Well, our first lead turned out to be a dead end, but we managed to obtain significant information.
At the same time, this brought us a sense of despair.
On the night we encountered the Sylvanians, while observing the artificial moon of Terra 16th — which was, incidentally, constructed by pulling in a conveniently sized asteroid — I noticed a small satellite orbiting near the moon, just as it became visible to the naked eye after sunset, and for a moment, I felt my spirit break.
The massive, broken rings—gravity jump devices. They are our advanced league’s primary means of intergalactic travel, using anti-gravity technology and so-called “quantum entanglement” or similar concepts, to intentionally warp space and create a gate connecting two distant points as if they were one.
Generally, when we explore new planets, we use the “random jump,” a method where we leap to “somewhere in the universe,” and go where no one has ventured before to colonize the planet… but our crucial entrance and exit had been shattered and had become a small satellite orbiting the moon.
Without hesitation, I collapsed to my knees upon seeing the colossal structure—the result of fifty years’ construction post-arrival—reduced to a pitiful ruin.
It made sense now why no help had come. After all, back at home, no one knows of our plight or our destination since communications ceased during the 20th century.
This was the first mishap in the 22 repetitions of the seedship fleet’s operations. Our homeland might even now be in turmoil over this incident, to the point where the methods of seed operations may have changed. There might even be a memorial in the capital with my name engraved on it.
After all, from the home country’s perspective, it’s as if a galactic-level disaster involving field operatives has occurred.
Moreover, the Sylvanian civilization remains at the level of iron tools and simple machines; not even an airplane exists.
How on earth do they expect us to return? The sheer futility of it left me nearly fainting.
To make matters worse, the base’s factory functions are defunct, and its structures have since been converted into the Sylvanians’ kingdom, rendering any possibility of reusing them impossible.
However, there remains a glimmer of hope. We’ve obtained their language and regional information.
In other words, there must be other humans, other civilizations. The Sylvanians did not spontaneously arise here alone. There’s a high possibility that something or someone else has had a hand in it.
Therefore, since there must be a group that completed the terraforming of this planet, it’s not yet time to give up. This realization gave me renewed strength in my knees.
Although the information Tisy left behind dates back five hundred years and is somewhat outdated, it suggests the existence of multiple species in this vicinity.
Among them, Prometheus of the Rabbits was reportedly worshipped as a deity in this underground kingdom.
[O Lord, O Great Protector, in gratitude for your kindness and compassion, we offer this sacrifice.]
The information left by Tisy, which we fondly call the Tisy File, includes linguistic data and a well-organized format of the Sylvanian language.
Even though the language is substantially different from the modern version due to its age, we continue analysis and expect to align closer to the contemporary form eventually.
“It is righteous. Then, let’s choose this one for today.”
Embarrassing as it is to stomp my feet and use gestures to communicate — after all, we usually compress our language into radio waves and haven’t communicated through atmospheric vibrations for a long time — I followed the customs and selected one of the many baby rabbits offered before me each morning.
This ritual, called “the offering,” is how Sylvanians express their respect and gratitude to their deity. During Tisy’s time, this was performed every morning.
And with my arrival, this tradition has resumed.
Of course, by “offering,” it isn’t bloody or grotesque at all. I picked one from the five baby rabbits presented before me and… fluffed him mercilessly.
Ah~ fluff, fluff, so fluffy, so soft…
Tisy apparently loved fluffy creatures and even kept rabbits in the virtual world. If such a she were guiding absurdly cute rabbits, there’s no way she wouldn’t fluff them.
Therefore, in a somewhat regal act of requiring a fluffed offering in exchange for protection, I requested such.
It’s reasonable yet deeply fetishistic, perfectly reflecting the personality of the late Tisy. Oh, I wish she had continued to live without yielding to fear.
[I am satisfied.]
[Heh.]
I released the little rabbit who seemed quite irritated after being fluffed so vigorously, thus concluding the daily routine.
It’s been five days since I arrived here. I’ve sorted through the information and have recovered components, essentially finishing what needed to be done. We are currently gathering usable materials to rebuild backup equipment and manufacturing communication relay drones. However, I am reluctant to leave.
There are several reasons for this – including sharing a similar plight with the natives who have rebuilt their faith, but primarily I find myself thinking that manpower can solve most problems.
Regardless of how far I wander, the amount of information I can gather with my single body is limited.
Because, come on, this prosthetic body is pitiful! I can only sprint full-speed for a dozen seconds, my maximum speed is about 30 km/h, and cruising at 20 km/h can only be sustained for a few days. After that, I must recharge for several more days. As a result, my range of activities is terribly confined.
Based on Tisy’s information, rabbits are especially quick runners and, in great numbers, make remarkably reliable surveyors and scouts.
With the satellites out of use, receiving assistance from them via legwork could be incredibly beneficial.
In exchange, I plan to offer items from our factory.
I’m not letting the title of a deity — or rather, one of its attendants — go to my head. Out of respect for their beliefs, I merely hope to have some minor safe work done in return.
Moreover, it would be utterly heartless and tactless to tell the Sylvanians that what they’ve been worshipping isn’t a deity at all.
I’m neither that cruel nor that oblivious.
After concluding the morning prayers, I was contemplating planning exploratory excursions when a communication suddenly arrived. Even with my humble mechanical form, communication devices are built into my skull, allowing Selene’s message to appear directly on my retinal monitor.
“What’s the matter?”
She was returning to the base to retrieve supplementary supplies while maintaining the drones.
Although we’re just within communication range, allowing us to operate separately, I wondered if there was an issue back at the base.
“Just returned, but we have heat signatures approaching from the northern forest. About 45 of them.”
“Heat signatures? How large?”
“Humanoid objects. They’re approximately one size larger than the Sylvanians. The drones are on site and will send the visuals now.”
The monitor switched to the drone’s surveillance footage on my retina, and what I saw was baffling.
Goblins—they were goblins. Indeed.
They look somewhat like human children, around 100-120 cm tall, walking with a slight forward lean, with brown or green skin. Their build is difficult to describe as endearing: prominent beak-like noses, elongated ears, and a somewhat unpleasant appearance. These resemble the countless goblins I’ve killed in countless VR fantasies.
However, there are several crucial differences.
Some of them are partially mechanized.
Some have their eyes replaced with single-camera lenses, others exposed robotic joints, and some have wires protruding from their necks.
Every one of them carries loads and appears to be fleeing for their lives. Without prior information, my hand would have doubtlessly reached for my gun.
But I knew them.
They’re described in the twenty-fifth entry of the Tisy File.
Her designation was “Tech Gob,” an unadorned but effective nomenclature meaning “mechanical goblins.” They are a species originating from the Great Northern Forest and possess advanced engineering skills.
Most importantly, they bear certain tags.
Highly Intelligent, Friendly.
Contrary to their early-game cannon fodder appearance, they’re culturally advanced and engage in trade with the Sylvanians. The crossbows the rabbits have—compound and folding designs, notably advanced—are all obtained through bartering with them, indicating an excellent relationship, according to the elder’s reports.
“Continue the surveillance, please.”
“Understood. But there’s something odd. You should hurry if needed.”
After finishing the morning rituals, I stopped the returning elder to ask if this was the time the Tech Gobs usually come for trade.
He tilted his head and denied it, stating no such schedule exists.
[Concern. This is unexpected. Agreements dictate trade occurs every 90 cycles/90 days. However, the outsiders came just half a cycle ago.]
Hmm, it happens at regular intervals, and they just came…
Why then…
“Captain!! Warning!! The goblins are under attack!”
“Huh? By what enemy!?”
As the surveillance drone relayed, a group of Tech Gobs were fighting.
Their attackers were another peculiar sight.
The two-wing drones, whose frames consist of twisted metallic and steel wiring, reveal pulsating flesh in the gaps. Honestly, how do they even fly based on aerodynamics?
Though resembling birds of prey in silhouette, their heads are replaced by cylindrical camera units, and their bodies carry what appeared to be projectile launchers.
These grotesquely hybrid drones—possibly biological—were circling and swooping down on the Tech Gobs in a swarm of eight.
I’m sure they’re the entries mentioned in the Tisy File. Described as hostile mechanical lifeforms from the Northern Forest, she recorded multiple exits to repel them due to their extreme cruelty and lack of non-violent interaction.
“The situation favors them poorly. They have no one-hit options to destroy the drones”
“Indeed. What are those things? Electromagnetic launchers? Why do they have more advanced equipment than me?”
One of the bizarre airborne creatures shot the head off a fleeing Tech Gob.
According to drone intel, those were miniature railguns. They require more energy than coilguns but excel in velocity. Adding mass creates immense destructive power sufficient to pulverize a humanoid head with ease.
It was a younger-looking individual with more hydrated skin and unarmed, likely a child. Its skull shattered, green brain matter splattering across the ground.
Their desperate counterattacks, to be blunt, were ineffective. Their mechanized crossbows, for some reason, penetrated the armor, but even with just three shooters, their effectiveness as deterrents were limited.
Close-combat spears and tridents proved useless against the flying drones. They fired from afar with the guns slung across their chests, never entering range.
The mechanical crossbows might be the only effective option, but even when the tips lodged, the drones seem to ignore it, requiring several more hits to possibly down them.
The warrior class formed a circle to protect the non-combatants, but they were systematically eliminated like teeth falling out of a comb. The sparse trees only obstructed sight from the ground, providing no real cover.
“This can’t be allowed.”
“Agreed. There’s a 98.52% chance of complete annihilation within five minutes according to baseline time.”
Another Tech Gob was eliminated on screen. There was no time to waste.
“Then I’ll go rescue them.”
“But Captain! Their guns can easily destroy your prosthetic body! It’s far too dangerous!”
“When one sees justice and does nothing, it’s a sign of cowardice. If the Sylvanians consider these goblins friends, then I, who benefit from them, have a duty to protect them.”
After all, I owe the Tisy File a debt. If I don’t safeguard these rabbit allies, the reincarnated Tisy won’t rest in peace.
“If a mechanical crossbow can work, my coilgun should suffice.”
“Yes, but…”
One of the Tech Gobs reached for what was clearly the dead child, only to be held back by another who rushed to them.
This scene evokes enough pity to move one’s heart.
Even more importantly, letting an information source like them be eliminated would be problematic.
I activate the cybernetic fire control system and run at maximum speed allowed by my fragile D-class body.
“The Sylvanians can’t handle this enemy in battle. There’s nothing else to do.”
“Ah, you never listen once you start talking!”
“Please continue observing. If the drones are destroyed, there’ll be no way to recover them.”
“…Understood. May T. Osamu’s grace protect you.”
“Yes, and may the Three Holy Saints’ grace protect you.”
Leaving the alarmed rabbits behind, I leapt through the emergency exit.
Only five minutes remain before they’re all annihilated. How many more lives can I salvage before time runs out?
It all depends on what your legs can achieve, and so, I moved rapidly toward the scene as allowed by my physical capabilities.
[Supplementary Record of Planetary Exploration]
The Three Holy Saints and other holy figures: Among the salvaged data logs lost during the Second Solar System Conflict, many “holy scriptures” were painstakingly recovered. The ancient-Earth-based ethnic groups within the higher leagues continue to revere the authors.
For the numerals of self, T. Osamu, who deeply depicted the love between AI and humans, is the most devoutly worshiped saint.
In response to your concern: “Silvanian” indeed refers to “Silva,” meaning a forested land in Latin. Thus they are distinct as the Sylvanians—therefore, no concerns. Likes?
… Probably, definitely, maybe. But if scolded, it may silently change.
Update scheduled for July 9, 2024, at 18:00. Stay tuned.
[Addendum on SF Defense]
Quantum Entanglement: Unless you’re an expert in physics (which I’m not), understanding is challenging—also true for me. If explained seriously, it would likely take volumes of books. Thus, think of it as “some incredible science.” After all, even I am not an expert, and the explanation is likely a casual “yeah, got it, understood” at a basic level.
