, an ancient nomadic city rises as the terrain changes, emerging through the sheet into the light of day.
The old-style buildings and the writhing faces of the dead look the same as they did when the city sank.
'Northern Tundra'... 'Catastrophe'... 'Lake'...
All those words crammed into this tiny space, and I only recognize three.
You'll learn them in time.
The lessons here are too basic for me. I'm planning to take over the work at the mines, which has been left untended for a while, and maybe learn a craft other than shoe repair.
Once the curfew is lifted, I want to go to Deity Grypherburg.
I don't want to go to Grypherburg. I just want to learn to read. Three words a day makes twenty-one a week. In one month...
I'm glad to see your eagerness.
Do you need help?
These words still confuse me, gospozha.
You're talking about these 'nouns', right? That's the lesson for this week—we're learning about nouns.
Nouns, yes! Nouns. I think I'm starting to be able to tell them apart, but I can't quite get their meanings.
What's this... uh... 'Shimok'?
Ah...
It's 'Simonch'. It's a name, like the name 'Angara', the lake, or your name, 'Vova'.
It's the name of a nomadic city.
The youth bids his classmate farewell and goes into the mines, ready to get to work.
Mine tunnels left untended gradually wear down and eventually collapse. He will not allow it to happen, as long as he is still here.
The young man raises his mining lamp and begins his rounds, examining all the rail, until he finds a mining cart at one of the forks that does not belong to this place.
This is...
A mining lamp?
And a letter—
......
This was once the place of a struggle?
Damn it. The people who proposed connecting the mining districts were here! They wanted to occupy that garrisoned outpost!
I knew the story was true...
Phew...
Whoever's lamp this was, it's in good condition. Maybe a little dusty, but it still works...
Maybe I should take it to Grypherburg—
And show everyone...
This lamp without a name, and those people without names.