“I am Galatea… a Magius Geanaite of the Canopy Holy Capital.”
The girl, who had once again covered her body with fabric — I’ll give her a spare set of overalls later — introduced herself with two unfamiliar words strung together.
The Canopy Holy Capital is most likely a place name, and Magius Geanaite seems to be a rank.
However, if we break it down according to the fundamental linguistic format, Magius seems to mean magic, while Gear seems to mean machine—contrasting concepts, but what makes them coexist within a single title?
Perhaps in this world, they regard advanced machinery like “holy lances” as magic, or the Tech Gobs move them with some mysterious prayer that contains magical elements?
Now that I think about it, the reinforced exoskeleton she’s wearing clearly has no apparent source of power. Though it might sound like an idea scholars would smirk at, it’s not entirely implausible.
Of course, it could also be that I’ve just been too immersed in fantasy-heavy VR games.
“Nice to meet you, Galatea. I am…”
I momentarily hesitated about how to properly introduce myself.
Titles like “High Tier Alliance” or “Unified Military” wouldn’t make sense to her, and I don’t want to be labeled as a strange person. Given that civilizations on this planet’s surface haven’t encountered extraterrestrial beings, announcing that I am one of the humans who came from distant space to terraform this planet could easily lead me to a mental hospital. Indeed, maybe there’s something off with my head already.
“I’m Nozomu, Nozomu Matsuyo. For now, I’m living among the rabbits.”
So, to keep things simple, I only announced my current status.
Yeah, I didn’t lie, so it’s fine.
“If that’s the case, you mentioned reclaiming the Great Mother, correct? And you intend to arm those children and fight?”
“Ah, that’s the thing—why can you understand the language of those small creatures? Their language operates outside the audible range for humans… or rather, includes sounds that can’t be heard by humans.”
“Here.”
She explained while poking her right ear and pulling off a flesh-colored sheet.
“It’s a translator. We Magius Geanaite are permitted by the Holy Cathedral to use sacred machinery.”
I refrained from questioning what the term “sacred machinery” really means. However, embedding a translator into the ear canal—something completely unfamiliar to us who have been mechanized—is quite impressive. Judging from the exoskeleton and this, her people might possess quite an advanced civilization, hmm? In that case, I wonder if they have devices like anti-gravity units, which could help us ascend into space and search for living spacecraft?
“The use of sacred machinery is restricted to Magius Geanaite. Yet, you seem to be carrying an abundance of mystical items. Where do you hail from?”
Oops, another tricky question. I can’t tell her I’ve been sleeping underground for two thousand years.
Let me slightly blur the truth here while giving her an answer that feels plausible. By the way, the name of this place, “Canopy Holy Capital,” and its somewhat awkward scientific feel, make me think she might dwell near the wreckage of a spaceship from the High Tier Alliance. So, I’ll say I lived among relics too.
“You see, I grew up in a ruin far from here. I’ve been traveling using the remaining relics from there.”
“All sacred machinery is under the custody of the Holy Cathedral…” she hesitated, lowering her charming feline-like eyes, and started scratching her short, neatly cut hair. “but after you saved my life…”
Ah, good, she’s more understanding than I thought. She looked down and tried to convince herself by scratching her head. Despite her cute demeanor, her organization seems a bit arrogant about treating all machinery as sacred. I should probably be cautious moving forward.
I am a soldier. While I would resist if necessary, I feel a reluctance about shooting humanoid targets. Even in VR, I’ve killed countless enemies, but my real-world kill score is merely in the triple digits. I don’t wish to add unnecessary numbers to that tally, so I’ll have to proceed carefully in my dealings with her.
“Since you used such precious medicine on me, I might as well speak on your behalf when I report to the Holy Cathedral”.
“Thank you, Galatea. Being brought up among ruins as I was, I’m pretty unfamiliar with this area. Could you perhaps tell me more about the Canopy Holy Capital?”
“Do you mean you don’t even know about the Holy Capital? This is truly a backwater…” She sighed, seemingly frustrated. “A thousand years ago, our Creator descended to this land, the only protected sanctuary beneath the canopy. We have worshipped the Machine God and lived in harmony with the Machine Spirits there.”
Oh, more strange concepts here. “Machine Spirits”? Could they really refer to fairies or spirits responsible for the operation of machines? That could be terrifying if true. It’s easy to imagine someone dancing around a regenerative reactor, praying for proper operation. And who knows, the next second the planet could be swallowed by an uncontrolled micro-black hole! That’d be no joke.
“Our job, as Magius Geanaite, is to protect the Holy Capital while searching for and recovering the Creator’s scattered works. This time, to secure the Great Mother, our… unit… was dispatched… but…”
She seemed to recall the tragedy of her comrades as her clear green eyes welled up with tears. When I gently placed my hand on her shoulder in comfort, she started sobbing.
Perhaps this was her first battle.
“Everyone is… gone… the captain, the deputy captain, Aimill, Dometia…”
So, it seems everyone but her died in combat. I couldn’t think of any words to console her. Having experienced numerous campaigns, we have a rather detached view towards death. I’ve lost my powered armor in combat numerous times and once returned to the mothership using only my braincase. Most of my comrades have similar experiences and there are very few of us who are truly “dead”.
In the chaos of battle and communication interference, we lost count of fatalities, and there was no time to dwell in the moment. However, one must still be able to comfort the soldiers.
“You’re crying for what, Galatea? Aren’t you a knight? And weren’t your departed comrades also knights?”
Placing my hand on her shoulder and chin to guide her gaze forward, I met her eyes and continued firmly:
“Soldiers die. It’s part of their profession. But as long as there’s another to avenge them and uphold their honor, they live on.”
“Vengeance… that’s right, vengeance! I want to take vengeance! Give me that weapon, Nozomu!”
She impulsively reached for the pistol at my waist, so I grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“I can’t give this to you. Only I can use it. See for yourself.”
“What is this? Is it a gun…? But guns are meaningless against exoskeletons, right?”
As I drew my coilgun, her surprised response—and her subsequent comment—caused even me to pause momentarily.
Do they know what a gun is? But judging by her comment, it seems they’ve reached a level of technological development where armor is so reinforced that firearms became obsolete—an anomaly that hasn’t occurred in the entirety of our long history.
This will require an extensive amount of effort for mutual understanding.
“But this gun has taken down airborne monsters. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the children.”
“It can really fight?”
“Yes. Here, I’ll give you one even stronger.”
“Will it enable me to avenge them?”
“Yes. I will let you avenge them.”
“Uuuu… uhhh… ahhaaaa!”
As she cried and clung to me, I gently patted her back through her armor. Whether or not it meant anything, I felt it was something I should do.
“…Captain, sorry to interrupt your moment…”
“Hmm, that tone is a bit prickly, Selene…”
When I answered the communication, my companion seemed unusually sulky for some reason unrelated to my experience. Ignoring my confusion over her subtle rebuke, she calmly announced that the draft for the mass-production coilgun was complete.
So fast! Although it’s quite primitive in design, I’m impressed at how quickly the blueprint was finalized. My companion truly is talented.
“The design is simple, just the barrel lengthened and turned into a bolt-action. The grip is pistol-style, the stock has an integrated recoil dampener with straight design, and we’ve kept it as minimal as possible.”
The 3D blueprint projected onto my retinal display was, indeed, very basic. Its appearance resembled more of a walking cane, with an iron pipe-like structure and protruding mechanical parts. If not for the iron sight on top and the bolt mechanism extending on the right side, it would have been unrecognizable as a gun.
“Instead of using magazine feeding, we’ve opted for a single-shot system using disposable projectiles that incorporate the primer charge, battery, and bullet head together. Its heft provides mild recoil, suitable even for the Sylvanians. However, this sacrifices portability.”
“How about the power?”
“Adjusted to deliver the same 3,300J force as the enhanced mode. Though, unlike your gun, it’s not meticulously built, so the barrel’s wear rate is higher. After a thousand shots, it’ll probably be done.”
“That much is impressive enough. Retrieving the ‘Great Mother’ will likely be a short-term operation, and I doubt we’d use even half that many rounds.”
Ever since we acquired advanced 3D manufacturing tech, fine-tuning by engineers is only necessary for perfect fittings. Basic manufacturing is now obsolete. If you provide the equipment and materials, the cost to produce anything from a nearly perfect sphere to a streamlined armor shell based on fluid mechanics, and even antimatter warheads is incredibly cheap.
Nowadays, pressing a button could manufacture those—though back home after two thousand years, they must have advanced much further. What truly matters now is whether something can be used when needed, not how long it lasts. When it breaks, we can always recycle the material and produce a new one. Good times we live in.
…Thinking about it, why did we even have manual labor classes during virtual education? Was it some sort of survival training against an incredibly harsh environment or what?
I momentarily lost myself in thought but realized that weapon production was proceeding smoothly. While satisfied with the design, I noticed something missing.
“Where’s the bayonet?”
“… Do mechanized humans really have a thing for those?”
Even beyond space exploration, those of Eastern origin who underwent mechanical augmentation continue to carry swords with pride, so we have maintained our love for bayonets.
This happened because our ventures into space introduced many objects that were too important to destroy recklessly, significantly increasing the opportunities for close-quarter combat.
The firepower of guns capable of piercing through enhanced soldier exoskeletons and armor might accidentally puncture space vessels or colony walls. So, we returned to the age of swords and bayonets, especially in CQB (Close Quarters Battle).
That’s why I have my military sword, and I earned my close combat distinction badge not for show but for genuine practical use in actual combat. That’s why bayonets are necessary for guns.
…Though they’re not very popular among the autonomous intelligence units, strangely.
“Having close quarters combat capability wouldn’t hurt. Plus, with the Tech Gobs using spears and halberds, a weapon with a blade might be more familiar to them.”
“…Fine. I’ll add a bayonet mount and design a specialized bayonet.”
“Thanks, Selene.”
“If you’re thanking me so easily, perhaps you should refrain from overtaxing yourself and take better care of yourself. While I understand the necessity, I truly oppose your heading toward the Great Mother.”
When I asked why, after a noticeably long pause—for us who can exchange gigabytes of information in seconds—Selene snapped in a pouting tone before cutting off the communication.
“I don’t care for captains who don’t understand delicate feminine sensitivity.”
… Did I somehow mess up?
I’m not overly confident; I’m simply the strongest force here and am choosing the most efficient methods to uncover the mystery and complete my mission. Why would I need to apologize or explain myself? Sure, this fragile, non-regenerative body is risky, but the situations don’t offer any safe solutions.
While pondering how to mend my companion’s mood, I continued soothing the still sobbing Galatea…
Sorry for the delay. I’ve been bedridden due to illness.
The next update is scheduled for around 15:00 tomorrow.
