It had been a while since the reclamation of the “Great Mother,” and the warriors who had gone to visit the various tribes scattered about seemed to have discovered that the tribal chiefs were all eager to first confirm if the feat was truly genuine.
It wasn’t hard to understand why. The great heroes of the Tech Gobs had spent two hundred years attempting this very feat, occasionally forming combined armies, yet failed every time. That such an accomplishment was attributed to unexpected outsiders who appeared out of nowhere was, naturally, difficult to trust for anyone.
Hence, before approaching the “Great Mother,” a collective council was convened. Among the thirty-two tribes, the decision to assess me was handed to Gengelgiz, the chief of the most powerful tribe. Alongside ascertaining the authenticity of the rumors, he had come to pursue his own political agenda.
The flag thrust upon me carried an honorary title. Recognizing someone who wasn’t of the Tech Gob tribe as an honorary chieftain, granting me the privilege of reviving an extinguished tribe under this title—essentially, asking me to take in the “stray” survivors who emerged post-inundation.
Honor and duty always come hand in hand, but they offered a rather large one indeed.
Due to the chaos instigated by Galatea, many damages were left in its wake, Gengelgiz explained. Two tribes had been utterly wiped out, and five were teetering on the verge. The Gravgolb tribe to which Ridelberdy belonged, he informed me, had only three warriors surviving, including himself. Along with fifteen people currently under the protection of the Rabbit kingdom, the tribe’s remaining population didn’t even reach thirty.
It seemed they intended to dump all the displaced individuals who’d lost their tribes and the many orphans too cumbersome for anyone else to handle under the guise of tribal revival—essentially assigning this responsibility to me.
And from how they handle this situation, they seemed keen to measure my mettle.
Though I had assumed them to be a simple and honest race, they were proving quite cunning.
After much deliberation, I decided to accept.
After all, supporting them wouldn’t be so difficult. I’d been given permission to build a settlement in an excellent location near Tiamat 25. Using the 3D forming machine in the same manner as I had until now meant there would be no issues with food or shelter.
Most importantly, by officially becoming Ridelberdy’s superior and appointing him as my warrior chief, significant authority would be attained. The chieftain of Gravgolb had announced his retirement, possibly devastated by the recent events, so there would be no objections.
Moreover, I had always desired more manpower. Even if the surplus of survivors from collapsed tribes was limited, the sheer manpower they constituted was still desirable.
My only concern was whether or not they harbored resentment against Galatea.
However, for now, this sentiment seemed overshadowed by the joy of the “Great Mother’s” recovery.
One by one, the arriving tribes went wild with joy when they were informed that the Great Mother had returned within their lifetime, throwing raucous feasts filled with ecstatic cheers and choked cries of celebration reverberating all around.
Through this celebration, I was named the honorary chieftain of the Rustiagis.
Here, the term “honorary” signified that it was a title granted by the Tech Gobs, allowing one who isn’t their kin to claim the title of chieftain, and also indicated that this name would only last through one generation.
Thus, they expected an official heir from the original tribe to be designated later on.
Of course, with my longevity, I could theoretically remain indefinitely, but I kept this knowledge to myself. With the Tech Gobs’ average lifespan roughly around 200 years, it might take quite some time for them to notice the absence of aging in me, and therefore, there wouldn’t be much issue.
[Over 30 survivors of Gravgolb, 15 warriors not absorbed into other tribes, 38 men and women without a destination, 67 orphans, 40 elders. Well, not bad as a tribe.]
[…Is this alright, Nozomu? It feels like we’re being neatly handed off…]
While observing the revelry and holding what appeared to be a poor substitute for alcohol in one hand (clearly something my body couldn’t metabolize), Ridelberdy approached me with a muttering rebuke as the rest of the tribe gathered, while I sat casually despite the intimidating presence of a pack of wolves around me.
He appeared quite ruffled, on the verge of losing his temper. Surely, he was indignant at the thought: “Who are you to ‘test’ the hero who saved the Great Mother?”
[However, friend, I haven’t taken it in the wrong way.]
[They are merely a bunch of injured, weak, and useless…!]
[Calm down, will you? I tend to look at things in a positive light. Isn’t it splendid having so many comrades now?]
I tilted my head, gesturing expansively, eliciting a sigh of relief from those who had just been designated as members of the Rustiagis tribe—albeit perhaps in a slightly forceful manner.
[Since ancient times, they have said that manpower equals strength.]
[But, they are only starved, withered, and…!]
[There is no such thing as a fundamentally useless person. Besides, I must confess, I have a bad habit of favoritism towards those close to me.]
I set aside the goblet and snapped my fingers, prompting Peter to roll in a cart. As soon as the cover was pulled off, there it was — a well-fed wild hog laid out whole, prepared meticulously. The blood had been drained off into sausages, internal organs swiftly cooked fresh, and the meat roasted in a grand oven until it gleamed invitingly.
Hah, hah, due to our VR capabilities, the quality of taste is indeed discernible. A game centered on survival with inadequate cooking skills will leave players with a bitter experience. Thus, such culinary skills are among my specialties.
With the knowledge of the feast, I had the hog hunted hastily.
[Once we’re family, everyone should behave like a doting parent, and reciprocally, like a child would with its father.]
[This is extravagant…]
[Come, eat heartily. We’ve hunted four in total, so you’ll eat until your bellies burst!]
Although this domain is filled with monstrous creatures, due to the Earth-like vegetation and the presence of familiar animals, there’s an abundance of game. It seems the Tech Gobs have regarded pigs and deers as delicacies too, rushing to carve into the meat with their daggers and forks with great enthusiasm.
[They’ll surely feel like working after their stomachs are full.]
[Nozomu… I mean, Chief, it’s probably better not to let them get carried away.]
[I’ll certainly regulate it. However, today is a celebratory day. Eat and drink to your heart’s content without fear of reproach from the Great Mother.]
And so, when I informed him that there was also a present awaiting, Ridelberdy’s skin tone, affected by blood with an unusual composition, turned even paler after drinking the alcohol.
[What is this…]
[Does the “Hero of the Great Mother” think he’d look good in such armor?]
Peter returned with a cart carrying a reinforced exoskeleton through use of an external skeleton.
Of course, this gift was not similar to the mass-marketed models distributed to the Sylvanians.
Instead, this was a full plate model designed to suit the statures of the Tech Gobs.
[The chest has a maximum armor rating of 30mm, and the movable parts are sealed with multi-layered carbon sheeting.]
The design aimed to appeal to the Tech Gob’s aesthetic, with a rather spiky style, without compromising performance.
The primary material was super-hard ductile titanium alloy, used in the hulls of spacecrafts. To armor the joint sections, we employed nanocarbons with cubic structures at nano levels, providing unparalleled defense against bullets and blades compared to regular materials.
By our standards, this was equivalent to a Type II reinforced exoskeleton for Grade C, designed for engineers working in potentially dangerous areas, combining both toughness and output.
Though it should be noted that due to missing components, unlike the referenced Type II, it lacked sensors, sub-arms, and auxiliary artificial intelligence. If compared, it might incite a snicker from the R&D team.
Nevertheless, this exoskeleton significantly surpassed what tribal warriors wore. Designed for comfort, it could accommodate daily life activities and sleep without hindrance, with a soft layer of bio-fiber lining internally to absorb and purify sweat and dirt while providing ample range of motion.
[Is this… really alright?! Such an incredible armor!!]
[I am an honorary chieftain, am I not? Thus, I must fulfill my duty to equip the warrior chief properly.]
Of course, this extended to his subordinates as well.
As soon as I made this comment, the scattered soldiers gathered from other tribes seemed to become more enthusiastic, murmuring speculatively among themselves if they’d receive something similar too.
Yes, they shall. Just with a more ordinary design.
Additionally, I intended to have five of them join me in the upcoming expedition, equipping them appropriately to defend the land.
Moreover, trade with Sylvanians had to continue, and I couldn’t afford to be careless with their essentials—tools needed for work were essential investments to avoid eventual losses.
Tiamat 25’s 3D forming machine was more than capable for such tasks, so I planned to use its resources efficiently.
Though they might have handed over these individuals with a mix of jealousy and a desire to offload responsibilities, I intended to utilize them effectively.
After all, I was the “Companion of the Great Mother.” Having already engaged in rivalry, I didn’t intend to tolerate complaints. I understood their impulse to lighten their burdens by passing on their excess, but a more discerning choice should have been made.
Still, I wasn’t one to be overly malicious. Including other members of different tribes who were watching enviously on the sidelines, I planned to extend generous care to them too.
A favoritism to Rustiagis for a few years was all that was needed, and when the eventual peaceful unification of all the tribes came, their efforts would undoubtedly pay off.
Even though they were not created by Major Teramoto and Albert 24650, they were still born from the ship that both had risked their lives not to destroy. They were, in essence, the children of mechanized humans and numerical self-conscious entities.
I intended to treat them with great care.
Even though it might sound self-serving, the potential was immense despite its seeming insignificance. Should I manage to return to my original unit, I hoped to secure their recognition as higher intelligent beings from the council.
Moreover, I wasn’t too troubled by the political instability within the Tech Gobs.
After all, their dispersal was necessitated by the existence of the monstrous “other,” not due to tribal conflicts. It seemed likely that they initially operated with a loose coalition close to consensus. Although there might be disputes regarding the next overall chieftain, I anticipated a natural resolution.
I trusted that they wouldn’t stoop to the violent ways of the ancient humans by killing those designated as the next in line.
[Ridelberdy, you will have to work hard for the time being.]
[…After receiving so much in advance, what further demands do you have planned?]
He spat out some invectives before gulping down his drink completely, and then boldly mounted the reinforced exoskeleton, whose back compartment opened like a ride-on. The exoskeleton’s structure was akin to a costume, so its use seemed intuitive.
After confirming the ride, the exoskeleton enclosed securely and began moving powerfully. The helmet’s design left an isolated single eyeball of the warrior chief visible, giving off a fiercely overwhelming presence.
[To the chieftain!!]
[To the chieftain!!]
In unison, they cheered, raising their flasks in salute. Taking care to hydrate my cells and munching on a nutrition tablet — today’s flavor being blueberry, which I deemed an unlucky draw — I concluded the meal.
As they joyfully celebrated the feast, I smiled fondly and gazed up to the heavens, reminiscing of my homeland.
With some free time to think, I contemplated my kin under the stars. Among those countless lights that surely didn’t encompass my parents’ distant galaxy, how were they doing?
Although we mechanized humans didn’t face the concern of mortality like the old humans, surely my shrine was prepared, maintained by loving grandparents and great-grandparents who hopefully remained unwavering on designated commemorative days.
However, to truly return… The Tiamat 25 was equipped with an anti-gravity unit, but removing it compromised the structural integrity of the vessel. Moreover, considering it wasn’t designed for atmospheric flight, it couldn’t break through the Earth’s atmosphere either.
Besides, our mechanized bodies, for a long while, had lost the ability to defy gravity without such anti-gravitation units, born out of convenience of quantum and graviton mechanics. Everyone grew accustomed to this single method, forgetting the inefficient ways of achieving space velocities through brute force. And while there might be records of rocket designs in the National Diet Library archives, we had no practical knowledge of it. Even within the motherland, we might not be able to build one.
Perhaps, just maybe, should I encounter such a unit in the Canopy Holy Capital I intended to visit, it might be gifted to me or purchased?
With these faintly escapist musings, I sipped the water from my flask, imagining the stars as an appetizer.
This concludes my narrative until the next update, scheduled for approximately 17:00 today.
