The greatest concern during a march is ambushes, yet we have solved this particular problem immaculately.
“Lieutenant, a group of thirteen Myrmecoleos spotted 250 meters ahead.”
“Understood. Let’s move by taking a detour.”
Yes, we have the Eyes of the Sky, Selene’s drones, accompanying us. Using leftover materials from the production of firearms, she has manufactured surveillance-specialized drones, each the size of a softball with two pairs of four wings, helping to build a monitoring network for us.
The drones constantly scout ahead of us, gathering optical and thermal data from gaps in the treetops and areas not visible to the naked eye, and sending it all to Selene. Through her coordination, they provide us with intelligence to avoid unnecessary combat.
“All units stop, let’s take a detour.”
Holding up a fist, I communicated a halt over the radio, then gathered the squad-command-level officers and directed a detour route.
Thanks to the miniature communication devices we’ve also created and distributed to squad leaders of five-man teams, we’ve managed to avoid any encounters with the enemy for the past three days while maintaining silent communications.
“Perhaps we’re nearing our limit.”
“The density of enemies is increasing as we approach the location where the Ridelberdy village once stood.”
The deeper we pressed into the forest, the greater the number of chimeras became. Until now, we’ve been managing by detouring, waiting silently in hiding until safe to proceed, to minimize losses in personnel and supplies, but this strategy may soon become unsustainable.
Harpy scouts began drifting in the air, and the swarms of Myrmecoleos are multiplying as well, likely search parties. If we keep dodging, we’ll detour endlessly and never reach the destination.
Somewhere along the way, we’re going to have to fight, cutting a hole in their encirclement.
Fortunately, their sensors aren’t more advanced than biological eyesight—it stands testament that we haven’t been detected yet—and their communication range seems sloppy too. If they continue to block our path to the Great Mother, with our current food supply being a concern, we’ll have to launch a preemptive strike and navigate strategically through enemy forces.
Though, this reminds me of VR games. The viability of those games relied on enemies with poorly coordinated movements and vision due to the difficulty balance, but we’re dealing with a high-tier integrated military force. If they were serious about surveillance, we wouldn’t have even been able to advance 10 meters.
After all, our vital signs are constantly monitored. If one person shows an anomaly, immediate warnings are issued, and reinforcements at the platoon level would be rushed in to surround and exterminate intruders.
Moreover, their Type A vanguard scout models have 360-degree vision, advanced sensors that can detect heat, radio waves, and sound patterns, and even spatial radar to perceive atmospheric distortions, rendering stealth with advanced optical camouflage technology practically impossible.
The destruction of enemy clusters thus far has been somewhat “easy” given our current progress.
Still, while I’m fine, the Tech Gobs and Sylvanians are showing signs of fatigue due to the constant mental tension of wondering when an attack will come. We should take a long rest soon to settle them down.
We have a long way to go still. Even though we’ve cleared the distance to the occupied Ridelberdy settlement, there’s a twenty-day journey ahead to reach the Great Mother’s domain. Given our approach of avoiding combat, we need to calculate an extra week in our travel time.
Once darkness falls, chimera activity lessens, likely due to sensor sensitivity issues, allowing us to camp peacefully under Selene’s protection.
I don’t sleep thanks to my cybernetic brain, but the others cannot endure without rest. They need to eat meals by battery-powered stoves and sleep properly or they will quickly become incapacitated.
Still, I’m amazed that other nations managed to venture into space with these outdated human bodies…
“Hey, Nozomu, I’ll take over watch. You really need to rest by now.”
Galatea, who had been nibbling on nutrient tablets until just now, called out to me from up on a tree where she was on guard against any possible surprise attacks. Since her body type is the same as my D-Type, we require the same food, which is quite convenient.
Flavor feedback? Nutrient tablets are slightly better than expired field rations and have become widely popular.
“I’m fine, thank you, Galatea. You should rest too.”
“But you’ve been awake and vigilant for three days! If you continue, you’ll collapse!”
Machine humans consider commonplace what could be seen as extraordinary by old humans. Come to think of it, basic eyelid functions and the motions for simulated short sleeps were implemented to avoid unsettling others of different species who remain active.
My body rests if I stop moving, and my cybernetic brain doesn’t fatigue if its functions are limited, so I had no issues staying awake, but perhaps I should start to consider everyone’s limits more carefully.
“I have a relic in my head that allows me to stay awake indefinitely.”
“Y-you have the Eyes of No Sleep?!”
Oops, I tried to shrug it off, but judging by her reaction, something similar must have existed in the Canopy Holy Capital. Yet, why does her voice carry more worry than shock?
“That artifact drove countless Gear Priests to ruin! How do you manage when it drives most people who are not highly compatible with Machine Spirits insane?”
“My travels alone taught me that nothing is as dangerous as sleeping. The spirits must look favorably upon me since I’ve never had a health issue.”
Ah, I see. So it’s a relic that forces the organic brain into overdrive to stay awake. No wonder misuse leads to madness. Even we occasionally need to reboot or clear our cache. For humans to do the same with organic brains would be disastrous.
Judging by the use of the word “many,” it seems like they experimented until they found people who could adapt. That’s unsettling. It only deepens the mystery of why they installed secondary brains in human bodies while seeking compatibility with mechanized humans’ equipment.
The intrigue and curiosity only grow.
“Still…!”
“Okay, let’s alternate and sleep tomorrow.”
I offered a compromise to ease Galatea’s worries.
“But you’re a kind person.”
“N-no, I’m not a kid! Why are you treating me like one?”
“You’re the one with the relic of the Magius Geanaite. Seeing you so concerned proves you’re a good kid.”
“I’m not a kid, Nozomu! I’m twenty-three!”
Oh, he’s younger than I thought.
By the way, what age is considered an adult in the old human system? Since we lived for sixty years—real time is half a year—in a mandatory virtual education space before deployment, my sense of age is a bit blurred. By that measure, twenty-three years old feels like a young teenager still in compulsory school…
“Ki, you’re pretty young too! You probably look eastern, but you might be younger than me!”
“Fufu, no no, I’ve lived many times your age. I am.”
To be precise, I’ve lived over ten times as long, over a hundred times if you count my time in hibernation. Suppressing that thought and reflecting her reddened, tanned face, I ruffled her hair.
“Alright, good job, go ahead and rest.”
“…Stop treating me like a kid!”
She snapped my fingers at me and retired to her bed.
Ah, I see. I guess a twenty-three-year-old feels offended when their head is patted. I’ll have to be more careful in the future. It’s cruel that such young adults are sent to the battlefield…
“Selene, can you cover me while my performance drops as I run cache cleaning for five minutes?”
“Acknowledged, rest assured.”
“I almost miss cigarettes at a time like this. I used to smoke a lot in virtual reality during breaks.”
Though calming programs can be run as needed, long-term immersion in VR makes just pulling commands feel rather dull. For me, mimicking habits from games—like smoking or really lying down—would be more soothing.
Is this a result of being immersed in games for two thousand years? During military operations, such luxuries were forbidden, and all kinds of suppressed wishes surfaced…
“If we manage to create a factory with the ‘Great Mother,’ I’ll make one for you. Perhaps incorporating nanoparticles to stimulate your D-Type body.”
“That’d be great, a QOL upgrade for sure. Keep that in mind.”
“Acknowledged. Then, have a good rest.”
Still, this “rest” will only involve cleaning caches, with consciousness remaining intact.
As it is, we resumed our march after a brief “sleep” until dawn.
“Hmm, as it is, we have no choice but to retreat.”
On the sixth day at noon, we finally reached a point where the enemy’s layout made retreat unavoidable.
15 Myrmecoleos including Hovs 500 meters ahead, three Harpies 700 meters to the three o’clock direction, and three Hovs from the eight o’clock direction after our detour.
We have no choice but to eliminate something as time is wasted, and supplies for the Tech Gobs and Sylvanians that require sustenance are running low. There’s no time for long-distance supply lines, and we don’t have the capacity to carry large quantities of resources via air drones. It seems like some risky moves are necessary.
“All units, prepare for battle. Move to attack positions.”
I quietly gave the order, and we began our movements. Our first target is the Harpies. Since these opponents can fly at high speeds, knocking them out immediately is vital to avoid endless harassment.
We slowly approached through bushes and treetops, crouching carefully until we reached 75 meters away, where I commanded the soldiers to take shooting stances. Confident in their skills through repeated training, I trusted that they could hit at this distance.
“Load initial rounds, remove safeties.”
The soldiers steadied their rifles against tree trunks or lay prone to increase accuracy. Meanwhile, I had each squad designate targets for a synchronized barrage.
Even a poor shot may hit with enough attempts. With skilled marksmen firing simultaneously, there’s bound to be a hit.
“Fire.”
The Harpies caught mid-flight after an onslaught of shots began to explode, scattering in splinters of wood before plummeting to the ground.
Simultaneously, the forest erupted with gunfire. The festival has begun.
“Re-load quickly!”
“Lieutenant! The Hovs and Myrmecoleos have reacted! They’re approaching at full speed! Twenty-five seconds until they reach us! The Hovs from the rear have reacted too—contact in sixty-seven seconds!”
As expected. We had anticipated this, and already positioned personnel.
“All units, aim at ten o’clock! Follow my instructions and prepare for a synchronized burst!”
Impressive response time. They immediately dashed towards predicted locations upon detecting our attack. Are they connected through a data link after all? Perhaps limited information sharing within close proximity is possible.
“Fire!”
Teaching directional indicators without a clock took some effort, but all members have grown accustomed to it, aiming their rifles at the predicted location before contact. As soon as the first Myrmecoleo showed its head through the bushes, I ordered the firing, and the hybrid creation of failed beast and ant was pulverized under a rain of bullets.
“Individual firing begins!”
Many Myrmecoleos behind the bushes were also brought down, but the first wave, including Hovs, left six survivors. I decided to cover my allies as I sprinted to face the Hovs left behind.
Behind me, the sounds of gunfire accompanied by the boisterous support of my comrades, I sprinted all-out towards the Hovs in the rear, maximizing our closing speed through synthetic movement.
How ugly they are. Covered in tumors, with extra camera-like eyes sticking out everywhere, these creations are grotesque amalgamations of intentional degradation of the Tech Gobs, truly monstrous.
I flicked my thumb on the sword’s hilt and swung the blade to bisect the torso and both arms of the leading Hov in one clean stroke. Some white liquid briefly adhered to the blade but scattered with the swing, dissipating into the air.
Without stopping, I flipped my wrist for a left one-handed slash. Before the bisected torso hit the ground, I drove my blade upward again to split the chest anew, cleaving the creature into three pieces.
With such wounds, no matter how tough it was, retaliation would be impossible.
It seemed effective. Crumbling to pieces, the Hov spiraled down while I circled to aim at the second target.
The second Hov prepared to counter with a raised fist, so I slid past it, delivering a swift disembowelment. The supermolecular blade cleanly severed the grotesquely swollen body from the lower half, separating them in one motion.
Truly, how convenient splitting them cleanly down the middle renders them dead. If this were a mechanized human in the same armor, they could still counterattack with the upper half alone, allowing for no negligence.
The final individual charged with its shoulder thrust forward — they fight cleverly despite their appearance — and I merely sidestepped left to avoid, then, as we passed, struck out with my knee to sever it. The Hov’s right knee went flying with a spray of white liquid, and I quickly moved to sever the fallen Hov’s head as its killing blow.
Total time required for this engagement: approximately 25 seconds, using up half the durability of the single-atom molecular blade, but overall, not bad.
I wiped off the blood in case some remained and cautiously sheathed the blade. Noticing gazes focused on me, I understood that they were watching.
“Wh-what a warrior… taking out three Hovs with just a sword…”
A Ridelberdy voiced his awe, followed by other Tech Gob warriors who began to praise me.
It seems that my swordplay, trained extensively in virtual reality, has captured their favor. Thus, despite being of a different species, I was bestowed the honorary title of warrior….
The next update is scheduled for around 18:00 on July 13, 2024.
