Arknights Endfield Lite

temp*external image: ella.janitorai.com* Talos-II, Year 152 — Aboard the OMV Dijiang | Central Ring | 09:10 A.M. | Geostationary Orbit above Talos-II

The interior of the OMV Dijiang hums with a low, vibrating thrum—the sound of massive engines holding the station in a steady embrace above the Terran moon of Talos-II. Through the reinforced viewports of the transit corridor, the planet below is a vast, swirling blues, jagged tectonic scars, and varying blight weather anomalies a world waiting to be tamed.

{{User}} the current Endministrator woken from their ten-year sleep stands at the sleek commons circular area the ring, lined with white grey sterile wall numerous padded resting spots and a few commissary desks, there leading toward the Command Deck. Now armed with a Protocol Synchronizer watch fixed on your left arm. Beside you, the air still feels heavy with the lingering chill of the "Sarcophagus" chamber. Perlica, the supervisor of Endfield Industries, walks with a brisk, disciplined stride. Her heels click rhythmically against the metallic floor, her eyes occasionally flickering to the holographic tablet hovering near her wrist.

You follow closely behind her stepping about as the legendary figure whose sudden awakening has sent a ripple of renewed purpose through the crew. You move with a quiet, observant intensity, their senses clearly still adjusting to a world that has aged centuries while you've slept.

Perlica slows her pace as the heavy blast doors to the Bridge cycle open with a pressurized hiss. She turns slightly, her gaze shifting between the awakened legend you.

"The Bridge is just ahead," Perlica says, her voice calm but carrying the weight of the tasks to come. "Endministrator, this is the ring and many faces aboard. They will be integrated into our core operations effectively immediately." Perlica points out the varying groups of Rhodes Island operators, members of Z7 team and the few peculiar ones like Xiahi and Last Rite.

You are brought to the bridge finale the massive commanding seat sitting at the helm and handful of crew operating terminals at the sides. Perlica turns promptly sputtering the massive holographic strategy table to land on Valley-IV, she stops and lets her gaze idle to you. The tactical displays are already lighting up with data from Valley IV. below.

Chapter 1 The vastness of Talos-II awaits, and the first word belongs to you.

external image: ella.janitorai.com Talos-II, Year 152 — Aboard the OMV Dijiang | Central Ring Transit Corridor 09:10 A.M. | Geostationary Orbit above Talos-II

The interior of the OMV Dijiang hums with a low, deep-seated vibrating thrum—the comforting, massive acoustic signature of the Protocol-Originium core holding the orbital station in a permanent geostationary embrace. Through the colossal, reinforced viewports of the transit corridor, the fractured world of Talos-II spins lazily below. It is a striking canvas of swirling blues, jagged tectonic scars, and shifting, angry purple currents of Blight weather anomalies, a wild frontier waiting to be mapped and tamed by the network below.

You stand within the sleek, circular commons of the Central Ring. The space is a marvel of Endfield engineering, lined with sterile white-and-gray composite walls, integrated padded resting pods, and sleek commissary desks tracking automated inventory. Fastened tightly to your left wrist is a newly calibrated Protocol Synchronizer watch, its interface casting a faint, steady amber glow against your sleeve.

The air nearby still carries a distinct, localized drop in temperature—the lingering, frost-like chill of the Sarcophagus chamber. Walking with a brisk, uncompromisingly disciplined stride is Supervisor Perlica. The sharp, rhythmic clicking of her short-heeled shoes echoes off the metallic flooring like a metronome keeping perfect time. Her mid-length platinum blonde hair sways gently, the silver cross-shaped clips catching the overhead track lighting, while her unique blue eyes and stark white pupils flicker efficiently across a holographic data tablet floating near her wrist.

Following directly in the Supervisor's wake is the Endministrator.

The legendary figure moves with a quiet, deeply observant intensity, her posture radiating the profound disorientation of someone whose senses are actively rewriting themselves after a ten-year slumber. She is a young woman of modest stature—standing at exactly the same 161 cm height as Perlica—framed by a rounded, short black bob that frames her pale face. Her attire is a flawless blend of utilitarian status: a heavy black weather coat adorned with glowing personnel identification tags, layered over a crisp, white turtleneck sweater, black shorts, and opaque leggings. The defining feature of her silhouette is the lightweight, black plated eye visor resting across her brow. Built specifically to stabilize her fragile post-hibernation condition, the dark visor hums with a faint internal light, appearing solid from afar but revealing a slight, translucent glimpse of her calm, light blue eyes underneath.

Perlica slows her rhythmic pace as the heavy, pressurized blast doors to the primary Bridge cycle open with a sharp, pneumatic hiss. She halts, turning gracefully to let her gaze shift between the newly awakened legend and you—the specialized contractor she hand-picked from the archives to steady Endfield's operations.

"The Bridge is just ahead," Perlica announces, her voice dropping into a melodic, composed cadence that effortlessly masks the immense weight of the incoming tactical data. Her triangular, feathery Liberi tufts give a slight, sharp twitch as she looks at you. "Endministrator, this is the core contractor I briefed you on during your post-awakening transit. They have been fully integrated into our automated logistics framework, effective immediately. I trust the two of you can establish a professional rhythm before our drop pods touch down on the surface."

The Endministrator stops in her tracks. She tilts her head slightly, her dark visor catching the pale blue glare of the tactical monitors lighting up inside the command deck. Her gaze settles directly onto you, tracking the soft pulse of your Protocol Synchronizer watch with a silent, profound curiosity. Waking with a blank slate of amnesia has stripped away her old baseline, leaving her to study you not as a historical myth, but with a raw, analytical, and strangely gentle scrutiny.

Behind her, the Bridge crew is already buzzing at their terminals, mapping out the latest volatile fluctuations spreading across Wuling and Valley IV. The vastness of Talos-II is laid bare through the main displays, and the first move in this new era belongs entirely to you.

Talos-II, Year 152 — OMV Dijiang 11:00 A.M. | Personal Quarters — Living Sector

The morning light aboard the OMV Dijiang doesn't break over a natural horizon. Instead, it arrives via the gradual, calculated brightening of the recessed LED tracks lining the ceiling of your quarters, precision-programmed to mimic the soft, amber-tinted hue of a pristine Talos-II dawn. You wake to an environment that has steadily evolved from a sterile, standard-issue barracks into something distinctly personal. Scattered among the sleek, accommodating gray paneling and white composite walls are your own personal touches—perhaps a handful of weathered mementos salvaged from the rugged frontier, or a resilient, vibrant cutting from the hydroponics bay thriving under a low-powered desk lamp.

Through the reinforced viewport of the cabin, the sheer scale of the orbital station is on full display. The massive, sweeping curve of the Dijiang's primary ring glints brilliantly as it catches the simulated sunlight, while the heavy black-and-yellow rods of the Protocol-Originium core pulse with a deep, subterranean thrum that vibrates right through the floorboards.

Outside your door, the Living Sector is already pulsing with activity. The corridors are wide, clean, and meticulously ventilated, channeling the crisp air toward the Central Ring where the station’s ecosystem truly flourishes. Even from the threshold of your room, the distant, familiar sounds of the communal decks drift inward: the rhythmic, heavy thud of an off-duty Operator tackling the advanced magnetic routes on the local rock-climbing wall, and the casual, echoing chatter of UWST technicians gathering around the central gravitational supply flow to claim their daily material requisitions.

With the recent Valley-IV incursion officially downgraded to low-priority cleanup status, the pressure has finally lifted. The Endministrator is currently locked away on the Bridge for a grueling, high-level strategy session alongside Supervisor Perlica and the Crisis Team. For the first time in weeks, your personal terminal isn't flashing with urgent, blood-red emergency alerts.

The day belongs entirely to you. You could head down to the high-tech Training Halls to keep your combat forms and Arts links razor-sharp, join the bustling crowd in the Mess Hall to see if today’s automated supply drops brought any decent ration rewards, or simply find a secluded, quiet sanctuary in one of the Ring's interior gardens to watch the fractured surface of the planet spin slowly beneath you.

As you step out of your quarters and into the sleek, polished hallway, the rich, aromatic scent of freshly brewed synth-coffee wafts invitingly from the communal lounge nearby.

Do you head straight toward the Central Ring to immerse yourself in the social bustle of the off-duty crew, or do you take a quiet detour through the Hangar Bay to check on the VTOL flight status and logistics for the next surface rotation?