Arknights: I became an NPC in the online game

The group stage of the World Championship finally came to an end. Sixteen teams emerged from the fray, seeded into the winners' bracket and the losers' bracket according to their points. The winners' bracket would be played in Bo3 format, while the losers' bracket began with a brutal Bo1 elimination—win or go home.

Of the advancing teams, nine belonged to Tomorrow's Development. Outside of the matches themselves, they avoided unnecessary drama or publicity, focusing instead on relentless in-game training.

During this period, Degenbrecher once again found herself pressed into service by eager professional players who begged for her guidance. She didn't dislike the attention; in fact, she relished it. Every sparring match allowed her to witness the adventurers' steady progress—that was what mattered most. And with every strike she delivered, her technique grew sharper, more decisive than the last.

By the time version 2.0 launched, Tomorrow's Development would no longer be a hidden name. In truth, commentators across nations were already speculating about the strangely uniform equipment worn by these players. The gear shared not only style and color, but also a single identical logo emblazoned on every piece. It didn't take long before veteran insiders explained the mystery: these sets were almost certainly the handiwork of Tomorrow's Development's leader—the Pioneer, Felix.

And who was the Pioneer?

That question didn't need asking. The answer was written plain as day across the arena: dozens of cosplayers dressed as him, a roaring crowd already fueled by the 2.0 PV hype. At this point, everyone knew of Tomorrow's Development. The revelation that Felix had recently launched a massive recruitment drive around Lungmen only stoked further envy—professional teams who just learned of it could only grind their teeth in frustration.

It all made sense now. The players of Tomorrow's Development weren't just strong—they had superior equipment, superior tactics. They'd clearly gained opportunities no ordinary team could hope to access. Coaches from every corner, whether their teams had advanced or been eliminated, issued the same iron order: get to Lungmen as fast as possible. When 2.0 went live, they had to join Tomorrow's Development.

Even a slight disadvantage in gear stats could decide life or death on the professional 12v12 battlefield.

And it wasn't just the pros. At the Seattle venue, both top-ranked and casual players alike had now heard the name Tomorrow's Development. Up until now, most videos about the Pioneer had been uploaded only by Chinese creators, with few translated or circulated abroad—especially the most crucial one, showing the founding of the company.

That was no longer the case. Everyone knew now. The clever ones were already rallying their friends, pooling resources, and making plans to travel straight to Lungmen. Others, tied to rival factions or still grinding loyalty quests for other groups, hesitated. Should they abandon their current progress… just to gamble on following the Pioneer?

Western players hadn't yet seen the faction shops or the internal benefits system, but they weren't so different from their counterparts in CN—practical above all else. Forget sentimentality; most Americans barely knew the Pioneer beyond a single brief appearance in Columbia. Their impressions of him came mainly from secondhand translations and meme posts. American players, shaped by a culture of daily gunfights and chaos, carried that same wild, unruly style into Ark.

In the previous timeline, U.S. players had been the lifeblood of Blacksteel International—banding together as mercenaries, traveling in packs.

But this time was different. With Tomorrow's Development now a rising giant, more and more of them were starting to wonder: would life be better under Felix's banner?

The decision came quickly. During a live talk show where several professional players were interviewed, a U.S. pro known as Cosmos or Universe openly declared his welcome to American players joining Tomorrow's Development. He vouched for the Pioneer's character—"a great guy, really nice"—and even revealed that the group had endless work available, high benefits, help finding housing, even massage services.

The crowd erupted.

For many players in attendance, this was the first time a professional openly recommended joining a specific faction. The effect was immediate: curiosity and goodwill toward Tomorrow's Development soared like wildfire.

Universe naturally had his own thoughts. He had noticed that the majority of players in Tomorrow's Development were now from CN. In other words, the player base was heavily skewed. Aside from the CN players, the next largest group came from Ursus—the so-called "Russians"—followed by players from Leithania and Victoria, essentially the European regions. As for the Americans, outside of a handful of pro players, their numbers barely made up a small squad.

Every faction inevitably formed its own little circles—just like in any two-thousand-member chat group where smaller cliques gathered to game together. The Americans, however, lacked presence. Universe worried that in the future, Tomorrow's Development might not have room for them at all.

As both someone who hoped to build a stronger American player community within the faction, and as a pro who didn't want to be left behind or excluded from the core, Universe knew he needed to show his fellow Americans why Tomorrow's Development was worth investing in.

"Tomorrow's Development is a rising power, freshly established. Here, we can become whoever we want to be. We can accomplish what we've always dreamed of accomplishing. We can train our characters into the strongest versions of ourselves. In other words, this might just be another chance to realize the American Dream."

The moment he said it, the commentators chuckled. The audience of American players laughed and applauded.

Cabus's expression instantly soured. Damn it, how could he not see through Universe's little scheme? Friction between the European and American players was nothing new. The Warrior squad and the Evil Geniuses squad had already brawled in a training room once over a mission dispute—the Warrior squad had won that time, but what about the future?

If things escalated, wouldn't it all come down to which region had more numbers?

Cabus's eyes narrowed as he thought it over. He couldn't guess what exactly the Pioneer was planning, but as one of the first pros to join Tomorrow's Development, of course he wanted this faction—so convenient, so resource-rich, so full of perks—to keep thriving. Not to mention, the Pioneer himself was a protagonist-tier NPC.

Balance within the faction was key… So, European players, come on in too!

What started as a casual talk show suddenly turned into a "praise Tomorrow's Development" rally, with pro players one after another singing its virtues. The commentators, who'd hoped for some juicy gossip, were left speechless. Meanwhile, the audience's enthusiasm surged—many were already itching to head back to their hotels, log into the game, and rally their friends to Lungmen in preparation for the 2.0 update.

Felix, of course, knew nothing of this. His interest in the upcoming winners' and losers' brackets had waned. The championship would almost certainly go to a squad affiliated with Tomorrow's Development, but which squad exactly, he couldn't say. He had thought Yan Yulou and Dynasty were strong, but the pro teams from other regions weren't weak either—it was going to be a real clash of titans.

What drew his attention more was the solo bracket. This was the stage for those who hadn't made it into the team competition—a chance for individuals to shine.

Dandao Dantart, the rookie member of the new Blue Rain squad, was naturally signed up for it. The brutal elimination format meant that only two players would climb to the top to face each other.

Dandao Dantart was ready. He stood in the VR arena, waiting for his first opponent.

The notification flashed in front of him:

Blue Rain Dandao Dantart VS T1 Creed

Dandao Dantart's breathing quickened—not from excitement, but from nerves.

T1 had entered the World Championship as the second seed. Though their group stage performance had been shaky, they'd barely clung to survival and were now in the losers' bracket. And Creed—Creed was T1's cornerstone, a formidable frontline pro. Dandao had studied his matches. The man was an outstanding vanguard.

In 1v1 duels, what mattered most was how players optimized their class builds and gear. Even if you were technically a support, you could rig your setup like the Pioneer's without breaking any rules.

Dandao Dantart gripped his Nightfall longsword. With a blink, the teleport whisked him into the chosen battlefield—a barren desert.

This terrain was a nightmare for snipers and casters. The only high ground was a handful of exposed rock ridges, but taking position there meant painting a target on your back.

Dandao Dantart sprinted toward the center of the arena, blade already drawn, gathering his strength.

He was fast—but Creed was faster. His figure flickered across the sand like a phantom, closing the distance in seconds. Clearly, he had no intention of circling or stalling. Each step left faint afterimages in the sand, the sharp shff-shff of his footwork cutting through the wind.

So this was the speed of a Vanguard. Dandao Dantart had studied his opponent's footage, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter entirely.

A flash of silver—Creed had already thrown a dagger.

Dandao Dantart recognized the subclass immediately: Vanguard, Intelligence Officer. Unlike frontliners, they specialized in mid-range harassment, flicking hidden blades or throwing knives, a constant thorn in team fights—almost like assassins lurking in plain sight.

But Creed wasn't limited to ranged tricks. When Dandao Dantart swatted the blade aside with his longsword, Creed's expression didn't shift. He drew a short dagger from his belt and pressed forward.

His strikes came at blistering speed. Dandao Dantart blocked as best he could, but his HP still chipped away under the assault. Rolling across the sand, he panted hard—this was the difference between a pro and a regular player. It felt like fighting someone from an entirely different world.

Creed, meanwhile, frowned. Something about the numbers wasn't adding up. The guy's class was listed as Guard, but his defense was unusually high. Too high. Was it a subclass he hadn't encountered before? Even if it was Knight, the damage reduction didn't match.

Born and trained under Korea's Tier-1 system, Creed's discipline was to master numbers: damage outputs, thresholds, execution windows. In pro play, calculating kill-lines was second nature. Yet this opponent was disrupting his math.

Dandao Dantart braced against the sand with one hand, body trembling with exhaustion, fear gnawing at him. But he refused to let go. His grip on the longsword remained firm.

And then—his blade flared. A brilliant, pearly-white radiance erupted from the steel.

The desert wind whipped into a storm. Creed instinctively scooped up a handful of sand and flung it at his opponent while retreating. He didn't know what subclass this was, but the glow was enough to trigger any veteran's reflex: pull back, now.

He was right.

Dandao Dantart roared, unleashing a blinding arc of swordlight. The strike tore through the sand cloud, cutting it clean in half, before slamming directly into Creed mid-retreat.

Creed's body seized, locked in brief but fatal stagger.

Dandao Dantart recognized it instantly—his only window. He forced his battered frame forward, legs screaming, vision blurring. And in that desperate charge, his body remembered. The drills, the sparring, the harsh solo training under Degenbrecher…

Creed's eyes widened as Dandao Dantart slipped past his thrown dagger by a hair's breadth, stepping inside his guard with surgical precision.

With a guttural shout, Dandao Dantart drove the glowing longsword straight into Creed's body.

"That kind of damage…!"

Cold sweat ran down Creed's back. His HP had already plunged deep into the danger zone—yet that was only from taking two sword waves. What kind of subclass was this? He had never even heard of such a thing!

His hand tightened around a poisoned dagger—his hidden trump card. The toxin was a narcotic he had bought from an NPC, potent enough to paralyze even a raging boar in seconds. Facing Dandao Dantart, he couldn't help but get serious.

Dandao Dantart, however, was almost at his limit. His stamina bar was nearly drained. He knew he shouldn't waste any more energy, but Creed felt impossibly far away, as if separated by an unbridgeable gulf. To make matters worse, Creed had abandoned close combat, choosing instead to kite him to exhaustion.

Is this the end?

His hand brushed against a hidden switch beneath his clothes. In an instant, what looked like ordinary gear erupted with a burst of compressed air. With the grinding whir of machinery, a pair of mechanical "wings" unfurled behind his cloak.

"What the hell—boosters?! What NPC sells that, ah, damn it!"

Creed swore loudly as Dandao Dantart rocketed skyward, propelled by the mechanical thrusters. Locking onto his position like a suicide drone, Dandao dove straight at him, long sword gleaming with one final strike.

Slash!

The sound of steel tearing through flesh rang out. Creed stared in disbelief as his health bar vanished, his body dissolving into gray particles, erased from the desert arena.

He had miscalculated. Dandao Dantart's defenses were tougher than expected—a mistake born of ignorance, both of the Liberator class and of Dandao himself.

Dandao Dantart collapsed to one knee, his body trembling from exhaustion. Yet after a moment, he forced himself upright again. His hand tightened around the hilt at his waist.

And then, before the live audience, he let out a roar. A battle cry that belonged to the players of CN, to the rising star of Team Blue Rain—

to Dandao Dantart himself.