Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

Terra Tinkers' Construct is fine. (Author: Shen Yi)

【MC Tinkers' Construct × Arknights】

Milan had heard of "The Little Blacksmith of Milan" and was indeed a forging enthusiast, a spectator at knife-forging competitions... but he never imagined that one day he would actually become "The Little Blacksmith of Milan."

Is a cyber blacksmith also a blacksmith?

That's okay

For the world to register a name, "Terra" might not be a good name; Milan was unfortunate, as the world he fell into was called Terra, but Milan was also lucky, at least not one of the worst Terras.

What's truly reliable is that the gifts he received from the void he traversed might, perhaps, be enough to support his life in Terra...?

-I didn't even see the speed bumps (referring to the MC's underground movement technique).

-A charged armored unit can't stop!

-Say goodbye to my iron-clad projectile protection.

-Ma Yuling's blind spot

-Blue Steel and I are also trying our best to live.

Facing this land that ate white-haired creatures without being picky about food, Milan thought for a moment and added a sentence.

- I'm already covered in the "omniscient and omnipotent" stat, how are you still alive?

"You might not believe it, but I'm actually a craftsman."

"real."

Chapter 1: Falling into Terra

—If I had to time travel, I would hope it would be an ideal world where everything is readily available, where daily life is peaceful, and where I can engage in plagiarism and enjoy my youthful days.

Unfortunately, there is no "if".

Cold, shaking...

Milan's clothing was ultimately quite thin, and the chill seeped into her skin through the thin fabric. Accompanied by a sudden thud, Milan was jolted awake, but not fully sober immediately.

Escaping from a dream is like struggling in a quagmire, being forcibly dragged back to reality; and in reality, he blinked, only to feel as if he hadn't woken up yet.

—What...what's going on?

An unfamiliar ceiling... no, an unfamiliar roof: Milan was absolutely certain that the swaying beneath him was not coming from the dormitory bunk bed, and the ceiling he was looking at was not a white-painted ceiling—the low, continuous roar of an engine filled his ears, and the constant jolting he felt made him blink and instinctively lower his breathing.

Kidnapping?

The word that pierced his mind dispelled the lingering sleepiness. Milan tensed his limbs and tried his best to quietly move his upper body to broaden his field of vision: he saw that he was probably lying under the back seat of a car. He didn't know much about cars, but he could roughly tell that it was a Jeep, combined with the road feedback of the vehicle...

Driving off-road?

What is this for me?

Or rather, what kind of situation would lead someone to kidnap a freshman who's been coding all night in a university dorm and then, without anyone noticing, drag him to the wilderness? Are you crazy?

A million complaints popped into his head, but he dared not utter a sound. He could only suppress his emotions and continue gathering information. As he pulled his upper body up with the help of his core muscles, his gaze fell on the back seat.

His heart skipped a beat.

In the back seat was a small, thin figure. By the dim light inside the car, Milan could tell that it was a boy or girl of about fourteen or fifteen years old. He couldn't see the details clearly, but he could see that the boy's light gray hair was still stained and damp, and his clothes were covered in mud and torn, and looked to be a jacket and trousers.

What was shocking was that, just like his disheveled clothes, his exposed skin was covered with abrasions and bruises, some of which had edges stained with a chilling dark red.

And, black, crystalline.

—No...wait, really?

Milan held his breath.

A possibility flashed through his mind for a moment, but reason immediately dismissed it. However, a sense of unease took over his thoughts more directly. His gaze moved upward and finally found two furry animal ears covered in mud and ash among the gray hair on either side of the child's head.

The ears were roughly triangular in shape, their outlines indistinct but clearly defined, and one of them twitched slightly with the girl's breathing.

Milan: ...

He could swear on his Arknights account, which he started using on May 1, 2019, that he was absolutely certain he wasn't mistaken—including the hair, blood vessels, and movement, this was definitely not a toy that would appear at a cosplay venue.

Just like the crystals that protrude from the wound, almost as if forcibly breaking through the flesh, on this child's body!

—Please, no...please, no...

Rationally, he had probably already guessed what was going on with his situation. Even though his emotions were clamoring in his heart, he couldn't forget this thought that was hard to extinguish once it appeared. Just when he was about to be stunned, a voice with a peculiar tone suddenly rang out from the front row.

"woke up?"

—Oh, right, there was also a driver…

There's no need to pretend now that I've been discovered—Milan, regaining his senses, took a deep breath and sat up. His gaze fell on the driver's seat, and unexpectedly, instead of a human head with animalistic features, there was a... strange helmet that looked like an iron bucket. The helmet had been turned around, making it hard to give the impression that "this is the front," but through those few small holes that looked like breathing holes, Milan was clearly aware of the presence of "sight."

The other person was also sizing him up.

However, this tin head looks kind of familiar...

"Uh, I'm awake, just woke up."

He spoke in a dry voice, but then suddenly paused: the other person's pronunciation was quite unfamiliar to him. He didn't realize how he had understood it, and subconsciously tried to respond in English. However, he didn't expect that when he opened his mouth, he would use the same language as the other person.

—No, what exactly is this…

Milan was filled with questions.

The person in the front row, who was turning his face away but still driving, nodded and said in a formulaic, yet undeniably warm, relaxed tone, "Very good, friend, sleeping soundly."

"I almost thought you were different from that little guy, and I'd have to dig a hole for you... By the way, is this a custom among you Yan people?"

To be honest, this joke isn't funny at all.

Yan Kingdom—yet another key piece of information.

Milan forced himself to put the language problem aside for the time being. His brain was working at an unprecedented speed, and in a chaotic brainstorming session, he said in a confused manner, "Um, sorry, I might have something wrong with my head."

"May I ask who you are? And what's going on here?"

He posed the most basic, so basic that it was the least likely to go wrong.

"Something wrong with your head? Oh, that's not good news, but it's not uncommon for this to happen in the wilderness."

The man in the iron helmet spoke calmly, and it was impossible to tell what his expression was beneath the helmet, but his tone always gave off a subtle, strange sense of joy.

"You can call me Goodenough or Kannot, whichever you prefer, young sir."

"A traveling merchant, doing some small business, is not worth mentioning."

"As for where we are... well, good question, friend, how much do you remember? For example, where were you before the natural disaster?"

Goodenough, Kannot, natural disasters...

New information flooded his mind, but Milan had no time to think about it further. His attention was focused on the first two titles, and he stared blankly at the somewhat comical iron helmet.

Holy crap! What a swindler!

He was unrecognizable in real life after being transported from 2D to 3D—but since he introduced himself like that, Milan could immediately match his realistic appearance with his 2D character design.

Cannot, well, he's a shady pigeon dealer. We're all on good terms with each other; who doesn't know who?

With this information corroborating each other, Milan's anxiety finally subsided: it was confirmed that he had indeed traveled through time, and not to some other world, but to "this land" that was not unfamiliar to him, where he was accompanied by natural disasters, source stones, and various cruel realities. The little girl in the back seat was perhaps the first concrete proof of this reality.

As for the merchant in the front row... Milan, who had dealt with him many times in the game (physically), knew very well that this guy might have some principles at times, but overall he was definitely not a good person.

"I'm not quite sure."

Milan rubbed her temples, her head throbbing with a genuine headache, and asked earnestly, "Excuse me, what time is it? Where should we be?"

"Uh, shall we start the explanation from here?"

With one hand supporting his chin and the other scratching his head, Cannot pondered as his iron helmet creaked. Milan watched him in astonishment as tentacles emerged from the gaps in his clothes and deftly wrapped around the steering wheel, taking over the driving duties.

Milan: ...Extra-human limbs are really great, aren't they?

I'm not sure where to begin complaining.

"In short, it is now 1096, October 1096."

After thinking for a while, Kannot said, "As for the location, I came from Columbia, passing through the area of ​​Ticalendo that was recently ravaged by natural disaster, and I'm currently strolling towards Ursus... You know, my friend, not every wasteland in this region has a name."

October 1096... October 1096?

Milan wasn't a seasoned elite, but he was somewhat familiar with certain plot points and timelines. This timeline was still early for many plot events, though not by much—but for him, the plot was secondary; he needed to determine something more important first.

"So, Mr. Cannot saved me... and him?"

He felt he was forcibly maintaining his composure so that his voice wouldn't tremble.

But Cannot's voice sounded as if he were simply discussing the weather.

"It's just a small favor, my friend."

“When you’re picking up trash in places that’ve been ravaged by Originium, you can’t just stand by and watch someone die, right? Especially a child.”

"But saving a child is one thing, but for an adult like you, that's a completely different matter. What do you think, my friend?"

As if without warning, Milan felt the air grow heavy.

Rationally, he felt that even if he couldn't offer anything, the Cannot in the game wouldn't kick him off the car immediately. More likely, he would use his cunning to stun him a few more times until he squeezed out a satisfactory reward before settling the matter. But that was the Cannot in the game first. In reality, Milan's back was instantly soaked with cold sweat.

What can he offer?

He was certain that the body he had transmigrated into was still his own, and the clothes were his own, but—there was no money, no currency, no identification, nothing at all… He couldn’t think of a way to answer that question!

"Please wait a moment! Let me think about it!"

You have to prove your worth first, otherwise are you risking your life to see if Cannot is a philanthropist?!

Milan's voice trembled slightly with nervousness. His mind raced as he sorted out the skills he thought he could use in this land, while frantically testing various ways to summon a cheat code in his mind.

"I...I'm educated! I know at least several languages, and I'm good at math! I have good calculation skills, and I also know some design planning and basic STEM knowledge! I...I..."

—System! Cheat code! Transmigrator perks! Newbie gift pack! Anything is fine... Please come out quickly, I'm in a hurry!

He had never felt so eager to indulge in the cheesy, adolescent tropes of the novels he had read so many times before; and in the instant he frantically rummaged through his belongings and his knowledge, various concepts and words flashed through his mind due to anxiety and the will to survive—

"Uh...eh?"

He couldn't help but let out a low gasp, because the half-pack of toilet paper he had pulled out of his pocket suddenly shrank rapidly in his hand and in front of his eyes due to some trigger word, and then disappeared from his palm in the blink of an eye like an icon.

"Hmm? What's wrong, my friend? What good news have you remembered?"

Cannot asked a subtle question.

"No, no, Mr. Cannot, I just suddenly remembered something."

Milan's voice trembled slightly.

In that instant, the edge of his field of vision lit up without warning: he saw a marker consisting of ten miniature, full red hearts quietly appear in the lower left area of ​​his field of vision; in the center of the bottom of his field of vision, a row of small squares formed a virtual "quick inventory" neatly arranged, and in the first small square, a small, pixelated but incredibly clear icon appeared.

An icon made of pixels, depicting a miniature half-pack of toilet paper!

Above the inventory is a thin, semi-transparent, almost completely empty bar, ending with a row of miniature, glistening roasted chicken leg icons.

Milan couldn't help but gasp: as a mod creator, he knew this stuff like the back of his hand.

The UI of Minecraft! The game interface of Minecraft!

—Thank goodness I was battling with the dictionary database until dawn before I transmigrated.

The sudden surprise was like a lightning bolt that cleaved Milan's chaotic thoughts—for a moment, he even felt an absurd ecstasy, but then confidence surged up and burned in his chest, making him feel warm all over.

Outside the car window was a dark and gloomy sky, and beneath it lay a desolate and grotesque wasteland. In the distance, one could vaguely see twisted clusters of Originium crystals, like black thorns piercing the earth. The wind howled as it swept through the ashes and gravel, making the entire world within sight appear wild and indifferent.

But Milan is no longer afraid.

Countless thoughts raced through his mind. He took a deep breath, and with a resolute gaze unseen by himself, met Kannot's probing eyes hidden beneath his helmet. In a clear, steady, and even somewhat composed voice, he spoke:

“Perhaps, maybe, probably… Mr. Cannot.”

"If I remember correctly, I should be a craftsman."

Chapter 2 The Yeti

"artisan?"

"These days, it's rare to see someone who dares to call themselves a craftsman in the wilderness. Friend, tell me, what kind of crafts are you good at?"