The return journey was swift, but the warriors of both the Tech Gobs and Sylvanians accepted their new equipment without much complaint. After completing ten days of proficiency training, they accepted their role as mounted troops.
“Hoist her up!”
“Guah!?”
During this time, Falken’s “exoskeletal disease” had improved significantly. Recently, he found it impossible to perform counterattacks without increasing the clock speed of his neural interface. It was clear that he was now fit to be counted among the fighting force.
“It’s still a bit stiff… if we had moves to feint downward strikes and switch to thrusts, maybe we could surprise them and improve.”
“But the Magius Geanaite wasn’t originally designed much for direct combat…”
“Are you planning the same excuse when I get attacked by some miscreants?”
Moreover, Falken seemed to have learned how to break falls while still wearing the exoskeleton, and the instances of passing out had decreased. Despite the short yet intense period of training with near-operational equipment, they were no longer chicks with shells stuck to their bottoms.
They were now proud chicks who’d shed their shells.
“Kaaah… my hips are done for…”
While struggling to get up, the sound of gunfire drowned out Falken’s voice.
Reacting to the sonic boom from the coilgun, a modified version of one I used previously, I turned my head and saw Galatea conducting shooting practice near the forest.
Even though our departure was imminent, the mechanical modifications had proven effective, as evidenced by her relentless training. On the first shot, she hit the empty ration can, launching it into the air. With her second shot, she propelled it even higher, then unleashed four rapid bursts, sending it flying into the distance. Observing the shots through the maximum zoom revealed that while not all perfect bullseyes, every round had hit the mark.
“Hmm… passable, I suppose?”
Though Galatea herself seemed dissatisfied with her performance, her gun-handling ability was commendable. If she could do the same without any control software in a VR environment, her skill would surely earn her the title of “cheetah” in the real world.
“Unlike Nozomu, I’m not fast enough to draw, and my accuracy is different. I should’ve bounced the first shot vertically…”
While muttering, she reloaded and aimed at the next target. The intensity and beauty of her focus were evident, but time was running short.
“All personnel, attention!”
As my shout rang out, the warriors gathered nearby lined up.
Forty volunteer Tech Gob soldiers, twenty-five elite Sylvanian warriors, and six Magius Geanaite knights.
Reflecting on it, this was the first time I’d ever commanded so many living beings. The largest squad I’d previously led numbered no more than twelve units, and nine-tenths of the accompanying infantry consisted of drones commanded by sergeants. Having an entirely organic force under my command might very well be a first in my lifetime.
Well, it’s making me unreasonably nervous. Grasping the lives of others always feels like holding water that can never spill—it’s unsettling.
Calm down, me. Haven’t I been through similar situations during the mission to retrieve the “Great Mother”?
“From this point onward, we are heading to the battlefield. Though the journey will be brief, we face fierce combat ahead.”
How many years has it been since I’ve given a speech in situations like this? Even though I’ve practiced with virtual intelligences in VR, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to address real soldiers in my military duties.
However, after two millennia, I’ve almost forgotten what I used to say.
“Some of us may not set foot on our homeland again, and some will not return with all limbs intact.”
Ah, it feels like my words are missing the mark. I don’t need to force myself to deliver something overly grandiose, but this is the job of a commander, after all.
That is, to inspire soldiers to overcome the fear of death in the face of desperate battles.
The instigators of madness… Reflecting back, it hasn’t been a particularly commendable job.
“Yet, our memories of the battle and its history shall endure. This fierce conflict will forever be recounted in the lore of the Tech Gobs, Sylvanians, and the Canopy Holy Capital. When people see the old forts built in the direction the threat once came from, they will remember.”
Well, we can control our fear of death through emotional suppression protocols if we wish, but the soldiers cannot do the same. I don’t want to distribute combat stimulants either, so I must rouse them with words alone.
If there exists the most grievous profession in this world, the frontline commander will surely be counted among them.
“There were ugly men who guarded this road and died! Shattered shields lay there! Rumors become stories, and stories become festivals, and festivals last forever!”
Ah, I activated the speech protocol without thinking, and now even I don’t quite understand what I’m saying. But still, I dislike monotonous content that smells too much like propaganda. Some soldiers admit to feeling deflated when listening to it. So, even though speeches of this nature exist in distribution, their practical use among officers is nearly non-existent.
“You all shall become eternal!”
As the sound, translated into various languages, rang through the communication devices, different reactions emerged among the troops.
“Are you prepared for battle!”
The Tech Gob warriors struck their weapons against the ground, growling lowly—a ritual to raise their fighting spirit and announce their readiness to die.
“Are you ready to kill!”
The Sylvanians stomped their right feet, signifying their preparedness with sounds of vigilance.
“All troops, do you know how to die well!”
The knights adjusted their weapons and stood at attention, indicating their readiness to follow orders as chess pieces at the behest of their commander.
“Then, let us march! Board the vehicles!”
Ah, my stomach hurts, though it shouldn’t. Yes, it makes sense considering I’ve been immersed in VR for two millennia and am now in this cyborg body. I might even be feeling phantom limb pain—or in this case, phantom organ pain.
The warriors donned their armor and weapons as they boarded the armed beetles. Others mounted their wolf-like creatures, setting themselves up for departure. I entered the commander’s seat of the Decotomus-4 marked with “01” and connected directly via the interface, transforming the six-legged tank to become an extension of myself.
“All vehicles, advance!”
As we set off, reconnaissance drones buzzed into the sky, followed closely by the Sylvanian-mounted wolf squads.
The APCs and multi-legged tanks, already warmed up, followed closely behind while the wolf-drawn cargo carriages secured the rear.
It’s a brief but long journey. There’s no moment longer than the seconds before battle begins.
Ah, what a familiar sensation. I still remember feeling the eternity-like moments in the drop pods of the assault transport ships, checking to ensure the system’s clock speed was dropped to its limit during those few seconds before the descent.
Once again, I find myself wishing for the time to pass in a flash.
“Tsk, relax. What good does a panicking commander do? We’ve already fought two wars since we got here.”
I leaned my ears toward the road noise of the folded APC wheels to steady my spirit. Software to transform into a cold, calculating combat unit is onboard, but now is not the time to use it.
I am commanding humans, who cannot fight again once they die—not machine soldiers or cloned AI who can endlessly return to the battlefield.
Let’s muster a little spirit and savor the anxiety and fear everyone’s feeling right now.
“All vehicles and personnel, data link complete.”
“Understood… noted.”
With Selen’s voice, a bird’s-eye view appeared in my processing domain, courtesy of drone imagery. Each of the caravans departing early from the Kingdom of the Rabbits was meticulously tagged, each warrior visible with photographs and vital signs displayed.
It’s a makeshift tactical data link that merely confirms current position and vitals—a far cry from the proper units—but it’s still better than nothing. Thanks to the upgraded exoskeletal systems, I can trace each individual’s life signs, an invaluable capability for the battles ahead.
The “Old Development Base No. 5689,” called the “Valley of Death,” was vast.
From the sketches left by the knights who managed to return, it seems a geological event revealed parts of the original underground facilities, and these structures have seemingly become the source of the large numbers of the strange forms emerging from there.
Normally, these monsters drift aimlessly around the base, but once they are stimulated, they will not stop until everything around them is eliminated.
Pulling up similar anatomical diagrams from the data banks stiffened my facial muscles at the grotesque sight.
It was difficult to describe what they were.
Their appearances were roughly human. Extremely thin heads with prominent cheekbones and foreheads over sunken eye sockets embedded with a pair of camera lenses suggested a starved corpse, though they stood at a height of 2 meters with elongated limbs. Their hands dragged on the ground below their knees. Yet, the lower legs were oddly muscular, exuding a bizarre sense of strength.
They looked like a mutation of the zombies from a VR game.
The Magius Geanaites of the Canopy Holy Capital referred to these creatures as “Nosferatu” or “undead,” and their tenacity in combat unless decapitated combined with their limited intelligence to use basic tools caused heavy losses to levied soldiers and knights during outbreaks.
Thinking that these macabre caricatures of humanity were being produced from a base built by our own people is not something I want to entertain, but if true, it must be eradicated.
How many foes are there? Hundreds? Thousands? Some accounts suggest outbreaks lasting five days managed to pierce through four of the six fortified defense lines. It would be wise to prepare for tens of thousands.
Additionally, these foes are equipped with “guns.” While their firepower is only enough to bounce off the Magius Geanaite armor with repeated hits, the cumulative damage eventually threatens the pilot inside.
They don’t appear to exhibit any tactical movements, but attacking carelessly would be unwise.
Regrettably, with the potential movements of the dragons to watch for, bringing the “Titan-2” wasn’t an option, and this will be a dirty ground battle.
That said, we have a few hidden aces up our sleeve, and the armor protecting our soldiers is more than adequate.
We’re a fortified steel fist. This is entirely doable.
“We’ll crush, pulverize, and drag them out.”
And we’ll catch a hint, even the slightest thread, of the root cause responsible for the current predicament of Terra 16th, securing a foothold for our return.
Now, Nozomu, tighten your resolve. You’re probably the most experienced military veteran on this planet right now. Don’t screw up here.
“Captain, I think you need to take it down a notch—it’s still a long way to the destination.”
“You’re right. Leave the driving to you. I’ll take a nap.”
You’re absolutely correct, Selene. I decided to lower my neural functions momentarily to sort out my cache in order to calm down a little.
It’s not good to store up too much emotion. As a commander, one must always remain calm and cold-blooded…
####
[Planetary Exploration Supplement] Nosferatu: The Nosferatu are strange creatures found near the Valley of Death. They are called “undead” as they appear endlessly after being killed. They possess the intelligence to use tools, and all of them are armed either with guns or melee weapons. While a single Nosferatu may not pose much of a problem to a Magius Geanaite, when they attack in groups of dozens, they become a formidable and unavoidable enemy.
An update is planned for 15:00 on August 13, 2024.
To everyone, thank you for your hard work at Comiket.
